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bellaxgiornata · 1 year ago

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Falling For the Devil [Part twenty-six: "The Big Win"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Nelson, Murdock, and Page obtain a big win on a court case that makes the news. You were planning to go out and celebrate with everyone at Josie’s until you unexpectedly overhear something that keeps you at home and in tears.

Your mind mentally spirals telling you that you’re not good enough for Matt.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 4.3k

a/n: This is a light angst installment with some comfort at the end! I am still steadily trying to bring all 75 (soon to be 76) installments over to tumblr but there are SO many. You can find the list of installments that are on tumblr for this series here. Also, always feel free to chat and leave some love, it is always much appreciated!

Eyes scanning the menu above the register as you waited in line, you tried to decide what you wanted to grab for dinner. You'd stopped inside a Vietnamese restaurant near The Bulletin after you got off work, starving and in a hurry.

Matt had invited you out to celebrate at Josie’s tonight with Karen, Foggy, and Marci. Their firm had won a huge case yesterday–so big of a win that it had made the front page of most print and digital news outlets in the city. Bianca was the one who'd written the piece for The Bulletin, Ellison claiming you were a little too close and therefore too biased to write the article. But you'd smiled at the front page this morning, eyes focused on the image of Matt’s smiling face next to Foggy and Karen on the courthouse steps.

When you'd spoken to him on the phone at lunch he'd been so excited. He had been talking animatedly to you about all the calls their office had received today as you listened with a large smile on your face. You were proud of him and eager to share in his excitement tonight.

Which was why you'd decided to swing by the restaurant to grab some takeout. Your plan was to rush home and eat before changing into something less business casual and just plain casual before celebrating with your friends. And thankfully it was a Friday night, which meant you all didn't need to hold back with your celebrations.

As you were very much considering ordering some beef pho to eat and warm you up before your walk to Josie’s later, your eye caught sight of Matt’s face on the woman's phone in front of you. Smiling, you saw it was the article about their firm and pride flooded you again.

But it quickly left you when the young woman gasped loudly and shook her friend's arm, drawing her attention to the image.

"Oh my God," she hissed, her finger pointing at Matt’s face. "That's the sexy lawyer I told you about!"

You saw her friend glance over at the phone screen, her brows quickly rising high on her forehead at the sight of Matt’s picture. Your stomach felt like it sunk to your knees, a strange feeling washing over you. You knew you shouldn't be eavesdropping, but with what came next, you couldn't stop.

" That's the hot blind lawyer you fucked?" the friend asked in awe.

It felt like time had slowed down just as someone punched you in the gut. She slept with Matt? Your Matt?

"Yeah, a couple of years ago when their firm just opened. I see him around the courthouse sometimes when I'm there," she continued. "Seriously, that man's tongue is magic . And his stamina is insane."

You flinched, a sick feeling swirling in your stomach. Jaw tightening, you tried to fight back the nauseous feeling in your gut thinking about her hands on Matt’s body and his hands on hers–the same hands he tenderly touched you with.

"I actually saw him the other week," the woman continued on, entirely oblivious to your world falling apart behind her. "Was hoping to get another night with him. I mean, no one has compared since that night I had with him. And he somehow looks even more fit now under those dress shirts. But apparently he has a girlfriend? Says he's not like that anymore."

"Well whoever she is, she sounds like a lucky bitch," the friend said, eyeing the photo of Matt appreciatively again.

Yeah, you definitely felt like you were going to be sick.

"That man is wasted on one woman," the other woman grumbled. "There's no way he's satisfied with her. Unless she's like, some sort of sex goddess rolled into a model's body."

Flinching again, you involuntarily took a step back from the pair of them. You did not want to hear this. You did not want to think about this.

"Why would that matter? It's not like he could see her," the friend pointed out.

The other woman laughed as if Matt’s blindness was some sort of joke. The sound grated on your nerves, your teeth grinding together. Suddenly you found yourself no longer even remotely hungry.

Turning on your heel, you sidestepped the person behind you and headed straight for the exit. You felt like you couldn't breathe as you pushed out of the restaurant door, tugging at the collar of your coat and your blouse. For a moment, all your brain could conjure up was the sound of that woman's irritating voice moaning Matt's name.

Tears stung at your eyes and you roughly wiped the heel of your palm over them, exhaling a rough breath and heading in the direction of your apartment.

You just wouldn't eat dinner before going out tonight–not the end of the world.

But as you walked back to your building, you couldn't shake that gross feeling in your stomach. It was churning and twisting and at one point you were positive you were going to dart down an alley and throw up.

You told yourself the reaction you were having was ridiculous. It's not as if Matt cheated–he had slept with that woman before he'd even known you. Years ago. And when she'd apparently propositioned him recently, the thought making you cringe, he'd turned her down. Which was good. That was not something to be upset about.

And it's not like you didn't know Matt had a past. You'd sure as hell watched the flirting on the sidelines for the year you'd been pining for him. Foggy sure as shit had made enough comments about Matt ever since you'd known them about how Matt had been a huge flirt since his college days. Hell, you only had to look at Matt to know he attracted attention.

It's not like you didn't have a past, either. Matt sure wasn't your first relationship or the first person you'd ever slept with. Sure, the number difference between the two of you was probably vast and you'd never had the nerve–or maybe it was also the lack of charm–to have one night stands, but you had a past, too. So it shouldn't even matter.

Though none of that logic remotely quelled the jealous and insecure beast rearing its head inside of you. Because knowing all of that didn't change the fact that you'd just had to see one of the women Matt had slept with and then hear her talk about just how great in bed he was. Your Matt. The one who held your hand and would walk you home from Josie’s, or who clung half-naked to you on an almost nightly basis. The one who you had been slowly stepping out of your comfort zone with, who made you feel safe and secure.

As you entered your apartment building, you wondered just how you were supposed to go out to Josie’s tonight and look Matt in the face without picturing him between that woman's legs. Without thinking about that beautiful mouth–the same one you'd spent so long dreaming about kissing and now actually being able to kiss whenever you wanted for the past few months–kissing her .

You rubbed the heel of your hand over your eyes again, wiping the dampness away.

No, this was stupid. You weren't going to think about that. You loved Matt and you were happy for him and you wanted to go out and celebrate him and your friends' success.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you made your way into the elevator. As you waited for it to ascend to your floor, you told yourself you'd stop thinking about it.

…but you did often find yourself worrying lately that you weren't enough for Matt. He had slept around a lot before you came into the picture, clearly he had never been satisfied with just one woman. So what made you think Matt was really going to be content to just settle for you? You weren't like those confident women he always went for, which certainly translated in the bedroom. You weren't as timid with him as you used to be, but you were sure he never had to reassure those other women he had slept with. Was it just something different for him, sleeping with the shy, awkward chick? Getting you to let loose and then eventually losing interest in you when you weren't as nervous?

Your heart ached at the thought, your chest feeling like it was constricting as you unlocked your apartment door.

No, Matt wouldn't do that.

…but maybe it wasn't intentional. Maybe he didn't realize that's why he'd been drawn to you in the first place and when you were no longer so damn nervous and timid in the bedroom he wouldn't find you as appealing. Maybe he'd go back to the confident women he was always getting hit on by. Or maybe he'd find another awkward woman.

You were crying by the time you locked your door behind you, tears steadily streaming down your face as your mind continued to spiral. You couldn't make the thoughts and fears stop once they'd started coming. There was no way you could go out to Josie’s tonight, not like this. You'd ruin everyone's night.

Rushing forward you flung yourself on your couch, burying your face in the cushions and crying. Your mind kept telling you this was ridiculous, that you were drastically overreacting to what had happened, but then it would moments later throw wave after wave of insecurity at you. You almost hadn’t heard your phone ringing with how hard you’d been crying into your couch cushions.

Sniffling and trying to control your sobs, your head rose from the cushions. You noted the obvious darkened and damp spot your tears had created on the gray fabric before your attention shifted to your ringtone loudly cutting through the silence in your apartment. Sliding your phone out of your dress pants pocket, you glanced down at the screen. You were grateful that it was Karen’s name you saw instead of Matt’s; you didn’t think you could manage a conversation with him right now. Clearing your throat, you tried to will the tears to stop.

“Hey Karen,” you nervously greeted, your voice cracking ever so faintly.

“Hey!” she greeted back excitedly. “Just calling to let you know I’m on my way to Josie’s, but Matt is finishing something up at the office for a minute. Foggy went to stop by Marci’s work and grab her before they headed over. Just didn’t want you to be alone wondering where everyone is at.”

“Oh, uh,” you answered hesitantly, the lie coming out of you before you knew what was happening, “I have a lead I need to follow up with tonight. For a–a story.” You hoped she didn’t catch the way your voice had broken as you spoke.

“Oh, I…thought Matt said you were coming out?” she said slowly.

You heard the phone shift as Karen called back to Matt, who was most likely in his office. A moment later there was more shifting before you heard Matt on Karen’s phone.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Matt began, your eyes closing and fighting down another surge of tears, “I thought you were coming out to celebrate with us? Did something happen?”

“No,” you answered, voice barely audible. Clearing your throat again, you tried to sound normal. “Something just–just came up at the last minute. I need to–to follow a lead. For a story. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ll make it.”

Fuck, you felt like a huge asshole, especially with the dejected sigh you heard over the line.

“Oh, okay,” he said slowly. “I’ll stop by after Josie’s then? I won’t stay late.”

“No!” you answered quickly, cringing when you did. “No, you just celebrate with your friends. Have fun, okay? I’ll uh, I’ll talk to you later.”

You had to hang up, tears already starting to pour back down your cheeks again. You were a monumental asshole lying to Matt like that. A shitty girlfriend for not going out and celebrating a huge win for him and a shitty friend for not celebrating your friends.

It was better off this way, though. You would certainly bring everyone down tonight if you came out. There’s no way you wouldn’t break down at just the sight of Matt, thinking about all those other women he slept with. Thinking about how you’d never be good enough. How you’d just plain never be enough for him.

No. You needed the night in to cry out your insecurities and get your head on straight before you saw him again. You wouldn’t ruin everyone’s night, just your own.

Pulling yourself up off of the couch, still softly sobbing like a pathetic mess, you made your way to your bedroom. You changed quickly into a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a large, comfortable shirt before turning your phone on vibrate and tossing it onto your nightstand. Then you proceeded to draw back the sheets of your bed, forgoing dinner and everything else as you buried your face in your pillow and cried.

_______

Something was buzzing near your head and you groaned, rolling over on the mattress. You had a killer headache and as you opened your eyes to the darkened room, you realized your eyes were burning, too.

From crying yourself pathetically to sleep, you remembered a moment later. Another groan left you as all of your stupid thoughts came rushing to the surface now that you were conscious again.

Realizing your phone was vibrating on your nightstand, you threw a hand out and grabbed it. It was barely ten at night, you’d passed out in your bed for a couple of hours apparently.

And of course it was Matt that was calling you. That insecure feeling swirled and twisted uncomfortably in your stomach at the sight of his name on the screen. With a sigh, you answered the call, pulling the phone up to your ear.

“Matt?” you asked, voice a little thick with sleep. “Something wrong?”

“Yeah,” he answered briskly. “Why were you lying to me?”

Your eyes narrowed at his question. How did he know?

“What?” you asked him.

“You sounded off but I tried to ignore it,” he explained quickly. “Figured you were busy and distracted. So I went out to Josie’s, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So I thought I’d stop by and see if you were back from following your lead–but you’re asleep. I’ve been knocking on your door for the past five minutes. Did you even have work?”

Biting your lip, you knew you couldn’t lie. He was outside your front door after all, he’d certainly be able to hear your heartbeat.

“No,” you whispered.

There was a sharp exhale from Matt over the line before his tone softened into something timid. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked next.

“No,” you answered quickly. “No, you didn’t.”

There was a long pause, one that only grew that uncomfortable feeling in your gut. You felt nauseous waiting for Matt to respond, your palm sweating against the phone.

“You know I can hear your heart, right?" he told you. "That wasn’t entirely true." He paused a moment as your brows furrowed. "What did I do wrong, sweetheart?" he asked nervously.

"Matt, you didn't do anything," you answered firmly.

Throwing your sheets off of you, you climbed out of your bed and headed down the hall. He was silent on the line as you moved, probably more focused on you making your way through your apartment towards the front door.

Quickly unlocking it, you swung it open to reveal Matt before you. His glasses were hiding his eyes but you could see the downturn of his mouth. You both lowered the phone from your ears, hanging up. Stepping aside, you let Matt into your apartment. You really felt like you were going to be sick now with him standing in front of you and closing the door behind himself.

"Why did you lie?" he asked, his cane gripped tighter in his hands as he gazed down at you. "What happened? Why did you–"

He abruptly paused mid-sentence, head tilting to the side. Your own head cocked to the side, wondering what had interrupted him. As you watched him, you saw his hands grip the cane even tighter, his lips pressing firmly together like he was fighting something down. His head shifted back towards you, his expression still partially hidden behind the glasses.

"Sweetheart, why were you crying?" he asked slowly.

You blinked hard a few times. How the fuck could he know that?

"I can taste it in the air," he answered as if he could read your mind. "Tell me the truth, what happened? What did I do?"

"I told you, you didn't do anything," you answered, voice wavering. You could feel the tears starting again.

Matt raised a hand and pulled his glasses off his face. The sight of him only had your tears spilling back out of your eyes. He looked so pained . His bottom lip was starting to tremble as he gazed down at you, his own eyes beginning to glisten with tears.

"Talk to me," he begged. "Please."

"It's–it's stupid," you muttered.

Matt shook his head roughly, taking a step towards you. "No it's not. You're clearly upset," he said.

"I–" you broke off before you even began.

What the hell were you supposed to tell him? That you couldn't stop mentally picturing him with other women? That you felt less than? That you were afraid he was going to break your heart and leave you?

"Hey," he said, tentatively brushing his fingers along your shoulder almost as if he was too afraid to touch you. "Don't get lost in your head. Talk to me. You can always talk to me."

Wiping your hands across your eyes, you turned, making your way to your couch and sitting down. Matt hesitated a moment before he followed, leaving a bit of space between the two of you that you most certainly noticed.

"Are you–" he began nervously, clearing his throat and glancing down at his fidgeting hands, "–thinking about ending…things?"

Your eyes went wide, jaw dropping at his question. "No!" you shot out. "No, that's not it."

He glanced back up at you, his expression still tortured, his own eyes still watering. "Then what?" he asked.

You grimaced, your gaze dropping down to your lap, hands twisting the fabric of your sweatpants. "I was planning to grab something to eat before meeting you all at Josie’s," you mumbled. "And there were these two women in front of me, and one of them recognized you from that picture in the article."

You swallowed hard, recalling what she'd said. Those mental images fought to resurface with him sitting beside you and your eyes snapped shut.

"Recognized me?" he prompted.

"From when you…slept with her," you whispered.

Matt shifted on the couch, moving more towards you. "Sweetheart, I didn't–"

You shook your head quickly, cutting him off. "No, I know. She meant a while ago. Before we even knew each other. But I had to listen to her talk about how great in bed you were," you said with a cringe. "How she tried to sleep with you again the other week. And when she said that you had told her you were with someone, she made a comment that you'd–you'd never be satisfied with one person."

"What?" he asked, brows creasing together.

"And I knew it was stupid, and I tried to leave and forget about that even happening," you continued, a few tears still sliding down your cheeks, "but I couldn't stop picturing you with her. And then I was thinking about what she said, and I worry that she's right. That you won't be satisfied with me." Your voice picked up speed as you began blurting your fears out. "That you'll get bored of me. Or that you'll miss sleeping with someone new whenever you want. Or that you'll get tired of having to reassure me–in and out of the bedroom. Or maybe I won't be as timid in the bedroom and I'll lose whatever novelty I had for you and–"

"Stop," Matt said, firmly cutting you off. "Just stop, sweetheart. Take a breath."

Your heart was hammering away in your chest, your hands twisting the fabric of your sweatpants even faster between your fingers.

"I'm sorry you had to overhear that," he began after a moment. "I certainly wouldn't have wanted to hear someone talk like that about you, either. But sweetheart, I love you. You're not some novelty. You're not boring. And you are more than enough."

His hands reached out, grabbing your shoulders in a tight grip. You glanced up at him, taking in the earnest expression on his face as his eyes fixed along your left cheek.

"I slept around because I was lonely and young and I liked the attention," he admitted. "But ever since you've been in my life, especially as my girlfriend, I have been far from lonely. I don't want anyone else. I just want you." One of his hands reached up, cupping your cheek gently. "I love you. I've told you before but I'll say it again–I have wanted you since the night your friend who's far too interested in my ass told me to buy you a drink at Josie’s. Please believe me when I tell you that I don't want to lose you."

You swallowed hard, a light laugh falling out of you at his comment about Katy. Matt's thumb gently wiped the tears off of your cheek, the rough pad stroking your skin. His words had soothed that jealous, insecure beast in your gut, but now you just felt guilty for letting those fears cloud your mind this evening.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "It was stupid, I told you it was stupid. And I should have come out but I didn't want to ruin everyone's night. I figured if I stayed in I could just wallow and maybe push it all down and tomorrow I’d be fine."

"Sweetie, don't push those feelings down," he urged. "Because that's when it comes out like this; you shove it down and then push me away instead of just talking to me."

"I'm sorry," you whispered again, shame burning in you now. "I shouldn't have. My mind just started spiraling and I couldn’t make it stop."

Matt's hands pulled you in towards him, wrapping you in his strong arms. Immediately you buried your face in his dress shirt, eyes closing as you inhaled the comforting scent of him. Your own arms hesitantly wrapped themselves around Matt’s waist in return.

“I’m sorry I ruined your night, Matt,” you apologized again into his shirt. “I’m sorry I didn’t come out and that I lied and–”

“Shh,” he shushed you, one of his hands stroking down your hair. “Stop apologizing. Just next time something like this starts growing in your mind, tell me. Please?”

You nodded against him, the tears finally stopping. Shifting above you, you felt him slowly draw you away from his chest, both of his hands coming up to hold your face gingerly in his large palms, tilting it up towards his. He smiled warmly at you, his eyes creased at the corners and filled with so much affection that you felt even more stupid for your earlier thoughts.

“I don’t regret buying you that drink at Josie’s,” he murmured. His forehead lowered to yours, his gaze almost meeting your own. “There’s not a number far enough away from one, remember?”

Your smile grew at the little saying you’d both steadily picked up over the past few weeks about how neither of you regretted that situation Katy had practically forced on the pair of you.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back.

Closing the distance, he brought his soft lips to yours. He kissed you with so much feeling in the way his mouth moved, it was as if he wanted you to never question his love for you again. Your hands that were still on his back gripped his dress shirt tight and pulled him in further towards you, closing that little distance there had been between you on the couch. His hands still held your face firmly to his, even as he gradually and almost reluctantly broke away from your mouth. He rested his forehead against yours, a small smile on his lips.

“Did you eat dinner yet?” you asked.

He huffed out a laugh, lightly shaking his head against yours. “That is definitely not what I thought you were going to say,” he told you. “But no.”

You grinned, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “I can’t celebrate with Foggy and Karen, but I can try to make it up to you. I’ll order us dinner and we can celebrate here,” you offered.

Matt straightened beside you, that smile growing on his mouth. "I'd like that," he replied. "But only if I get to reassure you after dinner one more time." He shot you a wink that had you giggling. "Or maybe two more times."

Still laughing lightly, you slid a hand out from behind his back and grabbed Matt by the back of his neck, drawing him into you for another kiss. His own hands quickly dropped to your hips, pulling you onto his lap and causing you to quickly catch your balance, both legs now straddling his lap.

"And maybe–" he mumbled against your mouth between a kiss, "–one time–" his mouth landed back on yours, "–before dinner."

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock series #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock angst #fftd

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simslegacy5083 · 3 months ago

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Not So Berry (Straud Descendants) Gen 9

Today's (8/23/2024) Episode: Gaming and Goodbyes

As everyone settled down for dinner after Skye aged up, Luigi snagged a seat across from Jade and wasted no time launching into 20 questions.

"I'm one of the only sims around here who believes in The Watcher" he told her, "other than some real crackpots on the internet anyway." He shuddered. "So, what's it like for you, living under their direct influence? My Papa always said The Watcher could control just about anything but if that's true the one around here has a sick sense of humor!"

He then went on to describe some of the many misfortunes that had befallen him and Noemi in the past.

"Oh…my…that's a lot " was all Jade could think to say when he'd finally wound down. Well, Isra did warn me… she thought before responding.

"I don't think our Watcher controls everything. For example, my mom's friend Summer died quite unexpectedly recently, it was really hard on her. Being a legacy family may mean The Watcher keeps a closer eye on us, but in general more crazy things happen when we're around, not less!"

"Do you know the legacy family here?" she asked "Isra and Par haven’t heard of one, but I thought The Watcher had favorites in every nation.”

"Well, actually…" Luigi began, before Noemi cut him off. "No. We've never heard anyone even mention a legacy family." she said, glaring at him.

Jade could tell she'd stepped in something with her question, though she wasn't sure what. Now more ready than ever to extract herself from the awkward conversation she rose "It was nice chatting with you, but I think I'm going to go inside and get out of this heat for awhile."

"Hey! If we’re going inside, I’ll fire up the gaming console and start the real fun.” Rhys said. "Anyone else ready to join us?”

“You know that’s my jam." Luigi stood too, causing Jade to suppress a groan. At least if we’re playing he’ll stop talking so much! she thought.

“My foot has a prior appointment with Darth’s ass," Beau chimed in “Just give me a minute to visit the bathroom for the hundredth time today first."

After a great session of gaming with the chatty e-sports pros Jade was almost sorry to see them off at the end of the night. “It was great to meet you, kid” Luigi told her. “Sorry about all that doom and gloom earlier. I have a tendency to get wrapped up in myself, but you were a trooper about it, and a pretty good video gamer to boot! If you decide to explore a career in E-Sports look me up, I can introduce you to some people.”

“I’ll do that” Jade fibbed, trying to be nice despite having no interest in becoming a professional nerd herself. “It was nice to meet you too.”

“Luigi, I know you believe yourself to be a legacy heir the same as Jade's sister and mother do, but we both know that isn't a "thing" here." Noemi reminded him once they’d returned home. "I thought we agreed we were going to keep that little piece of Lawbourne lore to ourselves."

Luigi sighed "I know. I just got so excited meeting someone from another legacy; I got carried away. Thank you for reining me in, as usual."

"Happy to do it" she chuckled “now, how about you get Skye to bed while I get started on my latest side project? This one wants all their phone icons updated to penguins! The things sims come up with to do with technology…"

"Thank you again, so much, for having me. I had a blast!" Jade gushed the following morning. "I've got the pictures we took, the gifts you made for everyone, and your donation for Sims United in my inventory. I'm sure everyone will love them."

"It was so wonderful to see you again" Wren smiled "I'll be stalking you on social media; I can't wait to see those graduation photos!"

Isra chimed in, “All Elyse wanted to talk about this morning was how much she loved hanging with "silly Auntie J!“, making Jade blush happily.

"I'll be sure to send along any fun kid appropriate memes I find for you to share with my little nieces and nephew.“ After one final hug and kiss she headed towards the teleporter that would take her home, her family watching her retreating back until she blinked out of sight.

Once Jade had disappeared back to her homeland Isra’s quietly weeping par buried their face in her shoulder and whispered, “It was wonderful to see her, but so hard to watch her go.”

“I know” Isra agreed “You want to come home with me and give your grandbabies a snuggle?"

Wren nodded, grateful for Isra’s loving support as they stepped out into the warm paradise of a sunny Sulani day.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

#sims 4 #sims 4 challenge #sims 4 legacy #sims4 #sims 4 nsb #sims 4 not so berry #sims4nsbstraud #sims 4 let's play #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 lets play

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daeva-agas · 2 years ago

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Aizen Birthday tower story (JP 2022)

Sorry this took a while Anon. I wrote up this whole thing, and the browser unexpectedly crashed and I had to redo it all over again :/

---

The story opens with Tatsu and MC in Yokohama having a hard time picking local snacks to give Aizen. They’ve been on an errand for MC’s dad. Dunno if this needs explanation but if you go out of town, it’s kind of the expected thing to bring back some “gift” to your friends/family, even if it’s just a day trip or a work trip (not for fun).

Anyway, since Aizen doesn’t usually say no to anything, they’re having a hard time picking one. Tatsu says Aizen would probably be happy with anything MC gives him, but MC doesn’t want to “whatever” the gift.

Tatsu can’t think of anything in particular, and then comments that boys don’t usually really pay much attention to details like likes and dislikes like that, even with their brothers. MC said that she’s still getting used to Tatsu having his own big bro, because Tatsu has been her brother figure.

Tatsu: Speaking of which, I’m sure you’ll like it better if Major is here with you :v He’s also off today, you know :v

But MC says he needs his rest.

(Tatsu never calls Aizen with anything other than “Major”, even when off duty)

They get things done and when Tatsu returns to his dorms, he sees Aizen outside. As it turns out, Mrs Ooyama had been to Yokohama too, and brought back gifts. Since Tatsu’s not home, she’d gave them to Aizen to drop it off.

Tatsu thought that “Mum could’ve just done so herself”, but then realised that she probably did that to get Aizen to hang out with Tatsu. Though, it would probably suck if Tatsu came home at a different time and Aizen had left already.

They then go out for dinner together. Tatsu picked this beef hotpot place near the academy. Says that he goes there pretty often because at home dad (the general) usually prefers Western style fare like steak, so there’s rarely hotpot on the menu at home.

Tatsu asked Aizen if he usually cooks at home since he has no maids or housekeepers, and Aizen says he’s been eating out more often lately because eating alone is just sad.

*) Literal term he uses is “tasteless”. There’s a Japanese concept that says if you’re eating alone it makes the food tasteless/don’t taste good, i.e. not enjoyable.

Tatsu: You know if you tell MC that she will definitely invite you over for dinner :v Eating with a crowd is more fun.

And Aizen froze for a second :’D

He then asked if MC often comes to visit the house before, saying that he’s surprised Tatsu and MC knew each other. Tatsu responds that it was before he started the junior academy, so Aizen’s been long gone since.

It then occurs to Tatsu that Aizen doesn’t really come home that often, even during holidays back then. He used to think it was because he was busy, but now that he knows Aizen is adopted, he thinks it’s maybe in some ways Azien still feels like the Ooyama house is “not his home” and felt like he’d be imposing if he comes back too often.

Aizen: That’s reasonable, I never had the chance to know

Tatsu then responds that he also didn’t know about the whole onmyouji business either, so even after knowing someone for so long there’s still things that they might don’t know about the other person.

He also adds that no matter how this all came about, MC now has her trusted team and she’s protecting the city out of her own determination. At first he feels bad about not being able to help, but he’s certain that she doesn’t regret it one bit.

Aizen: If you say so, I believe you

(I don’t know how much I should narrate the implied interactions here. There’s a few “...” dialogue bits, and there’s a lot of unspoken words in those silent moments. Tatsu is either trying to make Aizen feel less bad, or he’s just diffusing the obvious awkward angst moment)

After dinner, Tatsu makes a comment about how cold it’s getting and Aizen responds with it being almost the end of the year. Tatsu wanders off for a bit, and then returns with a pile of roast sweet potatoes.

*) In Japan there are people selling roast sweet potatoes in carts on the streets around autumn and winter.

Aizen says that it’s a lot. Way too much, even if shared between both of them, especially because they just ate. Tatsu then says they should share some with MC, since her house is not that far from there.

Aizen: Right now? Tatsu: Right now.

Tatsu also thinks that it would give the opportunity for MC to give Aizen the gift from Yokohama. He asked Aizen if he likes monaka and he says yes.

When they got to MC’s house to give the potatoes, she invites them in for tea. Aizen tried to refuse because it’s getting late, but she says it’s fine. Plus she has something to give him anyway.

Nachi is excited about the potatoes, but kind of burned himself with it because it’s still too hot. Aizen says “must be because because you’re a nekomata” and Nachi get huffy because it sounds like he’s being made fun of.

*) “Having a cat tongue” is a Japanese term for someone who is very sensitive with hot food and gets burned easily.

MC also brings a brazier to warm themselves with. Tatsu was looking around at the stuff in the room and he starts talking with her about some stuff that seemed new. Aizen tells Tatsu to not poke around in people’s house, and Nachi says that’s such a big bro thing to do.

At that Tatsu thinks that maybe he was able to be a good “big bro” to MC because of Aizen’s influence, and in a way Aizen and MC had a “connection” (through Tatsu) even before they met.

Epilogue:

Tatsu and Nachi started playing igo, and Nachi is very bad at it.

MC then gives Aizen the gift, and it was monaka. Aizen realised that this was why Tatsu randomly asked him about it earlier. MC mentioned that Tatsu had said it’s fine to bring whatever, and Aizen asked her if she went to Yokohama with Tatsu.

She says yes, for an errand for her dad. Aizen then with a teasing expression says “You could’ve asked me”.

MC says that she had thought he would want to rest on his day off, but if he doesn’t mind she’ll definitely ask him next time. She gets a little flustered so she goes to get more tea. When she poured out the tea, there’s a stalk “standing” in the cup.

^ Like this. It was thought that if you get this in your teacup, it will bring good luck.

She gives it to Aizen, so good things will happen to him. He responds that he already has it. He doesn’t elaborate, but says “This place is warm. I like warm places.”

He then reaches over and touched her cheek, saying that it’s also warm. She stutters out “It must be because of the brazier”.

Aizen: I think this place is warm because you’re here. MC: Then I’ll be always by your side and keep you warm. Aizen: I’ll gladly take you up for it

And that made her blush even harder and she thinks this time it’s all hot because it’s his fault.

~End~

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

I wish I can share the whole thing, like if they had allowed sharing of recordings I would subtitle it or something. It’s just not the same if not seen for yourself. As I mentioned there’s a few “...” dialogue bits that is just obviously conveying a lot of things without words.

Tatsu is such a hardcore in game shipper it’s kind of ridiculous to see LMAO... It’s so hard to tell whether the whole potato thing was on purpose or not because he has that :v “ho ho ho” face the whole time.

Also Aizen being jealous, pft. I just get the vibes that him telling off Tatsu about poking around the decoration is him saying “stop hogging her attention”, and it’s not actually about being rude at someone else’s house hahaha.

The word “warm” 温かい is repeated multiple times in that last bit, it kind of felt awkward to narrate haha... In English writing we get warned to not repeat the same word too many times in close proximity.

#ayakoi #ayakoi birthday #ayakoi aizen #ayakashi koi meguri #ayakashirr #ayakashi romance reborn #arr aizen #arr kyonosuke #ayakashi aizen #ayakashi kyonosuke

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raggaraddy · 3 years ago

Text

Mouthy

Prompt: You say to Yandere BTS "Oh my god! Just shut up!"

A/N: Couldn't sleep, so I wrote this laying in bed. I hope it's not some sleep-deprived nonsense ^-^

Trigger warning: Yandere themes, violence, emotional manipulation, choking, non-con, D/s themes, examples of a bad D/s dynamic.

Alpha! Namjoon

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You scream it through your bedroom doorway. Storming to the railing of the stairs, you lean over and scream again. "Shut up!"

The sea of people on the ground floor go quiet. Only the music dares to keep making a sound in the background. You skulk back to your room, slamming the door loudly behind you. You had had a long, disappointing day. You were tired and grumpy, and moody and sad. But the dozens of uninvited pack members couldn't care less as their party raged on into the night.

Not allowing you enough time to even climb back into bed, Namjoon storms after you to address your outburst.

"Y/n, go downstairs right now and apologize." He orders.

"No." you mope. Feeling it's a wildly unfair request. All these people are in your house making so much noise when you're trying to sleep. How is it you that's in the wrong?

"Do you think I am asking you? I'm telling you. Get downstairs now." He says sternly. His strict tone making you even more emotional. You just wanted him to be on your side for this.

"But- But I," you sniffle, with tears in your eyes.

"No," Namjoon cuts you off. "I've asked you all afternoon what's wrong. And you wouldn't tell me. So right at this moment, I don't want to hear it. You have been disrespectful to me and my people. So you are going to put some more clothes on and cover-up, and you will go out there and apologize to every single person." He growls, leaving no room to argue. "And you will do it sincerely, or I will give you something to cry about."

King! Seokjin

You didn't say it to his face. You would never be that stupid. But still, you clearly weren't smart enough. While gossiping to a friend, someone you thought was a confidant, you're complaining about a seemingly endless, boring meeting you had to serve today.

"And I just wanted to tell all of them; Oh my god! Just shut up!" You laugh.

But hours later it's no longer a laughing matter.

"How did you enjoy serving me today, Princess?" Jin asks his tone giving nothing away of what he already knows.

"I enjoyed it. Thank you, your Majesty" You politely smile, thinking his question to be a kindness.

"I often find these meetings so dull. Many of the Lords do like to ramble on. Sometimes I would enjoy telling all of them to just shut up." He speaks the words so purposefully that you know at once you've been exposed.

"My Lord, I-"

"If you are smart you will not say another word." He speaks softly, with a grin on his face. "I want to thank you, Y/n. I have an endless supply of other people I can hurt. Each one of them is freely at my disposal, but you are my favourite toy." He fills the space in front of you. "However, I am a man of my word. I swore to you that you will be unharmed if you are obedient, and I would not dare to break this vow. Of course, I have sorely missed playing with my beloved little dol, though."

Towering over you he sets off your instinct to get to your knees and grovel, begging his forgiveness for your carelessness. But that would only be a wasted effort.

"So thank you, Princess, for giving me the possibility to hear your pretty cries of pain again. I will make sure to use this opportunity to its fullest."

Assassin! Yoongi

He had been in a hyper mood for 2 days straight. His energy and enthusiastic interaction was something you always craved, but you had never dealt with it this long before and you were losing your sanity and your composure.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You shout at him as your last nerve snaps.

"Okay, Y/n." He gives little to no reaction. "Remember you said this in a month from now when you're begging me to speak to you."

But it didn't take a month. In two weeks you were in tears apologizing. He left you free to roam the house, but he revoked all communication from you. The only times he gave you any attention, was when he forcibly made you stop doing something he didn't like. Or when he wanted you for sex. But still, he wouldn't utter a single word, only bending you over to take what he wanted.

After 5 weeks, just as you thought you'd never hear his voice again, he finally broke his silence. Only to break your heart.

"Listening to you these past few weeks, I realise how much you talk. It's time you take your own advice and shut up. Y/n, I don't want to hear a sound out of you until I say. 5 weeks was easy enough for me. So let's start with that, and then I'll see if I want to hear from you yet."

Vampire! Hoseok

Hoseok was always so animated. Normally it didn't bother you, but he was talking and reacting through yet another movie and you were sick of it. It might have been because you were PMSing or maybe because Hoseok had forgotten to feed you all day, but when he yelled at the TV, you yelled at him.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" And right away you were teeming with regret.

"I'm sorry baby. Am I being too loud?" He laughs with an unexpectedly harmless reply. Playfully but roughly slapping his hand on your thigh. "I'll keep it down."

You're not dumb enough to think that your eruption would go unanswered. So you sit tensely, anxiously waiting to see how he will repay you.

"Baby," he whispers in your ear, after sitting in silence for 20 minutes. "You know I have very strong hearing right?" You nod nervously. Chewing your lip. "Well, your breathing is too loud and very distracting. I can hardly hear the movie. Can you please fix that?"

You know this is going to lead to something horrible, but you have no choice but to do as he says. For the next 10 minutes, you're completely distracted trying to inhale and exhale as softly and shallowly as possible.

"Hmm baby, it's really too much. I can't concentrate on the film." He stands, pulling his belt off. "Here let me help you."

He wraps his belt around your neck, pulling and setting it so tight that it's biting into your skin. Your throat constricting, barely letting you breathe.

As you wheeze and splutter and cough, he holds the end like a leash. Sitting back on the couch, he turns his focus back to the movie without letting you loosen the strap or get away. Your whole body is shaking, your eyes starting to roll back as you struggle to inhale. The belt is cruelly not tight enough to have you pass out though. Only allowing you to sit in your suffering. The sound of your gasping filling the room.

"Ahh, there you go baby. That's much better. Don't worry, it's just while we're watching movies. And there's only two more left in the trilogy."

Playboy! Jimin

He was telling you over and over how sorry he was. How he didn't mean to kiss that girl. That he was drinking. And that she kissed him. It was every excuse and lie he had spouted 100 times before.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You yelled at him. And for a moment it worked. He sat in stunned silence. But as you got off the bed to leave, taking your car keys with you, he chased after you.

"Where are you going?"

"Out Jimin. I need some time alone to think." You scowl.

But he refuses, blocking the door. Holding his arms to either side to barricade you in.

"No, you can't leave! I said I'm sorry."

"Fuck off Jimin, your apologies mean nothing." You say shoving him.

He doesn't accept that. With a roar, he grabs your shoulders throwing you down onto the bed. Quickly straddling you, using far too much force to keep you pinned beneath him. Tearing off the pillowcases, he makes some shoddy but effective restraints. Tying you to the bars on the headboard.

Ignoring your screams and how you struggle he starts to kiss down your neck, pulling at your clothes, rubbing his hands down your body.

"I'm gonna make you feel good Y/n. I'll show you that I only want you, then you'll have to forgive me." He says sounding desperate and unhinged.

You cry and yell for him to stop, trying to buck him off you, but his hand covers your mouth, his other successfully tearing down your panties from under your dress.

"Don't fight me, Angel. Just let me in. And I'll prove I love you the most."

Dom! Taehyung

Finally, Taehyung had agreed to spend some time with you in a social environment. He and you went out to a movie and dinner with some of your friends. They were vanilla friends though, so as an exception, for the day he loosened a lot of the restrictions and formalities you normally had in place.

You, however, you were getting a little too relaxed. While you joked with you're friends, you started to speak to him the same manner. As you and he were playfully arguing about trivia facts you realized you were losing the debate.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You joke. But in the company of your friends or not, Taehyung was not about to let you disrespect him. Even in jest.

"Is that how you should talk to me girl?" He asks loudly and in front of everyone, bringing the group conversation to a grinding halt.

His change in tone and his use of the possessive pet name, right away have you back in your place.

"No," you whisper. The sting of embarrassment hot upon your cheeks.

"No, what?" He pushes it.

You can't stand to look up. All of the attention is on the two of you. And even in your peripheral, you can see your friends looking at you judgementally, wide-eyed and in shock.

And he was making it worse by having you use his title around them.

"No, Sir." you surrender, your head hung low.

"Shouldn't you also apologise to the other people at the table? For interrupting our night with your rudeness." He keeps piling on one shame after the other. Stretching out the ordeal.

"No, it's fine." One of your friends tries to laugh off the awkwardness and speed the discussion away from this point. "She doesn't have to."

"Y/n," He prompts you, disregarding what your friend had said.

Thoroughly humiliated, you can't imagine how you are going to repair these relationships or explain this treatment away.

"I'm sorry for interrupting the night with my rudeness." you swallow heavily, hands shaking.

"Good girl. Now mind your mouth. Before you make me embarrass you further."

Mafia! Jungkook

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" you say in a hushed voice. More of a prayer said to yourself than an actual demand you expected Jungkook to hear.

"What did you just say to me?" he lowers the phone, gawking at you.

You really didn't mean to, it just slipped out. He was talking on the phone, going into too graphic detail about how he and his men dealt with a threat recently. You couldn't handle the gruesome details he was recanting anymore and the words just fell out.

"What did you just say? Did you just tell me to shut up?" He repeats again through your nonreply. His tongue running through the inside of his cheek, his jaw and muscles tensing. His voice jumping rapidly from stunned to aggressive.

You're at home alone with him, so you weren't paying much mind to what you were saying. But this afternoon he's been dealing with work. And right now he isn't Kookie, no the person in front of you is Jeon Jungkook. The temperamental Mafia head, who would as likely hit you as he would speak to you.

"I'm sorry," you squeak.

"You're sorry?" He scoffs, slamming the phone down. "If you had said it and meant it, that would be one thing. I could respect that. But you really just can't control your stupid little mouth can you."

"I-" you start a defence, or more a plea for mercy.

"Shut the fuck up!" He growls leaning forward in his seat making you flinch back. Darting his hand out he grabs you by the hair, pulling you back to where you were. "Don't flinch. I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna help you." He smiles.

You wriggle in his clutches, mewling the same trifle apologies under your breath.

"Shhh, my brainless little Kitten. I'm gonna give you a gift." He smirks. "For your own safety, you don't need to talk for the rest of the day. I just need you to come when I call. Sit on my lap when I tell you. And purr for me like a good little pussy." Grabbing your arm harshly, he yanks you off your chair and onto the ground. "There you go, where you belong." He laughs. "You think you can remember to do all that? I know you can. Otherwise, I'll buy you a kat collar to remind you how my Kitten should behave."

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no-droids · 4 years ago

Text

Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

Warnings/Tags: DUBCON/NONCON elements, fuckboy Poe (OOC), Enemies to Lovers, degradation/humiliation, mentions of oral sex, SMUUUTTTTTTTT also I’m not sorry for what I did but you’re not allowed to read if you’re gonna get mad at me okay byeeee

***

This.

This shit, right here.

If the question was ever, “What’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever let Poe Dameron somehow talk you into doing?” then the answer is this stupid shit, right the fuck here. This is like. You remember that one game, Mercy? The one where you’d dig your nails in and twist arms and just needlessly inflict pain on each other as children until one of you cried uncle because someone somewhere once decided to turn torture into a matter of pride?

You always thought those games were fucking ridiculous. Who can hold their breath the longest, who can handle a lit deathstick against their flesh the longest, who can take the hardest punch—who cares? It’s child’s play. It’s self-inflicted agony for the sake of bragging rights and even as a youngling, you refused to fall for it.

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

You know those people that… they don’t just rub you the wrong way, but literally every single aspect about their personality is sandpaper against wet skin and your whole entire being feels chafed raw just by existing in their general vicinity for an extended period of time?

You’re… you’re not usually a competitive—much less aggressive person. You never have been. It’s just not part of your nature. If you ever excel at anything in life, it isn’t because of some secret, deep-seated desire to win or be better than anyone else. You just… do you. You do whatever you do, and if it’s good, it’s good. And if it’s bad, it’s good. Because at the end of the day at least it’s still you, and you’re okay with that.

But this?

This shit? Right here?

“This is fucking dumb,” you say, because you know it’s what you both must be thinking so you may as well just get it out in the open. “This is the dumbest fucking thing, Dameron. What are we doing? Why are we doing this?”

The grumpy, orange-jumpsuited figure sitting behind you just sighs heavily and slumps even further down in his bucket seat, as if it isn’t the first time you’ve tried asking this incredibly valid question (it totally is), bringing a palm down to thunk the top of the guidance controls between his legs in a quiet irritation you’re almost certain has everything to do with the very topic you’re trying to bring up.

“Because,” comes that infuriating drawl. You can only see his face from this angle by looking at his reflection in the transparisteel barrier directly in front of you, but even just imagining the way his mouth moves while he rounds out the words makes your jaw clench. “The coordinates we picked up were scrambled and this rendezvous could be going down at any one of thirty-six locat—?”

“No,” you interrupt him with a scowl, “not why I’ve been floating in dead space in this Maker-forsaken ship with you for eight fucking hours a day since… fuck, what’s today? Thursday? Friday? Nope, can’t be Friday, Friday’s our off-day. Thursday, then. …Thursday?” You shake your head. “Ugh, see? Time doesn’t exist when I’m not allowed to cum, life is like one never-ending nightmare.”

“Oh.” He takes a second to think about it in silence, the calloused tips of his fingers scratching the side of his face while he considers. It wouldn’t usually be as loud as it is right now. Maybe it’s the haunting quiet of space surrounding the ancient powered down hunk of metal you’re both stuck in, inadvertently isolating and amplifying the sound—or maybe it’s because your copilot’s jaw is currently covered in a thick, dark beard that you swear barely took his testosterone-overloaded ass a fucking week or two to grow, if that. Regardless, the dark bristles crunch loudly under his short fingernails and it takes you about a grand total of five whole uninterrupted seconds of the scraping sound to realize you’re grinding your teeth along with it. “Well,” he finally says, “that was your stupid idea.”

“Hmmmmmmmno,” you contest firmly, wiggling your elbow back to poke at his shin with your index finger once, twice, thrice, until he finally slaps your hand away in quiet irritation. To the misfortune of you both—and likely the other hundred or so pilots concurrently taking rotating shifts in these tandem x-wings in a glorified mass stakeout, the cockpit of this ship is just way too fucking small. Your arm is squeezed uncomfortably against machinery and electronics to get to him from this angle and a light slap isn’t going to stop you now that you’re here. “You—” (poke) “—have a superiority complex and decided to turn it into a competition, not—” (poke) “—me.”

“Oh, I have a superiority complex, okay,” he scowls and nods in vehement, fake agreement, finally giving up and letting you poke at will, but the appeal is lost as soon as you realize he’s over it and your arm eases back into your lap. You watch his reflection look out of the viewport and scan the empty void of space for the twentieth time in the past five minutes, clearly just as desperate to get back to base as you are. “So what is it you call saying—wait, no no, not even saying, loudly declaring—‘Of course I can go longer without sex than “wham bam thank you ma’am” Dameron, you brainless fucks, it’s a simple fact!’”

“Alright—I don’t sound like that, fuck you very much,” you return, in reference to his shrieking, high-pitched impression of you surrounded by your fellow pilots in the rec room when you’ve had a bit too much to drink. “Also, you don’t have to finger-quote literally every single syllable of my fucking sentence, Dameron. First and last word, that’s all it takes. And if it’s so superiority complex-ey of me to state simple facts, then what is it you call saying ‘betcha two weeks worth of pay you can’t, pretty baby’?”

“Uh, easy credits?” He immediately asks, side-eyeing your reflection through the transparisteel. “ Easy credits. Just begging for it. Two weeks of your slutty, sexy, easy fucking credits just begging to be taken and used— ”

“You need to get laid,” you cut in to tell him bluntly, scrunching your nose in what you hope looks like disgust. As per protocol, the power to the x-wing was cut at the beginning of your shift—what feels like a fucking eternity ago—as a preventative maneuver in case the target falls out of hyperspace unexpectedly. Avoiding the scanners of a fleet that may never actually show means it’s cold and dimly lit in here—just starlight in front of either you, but you’re hoping he can gauge the severity of your revulsion with your back to him. “You just turned my money into a sex object. It was vile. I feel violated on its behalf.”

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to get laid,” he tosses carelessly back at you, and you roll your eyes with as much sass as you can physically muster, so tired of all the dodging. You know this hasn’t been easy for him either, he just has too much pride to admit it. “Besides, you’ve gotta be past the withdrawal stage by now. Is it really all that bad?”

“The fuck you mean, ‘Is it really all that bad’?” You snap at him, shuffling around grumpily in your seat, hating the way the bulky weapons controls sit right between your thighs and prevent you from closing them. Withdrawal stage, ha. “Of course it’s all that bad. It’s horrible. It’s the fucking worst. And more importantly, how are you not having any trouble with this? Oh, wait—that’s right,” you answer yourself before he has a chance to. “Because you cheated.”

“I did not cheat,” Dameron’s reflection immediately challenges with an accusatory finger pointed at you. “I did not. When the fuck did I cheat? I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half—all because you don’t believe in the honor system—just so you could tell me I fucking cheated?”

You scoff, feeling your annoyance spark even more. He’s always been able to get under your skin, but the neglect you’ve been forcing your body to endure is just throwing gasoline on an already roaring fire. “Okay, first of all? Rude. I am a fucking joy to have as a roomie, alright? I put up with your snoring, your 2:00 AM dinners, you blasting your radio while I’m trying to sleep, I barely complain about your body odor—”

“My snoring is adorable, I get snacky at night, only sad people with fucked up lives hate music, I smell amazing,” Dameron casually lists off on his fingers, the self-confidence so easy and unshakeable that you swear he’s almost preening at the compliments he just gave himself by the time he’s finished rebutting everything you can think to throw at him. And, while you’d never admit it, he does smell good. He smells… unbelievably fucking good. Always. Something dark and woodsy, you can never quite put your finger on. It pisses you off, so much that you’ve made a habit of pulling a face of disgust whenever the warm, rich scent noticeably reaches you, hoping it deflates his ego just a little bit. No such luck so far.

“Whatever. The point is I’m a good fucking neighbor, alright, I’m neighborly as fuck,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “And don’t make it sound like I’m putting a chastity lock on your balls every night, because you can fuck anyone you want. In fact, I strongly fucking encourage it—I just want to know about it when it happens.”

Dameron smirks and you groan, already knowing what’s coming. “You wanna hear it?”

Yep, there it is. “Second of all—”

“Feel the whole bunk rock with it?” He goes on, completely ignoring you. “Use the excuse that you’re trapped up top so you can just stay there the whole time and listen? You know you can do a lot more than just—”

“Second of all,” you project over him, “you’re seriously telling me you haven’t had any wet dreams then, hm? No snorgasms? Hmmm? No happy naps? No captain midnights? No mattress fracking? Hmmmmmm???”

His voice very quickly sounds… shocked. “How many fucking euphemisms—?”

“Wait wait, one more—” you quickly interrupt, too much momentum to stop now, “—sleepskeet.”

You watch in immense satisfaction as his expression seems to progress through all five stages of grief, before he exhales a long, unamused sigh and scratches his beard again. You want to pluck each strand of it out of his face one by one. “Anyways. Wet dreams are totally different and don’t count.”

“It’s not different!” You burst out, unable to help yourself, “it’s an orgasm, and rule number three is no orgas—”

“I know what the rules were, Gold-Ten,” he returns calmly, and it infuriates you, how he’s always able to make it seem like you’re the instigator who’s overreacting. And he knows exactly what he’s doing by calling you by your flight designation, and it pisses you off even more because calling him Black-Leader in any other situation besides active warfare just feels like an unnecessary reminder of his skills. Why he’s currently behind you manning the guidance controls and why you’re currently stuck in the front seat with the bulkier weapons systems. “The question is if you’re seriously that bad enough of a sport to automatically disqualify me because of something that happens to any human with a dick indiscriminately when we blueball ourselves.”

“But that’s the entire fucking point, Dameron!” You shrill, throwing your hands in the air in pure exasperation. “There it is! You need it more than I do, you just said it yourself! Not to mention I said I can go longer without sex than you can— sex , not orgasms, but as it turns out I win at both. Now can we please call this shit off so I can finally cum? This isn’t fun anymore.”

“Nope,” he says immediately, popping the P with a bit too much hard emphasis to be genuinely amused. He’s frustrated, too—his voice is too pleased, too fake to not be masking irritation underneath. “Sorry. But this was also your stupid idea, so.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, anger flaring equal to his, just way more… verbal. And descriptive. “Wet dreams don’t count, fucking right. Tell that to the oceans of Kamino I got going on down there, huh? I move on this seat wrong and I’ll slide off it—”

A loud slam of a palm against the controls suddenly echoes throughout the small cockpit, causing you to jump slightly.

“Don’t,” Dameron snarls, “... say shit like that to me. Not right now. Not right now, fuck .”

You go quiet for a moment, not expecting that much of an outburst at something you considered to be a throwaway remark, but then… oh. Something occurs to you, something… sinister. Oh, well, now there’s an idea.

Everything inside you immediately surges up and burns at the thought—the mere whisper of a way out of all of this, quickly, without giving in and letting him hold your surrender over you for Maker knows how long. It’s so fucking simple, you don’t know why you didn’t think of it before. You don’t have to wait him out at all; instead, you just need to… entice him into giving in first.

Neither of you say anything for a while, and you don’t know what he’s thinking (nothing, probably—a dry tumbleweed bouncing across an empty desert landscape, you imagine) but you take the dip in conversation to consider a plan. You can’t go at it too outright, it’ll be too big of a turnaround and he’ll see it coming lightyears away. A halfhearted joke about your pussy tossed out without thinking is what catalyzed the most substantial reaction from him you’ve seen, so… maybe you can keep steering the conversation towards the idea.

“How many wet dreams have you had?” You suddenly ask, your heart beginning to pick up in your chest as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“Excuse me?” Dameron grunts from behind you, and you catch his reflection raising a thick eyebrow at you.

You take a deep breath and disguise it by stretching your back out just a little bit, lifting your shoulder blades and arching the sore muscles there, before settling back down in your normal crappy posture once more. “Now many times did you cum in your sleep? Had to at least been once for you to claim they don’t count.”

“Why does it matter?” He asks, completely sidestepping the question for the second time. “It was involuntary.”

You shrug. “Just so I know how many freebies I can get tonight.”

“No,” Dameron instantly counters, his voice dead serious. “Not fucking allowed.”

“Why not?” You ask, and this time, there’s significantly less challenge than you’d typically deliver it with. Instead, your voice is soft, questioning. Not argumentative, but curious, and there’s just enough of your point left unsaid that it’ll seem like he conjured the rest of the image himself.

There’s silence while he considers his response to the perfectly executed bait. You assume you’re both picturing the same thing, because it’s what you’ve pictured almost every single night spent in this celibate hellscape. The cool darkness of your shared quarters, the standard-issue sheets that still feel crispy and rough on your skin no matter how many nights you’ve slept in them, with one of your hands pressed tight over your mouth and two of your fingers circle your clit.

“You only get to do it if I’m in the room,” he poses instead, and you swallow thickly, feeling your body tighten with an unintentional drop of pure heat through your tummy at the thought. Maker, it must be really bad if Poe fucking Dameron is getting to you like this. The bane of your existence shouldn’t make your insides twist in on themselves—at least, not in a good way.

“Not like I’d have much choice,” you eventually respond, keeping it purposefully ambiguous. “It’s your room, too. Unfortunately.”

Stars, it’s been so long since you’ve done this, since you’ve walked the fine line between flirtation and seduction, wanting to turn on the charm slowly—gradually ease it up like a hyperdrive lever under your fingertips so that you’re at maximum by the time he realizes you’re even there. You take a moment to glance at his reflection, watching Dameron look back at you curiously, a flash of interest in his eyes.

“By the way, how does that one girl feel about us doing this?” You ask out of nowhere, suddenly remembering the existence of his pretty little number. You’ve seen her under his arm around base at least a few times, which is more than you can say for the rest of them. “Red-Six. Tall brunette with the tattoos—I don’t bother learning names, they all come and go.”

“Nihla,” Dameron nods with a wistful sigh, tilting his head to rest against his shoulder. “Or, wait… Neah. No—it was… Nalal. Yeah, Nalal, I think that’s right…”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter. “One of the greatest mysteries of the universe is how many people get in line for you, I’ll never fucking understand it.”

“They just want me for my cock,” he tells you without missing a single beat, sounding like he’s not joking in the slightest. “It was starting to get obnoxious. Glad I finally have an excuse to turn them down.”

“Unbelievable,” you repeat, stunned by how truly, mind-blowingly full of himself he is. “You’re… fucking…”

You end up just staring at him and making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, at a complete loss for words, and Dameron eventually shrugs and continues on after you fail to form a coherent thought in the allotted time frame he provides.

“Now I can just tell them I’m in a long-running bet with Gold-Ten over who can sexually deprive themselves the longest and weirdly enough, they don’t seem all that interested anymore,” he remarks, tilting his chin up and rubbing at his beard again, and for some reason… the sound of it bothers you somewhat less now, the way he phrased that resonating deeper inside you than it should. Lower than it should. You blink a few times, almost shocked by your body’s unprecedented response to his admission—Poe Dameron uses you as an excuse to turn down sex with pretty girls? Happily?—and your mind goes blank for a second while he watches you through the transparisteel. “It’s alright,” he eventually goes on, tilting his head. “Sometimes a sabbatical is good. I do really miss pussy, though.”

“Well,” you finally tell him, oddly not having much else to offer at the moment. “I’m sorry? And… you’re welcome. I guess.”

Dameron shrugs once more and makes an apathetic sound without opening his mouth, and you drop your stare down to the machinery between your spread thighs after feeling like you were looking at each other for too long. The position started uncomfortable and seven hours later, it’s still fucking uncomfortable. At first the discomfort twinged at your hips and lower back, but now the sensation seems to be… centering itself a bit more, finding a spot right between your legs, especially when his words echo through your subconscious and make you naturally want to push your thighs together. I do really miss pussy, though.

You try to snap out of it a bit, try to stop hyperfixating on the way your underwear has felt sticky and wet for fucking hours now, but it’s so fucking difficult to chill yourself out when your body already went into this whole situation with a month and a half long stumbling block. He’s not really doing anything at all—he’s leant back in his chair and staring out the window into the black emptiness of space when you steal a look once more, but something about how his casual responses are affecting you makes it seem like he’s the one currently seducing you.

Maker, you have to focus. You have to control yourself. You’re starting to feel a little warm in your thick jumpsuit—a particular shade of orange that does not compliment your complexion but you normally rejoice in wearing regardless. It’s baggy and uniform and hides most of your curves and most importantly, it keeps you toasty on missions like this. Space is cold —especially this far out in the Cauper Void, and there’s no fucking reason this powered down hunk of floating metal should feel as muggy and stifling as it does in here.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you suddenly hear yourself say, spontaneously, no thought put into it whatsoever. One last try, one last attempt to avoid it, a last-ditch go at flight before he gives you no choice and you’re left with this one remaining option. “This isn’t a good idea. It’s… not healthy. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

This gets a small chuckle out of him. “I know you don’t, pretty baby.”

“Then let’s just call the whole thing off,” you propose once again, trying to lighten your tone, make it a… a friendly thing. It sounds so fake, even to your own ears—since when would you be desperate enough to let the dreaded petname slide?—but granted, you know what they say about time and measures and all that shit. “We can call it a tie, just go back to the way things were befo—”

He cuts you off and pins you with his gaze through the reflection. “You realize that you begging me to put an end to your suffering is—ridiculously hot, mostly—but also only an incentive to make me keep pushing until you finally give in?”

You groan and comb some of your hair off your forehead, not liking the way it’s getting just the slightest bit damp. “Fine, we won’t call it off, but can we at least just stop—” You immediately catch yourself, not wanting to unintentionally push this too far too quickly, but your hesitation is clear and compelling enough for him to prompt you.

“At least just stop what?” Dameron asks, and though you don’t think it’s intentional or even noticeable from his perspective, something about the way his voice sounds… husky. Low to the ground.

“Stop dragging it out,” you breathe, your heart pounding. Why is your heart pounding so fucking fast? This is a fucking sting op, a facade, so why are you getting so caught up in the lie you’ve spun for yourself? “Finish it. Sooner, rather than later. Quit being masochists about it, just fucking put it to—”

Maker, your eyes instinctively snap to his at your poor choice of wording, having almost said bed on complete accident. Genuinely, you didn’t mean to phrase it that way, but at the same time, the thought of it almost burns you alive. Fuck. Dameron, and you, in bed. It could be mean. It could be rough. A fight for dominance more than anything. He’s bigger than you and he could make it fucking hurt, especially after going without it for as long as you have, but something about how double-edged that type of relief would be isn’t really sinking in for you right now. Like a person slowly dying of thirst that’s fantasizing about drowning. Regardless, the idea of a night with him and the sudden assortment of vivid imagery it provides is enough to get you to shut up and take a deep breath, just wait with your mouth shut for whatever his response is.

Unfortunately, you don’t have to wait long at all.

“This is cute,” he suddenly tells you, and you jerk back and sputter a bunch of consonants stupidly like he smacked you.

“Fuck you?” Are the first recognizable words that can be heard. “I’m not—this isn’t fucking— cute?”

“It’s cute,” Dameron repeats, hiding a soft smile from you with a few of his fingers pressed to his lips. “You,” he says as he points at your reflection, twirling his finger around in circles, “trying to be all sneaky about it, go about your little performance. It’s like… watching a little kid just blatantly fuck up a magic trick but they’re naive enough to think it’s working. Keep going, I’m enthralled.”

You hold still for just a second as ice suddenly sinks through your tummy and clears away any trace of warmth you may have once felt from before. Of course. Stupid. Stupid, you shouldn’t have even tried something like that, you don’t know why you thought…

Horrifyingly, you go dead silent and the lack of an immediate response from you hangs awkwardly in the still air. You’re usually so quick with him, so fiery, letting the things he throws at you just glide right off you, but for some insane reason, you’re actually fucking… embarrassed? A little bit?

You should say something, but your whole body is just frustratingly blank, almost buzzing in mortification, and it gets worse and worse the longer you stay quiet. You don’t usually put yourself in a position to be compromised, and you certainly didn’t think the place he decided to jab this time had particularly thin skin.

You… you’d forgotten what it’s like to have someone laugh at you when you’re genuinely trying your best to flirt.

Well, it’s too late to say anything now, you think. Now it’s just uncomfortable in here—true discomfort, not the typical angry silences. You’re used to that, you’re used to huffing and crossing your arms and ticking your jaw through the breaks in conversation, refusing to say a word because you’re beyond pissed off. This is different. This quiet sits different in the air, this emotion hits different in your chest, somewhere vulnerable. A crack in your armor he found without even necessarily intending to, but at this point, the stupid way you can’t seem to hide the wound from him is just as much to blame.

“So, uh…” Dameron clears his throat as you shut your eyes tight against the awkwardness, but you can still feel a strange little shift in the air from behind you. There’s something about the enclosed space, the quiet darkness surrounding you both, you feel… too close to him. Sharing his air, feeling the energy when it’s cramped and you’re not able to just get up and storm away from him like normal. You don’t like it. You don’t like that you can immediately tell something has changed without being able to see him, that type of intimacy between you is pushing a boundary you can’t quite pinpoint but know exists.

You snap your eyes open and look over at Dameron’s reflection when he’s quiet for too long, and though you try to glare as fiercely as possible at him while you do it, the look on his face almost stops you dead. The pure intensity raging in his expression, the way he’s got his eyes narrowed, flicking back and forth between yours, carefully studying you, wondering if perhaps he may have gotten it all wrong. “I mean, y’know. Theoretically speaking, and all. If I broke, you’d let me fuck you?”

You… aren’t expecting that.

You don’t know why but your heart suddenly starts to race again, but it’s not the same as before. Before it was speeding up and at an angle, like a rocket trying to escape a body’s gravitational pull, to go somewhere, search for something. This time it just feels like it’s ricketing downhill, unsteady and out of control, about to break apart with every single pothole that rattles and slams through you. Shit. You didn’t expect the ultimatum would be presented to you so up front like that—you thought there’d be… some resistance, at least.

Fuck, you take way too fucking long thinking about it, and your face feels warmer and warmer the more you mentally pick apart his specific phrasing, wondering where you should even begin. You still haven’t said anything, but the damage is already done. What should've been a firm, instantaneous go fuck yourself is left suspended, unanswered, open for interpretation. You miss your window of opportunity to shut him down, you overshoot it by a longshot, and then you feel that spark of a what-if flare deep down once more.

No, fucking stop it. Stop it. Maker, your eyes do everything they can to not look at him while you concentrate and work to tap into your anger, stoking the flames of your fire to avoid feeling… temptation. How dare he? How fucking dare he do this to you, especially when there’s no chance to get out of here, to abort mission and cut your losses? You clench your jaw and isolate that fury, magnify it until it’s the only thing you can feel anymore.

“My turn now,” Dameron eventually breaks the silence to clarify, blinking at you, and by this point you’re so fucking pissed off that you don’t recognize that isn’t actually a question.

“No,” you immediately snap, strung far too thin to deal with this new, treacherous territory with him. Defaulting to normal is best, it’s easier. “No, it’s not your turn, and fuck no, you can’t fuck me, not even if it means I win this stupid bet. No to everything that has anything to fucking do with you, alright? Don’t talk to me. You’re lucky if I agree to sleep in the same fucking room as you tonight. And—and?—I think your beard looks dumb.”

Okay, so maybe the last part was just a little bit childish, but you’re in such a bad fucking mood and you want to insult something he’s clearly just trying out for right now, hasn’t yet solidified as part of his usual appearance and unshakeable confidence in it. It’s a downright lie—you think he might look more attractive with it than he ever has. Effortlessly rugged and masculine, framing his face and making his eyes all the more piercing.

You don’t think it works, but regardless, he heeds your sharp words and says nothing for a good few minutes at least. You had hoped the break in interaction would allow you the ability to reset a little bit, give yourself time to work through it, but it’s like the pressure in the air steadily increases regardless of how silent it is in here—or perhaps, because of it.

You can’t help it. You flick your eyes to the transparisteel in front of you once more and catch his reflection staring directly at you, unmoving. It jars you as much as it sparks your anger, and you glare down at your hands and give him a few seconds. A few seconds of grace, of mercy, before you try again.

Sure enough, he’s still got his dark eyes pinned to you when you go to check once more, like he’s actually fucking thinking about something right now, which is just… astounding, for obvious reasons. Mainly, the nerve of him. The fucking nerve of him to be able to look at you like that, like he’s just entitled to study your every feature, searching your eyes for things you’ve never looked deep enough to find within yourself, making incredibly loud assumptions with his mind that he has absolutely no right to be making.

“Shut up,” You snap at him defensively, feeling like you’re sweating buckets even in the freezing emptiness of dead space. You can’t figure out if it’s a cold sweat or if your body is legitimately just malfunctioning under his stare. “Shut up.”

You watch as his reflection suddenly drops his head back against the seat and rolls out the stiffness of his neck, blinking his eyes shut and raising his eyebrows like you’re completely overreacting, like he has absolutely no idea. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re not that dumb,” you challenge. “You’re… plotting. Evil plotting.”

A thick eyebrow drops so that only one is quirked up, and a grin pulls at his lips.

“You’re right,” Dameron admits casually after a moment with his eyes still closed, his voice pitched low in the cramped ship. “I was thinking about what it’s gonna take to get you to lose.”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, starting to unintentionally bounce one of your legs up and down without even realizing it. Fuck, this ship is small, it’s too fucking small in here—you gaze wistfully out at the vast endlessness of space, wanting to grit your teeth at the irony of being surrounded by the one thing you so desperately wish you had.

“I just have to find a weakness,” he shifts forward in his seat and reveals to you, bewilderingly shameless in his honesty. Like all of a sudden you’re an accomplice to this endeavor instead of its target, as if he isn’t spoiling the secret by letting you in on it. “Something that you like, that gets you going. Something that riles you up, gets you all hot and bothered down there—”

“So you can exploit it,” you huff, slouching over a bit and trying not to sound like you’re pouting.

“—so I can exploit it,” he finishes happily, collapsing back into his seat like he’s glad you caught on so quick and he doesn’t have to explain further. “Now we can do the whole routine—the bickering, the tension, the undeniable sexual chemistry we have—or we can skip all that and you can just tell me flat out what it’s gonna take to rev that pretty little engine up, because I want it purring.”

And, it’s so fucking weird, because the specific verbiage that would normally make you cringe just hearing it spoken aloud doesn’t inspire the typical response, even though it feels like it should. It feels like you should be grossed out, it feels like a moment you should screw up your facial expression and act offended, but you’re… not. This is actually fucking working, it’s unbelievable. The undeniable fact infuriates you just as much as it stumps you.

“You do realize that everything you say is a game that two can play at, right?” You point out, not really sure where you’re going with this but feeling heated about it all the same. “What’s stopping me from exploiting something you like?”

“See now that’s a great idea,” Dameron announces, clapping his hands together happily and sending you jumping a few inches in your seat at the sudden sound, your hand automatically shooting up to rest on your thumping heart. “I can tell you what I like, and you can just listen.”

Alright, no, wait—backtrack—

“How about I tell you what I don’t like,” you snip breathlessly, tucking your hair behind your ear and feeling all the blood rush to your cheeks. Default to normal, default to normal. “Your fucking attitude. Your demeanor. The way you talk down to me. You don’t listen. You walk around like you’re such hot shit just because you’re a good pilot but none of that means anything when you don’t ever fucking listen. You’re terrible at it, doesn’t matter who’s talking—you don’t listen to me, you don’t listen to people who actually like you, you don’t listen to orders, you don’t listen to reason—”

“You think I’m a good pilot?” He suddenly asks, and you have to take a second. This cockpit isn’t designed for anything other than sitting, much less turning all the way around, but you’re sure you can find some way to throttle him from here. He chuckles as you let out the loudest sigh you’ve ever heard yourself make—which, is an incredible feat you think both of you should be congratulated for—before Dameron eventually carries on. “You could tell me that,” he admits with a shrug, a hidden smile on his face that he’s trying to bite back. “Or you could tell me the truth.”

You shouldn’t encourage him, but you just can’t fucking help it. There’s something inside you, something you can only compare to a morbid sort of curiosity. Maybe you’re just a glutton for punishment, even more so than agreeing to this bet has already confirmed. “And that would be—?”

“That you use anger as a defense mechanism because I touch a nerve you didn’t realize you had,” Dameron replies breezily. “Have since the moment we met. And that you maybe want me to touch something else, but you’re too stubborn and proud and committed to hating me to ever admit it. You can admit it, it’s okay, I can touch whatever you need me to tou—”

“How about the emergency eject button?” You hiss, finally feeling your frustration peak. “Pop the top on this bitch. Put me out of my fucking misery, right now. You’ve got such a big head that the blood flow will probably keep your tiny little brain warm enough as long as you strap yourself down beforehand, I’ll wait. And then you can go back to base, alone , and find another poor girl to emotionally torture since you probably don’t get enough of it from the ones you work your way through but can never remember the most basic things about.”

Remarkably, that actually shuts him up. You’re doubtful the jab really hurts him, but you’re not going to feel bad about it either way. He deserved that. You cross your arms over your chest and don’t even bother looking at him, huffing and flushed with the climax of your ferocity, now left feeling strangely exhausted in its wake. Eventually your breathing evens out and disappears into the silence, until nothing at all can be heard.

It’s like that for a moment—only a moment, before the loud tearing of velcro suddenly shreds through the quiet in the cockpit, completely rattling you. Automatically your eyes shoot over to his reflection, watching large hands pull the orange jumpsuit apart at his chest and then shrug it over broad shoulders. It’s not sexual. It can’t be sexual, because there’s just no fucking room to allow it—it takes him forever to pull the long sleeves down his arms, but the way he drags it out somehow just increases your anticipation for an event you should have absolutely no interest in spectating. He’s wearing a white sleeveless undershirt underneath and the jumpsuit bunches at his waist, making him look all the longer and more defined as he finally collapses back into his seat and reclines in it, the distant constellations bathing his lean torso in dim speckles of starlight.

Your gaze catches on every good part of him—it falls down the muscular lines of his neck and follows the thin gold chain wrapped around it, disappearing into the white of his scooping neckline. His toned body finds a place to rest and stretch out without looking awkward or uncomfortable, coarse hair darkening his jaw and dusting the strong lines of his forearms—but it’s his eyes that make your heart stutter. They’re endlessly deep and dark and knowing , and you can’t seem to look away from him, not even when he opens his mouth to address you.

“You’re always so fucking mean to me,” Dameron remarks, and for just a split second—just a split second, you feel a stab of regret. “I should eat you out tonight.”

Fuck, he hits the nail right on the head on his very first try, and just hearing the words come out of his mouth so effortlessly makes your pussy clench in on itself in need. Nothing about his inflection changed from one sentence to the next, nothing in his voice made it seem like he just flipped the fucking galaxy upside down with just a few words. To an onlooker who doesn’t speak Basic, they’d have absolutely no hint as to why your face is suddenly radiating heat at an industrial capacity, blazing hot enough to warm the whole cockpit. You feel like you’re literally burning up with it. You have to put a palm to your cheek to make sure it’s not actually on fucking fire. “What— what did you just say to me?”

“That’s what you need,” he drawls, unbothered by the sharpness of your tone. “What you’ve needed, ever since I can remember. Should’ve done it a long fucking time ago, now that I’m thinking about it. How long’s it been? Tell me the truth, I know it’s been awhile.”

You feel like you’re being roasted alive like one of those hairy little Kowakian monkey-lizards that you’re pretty sure have sentient designation but are the first to be skewered and cooked over the firepit regardless. Your heart is slamming against your sternum and you scramble to come up with an even slightly clever response after such an ambush.

��This is your plan?” You raise an eyebrow at him, feeling a bead of sweat drop down your temple and onto the corner of your lashes. Oh fuck, be cool, be cool. “You think this is gonna work? Ask me if I want a weak orgasm and rugburn on my thighs?”

“I can shave,” Dameron proposes quietly, lifting his chin and gently scrubbing the side of his cheek. The sound of the thick bristles against his fingers makes you swallow thickly and push back very vivid thoughts of how his face would feel between your legs. How soft and wet his mouth would feel at the center of that thick, coarse beard. “Tonight, I’ll shave it off. Make it nice and smooth for you.”

Something inside you surges up to assure him he absolutely should not shave, and you actually have to bite your tongue to keep it buried at the last second. Stars, that was a close one, what the fuck prompted that?

“I don’t give a shit what you do,” you quickly return, resisting the urge to wipe your brow. “Beard or no beard, makes no difference. Foreplay is overrated, I’m not big on wasting time.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he immediately laments—so quick , and the worst part is that the sympathy in his voice actually sounds sincere. You’re having trouble looking him in the eyes right now, hearing the genuine pity come through in his tone. “Who… who did this to you?”

“You said you want to figure out what I like, what turns me on,” you return, tucking your hair behind your ear once more and trying not to sound self-conscious. Maker, how long until your shift is over? You need to get out of here, this shit is… way out of your league. “I’m not into it, so try again.”

“Really?” Dameron takes a moment to look at you, furrow his thick eyebrows at you in barely concealed curiosity, before his head tilts sideways and drops to his shoulder. “Normally I’d respect that, but I meant it when I said you need it.”

“We fucking hate each other, Dameron,” you hiss, a reminder to him as much as it is to yourself. Fuck, you really don’t like where this is going. “You don’t know anything about me, you don’t know what the I n—”

“I bet you think we’d fuck hard,” he murmurs, low enough that you have to take an unsteady breath and physically brace yourself for whatever is going to come from that dirty mouth next. “You think that maybe I’d throw you around a little, give it to you from behind, teach you a fucking lesson for always talking back to me. But that’s primitive shit, Gold-Ten, that’s not for you.”

Resist. Resist . You’re part of the fucking Resistance, for Maker’s sake, you’re taught to hold out until death in torture scenarios. Since when did this tin can suddenly become a new POW camp simulation you have to train for?

“I want to take you apart so slow that you can’t talk at all,” Dameron continues quietly, and you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting. “We don’t even have to fuck—I mean, I want to, but mostly I just want to taste you. Go nice and slow. I want you on your back, so I can look in your eyes and see all that anger just… fade away. I want to watch you try to fight how fucking good I’ll make it. How hot it’s gonna be when you can’t glare at me anymore, when your pretty doll eyes go all soft and sweet and you finally realize that I’ve never hated you at all.”

Maker. This is a trick. It’s not a question, it shouldn’t be presented like one—this is a dirty rotten trick , and you’re not gonna fall for it. You can’t fucking fall for it. It’s a low blow, and you refuse to even acknowledge he said anything at all. He’s lying to get your guard down. He laughed at your flirting. He’s a shit person, he’s using you, this isn’t real.

Real or not, you still gulp loud enough for him to hear it.

“We could go back to our room after our shift is over,” he offers out of the blue, and you have no clue why, but when he pauses and lets it hang in the air for a second, you don’t interrupt him. You stay completely silent while he waits for you, waits for your typical snarky comeback. You have it in your head instantly, you know what you’d normally say. Your room. It’s not ‘our’ room, it’s fucking your room that you’re generous enough to let him bunk in, a privilege he’s this fucking close to losing—but you can’t find it in yourself to say it right now. Your anger is gradually losing the war to your arousal and you’re forced to watch every single small defeat inside you happen from the sidelines.

His reflection blinks at you through the transparisteel, his eyebrows raising just slightly at your prolonged silence, before he suddenly sits up a little and leans forward.

“And I could lock the door,” Dameron continues, lowering his voice, both in volume and register. “The lights in there are way too fucking bright but I don’t want to be in complete darkness, so maybe we can turn them off and open the port shade, let just enough light come through to see. I could turn on the radio, find something quiet, easy to listen to. Something you like, I’ll let you pick it out. And then… Wait, hang on, which bed?”

You clench your jaw and purposefully say nothing even as your pussy squeezes, glaring right through his reflection into the black void of space.

“Mmm. Your bed,” he eventually decides. “I want you comfortable. You shower at night. Your hair will be wet and you’ll be in those baggy pajamas that you think I can’t see your nipples through, the ones that I know you take off under your covers and then put on in the morning when you think I’m still asleep. That’s good, I want you relaxed, so that maybe… maybe you’d let me take your panties off at some point. And you could lay back and open your legs, and I could go down on you for a little while. However long you need.”

Fuck.

No, this isn’t fucking happening. Your lower muscles aren’t twisting in so hard that it actually fucking hurts, your pussy isn’t leaking through two layers of fabric under your jumpsuit, your body isn’t outright revolting against the sheer neglect you’ve put it through. Maker, it’s fucking painful. You have to clench your hands into fists and dig your fingernails into your palms before you can open your mouth.

“You want to know what I need?” You nearly wheeze, a drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck this time. Your body feels like it’s three sizes too big for this cockpit and your skin feels like it’s three sizes too small for your body. “I need you to shut the fuck u—”

“What you need,” Dameron purrs, sliding up closer behind your seat and sighing soft against the worn material of your headrest, “is a warm mouth to cum in. Don’t be shy, pretty baby, you can tell me.”

You growl out his last name as threateningly as you possibly can before he purrs yours right back in your ear, and fuck, you’ve never heard it sound so sexual before. Last names allow pilots to maintain a respectful distance from each other. Flight designations are Resistance-wide, but last names are just… allies. Not friends, not companions, but a vast network of people brought together by a common enemy. It hurts to lose a first name. But the way yours sounds rolling off of Dameron’s tongue is just too sinful, too intimate when calling you that is meant to sever intimacy by design. He says it slow and makes it dirty, muddies it in the back of his throat as he slides up even closer to you, until his face is right next to yours as you stare at each other through the transparisteel.

“I’m really…” he pauses, before exhaling through his nose and swallowing thick enough to make his Adam’s apple drop and bounce up again, his tongue coming out to wet his plush lips as he blinks slowly at you with a heavy gaze, “… really good at it. Call me Poe and I’ll do it for you all night.”

Shit, your pussy is just a fucking mess right now. It feels like it’s melting sweet and syrupy all over your thighs, throbbing and pounding and clamping up and screaming at you to do something, at least press your hand down there to alleviate some of the aching tensi—

No— stars, no touching yourself is rule number two. You drop your hands to your thighs and squeeze them, trying to reign yourself back in.

“I think you’re—just projecting,” you try, but turns out responding in general is just an all-around bad idea. Nothing about it comes out right. The ‘just’ sounds like your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and your voice cracks on the word ‘projecting,’ but you don’t even have time to be self-conscious or embarrassed at how much you’re giving yourself away—all your energy has to go towards fighting the tightness between your open legs, how you’re so fucking turned on that you’re worried you’ll cum without even touching yourself. Oh Maker, can you imagine? How fucking proud of himself he’d be? You can’t let that happen, but fuck, holding back something so appealing is so much harder than it sounds.

Tap into that anger, tap into that anger—only, you can’t suddenly find it. Where’d it go? Fuck, doesn’t matter, conjure it. Quick, before it’s too late, get mad —don’t let him lure you into a… a false…

Dameron tilts his chin down towards the line of your shoulder and then slowly turns his head towards your neck, breathing you in gently.

A false sense of…

His soft exhale makes goosebumps break out all the way down your arms.

… What?

“Maybe you’re right,” Dameron acknowledges, talking just under your ear. You watch his eyelids dip and the dark beard brushes against your skin and you catch just a hint of that woodsy, spicy scent engulfing you. Like… teakwood, maybe? Stars, you don’t know, you think you’re starting to lose your mind. What the fuck does teakwood even smell like? “Maybe it’s just what I need. You should exploit it, chances are I’ll still cum first.”

That rockets another painful spasm down low. It hurts so fucking bad—fuck, maybe you could… rub yourself up against these weapons controls? Just a little bit? That joystick, right there, just ease yourself up against it just to nurse this wound a little bit…?

No, fucking— bad. That’s bad, you have to stop—

“This isn’t real, this isn’t—y-you just…” You flutter your eyelashes shut, digging your fingernails into your thighs like it’ll help break through the fog of his lulling voice, how fucking amazing he smells right now. “You just want to win th-the b—”

“ Fuck the bet,” he tells you quietly, his head dipped low enough now that his lips brush against your neck, and you shudder so hard at the sensation that your shoulder almost knocks into his chin with it. “You really think I’m doing all this for a fucking bet?”

Don’t trust him, don’t trust him, don’t—

Your deep breath is so stuttery and uneven that it’s technically just a series of shallow inhales all anxiously strung together, too desperate for oxygen to go about it legato. It’s painfully obvious to him by now, it has to be, but you very quickly miss the shaky breathing as soon as he takes away your ability to do it all together.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking with how gentle it is, how it sounds like it flips in and out of his register when he speaks this low. “Right now, let’s make it real, let m—I know you have to be soaking fucking wet, baby, just let me try a little bit of it, please—I’m… holy shit, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“You c-can’t,” you stammer, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. At him, at the situation, at the painful throb of emptiness between your legs. “Fuck, it’s not allowed, it’s against the rules—”

“It won’t be,” he assures you, and you hiccup when you suddenly feel his hand brush against your side, strong fingers branching out to curve against your ribcage. “You don’t have to do anything, you can stay just like this. Just a few seconds and then I’ll stop, I promise.”

Oh, Maker, it’s on the very top of your tongue, so unbelievably close to telling him something—but you don’t know what it should be. You’re right at the tipping point, on a tightrope right between what you want and what you should want. And, knowing you’re this close to giving in, Dameron slowly eases his hand down your side and starts to trail it inwards, and just the lightest brush of his warm tongue against your neck shatters any composure you have left.

You whimper and instinctively try to close your legs, but you fucking can’t— your knees are forced wide apart by controls and your whole body freezes when his hand slides down and folds gently along the curve of your pussy through the thick fabric of your jumpsuit.

The feeling of being held like this by him is just too good , cradled so perfectly in his palm as he opens his mouth and flutters his tongue out to taste your skin again, giving you a little more of it this time and letting you feel the roughness of his beard with the way his lips move. Your breath catches, then he hooks his fingertips up just the slightest bit and pulls back, and you suddenly have to smack your whole hand over your face in a terrible attempt to stifle your loud gasp.

“Oh, Maker, I c-can’t,” you stammer against your fingers, not being able to trust him or your own body. You continue to protest even after he moves back up, resting his palm low on your abdomen, letting the heat bleed through the fabric and transfer directly to your floor muscles as he lifts his head up from your shoulder. “I can’t, we can’t, I…”

You can’t see him, but you know he’s looking at you. He’s staring right at you through the reflection, studying the way you’re hiding your face from him, how you’re still melting, still losing your composure just from the warm palm pressed tight your tummy.

His touch leaves you for a second. But then the deafening sound of velcro ripping at the crotch of your jumpsuit has you dragging your hand down your mouth and your eyelids dipping.

“Dameron,” you breathe into your fingers, just as his carefully slip into the small opening and begin to work at the button to your pants. “Dameron, this isn’t—you don’t want—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I don’t want,” he grunts at you, and you try not to bite yourself at the sound of him unzipping things and yanking fabric to the side. “What I really fucking want is the real thing, but I guess this’ll have to do for now.”

“I—” Your mind whirs desperately, trying to process when his fingers wedge under your panties and down. But he doesn’t give you a single fucking second. As soon as the tip of his middle finger reaches your slit, he’s dropping it and sliding it through your slick, hot, unbearably neglected cunt.

“Fuck,” he spits, and you feel like you might be about to break your own fucking jaw with how hard you’re clutching it, trying so desperately not to make a noise. The pad of his finger is rough and calloused as it drags against your clit in slow, tight circles, and you clamp your eyes shut and try to breathe normally, but it’s no use. Fuck , it’s been so long . You’ve been aching for it for a full fucking month and a half now and you know that even if he couldn’t feel it, he can hear how drenched you are right now. It’s making an obscene sound as he steadily masturbates you with one heavenly finger, giving your body what it’s desperately craved for so many weeks. “Fuck, baby’s pussy got fucking wet hearing me talk about how good I’d lick it, huh?”

That sends a bright flare launching through you and you gasp raggedly, both hands whipping out to snatch at his forearm where it disappears between your legs. “No, shit, wait, stopstopstopstop stop , I—”

His hand slips out immediately and yet you continue to tremble like his finger is still right there, like your clit is just imagining it so vividly that it’s successfully convincing itself of the illusion. The aching bit of flesh is burning, that good burn, the one that’s searing and bright that makes your muscles continue to chase the sensation long after the stimulation is gone. Fuck, he almost made you cum. He barely touched you for a few seconds and yet your fingers have to tighten into claws to slow your body down the fuck down, flexing against your thighs and trying your best to halt the impending climax.

By the time you’re able to wrangle yourself back from the edge and look at his reflection, his middle finger is already in his mouth and he’s blinking slowly at you, his pupils blown wide. You’re breathing hard at him, staring open-mouthed at the way his lips are closed below his second knuckle, how he takes forever dragging it back out again. You have to close your eyes. You have to clamp them shut and keep them that way, knowing you won’t be able to look at him through whatever he’s going to say next.

Except, oddly, he doesn’t say much.

“Shit,” he breathes, dropping his mouth to your neck once more. “Shhhit. I…”

Your eyes snap open in sudden, blind panic when he doesn’t continue, horrified at the possibility that he doesn’t like it. Dameron always has something to say, he doesn’t go speechless. “Oh—Maker, is it not—?”

“Mmmfuck, just—” he grits, panting hot air against your skin, “—fuck. Give me a second.”

You can only see the crown of his head with the way he’s angled, but you can see his shoulders a little further back. They start… moving slightly. Just the littlest bit, a smooth motion, like his whole body is slowly easing back and forth—

The nav controls are between his legs, you immediately realize. He’s grinding up against them with how close he is to you and your seat.

And suddenly, it’s like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. A ray of sunshine that breaks through the raging storm. Dameron might cum in his pants like this. Which means you’ll win, and arguably more importantly, you’ll finally be able to cum. You don’t even take a moment to consider the potential consequences—how you’re going to have to withstand the stimulation until he succumbs to it, how you’ll have to outlast—but you’re not thinking straight. You’re not really thinking at all.

“You can…” you suddenly hear yourself whisper, and your heart pounds in your throat when he instantly stops moving. “One… one more. If you want. You can put your finger inside this time, it’s where I’m the… w-wettest.”

“Fuck,” Dameron croaks into the crook of your neck, his voice scraping low and rough and sending a tremor through you. “Fuck, okay, yeah—”

His hand slides across your hip and down, but you catch him just in time.

“But don’t touch my clit.” You try to sound as firm as possible through the breathlessness, still trying to put your foot down even when you’re giving in, and Dameron’s teeth come out as he stifles a soft groan into your neck in response.

“Yes, baby,” he murmurs obediently as his hand sinks down once more, and so diligently, he avoids it altogether. His fingers slide under your panties and fall straight down to your entrance, down to where you know you’re the hottest, where your pussy is flexing and pushing wetness out with a steady, wicked throb. The pad of his middle finger presses gently against the tight muscles there, rubs just the slightest bit to feel that resistance, and then the length of it eases inside you so slowly that your knees rattle against bulky metal.

“Fucking Maker , ” he hisses as he slides it in, his body making a sudden jerk against the controls.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of something inside you after so long, after such a torturous buildup, and you grasp at his forearm again when it curls naturally up against searing pleasure. Oh, it’s so good, it’s so good, your hands shake while he very carefully moves it in and out, the raw sparks of heat threatening to incinerate you as your muscles cling to every ridge of his finger. He gets it sopping wet, bathes it so completely in your slick that you’re almost certain it’ll come out pruny and drenched.

“Shit, okay,” you pant, squeezing desperately around his finger, “o-okay, fuck, that’s enough.”

His hand pulls out… slower this time. He slips his finger out of you quick enough, but he drags the tip of it through your folds as he retreats, just barely grazing your clit and making you jolt in your seat. Shit, you don’t know if it felt intentional enough to fault him for it—mostly it just excites you, thrills you to have him edge you like this without really needing to put any effort at all into it.

Dameron lifts his head to sink his finger deep into his mouth once more, and you tremble as you watch him enjoy it, staring at the way his shoulders seem to relax as soon as your taste is on his tongue, how his face goes soft with it and he almost slumps.

Relief. Genuine, not embellished. He still doesn’t say anything after he slowly slides it out and blinks at you, no sugar sweet drawl telling you how amazing you taste, no candied words to make you give in and let him have another go. You’re both breathing hard at each other, staring, waiting to see who will break first.

Stars, you… fucking like this. You want him to keep going, but you can’t offer it again. It’s just too exposing, too revealing to let him you’re actually really fucking enjoying this, you can’t—

“Do you w—?” Your voice automatically comes out through the silence without your permission, sounding just absolutely fucking wrecked by this point, but his palm is already slithering back down as soon as you speak, and you make the softest little submissive noise in your throat at him taking immediate initiative like that. He’s not as careful about it this time—his hand finds its target with less frill, his finger slides in quicker, sinking deep into your heat with little hesitation, lighting you on fire from the inside out, and you bite the meat of your thumb to stay quiet.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” he suddenly breathes next to your ear while your legs spasm and you gasp brokenly. “This is so—fuck, pretty baby letting me do this to her, I can’t fucking believe—”

Dameron eases a second finger inside you this time, letting you feel that delicious stretch from this angle, unable to lift your legs or shuffle around to help and subsequently resigned to simply experience it the way he gives it to you. Your teeth have probably permanently indented your bottom lip from how hard you’re clamped down, a testament to how much you’re trying to hold back the loud moan you miraculously haven’t released yet. Somehow it makes it sexier, not letting him hear you, not having your own noises to drown out the spark of urgency in his voice beginning to peek through.

Shit, it’s too much. You can only let him touch you a few seconds at a time before you feel that familiar tug towards mind-numbing bliss, and the more he does it, the more appealing that feeling then becomes. It’s teasing you, floating right in front of you and calling into question what could possibly be so bad about just reaching out to meet it? You could. You could cum right now. What’s two weeks of pay? You could cum all night long if you want, that is a thing you can do—

Quickly snapping out of your hypnotic downfall, your trembling hands snatch at his forearm once more, and Dameron, the fucker, drags his fingers slowly over your clit on the way out— so not accidental, not even close to it this time, but the sensation makes your hips stutter upwards and chase it nonetheless.

“Fuck you,” you groan at his audacity, your chest arching as you drop your head back, “I said don’t touch my—” but two wet fingers slipping past your lips and onto your tongue muffle the rest of your sentence. Your heart does half a somersault before slamming down early, the taste of your pussy filling your mouth as you automatically start sucking on them.

“None of that,” Dameron tells you softly, massaging his fingers along your tongue before pressing a sweet kiss under your ear. “Be nice. I’m being nice.”

You should bite him. Instead, you just close your eyes and mphh weakly around his fingers, your body sagging as you give into it and let him explore your mouth with them, your lower muscles cramping up in painful desperation even when he’s not anywhere near that part of your body right now. Your tongue even comes up to lick between them, swirl around them so soft compared to how hard you’re puffing through your nose.

Dameron slowly inches his fingers out, letting the tips of them rest against your bottom lip for just a brief moment, before his hand is moving again. Not down, but back and around, so he can open his mouth and taste you another way this time.

Shit, you feel like you’re dying. You need air. Your hands clench into fists and you use the back of one to wipe the sweat from the bridge of your nose while he takes his time sampling you like this. If anything, he looks just as blissed out as before, continuing to rub his crotch up against the solid metal between his legs and teasing you with it as much as he’s teasing himself.

“Maker, let me do this for real tonight, okay,” Dameron pants after dropping his fingers from his mouth, sounding like he’s fighting for his breath while you can’t find yours at all. Your eyes flick down to watch the way his hand disappears behind the chair to grab the controls and push his cock up against them even harder, how he drops his forehead to your neck like he just can’t fucking handle it anymore. “Fuck, I’ll shave, I’ll do anything you want, just let me—”

“Cum,” you gasp out before you can stop yourself, and there’s a moment after it where his hips suddenly stutter against the controls, and you both freeze.

Shit. Shitshitshit, did that actually work?

No, you very quickly realize, his body isn’t spasming like it would if he finally emptied his load after a month and a half. He’s just… holding there, his head buried in your neck, completely still.

You didn’t mean it like that. Well… fuck, you did, but you didn’t realize you’d be that reckless about it, that upfront about reissuing the challenge.

Dameron pulls back to look at you from the side this time, but it’s too cramped—he keeps his head turned facing you even as his eyes flick up to the transparisteel to take in the finer details of your features, the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, and the slightly alarmed way you’re blinking back at him, worried you just shot your blaster at him in the midst of a mutual ceasefire and you fucking missed.

You see the understanding in his eyes instantly fall into place, and it’s not fucking good. Ohhhhhh no, it’s not good. Your chest starts rising and falling rapidly, suddenly registering the position you just put yourself in. Fuck, you didn’t think—you saw your opening, so clearly, you didn’t have time to think about the consequences.

“D-Dameron…” you try your best to placate.

“Don’t touch your clit?” He asks quietly, the raspiness of his voice ripping a hole through you while his hand suddenly shoves its way back down your body once more.

“Dameron,” you whimper, your heart stuttering in panic as you grasp weakly at his arm reaching between your spread thighs, “Dameron, this is—this is against the r-rules—”

“You keep saying that,” he comments, his fingers easily finding the opening in your jumpsuit no matter how hard you flex your thighs against bulky mechanics to try and close them. “How clearly do you remember the rules? What were the rules again?

You open your mouth to respond but his hand sliding under your panties and down just obliterates any chance you were going to attempt. No words, nothing comes out but a shaky whine as his finger sinks into your soaking heat, going right for the kill.

“Come on, baby, the rules,” Dameron reminds you when you never give him an answer. “Tell me. No fucking, no jerking off, and…?”

You suddenly struggle forwards in a last-ditch attempt at preventing the inevitable, hoping you can scoot up enough in your seat to escape his reach from behind. But fuck, your thighs have been shoved wide open for nearly eight hours—none of the muscles are working the way they should be anymore. There’s just enough room in front of you to get there and you probably would’ve been able to do it at the beginning of the shift, even with his hand between your legs like this, but you’re sluggish and your thighs pull sharp and urgent with the movement. The frantic maneuver enough to veer his fingers off course just slightly, moving one of your lips to the side at an angle, and you keep pushing against the pain no matter how useless it is.

“—No cumming,” he finishes for you, and his other hand is slithering up under your arm and groping one of your breasts through the jumpsuit before shoving you back tight up against your seat once more, totally helpless against it. “Probably have another fifteen minutes or so before our shift ends. Better hold it in, pretty baby, because this one is all you.”

“This—this isn’t fair, this is—” The second the slippery pad of his finger presses hard against your clit, you’re biting your lip to cut off a breathless whimper that slips out. “This is… is sab— sabotage— ”

“Oh, I know,” he moans next to your ear, mocking your high plea of distress with a fake, overly sympathetic whine. “Feels so fucking good though, doesn’t it?”

Fuck, it does. The build feels like an orgasm in itself, just working your way to it. You’re already so unbelievably close after just a few seconds of direct stimulation, an obvious consequence of originally agreeing to such a hardcore edging workout. You’re pouring sweat, so swollen and tight between your legs as you do everything you can to revolt against your body’s needs.

“Oh fuck, stop touching my clit—” you gasp raggedly, heart thundering in panic while your lower muscles start to immediately seize up, “oh—fuckfuckfuck— Poe, take your finger off m—”

Instead of doing it, his hand just slows down until the tip of his finger comes to a halt, maybe less than an inch over top of it. You still can’t catch your breath though, not when you feel yourself throbbing against absolutely nothing, the calloused pad holding perfectly still over the bundle of nerves. The swollen bud still arcs and flares at a steady frequency, building and building, and you choke out a wordless garble, absolutely fucking furious that this is what’s gonna make you cum.

“Don’t make me cum,” you switch up your sentence but not the terrified plead in your voice, the way it’s pitching up and out of control in the dead quiet of space. He doesn’t even acknowledge it. “Don’t make me cum, don—”

“Say it again,” he prompts instead, and lightning arcs up your spine.

“Poe,” you wheeze, the words coming from you without thought, your fingernails digging into his forearm even as your hips jerk up into his touch, “fuck, don’t make me cum, Poe—please don’t make me c—”

“But it’ll be so good,” he counters lowly, and your clit throbs in desperation at the richness of his voice when he speaks like this, saying things from deep in his chest. “It’ll be so fucking good when it happens. Stars, you’ll feel so much better, won’t you? Cum right now and I’ll give you as many as I can until we have to go home.”

“N-No,” you whine, feeling his teeth scrape at the crook of your neck. “No, I can’t—”

“Cum for me,” Dameron raises his voice, sharpening it into a direct order. “Right now. Come on— fucking make yourself lose.”

“But I—I—” you sob, starting to feel your body curl inwards, nearly about to succumb to the burning, the tightening, right on its last breath, “I-I don’t want to cum—”

“And I don’t fucking care,“ he hisses while your hands start flexing unintentionally, grasping helplessly at his immovable forearm where it disappears between your legs, the dark hair sliding under your fingertips as you claw desperately at it. “You’ll fucking cum when I tell you to cum and you’ll like it, you disrespectful, cock-deprived, bratty little—”

And then everything goes dark.

No, literally. The stars disappear.

The cockpit is suddenly shrouded in pitch blackness, and you’re almost certain it’s because you pass out, except then Dameron is all but ripping his hand out of your jumpsuit and cursing repeatedly in alarm. You crumple in on yourself, eyes clamped shut and not hearing anything, right at the peak of your ecstasy and ready to soar into the light completely unassisted, your muscles doing all the work on their own—

“—shit, they’re way too close—” you hear his voice shout, “—we have to turn the engines on—Gold-Ten, baby, turn the fucking eng—”

You’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna fucking—

Your first name, roared out in startling, blinding panic.

You don’t often hear it. Just during roll calls mostly, but only if you’re flying with a different squadron and need a new temporary flight designation for the day. First names hurt. You can’t remember a time you’ve ever willingly told anybody yours.

Your head jerks up to look at his reflection but something else beyond the transparisteel takes immediate precedence. Your brain takes about two seconds to catch up before thundering terror slams through you and halts your previously inevitable orgasm in its fucking tracks. A runaway train about to launch off its tracks suddenly slamming directly into a megaton force-field of cold, hard fight or flight instincts.

A staggering fleet of First Order ships silently plunging out of hyperspace on all sides—your powered-down x-wing stationed right in the middle of the drop location.

***

Stay tuned for part two coming soon!!

#poe x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #SMUTTTT #reader insert #star wars #fanfic #the formatting on this one is downright horrendous but im so mad that i cant even fix it right now so thatll have to come later im sorry

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mystic-sky · 4 years ago

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|✨Part 1✨| |✨Part 2 ✨| of the Friends with Benefits Series.

Your relationship with Suguru started off somewhat unexpectedly. A new semester romance, however it was unwanted after dealing with Satoru Gojo just last year. You tried not to blame yourself for the situation unraveling the way it did. You did your best to make Satoru comfortable with you- at least you thought you did.

He cut you off as soon as you made your feelings apparent. You wondered if he somehow did it for your own good, or maybe there was something deeper that went along with it. No matter, you remained optimistic. You were young, and bound to make mistakes. This was just a story to tell your children about in the future if you ever felt it was necessary.

But back to Suguru, who had wiggled his way into your life somehow. He wasn’t a random guy actually. More like a familiar face you’d seen in a few of your classes because you both were in the same major. Just so recently, he decided to talk to you.

You weren’t expecting to hit it off with him so easily. He was sort of scary looking, which led you not to engage with him in the first place. He never tried talking to you before 5 months ago. And neither did you, considering you thought he was so handsome he’d break your heart too somehow.

His arms were sleeved with tattoos that would bridge at his chest. The tattoos would sometimes peak out of his wide collared shirts if he chose to wear one that day. He had a thing for wearing these huge ear gauges that had his favorite anime on them. Though, you never noticed until you sat close enough to him to see the designs. It was a rainy day, and both of you ended up sitting beside each other in your sociology course in the back of the classroom. You were both late, having come in just after the other.

It was weird seeing him this close. He never did come late to any class you’d ever been in with him. Even if you wanted to sit with him, like Satoru, he never had any available seats beside him. He didn’t disturb you until the lecture ended, commenting on one of your anime themed mechanical pencils. That sparked your first conversation with him, and he wasn’t shy to ask you out for coffee right after.

He’s been keen on you since, and you just barely give him the time of day in the beginning. You were just cautious, after the whole Satoru situation. Suguru was fine with whatever you wanted the situation between you both to be. But you will admit, the conversations he’d keep you up with at night made it hard to not fall in love with him.

He’d take you out to dinner, study with you, and sleep with you from time to time since the sexual attraction between you was hard to deny. You think your favorite thing about messing around with Suguru was how he’d always pick your brain after sex with manga theories and better endings than the canonically debuted ones. He was a really good cook, and you often challenged him to make your favorite dishes. They were excuses to invite you over to his place, so he gladly took each one with merit. It was friends with benefits but with far much more substance to hold onto.

He never poked you about getting serious. Whatever you both had was still young at barely 5 months. He could tell you’d been going through something mostly because of how you sexed him. Sometimes you were the dominant one- you’d throw him on the bed and bounce yourself on his length until your knees were far too tired to go on. Other times, he’d steal the show from you, showing you just exactly what he was capable of.

He spread you onto the desk in his bedroom, face deep into your folds. He also loved to spoil you, like Satoru, but you did your best not to think of him when you both were together. Suguru had so much more hair to grab, considering his tongue work was so good it scared you.

“Be a good kitten and cum for me.” He said between sucks on your clit. You often couldn’t think, and that was a good thing. He numbed you in plenty of ways, he knew he had been helping you get over something. He had been doing the same thing but you could care less.

“Actually, I changed my mind.” He tore his mouth from your steaming sex, wiping his chin. You gasp as he lifts you up off the desk, holding your body without leaning against anything for support. You felt weightless, feeling his length prod at your entrance. You tried to hold back a giggle as he smiled smugly at you.

“You ready?” His eyes were sincere, asking for your consent again as he was aching to sink you onto himself.

You nod, feeling a bit nervous. “Stuff like this is about balance. Start flailing around again and I’ll drop you.” He teased. Your hands found some of his hair again, tugging on it a bit.

“Just fuck me.” You roll your eyes as he slams his length into you, making you cry out and clutch your arms around him. His large hands firmly grasp underneath your thighs, using the way your ass recoiled against his thighs to keep a steady rhythm. He’s immersed in the way your broken moans pour into his ear, fueling his stamina. He’s a stickler for teasing you the entire time, praising you for taking his length so well.

“Such a good kitten, you’re taking it so well.”

It was the third time he’d ever held you up to fuck you. After letting go of the fear of him dropping you it became incredibly easy to focus on the pleasure.

“You’re gonna cum aren’t you? Don’t worry about the carpet baby, make a mess for me.”

He knew how to mix things up the way you needed. On your rough days he’d sex you slowly, more passionately and generously. If you were happy and feeling frisky he’d fuck you accordingly. He was pretty good at reading your body just after the first few fucks you had. You hated comparing the two men, but it did happen from time to time when you were in solitude, plagued by your own self-deprecating thoughts every now and then.

It was weird how they emanated each other’s personalities in certain ways. And then you found out that they used to be good friends in high school until something happened. You never poked Suguru about it, since he’d seem to get irritated when you were around groups of friends and Satoru’s name was mentioned. You did your best to be satisfied with what you had. He was handsome, smart, and possibly wanted to be your boyfriend in due time.

But you couldn’t help but think about Satoru. Not only was your experience with him a wild one, but he was fucking everywhere. It’s always like this for you. It’s not until you’re trying to avoid someone do you begin seeing them absolutely everywhere.

You stared at Satoru over Suguru’s shoulder, poking your cheek with your tongue. The audacity he had, showing up in the cafe where you both first met while you and Suguru were on a routine study date. Well, it was a hotspot for a lot of students, so who are you to say he can’t come in here.

“I think I’m overworking myself today, we can go eat now.” Your mood change was evident to Suguru, but he couldn’t put his finger on why at first. He watched you get up and pack your things before shortly following.

As you tossed your bag over your shoulders, he took hold of one of your hands, squeezing firmly. He pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.

“Is it something I can cheer you up from when we get back to my place?” Suguru was a bit smug about it, and also painfully intuitive about your emotions even though you’d been close for such a short time. Your cheeks went red, eyes burning holes through the floor.

“It’s nothing, really. Let’s just get out of here.” You manage to look back at him, just barely glancing at Satoru who probably had been looking in this direction. Suguru pressed another kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arm around you and leading you out the cafe. He nearly touched shoulders with Satoru and his own dame, smirking just loudly enough for him to hear.

Suguru wasn’t dumb, finally having noticed your energy change just a few moments after Satoru Gojo entered the cafe. This was your favorite place, and he hated how someone could ever ruin that for you. He felt urged to do something about it- with or without your consent. He doesn’t poke you about it until you’re in the car.

“Random question, but do you know Satoru Gojo?”

The question like a pin in your spine, making you visibly un-slouch in the drivers seat. He doesn’t look at you, feeling that would make it easier for you to talk. You take this the wrong way, and feel even more tense.

“I do, we were a thing at one point.” You manage not to stutter. You had no idea why you felt scared or touchy about the subject- you shouldn’t be. His entire vibe had changed, and he didn’t have his usual grin peaking at the corners of his lips.

“Oh,” he says simply. The longest ten seconds of silence reign throughout the vehicle. You’re anxious to turn on the radio, anything to rid the first bit of awkwardness the two of you had ever shared.

“He’s an asshole, isn’t he?” He randomly chuckles heartily, somewhat calming you.

“Yeah,” you’re exhaling properly now, “he really is.”

“We were best friends for about four years. I know him like the back of my hand. Granted, he’s probably changed a lot since high school.”

“But you’re both so-

“Different?” He chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”

“If he was an asshole then, he’s multiplied tenfold.” You roll your eyes. “You both don’t talk anymore?”

You knew they didn’t, but you took the opportunity to ask anyway.

“Nah, he’s a slimy bastard. I hope karma turns him rotten.” You’d never seen Suguru scowl before. He must really hate him, you thought. Still, what a small world; first Satoru and now his ex best friend.

“You still talk to him?” He pokes again. His tone is just barely playful. God, you changed your mind. You didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“No, we don’t talk anymore. It ended pretty badly.” You say simply. You also decided not tell Suguru that the both of you messed around just before you started messing with him.

“Sorry about that. If we were friends sooner I’d have told you about him.” Suguru is apologizing for something you weren’t entirely ignorant about in the first place. You knew what you were getting into.

Satoru never tried to convince you the situation was anything other than what it was— until the end. The sweet things he started saying to you during those final months often echoed in your head- like he meant all of it.

The sex developed into something that it shouldn’t have. Sex that passionate should be forbidden if you aren’t already in love. And the things he said to you the last time he dropped you off didn’t make it any better. You wanted to slap his stupid, pretty face.

“I’m over it now.”

Suguru pans his gaze to watch you nonchalantly staring out the window. He knew better than to ask anymore. He was more elated that you didn’t interact with him at all. He didn’t need Satoru painting a picture about him in your head before he could first.

What sucks the most about dating people you go to school with is how often you’d see them. Satoru was fucking everywhere. The local restaurants, the library, the cafe, and he’d registered for two of your classes this semester. He didn’t speak to you at all, but he was always just there. Perhaps he’d always been around but since you’d been involved with him you were more aware of his presence.

You were standing in line in the library, attempting to return some books. He entered the space, and walked up behind you, standing on the line and giving your space. You turn your body slightly, peering up at him. You thought to leave, but just because you resented him didn’t mean you were going to cower every time you had to be around him for a while. You let out a sigh as you tip toed to peer in front of yourself; at least the line was moving.

Both of you had made it to the front, talking to separate librarians beside one another. When they both got up from their seats to head towards the back, he spoke directly to you, without actually looking at you.

“(Name), word of advice— I’d steer clear of Getou Suguru if I were you.”

Anger poured over you; you did your best to keep your voice low and eyes forward when saying this.

“That’s the first thing you say to me after almost a year? Go fuck yourself.”

He bites back a witty response, poking his cheek with his tongue. “Whatever. Find out the hard way.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve. Why the fuck are you telling me this?” You’re whisper-shouting, considering it’s a library.

“Because,” he turns to look at you, “I care about you.”

“What a load of shit.”

Satoru Gojo doesn’t care about anyone, you learned that the hard way.

He let out a sigh. He knew he had no right, but even if he couldn’t get you back, he wanted you to know what kind of guy you were seeing. He couldn’t say anything, he knew you wouldn’t listen. Not like this anyway. Both librarians returned, and gave you back your borrowing passes. You quickly departed, refusing to give Satoru another opportunity to speak to you. His words stuck with you on the way home. You didn’t have any reason to be afraid of Suguru, right?

Two months had passed since Satoru had “warned” you about Suguru. And nothing has happened to lead you to be cautious of him. Satoru hasn’t spoken to you either.

You’re sitting in the guidance counselor’s office as it’s the end of the semester once again. You typed away on your phone, telling Suguru you’d see him for dinner in a bit before throwing your head back and shutting your eyes. The heaviest sigh left your lungs, you were thankful the semester was nearing its end. You had quite enough of studying and needed to unwind.

You feel a presence on the end of your bench, making you open one eye. You see white tresses, and you catch the scent of familiar cologne.

Satoru doesn’t look at you, but he’s quite aware that he’s sitting beside you as well. You almost scoff, only crossing your arms and legs. Noticing the undone laces of your boots, you lean forward to tie it. Your loose bag on your shoulder which unfortunately wasn’t zipped, spilled small notebooks and pencils all over the floor. Spare change rolled across the walk way along with other items.

“Fuck...” you muttered. His head snapped towards you as you let out a sigh and bent down to pick up your things. Your phone that was your on your lap hit the ground as well. You saw his hand in the corner of your eye reaching down to help.

“I got it.” You say sternly, and shamelessly picking up your things. He retracts his hand, and instead gets up to pick up the items that were further away from you, ignoring your request not to help.

He sits back beside you, handful of change and pens. He holds it up towards you quietly while you attempt to fix your bag back to the way it was. You turn to look at him for what feels like the first time in forever, blue eyes pouring into your own (eye color) ones.

“I didn’t need you to do that.” You say, taking your things. You initially thought to take your things from him without a word. He went back to staring in front of himself, waiting to be called. You shifted uncomfortably, and fidgeted with your fingernails. You forced yourself into to pay attention to the soft music playing from the back of the office until he spoke.

“How have you been?”

For some odd reason though, you wanted him to say something to you. You had a lot of things to let off your chest considering the way things ended. You thought of giving him a piece of your mind right there in front of all the staff members, but you restrained yourself.

Instead, you found yourself saying “I’m doing great.”

“That’s good.” He says nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t even sound sure of his own response. A few minutes of silence resumes after. You’re a bit startled when speaks again.

“I’m definitely out of line right now, but I’ve been wanting to talk to you about some things.”

“What could we possibly have to talk about?” A lot. You were bubbling over.

“There’s a lot of things, at least for me, that I’ve never really told you.” He’s looking at you now. “Can we talk somewhere quieter? Whenever you’ve got the free time, and only if you want to.”

He was offering closure to you a bit too late. Or maybe all this time you’d convinced yourself you’d moved on. You often found yourself replaying the morning he brought you home and all the things you should’ve said in that moment.

That’s not exactly moving on. Unfortunately, you also found yourself comparing him to Suguru more often then not. That’s not moving on either.

“Okay,” you said. “Later on today. Round 8pm.”

He looks thankful. Just as he spoke, your counselor called out to you to come into their office. You stand up, looking down at him.

“Cafe then?” He suggests.

“That’s fine. See you.” You shrugged. You didn’t care that much for the place. You heard him say goodbye as the door shut behind you.

You had half a mind to never speak to him ever again. Though both of you were using each other, he knowingly crossed a line, making you feel things for him in a situation where feelings weren’t supposed to be involved. And he never gave you a chance to truly address the situation. Now, almost a year later, he’s ready to speak to you on his own terms. You’d be sure to tell him you had no intentions of making amends with him. If you personally didn’t have interest in what he had to say, you wouldn’t bother gracing him with the ability to explain anything to you.

You would’ve made him suffer. He’s lucky you’re still a bit distraught about the situation. Any longer into your situation-ship with Suguru and Satoru wouldn’t even have the slightest chance at something like this.

Dinner with Suguru was transparent. He could tell something was on your mind but he didn’t pry much after his first attempt. The last time you both talked about Satoru he turned into a different person, and it didn’t sit right with you. You did your best to brush it off, assuming he was just protective over you. But Satoru’s warning in the library echoed in your subconscious more and more. Just what happened between them, and would it be okay for you to ask Suguru about it?

He wasn’t your boyfriend either, but you suppose he wanted to be? You hadn’t brought up the dating conversation in while and you probably wouldn’t until you situated the Satoru thing.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Suguru’s holding your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes. His smile is incredibly gentle and you feel guilty for keeping this from him.

Perhaps you should hold Suguru accountable too, for being so sweet to you like this. He informed you he wouldn’t up and leave unless you wanted him to and that he’d never say anything he didn’t mean. But after dealing with trauma from past relationships, affection like this was always perceived cautiously.

“I know,” you say, feeling his lips press against your forehead again. “It’s just not easy to talk about right now.”

“That’s alright,” he assures you. “I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

His lips connect with yours while his hands slide down your back. He feels you relax a bit, and that makes him smile. How could he possibly be a bad person?

“I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

You nod, watching him part from you and get into his car. You never did come to understand how he could afford it; a black Mercedes Benz-Coupe. You assumed that and his nice apartment were inherited wealth from his parents.

You wave at him before going into the station. Luckily he had things to attend to, and you didn’t have to bother making up anything about tonight. It was just barely any of his business, right?

You had an idea of what to expect from Satoru when you got there. You were rehearsing things you wanted to say in your head, some of them incredibly mean. You wanted to hurt his feelings too, if you had it in you. It didn’t take you long to get to the cafe, and you’d arrived early, already finding Satoru in the very back, furthest away from people. You gripped your bag strap, before sitting across from him.

“Hey, you’re early.” He says surprised, looking up at you from his phone.

“You’re the early one.” You say, not even cracking a smile.

“How are you?”

“Same as earlier. What did you want to talk about?”

He’s visibly gulping, and you’ve never seen him this nervous. He places his phone face down on the table, turning the sound off. You cross your arms.

“Right,” he lets out a heavy sigh. “Where should I start?” He attempts to gather his thoughts, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“I’m not the kind of guy who really addresses his feelings, if you couldn’t already tell at the time we, you know... I’ve been fucked over a lot. I don’t have a lot of actual friends, and I’m constantly aware that people cling to me for my money or looks.”

He never acted like his entourages bothered him per se, but you did notice that he never bothered being around people anymore when the two of you were a thing. You prompt him to continue with your eyes.

“The only best friend I’ve ever had used me until I realized what was going on and cut him off. The first girl I ever really loved chose him instead of me shortly afterwards. Obviously, it’s not a legitimate excuse to have treated you the way that I did, but I guess what I’m saying is that I’m cautious of people and have been for a long time now.”

“But I never tried to use you,” you interjected. You felt a bit insensitive for spitting it out like that, but he really did hurt you.

“I know, and I realized that a bit too late.” He sighs. “But more importantly, I realized that I didn’t talk about or convey my feelings correctly. I know I confused you a lot, and you didn’t deserve that at all.” He tried to keep eye contact with you when he spoke, but your lion like force was pretty strong.

“And when I dropped you off— I shouldn’t have said those things to you. You were so much more than a warm body to me. You were the first real friend I’ve had in a long time. Things got so cloudy for me since we were sleeping together. I didn’t know how to address it, and it freaked me out when you told me you wanted more. I should’ve been elated, but I suppose I didn’t want my heart broken again either.”

“So basically...” He breathed out, “I’m really sorry. I’ve got some messy emotions, things I’m gradually learning to deal with. I’m not making excuses for myself. It’s just I never did talk about myself much when we were a thing, so I wanted to tell you something at least, and apologize. I hated the way I left things. I know it’s long overdue for an apology but...”

“But?”

“I still have feelings for you. I never stopped. The more time passed, the harder it made it for me to apologize and tell you how I feel. And then I noticed you were going out with... him, so I thought it was too late. But I still wanted to try, I guess.”

He looked so awkward, you almost laughed. Apologies were definitely foreign to him. You could tell he meant it, but even so, he wouldn’t be getting a relationship out of you, if that’s want he wanted.

You let out a large sigh. For some weird reason all the angry things you wanted to say wouldn’t come out. You wanted to be angry at him but you just couldn’t. And your heart was swelling at the idea of him still having feelings for you. Did he really mean that?

“We’re not together. Not yet anyway— it’s complicated.” You crossed your legs and leant back in your seat. Suguru probably would’ve been your boyfriend already if you weren’t so stuck on Satoru.

“Oh,” he said quietly. You’d never seen him look so small, it was definitely out of character for him.

“I forgive you,” you lean forward, holding your head in your hands. All this time and you still had soft spot for him.

“Really?” He’s surprised. Your friends will be too after you tell them this story.

“You want me to take it back?” You’re pinching the bridge of your nose.

He chuckles nervously. “No ma’am.”

“Are you... doing okay though?” He probes after noticing the stress in your brows.

“I can’t stay mad at you. And I want to so bad. It’d make my life simpler. Now I’m conflicted.” You drag your fingers under your eyes, before smooshing your own face, stressfully so. He thought you were cute, but he felt bad being the source of your distraught-ness.

“So I take it you still have feelings for me?” His voice is regular now, and just barely his normal cocky tone.

You won’t even look at him. “I mean...”

How do you explain to him that the only reason you’re messing with someone right now, who just so happens to be his ex-best friend, is because you were trying to forget about him in the first place?

“I get it if you don’t.” He says. “It’s been a while.”

“I do.” It’s almost instinct for you to correct him. “That’s the problem.”

“Ah, I see.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck again. You wished you could start over with a clean slate. School and dating shouldn’t be this difficult.

Satoru thought to warn you again about Suguru in that moment, but he held his tongue. He didn’t want to make it seem as if he was badmouthing him so you could favor him more, he wanted you to lean towards him naturally, if possible.

Silence reigned throughout your little booth in the cafe. The sound of rain hitting the window screen made it easy not to talk so much. It also made it hard to see a certain black, long-haired male in his Mercedes Benz, parked just across the street.

Suguru threw his cigarette out the driver’s window, continuing to watch the both of you inside. He shook his head disappointedly before starting his car.

“And that reminds me,” you say, making Satoru swallow hard and shift in his seat.

“What was that nonsense two months prior, about Geto Suguru?”

#gojo satoru #geto suguru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #geto smut #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo sensei #getou fluff #a lot of it

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alecxaheart · 4 years ago

Text

Someone's Someone | Bang Chan Oneshot (1)

✎ Genre : CEO AU, Soulmate AU, Fluff

✎ Pairings : Bang Chan X Reader

✎ Word Count : 3.5k words

✎ Synopsis : We all just wanna be someone's someone that we can't live without. At this time, Chan was looking for his. And unexpectedly, he was already tied down to someone.

✎ Warnings : Explicit Language

✎. . . I actually just played my songs on shuffle then Monsta X's Someone's Someone played so.. yeah, I'm inspired. Also, this is my first post in tumblr btw. :)

✎ Parts : 1 , 2

The relaxing sounds of nature enveloped him as a whole. His shoulders less tense and eyes closed as he sat on the cooled sand, facing the burning star and calm waters ahead. Seagulls could be heard in the distance as they caught themselves a dinner to eat. The refreshing cool wind hit his body, slightly making him shiver for a second. Waves, created by the sea and wind, kisses the shore repeatedly. For once, he was far away from worries, stress, fears and regrets. Just him, contented with the company of nature.

As he fluttered his eyes open, he was met with a stunning view of the sun meeting the ocean. The ocean reflecting the sun's visuals as well as the sky above it. Even though the reflection was blurry, it's still pleasing to the eye. Just perfectly imperfect.

However in his opinion, it wasn't stunning as it seems. This secret escapade paradise of his doesn't quite appeal to him yet. A missing piece that could be anywhere on this wide world. That thought kind of bothers him every time.

Sighing, he figured that it was time to go back. He slipped onto his slippers and headed out of his escapade paradise with a head hung low. Hopping on an enormous boulder that happened to break the wired fence and fixated there, having easier access to and from the place than climbing over the fence.

With a last glance towards his escapade, he knew he'll be coming back and that next time will be the scenery he's been looking for, hopefully.

Frustrated with the task at hand, Chan ran his fingers through his blonde locks as he leaned back on his chair and head facing upwards toward the ceiling. Taking a brief break from a whole 6 hours straight of writing and staring at the monitor. Followed by him grabbing his coffee and taking a sip, eyes boring on the monitor. He was just half finished with his paperworks at the time of nightfall, which made him more in distress and felt crammed.

His eyes then wandered around his office, landing onto the view of the opposite building of his company in the end. Where he could see the workers of the Marketing Department bidding their goodbyes to one another, closing the lights and exiting the room. Oh, how much he too wanted to leave and rest right at this moment. Although his belief of 'getting things done before going into slumber' is preventing him to do so (even though he already got a lot of things done). With a sigh, he faced back in front of his monitor and papers, determined to get everything done before tomorrow starts.

" Sunbae-nim, aren't you coming with us? We're having dinner at the Chicken & Barbecue restaurant just a block away from here. " Seungmin asked, grabbing his suitcase below his desk. You leaned back on your chair while stretching your cramping arms and a yawn escaping your mouth.

" As much as I want to, Seungmin, I can't, " You started, rubbing your temples to ease your aching head. " Because our new boss literally gave me 5 thick documents to finish before tomorrow morning without any mercy. And that's just bullshit. I don't even think I'm halfway through it! " Seungmin replied with a chuckle to your short rant, an amused expression written on his soft face. You were having another small mental breakdown as you stared at your unfinished pile of work, feeling your soul escape your body.

" I think you're overreacting. "

" Well, what if I am?! "

Laughing, Seungmin leans his side on your cubicle, looking over at your messy desk filled with sticky notes, papers and pens. " I don't think it's that much. You're lucky that your boss isn't here to hear any of your complaints, " He muttered as he took a peek at one of your documents. You scoffed, not my fault that I'm not as good as you.

" Hear what? "

Frantically, you immediately hide yourself behind your cubicle and pretend that you were focusing on your work. On the other hand, Seungmin casually brushed his navy blue coat with his palms and lifted himself off from the cubicle. Making it all seem like nothing happened.

" Oh, it's nothing, Ms. Ka- " Seungmin paused as he met the owner of the voice who wasn't the person they were expecting to be there. " M-Mr. Bang?! " He stuttered, eyes widened at the blonde headed CEO. Seeing in the corner of your eyes, Seungmin bowed ninety degrees at him as a sign of respect. Even with his heated glare on you, you continued your work like no CEO even entered. Thanks to your cute height, for sure you wouldn't be spotted.

" What are you doing here? Working hours are done. "

Seungmin stood straight and scratched the back of his head. Curiosity slowly arose in you as seconds passed - since you've never met a CEO called by your colleague as ' Mr. Bang ' - although as much as possible, you didn't let go out of hand and kept your focus on the documents silently. The least thing you wanted to happen to you right now is get caught by one of the company's CEO. " I was about to head out, Mr. Bang, " Finding an excuse, he pulled up his sleeve to check the time on his wristwatch. " Uhm.. Yeah, I'm late for dinner. Sorry, Mr. Bang, I have to leave right now. Have an great night! "

With a last bow to the CEO, Seungmin dashed his way out of the building, leaving you alone with your work. The blonde head noticed how the room was still lit up despite it being unoccupied, which he thought. Heading to the switches, everything around you darkened. The only source of light you had was the monitor, and Chan caught it in the corner of his eye.

" Is someone still there? " His voice, catching a bit of foreign accent with it, echoed in the hushed area.

Baffled as he approached that light with a few slow strides, you freaked out mentally. Swiftly but silently, you left your chair and hid yourself underneath the desk next to yours. As he neared your cubicle, you held your breath, slowly starting to feel lightheaded. You don't know what are the consequences if you get caught after working hours since you're still kind of new - got hired just 5 months ago. Dumb you overthink random shit first before even going to the thing called 'common sense' and the rules you heard just goes in one ear then out on the other.

The moment Chan was about to reach your cubicle and take a glance to his right, the sound of marimba playing a soft tune echoed in the room. Stopping in his tracks, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and grabbed it, swiping to the right to answer the call. You let out a hushed yet shaky sigh of relief, your shoulders less tense than a while ago. In your mind played a chant, thanking whoever was your savior.

Chan narrowed his eyes at the back of your cubicle while his phone is still pressed against his ear, listening to the person on the other line's complaints. " I'm on my way. Don't do anything stupid, " Not too soon you hear heels clacking against the polished marble tiles, the noise fainting as he left the room.

It took you a good couple of seconds to get out of your hiding spot (since you had to catch your breath and calm your heart down from the thrill), slightly shaking your whole body first before heading back to your seat and continuing your pile of work. Mentally groaning at yourself.

Oh. My. Gosh. These. Eyebags.

Is the first thing you thought as you looked at yourself in the mirror. The cause of it appearing badly because you obviously lacked sleep. All due to the time allotted for slumber was consumed by finishing your 5 thick documents that will be passed this morning. You could've cared less if today wasn't a work day, which fortunately for you it was still work day and these damn documents aren't gonna pass themselves to your boss this instant.

Fumbling around in your bag, you found your makeup kit and started fixing yourself. A little bit of touch ups here and there, just a little to look like it's still more natural than a lot to look like a plastic doll barbie.

Once satisfied, you smiled sweetly at yourself just to start your day nicely and exit your household. While walking on your way to the train station, incoherent mumbling leaves your mouth. A train of thoughts clouding you about your worries if you've left something important behind. In all honesty despite of your current good looks, you look stupid or crazy for talking to yourself in public. Well, at least you aren't as worse as someone yelling nonsense.

" I have all my files, identification card, phone, wallet, pocket knife 'cause anything could happen, keys- " you paused as soon as you misplaced your shoes at the edge of the last stair, falling forward. Luckily for you, you caught yourself and regained your balance. Wide eyed, you saw a kid, a giddy smile plastered on his face as he saw your commotion with a lollipop in hand. You felt embarrassed but laughed it off anyway, a light tint of pink decorating your cheeks.

You rushed towards the gates as soon as you realized the time with the card in between your fingers. Three beeps emitted from the machine when the gates opened after you placed the card on the scanner. With a few more strides, you caught up to your train ride as it was about to leave. You sighed in relief and sat down on a vacant bench, head automatically leaning back on the window. Your eyes boring at the ceiling while taking steady breaths after your short marathon on the way.

On the other hand, across you sat Chan. His right leg crossed over the other while scrolling through his phone. He wore a button up shirt, the first two still unbuttoned revealing more of his chest. His navy blue tie hung loose around his neck while his coat is still folded around his arm. His slacks were the same color as his tie and coat and wore black pointed shoes to finish the statement of his overall clothing. Blonde hair locks were scattered around his face but still managed to look stunning and attractive.

You haven't noticed his presence, so did he to you, and the fact that you both don't know each others' appearance even though you go to the same company just adds to the reason for you two's ignorance to one another's existence.

You got yourself to go back to slumber comfortably in your current position although you know when you wake up, you'll be greeted by your neck aching. Hopefully you don't miss your stop while gaining more sleep. The train swaying you lightly from time to time that you found quite relaxing, like a cradle rocking back and forth lightly to put a baby to sleep.

A child was running around the train with a joyful smile, giggling. He only stopped in his tracks when he reached in between you and Chan. His eyes glowed like there were stars decorated around his chocolate brown pupil when he eyed you two. Looking around, he spotted a roll of red thread underneath your bench and grabbed it. He thought it was just right.

With you being the closest, he starts to tie the thread around your pinky finger. You were too tired to even feel his small cold fingers run around your fingers nor the string tighten around it. Once done, he smiled to himself, his dimples appearing on either side of his cheeks and eyes forming into small crescents.

He left your side and skipped over in front of Chan, who was now too deep in thought as he gazed outside the window and his phone tucked in his pocket. Holding the other end of the thread, he wrapped it around Chan's thumb. Chan's body shook in surprise as he felt cold fingers ghosting above his hand and averted his attention to the child. He saw him knotting the red string tightly, strange that he barely even feels the string tightened around his thumb. " What are you doing? " he questioned although the child only responded with a bright smile, followed by a giggle.

The child turned and ran away from him, more giggles leaving his lips. Chan stood up and tried to chase him. But stopped as soon as he saw the child in the distance, dissolving into little particles in thin air and completely vanished in his sight. In disbelief, he rubbed his eyes and looked for the child around his area. Thinking that he was out of his mind, he sighed in defeat. There's no way anyone could do that in reality. It's either I'm insane or living in a fantasy or a chosen one blessed to see ghosts. Maybe, all of the above.

Chan looked down on his thumb, following where the other end lead to. Then, he spotted your sleeping beauty state, the other end attached to your pinky finger. With the sun rising in the horizon, a ray of gold-like light shines through the window, casting a shadow on you. And he thought you looked mesmerizing like that, peaceful and lovely. At least he wasn't tied up with a bitch or a hag.

Your eyes slowly fluttered open as the sun shined upon you. Squinting at its brightness, you raised a hand above your eyes to see more, only finding a red string wrapped around your pinky finger. You examined it, wondering what prank is anyone even planning and why did it have to involve you out of all people. Before anything stupid could happen, you attempted to loose the knot, ignoring the curiosity for a while of where the other end was. Looping and tugging it, even tried to chomp on it with your teeth, but all attempts failed. Well, that's until you gave up, untying it was impossible, unbelievably there's a knot that couldn't be untied. Sounded like marriage when you think about it, but there's the annulment and divorce ruining the picture.

Tearing your gaze at the string, you caught a pair of bewitching dark brown eyes staring back at you. In that particular moment, everything just froze in place. Time has stopped just for the two of you, you thought.

You felt your heart melting, probably from the warmth emitting in your body or from the warmth his eyes give off as you saw little sparks decorating the pupil. Unfamiliar light feathers tickling the insides of your stomach is what you felt other than the heat and that thawing heart of yours. Your mind knew it well that you shouldn't feel this way towards someone who you just met but your body and heart reacted so differently. There's just something about him that made you feel so exposed and vulnerable in his eyes that you couldn't come up with a possible answer to your 'why's.

Both of you didn't notice how seconds turned into minutes, too lost into one another's orbs. That was until the train stopped, causing Chan to break the eye contact and lose his balance. Before his hands made contact on the metal floor, he took a step forward in order to regain his balance which he successfully did. A small chuckle left your lips, eyes turning into crescents as you saw the commotion. He narrowed his eyes at you as the train was back in motion.

Chan fixed his clothes first before asking, " Who are you? ". Grabbing the pole next to him to prevent him from falling again on the next stop.

" Shouldn't I be asking you that as well? " You replied with a gummy smile, which quickly faded when you remembered what's the problem.

" What is this on my finger and why is it connected to yours? What kind of trickery is anyone pulling? Why am I involved in this? " You kept firing questions at him while he stayed there unbothered. Unlike you who did some more attempts to remove the thread, silly you even tried aggressively shaking your hand in hopes of making it a little loose. But no prevail happened once again.

" Just get rid of it. I didn't want this too, you know. " Chan taps his foot impatiently as he eyed your useless attempts.

" I am trying! " You exaggerated. Deciding to bring out the best tool you have for the situation in hand, your hands fumbling in your bag. Once you felt the cool metal on your fingertips, you brought it out and flipped it open.

Chan's eyes widened at the sight of the pocket knife in your palms. " You carry that on a daily basis? Are you insane? "

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. " It's not insane when it's used for self-defense purposes. I'm too nice to be the murderer you're assuming, " You replied, head throbbing as things aren't going well with the charming blonde.

He responded just before the blade and thread were in contact, starting with a scoff. " Yeah sure, nice. Anyone can wear that façade anywhere. "

" You know what, " You started as you withdrew the pocket knife back and glared at him afterwards, pissed off. " You deal with this shit yourself, I'm done with my part and I could care less about this red thread anyway. You look like you don't need any of my help 'cause you look fancier than me and it seems like you're not taking any gratitude towards my kindness. Damn these crazy rich people. " You threw the tool towards his direction and looked away from him, arms crossed. Chan instinctively caught it without getting any cuts despite the fact it's closed, his eyes burning through your figure in fury.

" If I actually got wounded instead from your little stunt, I would've sued you this instant, " He growled, only to be ignored by you.

Irritated by your sudden change of attitude, Chan flipped it open and skillfully ran the blade through the string. Only for it to just fall through like the string never existed, ghost-like perhaps. " It's not cutting, what the hell, " Chan muttered under his breath as he tried a few more times again.

"It's just a string, how could a- " You spoke as you turned your head back to his direction, only to be cutted off as you witnessed the unusual. Mouth a little bit agape in disbelief. The thread didn't fall apart even while the blade was just sitting in between of it on air. Maybe that explains why you could barely even feel the thread wrapped securely around your finger. You could tell that this stunning blonde head was just as puzzled as you were.

" Sir, if you're having any problems that includes this woman, we can sort it out. Just withdraw the knife first please, " a man suddenly blurted out, his voice a little bit shaky. That's when you realized the commotion you both have caused, everyone around you two took steps back away. All had fear in their eyes.

" Wait, you don't see the thread we're trying to cut? " Chan questioned, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. At that, he was more misunderstood.

" There's no thread..? " With that, it got the two of us surprised. Is the crazy one here them, who couldn't see this string, or us, who could?

Chan tried to explain our situation thoroughly but when he was about to speak up, out of the blue, a voice spoke in the speakers. " Please mind the gap, " You immediately grabbed his arm, carried his belongings and dragged him out of the train. Leaving its passengers confused as they eyed us. They might be thinking that you two are idiots.

The doors just shut a second later when you two got out. You felt a bit suffocated for an unknown reason, your hand reaching for your chest where you could feel your heart beating. Panting, you shoved Chan's belongings into his chest. " Are you alright? " He asked as he tried to place a hand on your back, the least thing he could do to comfort you.

But his hand only stopped in mid-air when you took your last deep breath, replying. " Let's just part ways here, " Saying those words felt a bit disheartening at some point, yet you chose to disregard it.

You walked forwards, while Chan stayed in his position, wearing his coat and fixing his tie. Although, something stopped you. As in you couldn't go forwards as much as you force to. Well when you did force yourself, it only tugged Chan towards you. Turning around, he was already eyeing you. " What was that for?! "

Glaring at the thread, you thought out loud, " Is this string telling me, it can only stretch itself approximately at 7 meters?! "

Continue

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illfoandillfie · 4 years ago

Note

I don’t know if you’re still doing asks for the advent calendar. But just wondering if you could do a Ben x Reader x Present!Roger, where Ben and reader are the subs for Rog and he is hard!dom and they’re getting punished but at the end it’s super fluffy with my fav poly relationship. Idk if this makes since and I hope you could be comfortable with writing this! Btw love your writing! ❤️❤️

Oh i absolutely love this prompt and honestly i can’t think of a better way to end this thing than with a rog x ben threesome!!

Warnings: smut, spanking, edging/orgasm denial, sir kink, dom! rog, sub! ben, sub! reader, collars, a tiny bit of hair pulling, overstimulation, minor mentions of oral sex (m and f receiving), there’s also a bit where rog steps on reader, also its like 4k lmao

Blurb Advent: Day 25

It had been natural to let Roger take the lead, so to speak, in your relationship. Even in the early days, there’d never really been a question about you submitting to Roger. For one thing, you trended towards submissive anyway but something about Roger, the way he carried himself, automatically made you want to kneel before him. Age probably had something to do with it too. There was a perceived expertise because he was older (and as he frequently joked, wiser too), that had you agreeing to call him Sir and to follow his instructions, even within the first few weeks of getting together. Normally you’d wait a while before jumping into anything especially kinky with someone new, and to be fair he hadn’t rushed into bringing out the harder stuff, but it was almost shameful how fast you’d let him toy with you, agreeing to wear a collar to symbolise your submission. You’d well and truly established your dom/sub relationship before you’d agreed to consider each other boyfriend and girlfriend, (His age may have been a hinderance there, the word boyfriend not often associated with someone like him) so when Ben first met you, he assumed something entirely different. Roger had invited him around for dinner, with the added intention of being able to talk drums for as long as they wanted. Ben had shook your hand and made a comment that implied he thought you were Roger’s niece or grand daughter or something along those lines and before you’d been able to correct him he was caught up in a discussion with Roger about one of the songs he had to play in the movie. You left them too it, shrugging Ben’s assumption off. If you were going to date a man in his seventies then you had to be prepared for people to think you were connected by blood or else that you were in it for the money. Neither was true but it’s what people would think and there was no reason to get upset about it. Ben’s impression was re-evaluated later that day when he’d wandered away from the drum kit to find Roger and walked in on him giving you a quick edge. As soon as he realised Ben was there Roger apologised.

“Oh, that’s um, no, uh, no need for that,” Ben stuttered out, “I just thought, but, uh, I was obviously wrong,”

“Family or sugar baby?” Roger asked curiously.

“Family. Then sugar baby when I saw your hand up her skirt.” Ben seemed to realise what he’d said, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“She’s my girlfriend actually,” Roger turned his head to smile at you, “I would have said so but we’ve really only just started telling people so it kind of slipped my mind that I could,”

“No worries, um, I’ll leave you to it and just go try out that bit on the drums again.” Ben turned and walked back down the hallway as quickly as he could, Roger chuckling softly as he kissed the top of your head.

“How would you feel if I invited Ben to have sex with us?” he asked suddenly.

“What?”

“I’m not saying I definitely will but…he’s been looking at you a lot this afternoon. I figured he was probably trying to work out who you were to me but if he assumed family he might have been checking you out.”

“You think?” you asked, trying to keep your tone level. Ben was fit and you wouldn’t have minded him making a pass at you, even if you’d had to turn him down.

“I’ll keep an eye on him, see if I can work it out, but would you be okay with that? If he joined us?”

“That sounds kind of fun,”

“Alright then, I’ll feel him out and see if I can’t convince him to stay the night.”

Over the course of the afternoon and evening Roger used every trick in his book to determine Ben’s attraction to you, and if he’d be interested in a threeway, steadily getting less and less subtle. By the time dinner had been eaten just about all delicacy was out the window.

“Look, sorry again about earlier,” Roger said, passing Ben a scotch and soda, “I’ve been edging Y/N a bit today because I’m planning on fucking her rotten tonight and I want her dripping wet and ready to beg for it,”

You weren’t sure whether you or Ben was more embarrassed by that but Roger didn’t seem to notice.

“Not that I really need too because she’s got, well let’s call it a very healthy sex drive. Edging her keeps her in her place and makes sure she knows I’m the one who controls if and when she gets an orgasm, but honestly she’s ready to go whenever I ask. I could tell her to strip right now and she would.”

“Is that right?” Ben said despite himself. His eyes darted about the room, not knowing where to look, but his tone was curious.

“She’s very obedient. If you wanted I could tell her to suck you off and it would take literally two seconds for her to be on her knees.”

Ben audibly gulped, his face beyond pink.

“Should I tell her to do that Ben?”

“Umm,”

“I think she’d like it if you joined us tonight. She does think you’re fit.”

“J-joi-join you?”

“We can set up one of the spare rooms for you if you want to stay. I might even see about lending her to you for the night.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, hypothetically, if you did stay, we’d share her for a bit, make up for all those edges I gave her. Then afterwards you could take her off to another bed and have her as many times as you wanted while I got a good nights sleep. Twice this week she’s wanted me in the middle of the night, it’d be nice to let someone else deal with her instead. Of course, there would be a few ground rules but they’re easy enough.”

“Like what?”

“Oh well, you can take her raw if you like but we’d prefer you not to finish in her cunt. Anywhere else is fine though. Obviously safewords are a must and limits have to be respected, hers, yours and mine. And you do need to understand that I’m in charge. She submits to me, she calls me Sir and she wears a collar for me. We both enjoy it, we both get off on it, and we expect anyone who joins us to understand that.”

“I understand,” Ben nodded.

“Does that mean you want to stay?”

“Yes.”

Roger had grinned and turned to you, “Well, why don’t you give our guest a proper welcome.”

Ben fit in better than you might have assumed he would. It had been natural for you to submit and apparently Ben felt the same. That first night he constantly looked to Roger for guidance and permission, not wanting to overstep any boundaries or do something that would bring the night to an end. As you’d sucked Ben’s cock Roger had commanded you both, telling you when to deepthroat him and when to come up for air, telling him to grab your hair or push you down further. After that he’d suggested Ben repay you and walked him through edging you with just his fingers, teaching him the signs of your impending orgasm so he could stop it at the last second. And when you did finally make it to the bedroom, he’d told you both how to position yourselves, giving instructions and making demands as you’d been filled by both of them. Ben joined you in calling Roger Sir, giving up control as fully as you did. When Roger suggested edging Ben himself, Ben didn’t object. He dropped his eyes and bit his lip and whined prettily as Roger stroked his cock carefully, always stopping short. Afterwards he’d been rewarded, as Roger had promised he would be, with you as company in his bed. Mostly you’d stayed up talking, Ben curiously asking questions about your relationship with Roger and how it had come about. He was most intrigued by the dominant and submissive dynamics, how it worked and how you’d felt adding an extra person to it. Of course, you’d made sure it wasn’t all talk. Ben was hot and Roger expected him to fuck you so there was no harm in it. Besides, you knew Roger would call you a good girl if you were obedient and took Ben however he wanted. Ben seemed to like that aspect of your reasoning too. He didn’t want to disappoint Roger by not using you and the chance of being called a good boy for it was motivation enough.

You’d expected it to be a one night thing but a couple of weeks later Roger had extended Ben another invitation to dinner. Things went in much the same direction, only Ben had fallen asleep in the bed you shared with Roger rather than taking a spare for himself and the next morning had offered a repeat performance of the night before. It was the same the next time Ben came for dinner and the time after that. On the sixth time you all gave up the pretext of dinner. Ben arrived earlier in the afternoon and Roger greeted him with the order to strip, which he did without question. The next morning Roger, pleased with Ben, made a suggestion that it become more official, and offered him a collar identical to yours.

“You can say no, of course,”

Ben hadn’t even hesitated before he picked up the collar and fitted it around his throat. You’d helped him with the clasp at a look from Roger who’d then ordered you both to suck him off. From then on it became a much more regular thing. For the most part both you and Ben would submit to Roger, gradually showing Ben harder things like spankings and restraints and all the fun stuff. Sometimes Roger would just sit back and watch Ben have his way with you and sometimes he’d disappear with Ben while you were busy or not in the mood. When Roger was called overseas unexpectedly Ben stayed with you. Roger asked for photos and videos and you delighted in sending him pictures of hickeys and scratches you gave each other as well as videos of each of you edging or Ben’s cock sliding in and out of your cunt, your moans in the background. Of course, the shifts in your sexual relationships also impacted your non-sexual relationships. Ben was important to you and Roger. He wasn’t just someone you hooked up with, he was part of things. When you redecorated the kitchen, Ben helped pick out the colours and when Roger wanted someone to listen to the first demo of a new song he’d written, Ben was there to give feedback. He was an extra shoulder to lean on, an extra pair of hands when there was chores to be done, and extra person to spend time with. But even with all the changes, your sexual dynamic remained the same. Roger was in charge. And that was how he liked it. Especially when he got to punish one or both of you.

Not that his punishments were ever really punishments. Once he’d come home from a weekend trip, expecting a clean house only to find the kitchen covered in rubbish and dirty dishes while you and Ben giggled away under the covers upstairs. He’d got very stern and made you both write lines. I will complete my chores before I have sex one hundred times each. But for the most part his punishments were actually fun, if a little painful. Spanking and orgasm denial and bondage, things that you could get off on, and always for small misdemeanours like poking your tongue out at him or going over an edge before you had permission. Because you and Ben enjoyed giving up control so much, your slight bratty tendencies generally just signalled a desire to be pushed or for something a little harder than what he was giving you. When one of you acted out without involving the other he’d let them help with the punishment, giving you both an outlet for any of your slightly more dominant inclinations. But more often than not you’d wind up being punished together.

On one such occasion, you and Ben had started teasingly referring to Roger as Mr Softie within his hearing after he’d dripped ice cream on his shirt. He’d smiled and laughed along but that evening he’d got back at you, using your collars to chain you to the desk in his office, your hands bound in cuffs in front of you. For a while he left you there, just out of reach of each other, wondering what he had in store. The silence was broken every so often by one of you making a quiet suggestion as to what he might do to you or wondering when he’d return, the anticipation building with each passing minute. Your heart pounded in your chest but you only grew wetter as you were forced to wait and Ben seemed to be in a similar predicament, his pants getting steadily tighter. Finally, Roger returned, ignoring you as he placed a paddle and a vibrator down on the desk you were tied to. Without acknowledging you he unclasped Ben’s collar, giving it a tug to make Ben crawl toward the couch set up at the other end of the room.

“Sir?” Ben asked as he reached the couch, looking up at Roger from his place on the floor.

“Up on the couch. Face down. Now.”

Ben jumped to follow the direction, settling with his face pressed against one cushion, his knees resting on the other, and his hips as high in the air as he could comfortably manage.

“Right,” Roger said, turning back to the desk and continuing to ignore you, “It seems you need to be taught a lesson about respect. And I think the fastest way to teach you is to spank your arse raw. Maybe a few days of not being able to sit down will be a strong enough reminder that I own you and you will respect me.” As he talked, Roger retrieved the paddle and tapped it against his hand, just loud enough that Ben could hear, his whimpers rising as he waited for the first strike. You watched as Roger stalked towards Ben, raised his arm and brought it down hard on Ben’s arse, the shocked cry that escaped Ben almost enough to have you whining yourself. Roger didn’t pause, just lay three or four hits on Ben, each one hard enough that Ben tried to wriggle away and the sound cut through the mostly quiet room. Suddenly Roger reached for Ben’s cock, stroking his already hard member before laying another few spanks on him. Ben made a mixture of sounds, some of pain and some of pleasure but all of them egged Roger on as he edged Ben and turned his arse a dappled purple wherever the paddle struck.

“How does that feel slut? Does it hurt?” Roger’s tone shifted to one of mock whining and back in a matter of seconds, “that whore’s going to be in for it too since it was her idea to disrespect me.”

Ben howled as another few spanks hit him, tears getting lost in the cushion of the couch, but you could see how his hips jolted with every light touch to his dick and how he twitched when Roger retracted his hand.

You’d lost count of how many edges and spanks Ben had received by the time Roger hooked two fingers into the collar, using his grip to pull Ben up higher, “Do you think you’ve learnt your lesson or should I keep teaching you?”

Ben shook his head, eyes still watery and voice more of a sob, “no more, please, I understand,”

“I’m very happy to hear that. Do you think you should be allowed to cum now?”

“Yes please Sir,”

“Yeah? You think I should stop being mean and wank you off already?”

Ben nodded.

“Okay then Benny. But only if she manages to hold out.”

Ben whimpered but nodded, falling to his side.

Roger gently stroked his fingers through Ben’s with a few quiet words of praise before he turned to you. Just like with Ben, Roger unchained you and then made you crawl to the couch. It was awkward with your arms bound but you didn’t dare sit up straighter to walk on your knees, that would only leader to a harder punishment. When you reached the couch Roger stopped you, telling you to turn around and get into the same position Ben had been in, your face against the carpet and your arse in the air. The only difference was that you remained on the floor, your arse facing Ben. The first spank took you by surprise. You’d been so concerned with your position and wondering how closely Ben was watching that you’d forgotten what was coming. It was followed by another three in rapid fire, the paddle thwacking you with such force that you jolted forward each time.

“You’re in trouble Benny,” Roger said, bending slightly to drag his fingers along your cunt, “She’s already soaked. Don’t know she’ll last.”

You whined and squirmed as his fingers traced over you and then yelled when he hit you again. There was no pattern to his punishment, try as you might to find one. He gave you two hits and then pressed his fingers into you, fucking you with them for a moment, and then another five hits, his fingertips lightly rubbing your clit, another two spanks, a spank to your cunt, another three to your arse, and then his fingers again. But there was no way to tell how many spanks you’d endure before he edged you or even how he’d touch you, whether he’d twist his fingers inside you or circle your clit.

“Finger her for me,” Roger said and you heard Ben wince as he stood and knelt behind you. You heard Roger walk away as Ben sank his fingers into you. He slowly pulled them out and pushed them back in, wanting to do as he’d been told, but not wanting to accidentally push you over the edge lest he not get his own orgasm. That was until Roger, over his shoulder, told Ben to do it properly or be spanked again. After that Ben was merciless, shoving a third fingers into you and roughly pounding his them as deep as he could go.

“That’s better,” Roger said when he returned to your side, “make the whore pay for getting you into trouble.”

You cried out and tried to wriggle away as another spank came down on you, but it was impossible to escape with Ben’s fingers hooked in your cunt and your bound hands. All the same Roger placed one of his feet on the side of your head, holding you down against the carpet as he whacked you again and again, ignoring your screams and the tears soaking the carpet. He stopped and you breathed a sigh of relief but it was short lived as a buzzing noise filled the room and you remembered the toy he’d brought in with the paddle.

There was no way to suppress your moan as Roger held the vibrator against your clit, warning you not to cum. He held it there for a matter of seconds and then pulled it away again. Ben’s fingers left you a second later and then you were being tugged up by your collar again, the thick leather band pressing into your throat.

“On the couch, whore.”

“Yes, Sir,” you managed to sob as a few more tears rolled down your cheeks.

Once you were on the couch, positioned the same way you had been on the floor, Ben was handed the vibrator.

“Against her clit, highest setting. Don’t move it until I tell you.”

You whimpered, knowing there was no way you could hold back an orgasm with that kind of stimulation. But that didn’t seem to matter to Roger. He expected you to hold it, reminding you that you didn’t have permission in low growl as he spanked you on the back of your thigh. Your arse tingled all over, stinging twice as much whenever he hit you again but it was nothing to the sensation of the vibrator against your clit.

“I’m close,” you whined before another cry was ripped from you as Roger spanked the back of your other thigh.

“Don’t move it slut. The whore needs to fucking hold it.”

You tried but it was no use, there was nothing you could think of, nothing you could do, that could keep you from disobeying. You moaned as the orgasm rolled through you and heard Roger drop the paddle.

“Don’t move it Ben,” Roger growled as he stalked around to your head, pulling it up by the hair, “I thought I told you to hold it whore,”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you half yelled, whining as the vibrator kept buzzing against your clit.

“You will be.”

You lost sight of Roger as he shoved you back down and walked away.

“Guess we have our answer Ben. Since the whore couldn’t stop herself from cumming, you won’t be allowed to.”

“No, Sir, please, I really need to,”

“That was our deal though slut.”

“Sir,”

“Don’t argue, it’ll just make things worse for you. And don’t move that vibrator.”

Ben fell silent, though a few whimpers escaped him as he pressed the vibrator against you harder.

You were expecting another series of spanks, so when you heard the small jingle sound of Roger removing his belt you cringed away, assuming that was what he was going to hit you with. But instead of the swishing sound it made before a strike, it was followed by the sound of a zip. Roger grabbed your hips and pulled them around so he could press his cock into you. By now the vibrator against your clit felt painful, the overstimulation enough to make you sob but the feeling was only amplified by Roger fucking you hard, his jeans rubbing against your arse since he hadn’t bothered to push them down. You squealed and sobbed as he used your cunt, the vibrator torturing your sensitive clit and making you cry into the couch cushion. Roger just grunted about how tight you were and how your sobs just turned him on more, until finally he came deep inside you. Only after he pulled out did he take the vibrator from Ben, shushing you when you sobbed out a thank you. He stood behind you until he saw his cum dribble out of you and then pulled Ben up by the collar and told him to clean you up. There were footsteps as he left the room but neither of you dared disobey so Ben continued to spread your lips with his thumbs and lick along your slit, pulling a soft moan from you. Roger returned with a warm damp cloth and told Ben to stop. He swiped the cloth over your thighs and up along your lips, gently cleaning off whatever Ben had missed. When he was satisfied he asked you to move over and sat down in the centre of the couch.

“You did so well, Y/N,” he said softly, letting you rest your head in his lap and smoothing back your hair with his palm, “Do you wanna come up here Ben?”

Ben nodded and gingerly knelt on Roger’s other side, too sore to sit properly.

“You were such a good boy Ben, and I’m so proud of you for holding out,” he said as he lay the damp cloth flat against his hand and then reached for Ben’s dick, using the cloth to wank him, “You can cum now.”

Ben panted out a thank you, his voice falling into a moan as he finally got what he’d needed for so long. You watched through tired eyes as Roger’s fist pumped over Ben’s length until his hips stuttered and he moaned with his release. Roger kept praising him until he was completely spent, using the cloth to gather the evidence of the orgasm. It was thrown to the floor and Roger carefully unfastened Ben’s collar, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on the lips and whisper that he loved him. He wrapped his arm around Ben and let him settle on his chest.

“Y/N, love, can you sit up for me?”

You nodded and slowly pushed yourself up, feeling a little dazed.

Roger gently removed your collar and kissed you too, taking an extra moment to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping away the last of your tears, and remind you how good you were and how much he loved you before he let you settle in his lap again. He knew he’d have to move you both eventually. There were ice packs and aloe downstairs in the kitchen that would help with your bruised arses and he’d have to make sure you both ate something and drank some water before you went to sleep. But Roger was happy just to sit there for a while to comfort and cuddle the two people he loved most.

#my writing #my blurbs #my fics #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #roger taylor x reader x ben hardy #Anonymous #(technically im a day late but its fine #its probs still the 25th for most of ya'll)#blurb advent 2020

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debbiechanclub · 4 years ago

Text

Best Two Out of Three, Part 26

This is it: the last chapter of BTOOT 😭

I wrote a long, sappy post about what this means to me *months* ago when I thought we would finish much sooner than we did (whoops), so I won’t get into all that again. However, I will say that this is a huge accomplishment for me because I have never finished a multi-part fic until now. But I didn’t do it on my own. I absolutely could not have completed this in the time that I did without @hotyeehawman, and BTOOT absolutely would not be the fic that it is without her. So thank you so much, Lauren. We wrote a whole ass 123,419-word, 228-page mf’in fanfiction novel in less than a year 😳

And, at the risk of sounding cheesy AF, we couldn’t have done it without you all, either. The response to this little wrasslin’ fic consistently blows us away. SO THANK YOU. It means more than words can say. So once you finish reading this last chapter, please come scream at me in your tags, in the comments, in my asks, in my DMs. Because I cannot wait to hear your thoughts.

Alright, enough of that 🤧 I’ll let you get to reading 😉

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 26/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC, Matt Jackson x OFC x Cash Wheeler, Adam Page x himself

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: Language; MAJOR angst

Catch up on previous parts here.

Tag squad: @freshlysqueezedmox @comeasyoudar @heelchampbucks @bec0m @betsy-bradock @linziland13 @gabbynorth98 @exe-darbyallin-exe @librathepheonix13 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @kingswitchblade

Callie pulled her phone out of her purse to check the time again. 8:57 a.m. She put it back and glanced anxiously around the hotel lobby. She and Cash had agreed to meet there at nine to head to Orlando, and with each passing minute she worried that it would be Matt who stepped out of the elevator instead.

Their conversation had played on a nonstop loop in her head all night. This all happened way too fast. Yeah, I guess it did. Over and over again. Except, in her head, it didn’t end the way it had last night. Instead of Matt walking off she called out to him to wait. She told him that the reason she’d been avoiding him was because she felt guilty about how much she enjoyed being with him. Her brain told her it was wrong, but her heart told her otherwise, and because she didn’t know how to reconcile the two it was easier to just avoid the issue all together.

And that’s exactly what she was doing now: avoiding the issue by going to Orlando with Cash. And she wasn’t just going for the day—she was staying the night at his place.

It had been Cash’s suggestion that she spend the night. It’ll save me a round trip, he’d said via text. It made sense; they both had to be back in Jacksonville for Dynamite tomorrow, so there was no point in making Cash drive four extra hours tonight. So, Callie had agreed.

But, deep down, she knew she’d mostly agreed because it helped her avoid Matt that much more.

She pulled out her phone again, but rather than check the time she opened the camera and flipped it to face toward her. Her double black eyes had worsened from last night, turning an ugly bluish color, but thankfully some full-coverage concealer had made them barely noticeable. Even so, she pushed her oversized sunglasses onto her face. The last thing she needed was people thinking she was a battered woman.

The elevator dinged, and Callie’s chest constricted as the doors slid open. Mercifully, it was Cash.

“You ready?” he asked as he moved toward her. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

She nodded and jumped up from her seat. “Mhm,” she said as she grabbed her suitcase. She couldn’t leave the hotel fast enough.

* * * * * * * * * *

The drive to Orlando was mostly quiet. Cash had asked her if there was anything in particular she wanted to do or see, but she’d just told him she was up for whatever. She knew absolutely nothing about Orlando outside of the fact that Disney World and Universal Studios were there and the little bit she’d seen when she’d stayed with Britt. But Cash didn’t seem bothered by her apparent lack of enthusiasm; he’d just grinned and said, “I got you.” It made Callie’s stomach flutter.

They dropped off their bags at his place and she met his English bulldog, Pawla, before they set off for their first stop of the day. Cash seemed excited as he steered his truck into a parking lot in front of a large complex. Callie, however, was more than just a little confused when she saw what it was.

“Go-karts?”

She hadn’t meant to sound so disappointed, but Cash just let out a laugh. “What? You don’t like go-karts?”

She didn’t answer, looking skeptically out the window at the building. For whatever reason, it made her think of Alex. Go-karts seemed more her speed. She frowned. I wonder if he took her here, too.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Cash said. “I think you could use the adrenaline boost.”

“I can think of better ways to get an adrenaline boost.”

As soon as she said it, Callie wished she could take it back. It had just slipped out, implication and all. She looked hesitantly at Cash. He was smirking.

“I’m sure you can,” he returned. Callie felt her cheeks burn hot behind her sunglasses.

“Come on,” he repeated as he unbuckled his seat belt. “I’ll let you pick where we go to lunch afterward.”

He got out of the truck, and Callie drew in a deep, calming breath through her nose as she did the same.

Maybe avoiding Matt wasn’t the only reason she’d decided to stay overnight in Orlando.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex still hadn’t gotten over what had happened at the Labor Day party. In a word, she felt awful. She wanted to text Callie and apologize again, but between nearly breaking her nose and all but telling her to stay away from Matt, she doubted she wanted to hear from her. So, in hopes of boosting her mood, she’d decided to sit out by Kenny’s pool and soak up the last vestiges of summer while she still could.

But, so far, it hadn’t worked.

Her phone chirped next to her on the lounger, and she picked it up and unlocked the screen. She had a text from Trent.

Hey loser. You have plans today?

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips as she typed back. Not really. Why?

She hit “send,” but instead of setting the phone back down she opened up Instagram. She clicked on Jay White’s story and let it autoplay through a couple more people before it unexpectedly came to Cash’s story. It was a Boomerang video of an indoor go-kart track. Alex recognized it; he’d taken her there one of the first weekends she’d stayed with him in Orlando.

A banner appeared at the top of her screen with Trent’s reply. Because Sam is in town if you want to come hang out.

That caught her off-guard. Sam, the boys’ friend who she’d first met five years ago. Alex had had no idea she was going to be in Jacksonville. Had one of them told her and it’d slipped her mind? But she didn’t think too much of it as she opened the text and sent her response.

Idk. After yesterday I kind of just feel like being a hermit today.

She went back to Instagram and refreshed the page—and her eyes widened at the first picture that popped up.

Callie, a bright smile on her face as she posed in a helmet at the very same indoor go-kart track from Cash’s story.

“Are you shitting me?”

“There you are.”

Alex nearly dropped her phone on her face at the sound of Kenny’s voice. He gave her an amused look. “You alright?”

“Yeah…” she started. But she thought better of it and huffed, “No.”

Kenny cocked his head in concern as he sat down on the edge of the lounger next to her. “What’s wrong?”

Alex let out a sound that was half sigh, half groan. The last thing she wanted to do was to complain to Kenny about Callie and Cash, of all people. But if she couldn’t talk to him about it, who could she? “I’m just frustrated with the whole Callie situation,” she breathed.

She glanced at him from underneath the bill of her baseball cap. He frowned sympathetically at her. “I know, baby. But you didn’t hit her on purpose. If she doesn’t believe that it’s her problem.”

“It’s not just that,” she interjected. “According to Instagram she’s in Orlando with Cash right now.”

His brow furrowed in confusion when she said that. Alex knew exactly what he was thinking. “I don’t give two shits about Cash,” she assured him. “He can do whatever and whoever he wants. Honestly, I expect bullshit like this from him. But I don’t get where Callie’s head is at. Where the hell does she get off blaming me for ruining her relationship with Adam while she’s off driving fucking go-karts with the guy who stabbed him in the back? It hasn’t even been two weeks since she left him!”

“Because it’s what Callie does,” Kenny blithely returned. “She thinks she’s blameless in everything and doesn’t take accountability for anything. This isn’t the first time she’s shown you that’s exactly the kind of person she is.”

“But we were friends, Kenny! Somehow, we got over all the bullshit and became friends, and then fucking Adam…”

She trailed off, her voice growing thick with emotion, and looked to the ceiling. She didn’t want to get upset. But it was hard not to. She felt betrayed. That was the only word for it.

“Hey.” Kenny put a hand on her bare leg, drawing her eyes back to his. “Do you want my honest advice?”

She nodded.

“Stop wasting your energy on Callie and Adam. They’re not worth it, Alex. You’ve given them so much of your time and effort and what have you gotten in return?”

A tear rolled out of the corner of her eye and she quickly wiped it away. She didn’t need to answer him. They both knew the answer. “I know,” she softly agreed. “You’re probably right.”

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Of course I am.” He leaned over and kissed the side of her head. “I was thinking about ordering sushi for dinner tonight. That always makes you feel better.”

She perked up a bit at that. “Can we get sake, too?”

He nodded. “Yes, I’ll get you sake, too.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

He gave her leg an affectionate squeeze and stood. “Well, I’m gonna go get a workout in. Wanna join me?”

Alex couldn’t help herself. “Is that a euphemism?”

He grinned. “No, despite how much I want to take that bikini off you right now.”

She just playfully rolled her eyes in response.

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand. “Endorphins will make you feel better, too.”

Alex emitted a dramatic groan as she put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. “Not if you try to kill me like you did last time,” she argued.

“But I always take good care of you afterward,” he said. “That was a euphemism, by the way.”

She returned his smirk. “Yeah, I got it.”

* * * * * * * * * *

To Cash’s credit, the go-karts had been fun—but Callie was more than happy to take the lead on the rest of the day. She’d picked out a restaurant on International Drive for lunch (Cash had groaned and said that was where all the tourists went, to which she’d cheekily replied that she was a tourist), and afterward he’d convinced her to ride the Ferris wheel at ICON Park, where he’d pointed out some of the different areas of the city to her (Callie, who was afraid of heights, had kept a death grip on his arm the entire time). Then, at Callie’s request, they’d driven around some of the neighborhoods so that she could get a better feel for them (“Obviously, I recommend my neighborhood,” Cash had said). Overall, it had turned out to be a good day after all, and Orlando was looking more and more like the place Callie wanted to move.

But, the more time she spent with him, the more she started to wonder how much of that feeling was due to Cash.

“What’re you craving?” he asked as they sat on the couch in his living room.

“You pick,” she returned. Pawla lounged between them, and she reached down to scratch her behind the ears. “I’m honestly still stuffed from lunch.”

“Chinese it is,” he decided, and he pulled out his phone to order. Callie did the same, but to open up Instagram—and she found that Alex was the first person in her stories queue. She stared at the little circle of her profile picture, hesitant. But she was too nosy not to look, so she angled her phone screen away from Cash and clicked.

There were only two pictures in her story. The first showed her in sweat-drenched workout gear lying face-down on a gym room floor with the caption, “@/kennyomegamanx tried to kill me again.” The second was of her smiling in satisfaction in front of a takeout container of sushi. “He made up for it,” the caption read.

“I guess Alex and Kenny aren’t hiding their relationship anymore.”

She froze and glanced at Cash out of the corner of her eye. That was the second time that day she’s put her foot in her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “They’re probably the last two people you want to hear about.”

But Cash shook his head. “I don’t care. They can have each other.”

Callie frowned. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but he spoke up again before she could.

“Do you prefer beef and broccoli or chicken?”

She thought for a second. “Beef.”

A few more clicks and he finished putting in the order. “It says it’ll be here in thirty-five minutes,” he said as he stood from the couch. “You want a drink? I have a bottle of The Rock’s tequila, it’s really good.”

Callie’s nose scrunched up. “Do you have vodka?”

“Yeah. You want it on the rocks or mixed?”

“Mixed please.”

He nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Callie occupied herself with petting Pawla until he returned with their drinks a few minutes later. “Here you go; vanilla vodka and Coke Zero.”

“Oo, that sounds good,” she said as he handed her the cocktail. She took a sip. He’d made it just right, not too much vodka, not too little.

“So, what’d you think of Orlando?” he asked as he sat back down. “Did I convince you to become my neighbor?”

His choice of words made her stomach flutter again. “I think so. There’s more to do here than in Jacksonville, and a two-hour drive to work is a lot better than a cross-country flight.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I like it. Dax is planning on moving back to Asheville, but I think I’m gonna stay here. It’s grown on me. Plus, I like Disney and Universal Studios too much.”

“Yeah, I definitely want to check those out,” she returned.

“We should plan a weekend,” he smirked. Callie took a sip of her drink to hide her blush.

They fell into silence, and they both turned their attention to the random show Cash had put on the television. But there was something hanging in the air; Callie could feel it. She was about to speak up when Cash beat her to it.

“So, we’ve avoided the topic all day, but I kind of feel like I have to ask now.”

There was no need for him to clarify what he meant. “Matt?” she guessed.

He nodded. She shifted in her seat. “What about him?”

“Well… are you two not together?”

He sounded almost hopeful. She hesitated to respond.

“That was the rumor backstage,” he added.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course it was. But I guess, yeah, at one point it was moving in that direction. But… I actually told him last night that I think we rushed into things.”

“Oh,” Cash said. It was obvious that he expected her to continue, but her confusion over Matt was the last thing Callie wanted to get into right now. So, she deflected.

“There’s something I need to ask you, too.”

Cash arched his eyebrows as he raised his glass to his lips. “That doesn’t sound good,” he joked.

But Callie wasn’t joking. “Why’d you do what you did to Adam?”

He paused to cock his head at her. “What do you mean?”

She shot him a flat look as he took a sip of his drink. “I mean when you stabbed him in the back, Cash.”

Cash made a noise as he swallowed down the tequila. “Damn, not pulling any punches, huh?”

“You didn’t with Adam.”

He looked back at her in surprise. She didn’t waiver. He breathed out again.

“Alright, look,” he started. “I don’t have anything against Adam. I’ve known him a long time. But he and Kenny had what we wanted, and we did what we had to do to get it.”

She rolled her eyes again. That was such a canned response.

“What?”

“You did not have to do what you did,” she returned. “You didn’t have to manipulate him the way you did.”

His eyebrows arched. “Manipulate him? Callie, all we did was point out that Kenny and the Bucks don’t give two shits about him. He did the rest himself.”

“What?”

“I swear.”

“So you didn’t tell him to sabotage Matt and Nick in the gauntlet match?”

“No! He did that because he was upset about you and Matt!”

Callie’s brow puckered in confusion. “What?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “He told us at the hotel bar that night that he found out right before the gauntlet match that you were staying with Matt in California, so he retaliated by sabotaging their title shot. Dax and I didn’t have anything to do with that, I promise you.”

The room grew silent as his words sunk in, stunning her. That was exactly what Alex had surmised when Matt had confronted her immediately after the gauntlet match. But Callie hadn’t wanted to believe it, and after FTR had turned on Adam she’d assumed that they’d been the ones to put the idea in his head.

But if Cash was telling her that they hadn’t, then it meant she really was to blame.

“Hey,” Cash softly beckoned. She looked back up at him. His eyes were earnest. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t mean to make it sound like it was. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Callie stared down into her drink, tapping her fingernails on the glass. She appreciated the sentiment, but she didn’t agree. Not really. “Well, technically I walked out him, so…”

She trailed off and took a long drink. She felt like such a bitch. I shouldn’t be here.

“And?” Cash returned, drawing her out of her thoughts. “I’m sure you had good reason to.”

Callie didn’t answer right away, nearly draining her drink. Once she’d had enough, she looked down at Pawla and scratched her head again. “Let’s not talk about it anymore,” she said.

“Done,” he said, and she sent him a tight, grateful smile. “So what do you wanna do? Watch a movie?”

She nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. I just have one request.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Anything but Mean Girls.”

* * * * * * * * * *

When Matt arrived at Daily’s Place on Wednesday, he had half a mind to go to Tony and tell him to cancel the mixed tag match. He had no desire to wrestle a match with Callie anymore. To be frank, he didn’t want much of anything to do with her at the moment.

He knew she’d been in Orlando with Cash yesterday. He’d seen her Instagram photo at the go-kart track and hadn’t thought much of it. But not long after, Kenny had texted him.

Hey, did you know Callie is in Orlando with Cash right now?

It had caught him completely off-guard. No? he’d responded. Who told you that?

He’d been more on-edge than he cared to admit while he’d awaited Kenny’s reply. Alex. I guess they posted photos from the same place on Instagram or something.

A quick search for Cash’s Instagram profile—Matt didn’t follow that asshole—had confirmed the claim to be true. It wasn’t a photo, but a Boomerang video on his story that gave it away. It was unmistakably the same indoor go-kart track from Callie’s picture.

I just thought you should know, Kenny had followed up. Matt hadn’t responded. He’d tried to put it out of his mind ever since, but he couldn’t. He kept going back to what Callie had said to him the last time he’d seen her.

This all happened way too fast.

He didn’t disagree; they had moved fast. But what confused him was that Callie had been the one to set the pace, not him. He’d thought she’d wanted everything that had happened between them.

But the way she was acting now made him feel like nothing more than a regret.

“Matt.”

“Hm.” He looked up from his phone at Brandon. He, Nick, and Kenny all stared expectantly at him from across the EVP room.

“Do you want me to film the mixed tag match for BTE?” Brandon asked. His tone that conveyed he was repeating himself. Matt obviously hadn’t heard him the first time.

“Oh, no. Sorry,” he replied, and he looked back down at his phone. He saw the three of them exchange a wary glance out of his peripheral vision. Thankfully, they just left it alone.

“Alright, I’m starving,” Nick announced as he stood from his seat. “You guys coming?”

“Yeah,” Brandon agreed.

“No,” Kenny wearily returned. “I got that interview with JR.”

There was a pause. And then, “Matt?”

He looked up again, this time at his brother. He shook his head. “No. I’m not hungry.”

Nick let out a breath. “Alright,” he said, and he and Brandon went out the door, leaving Matt and Kenny alone. The silence in the room was deafening. But it didn’t last long.

“Have you talked to Callie at all?” Kenny asked. “About the match,” he quickly clarified.

Matt shook his head again. “No. I haven’t talked to her period. Not since Monday.”

There was another beat of uncomfortable silence. Again, Kenny was the one to break it. “Look, about yesterday. I wasn’t trying to—”

“Don’t,” Matt abruptly cut him off. He knew exactly what he was going to say, and he didn’t want to hear it. “I’m glad you told me. Let’s just leave it at that.”

He raised his palms in surrender. “Fine,” he said, and Matt hoped that really was the end of it.

But then Kenny added, “But I think you owe Alex an apology.”

“What?” Matt cut his eyes at him in disbelief. “For what?”

“Oh, come on, you know exactly for what. For the whole reason the mixed tag match is happening in the first place.”

That confused him even more. “The mixed tag match is happening because Trent can’t mind his fucking business.”

Kenny rolled his eyes. “Oh, okay,” he sarcastically returned.

“What?”

“You called Alex a slut, Matt!” Kenny burst. “That’s what led to the mixed tag match! You accused her of putting Hangman up to sabotaging your title shot and you called her a slut for being involved with both me and Cash. But where was Callie yesterday? In Orlando with Cash, even though she’s apparently with you. So yeah, I think you owe Alex an apology.”

Matt sat back, physically stung by Kenny’s words. They hurt because there was more than just a grain of truth in them. But, at the moment, he was too stubborn to hear it. “Oh, so Callie’s the slut now? Is that what you’re saying?”

Kenny expelled an exasperated breath. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“It sure fucking sounds like it is.”

“I’m saying she’s making you look like a fucking idiot.”

They were thrown into silence again, their arguing replaced with quiet, palpable hostility as they sat opposed on either end of the room. Matt’s eyes turned dark. He didn’t need this. Not now. Not from his best friend.

“Fuck you, Kenny,” he spat. He stood and stalked toward the door, and as he gripped the handle he turned back, a cutting remark on the tip of his tongue. But in a moment of clarity, he decided it was better left unsaid. The shoe was on the other foot now. So he just went out the door, suddenly glad that he did have a match. He needed to hit something.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Are you guys going out for Jim’s match?”

Alex glanced across the locker room at Trent, looking for him to answer Chuck’s question. He met her gaze before responding.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “We’ll probably stay back here and focus on our match.”

Chuck nodded. “Yeah. I wish it wasn’t mixed tag rules. I’d like to see Alex hand Matt his ass.”

“Oh, she doesn’t even need to touch him to do that,” Trent returned. “Didn’t he train Callie?”

Alex knew he was asking her, but she didn’t look up as she rummaged through her suitcase. “I think so.”

Trent smirked. “So then kicking Callie’s ass will be kicking Matt’s by proxy,” he said. Chuck blinked at him.

“Wow, you actually used that correctly.”

He sucked his teeth. “Fuck off. I know big words.”

“‘Proxy’ is a five-letter word.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Spell it.”

“Are you serious?”

Alex smirked to herself and let them continue to argue while she grabbed the top to her gear and a pair of joggers and went into the bathroom to change. Truth be told, she didn’t want to talk or even think about the match against Callie and Matt. It was a complete one-eighty from a week ago—she’d been aching to kick Matt’s ass then. But now, she just wished the entire situation would go away.

She finished changing and returned to the main area of the locker room. Chuck was still challenging Trent to spell different words. “I’m going to hair and makeup,” she announced over them.

“What gear are you wearing?” Trent asked.

She turned to face him as she pulled on her zip-up hoodie. Her top was a sparkly dark silver-purple with black trim. “This gear. Why?”

“Because we should try to match. I knew I should have brought the gear from Fyter Fest…” he trailed off as he dug through his things and pulled out his dark gray tights with the blue and pink designs. “Do these work?”

Alex gave him a soft smile. “Yeah, those work. I’ll ask Stella to do a blue and pink eye look,” she said, and she went out the door.

Unfortunately, she didn’t get ten steps before she ran into Adam.

He slowed to a stop when he saw her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she returned, and her brow puckered with concern as she looked him over. He had his ubiquitous glass of whiskey in hand, but he at least looked better than he had when she’d seen him at the hotel on Sunday. “Going somewhere?”

He looked confused at that. “No… why?”

She awkwardly fidgeted with the sleeve of her hoodie. “Well, you just look dressed for TV and I didn’t see you on the card tonight. I wasn’t even sure you were here.”

Adam hadn’t said a single word to her since she’d texted him to ask if he was going to the Labor Day party. But she hadn’t said a single word to him since then, either. Because the more she’d thought about it, the more she’d realized how right Kenny was. It was exhausting putting so much effort into a friendship where she wasn’t getting the same effort in return.

“Oh,” Adam regretfully said as he looked down at his pale blue button-up. “Yeah, I just had an interview with Schiavone.”

“Oh,” Alex repeated. “About—”

“Where I go from here,” he interjected. “I said I was still open to tagging with Kenny if he was.”

He laughed wryly to himself and took a sip of his drink. Alex frowned and looked away. Kenny was not open to tagging with him again; she knew that for a fact. But judging by the look on Adam’s face, deep down he knew that, too.

“Where are you headed?”

She looked back up at him. “Oh, hair and makeup. For the match tonight.”

Realization dawned in his eyes. And then, sadness and hurt. “Oh, right. You have the mixed tag against Matt and Callie.”

“Yeah.” Alex fidgeted and glanced away again. She couldn’t bear the look on his face. But then she wondered: did he know that Callie had been in Orlando with Cash yesterday? Should she tell him?

No, she quickly decided. It’s not your place or responsibility.

“Well, I should get over there,” she said, gesturing in the direction of hair and makeup.

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded as she started walking. “Good luck tonight.”

“Thanks,” she said, and she turned and hurried off as quickly as she could.

* * * * * * * * * *

In the years since she’d started wrestling, Callie had never felt as much of an outcast as she did now. As soon as she’d arrived at the arena with Cash, she’d realized she had nowhere to go. The EVP room was out of the question, and she didn’t want to go back to sharing a dressing room with Britt—she was the one who’d blabbed her business all over Daily’s Place to begin with. Cash had offered for her to share with him and Dax, but she’d turned him down; she could only imagine the rumors that would start if people noticed her sharing a locker room with FTR. No, she needed to keep a low-profile, and so she’d found an empty room away from everyone else. Now, she sat in one of the lounges watching the show as she awaited her match, alone.

Orange Cassidy had just beaten Angelico with the Orange Punch. Callie had expected Best Friends and Alex to be at ringside for the match, but they weren’t. She looked away from the TV and down at her phone as Bryce Remsburg raised Orange’s arm in victory, but a commotion a moment later redrew her attention. Santana and Ortiz had attacked Orange from behind. The assault didn’t last long, however, as Chuck and Trent ran out and chased them off like a pair of guard dogs. Callie couldn’t help but roll her eyes as Trent angrily paced the ring, shirtless in his skinny jeans. She sincerely hoped Matt would get a quick pin on him in their match.

Chuck grabbed a mike to speak, but Callie’s phone buzzed in her hands and she looked down at the screen. It was a text from Cash.

Are you free? I need a favor.

Her pulse picked up a bit as she unlocked her phone to respond. Yeah… what’s up? she typed back and hit “send.” She watched as the typing bubble appeared and, soon after, his answer.

Don’t laugh. I can’t decide on a shirt.

Despite his request, Callie couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. But she couldn’t blame him too much; FTR was having an in-ring celebration in honor of their championship victory at All Out that night. He probably wanted to look his best.

Usual room? she asked as she stood to leave.

Usual room, he replied, and she headed off in the direction of FTR’s dressing room.

The door was slightly open when she arrived, and she knocked to announce herself before she let herself in. Cash stood alone in the middle of the room in a pair of dark navy slacks and socks, shirtless. Callie’s mouth went suddenly dry as he looked over at her.

“Okay, I can’t decide between these two.” He motioned to a pair of dress shirts hung up in the cubby behind him—one white with tiny blue dots, the other with a subtle blue and white checkered pattern. She walked over and pulled them both out of the cubby so that she could hold them up next to him. He smirked at her as she studied them. She did her best to ignore it.

“This one,” she decided, handing him the checkered shirt. But she frowned as she returned the white shirt to its place. “Are those the only dress shoes you have?” she asked, nodding at the pair of black square-toed loafers on the floor.

“Yeah…” Cash slowly returned. “Why? Is something wrong with them?”

It took every fiber of Callie’s being not to blurt out with, “Yes, they’re hideous.” Instead, she said, “Just brown would look better with navy, is all.”

“Oh,” he realized. “I guess I should have asked your advice before we left this morning.”

She smirked. “Is that all you needed?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he answered as he pulled on the shirt. Callie watched as he fastened the buttons, and she realized she was staring. She fidgeted and looked awkwardly away, but Cash didn’t seem to notice. “Are you ready for your match?”

She drew in a deep breath. “Physically, yes. Mentally… not at all.”

He snorted. “Make Matt do all the work. He’s the one who dragged you into this.”

Callie anxiously bit her lip. He wasn’t wrong; of the four of them in the mixed tag, she was the only one who hadn’t been present when the match was made. But even so, she couldn’t do that to Matt. “No, I don’t want to do that. And besides, Matt didn’t ask for the match, either—Trent did. All because he didn’t like Matt mouthing off about Alex.”

Cash rolled his eyes as he tucked his shirt into his pants. “That doesn’t surprise me. I think he has a thing for her.”

She scoffed. “You think he does? Please, it’s obvious he does,” she said. And then she muttered, “It seems like everyone has a thing for her.”

“Not me,” Cash abruptly announced. “I’ve moved on.”

Callie looked up at him, but he turned away to grab his suit jacket. She wondered if he had more to say—it felt like he had more to say—but before she could ask the door to the locker room opened and Dax walked in. He halted when he saw her.

“Oh, hey, Callie. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

He glanced between her and Cash. They both quickly shook their heads. “No, I just asked her to come help me pick out a shirt,” Cash said.

“Ah,” Dax nodded. Callie didn’t miss the little smirk on his face. It was her cue to go.

“Well, I’ll go so you can get dressed,” she said to Dax as she started to leave.

“Good luck if I don’t see you before your match,” Cash returned, and she gave him a tight smile and went out the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex’s hands were clammy as she stood at Gorilla with Trent. The mixed tag match was next. Unfortunately, it was right after FTR’s joke of a tag team championship celebration. She did her best to tune out Dax’s egotistical blathering as she rolled her neck and loosened up. She needed to focus. A match was a match, and even though she wasn’t looking forward to this one, she still wanted to do her best.

“You ready for this?” Trent asked.

She looked up at him and nodded. “Yeah. Are you?” she meaningfully returned. She still couldn’t believe that he and Chuck had challenged Santana and Ortiz to a parking lot brawl next week. On top of worrying that they’d murder each other, she was concerned that Trent’s focus was no longer on their match.

“Yes,” he assured her. “Don’t worry about me.”

Alex smirked. “Man, have I got bad news for you next week.”

He gave her a crooked smile; but then his eye was drawn to a spot just past her shoulder. She turned to look. Matt and Callie had arrived.

Trent scoffed. “They don’t match at all. Losers.”

Normally, Alex would have laughed. But it was obvious even in the dim lighting of Gorilla that Matt and Callie’s gear wasn’t the only thing off about them. Callie in particular seemed unsure of herself. Her eyes met Alex’s. She turned away without a second glance.

Back in the ring, the “celebration” came to a screeching halt when Jurassic Express dumped a cooler full of beer cans over Cash, Dax, and Tully’s heads. Thankfully, they returned backstage a different way than through the entrance tunnels.

Alex drew in a breath and shook out her arms and legs as the show went to commercial. But it seemed like no time had passed at all when she heard the distinctive beat of the Best Friends theme song sound throughout the arena.

“Let’s do this,” Trent said as he held out his fist to her. She bumped it confidently with her own, and they walked into the tunnel together.

* * * * * * * * * *

A boulder settled in the pit of Callie’s stomach as she watched Alex and Trent disappear down the entrance tunnel. She didn’t know why she’d expected Alex to be just as nervous as her. On the contrary, she’d looked laser-focused; her and Trent both had. It was glaringly obvious that they were ten times more prepared for this match than she and Matt were. The two of them hadn’t even walked to Gorilla together—they’d just happened to get there at the same time.

“I’ll start the match,” Matt said. “I’ll try to keep your ring time to a minimum.”

Callie looked at him in hurt and confusion. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s obvious you don’t want to do this,” he breathed. “So I’ll just make quick work of Trent and get it over with, alright?”

“SUPERKICK PARTAYYYYYY!”

The opening of the Young Bucks theme interrupted before Callie could say anything. Matt didn’t so much as glance at her before he walked into the tunnel, and she had no choice but to follow him out.

The crowd offered a mixture of boos and cheers as they walked out onto the stage, but Callie couldn’t hear them over the music. She stood awkwardly next to Matt and waited for him to do his signature pose, but he never did. He just glared into the ring at Trent, who glared right back.

BOOM!

The cannons on the side of the stage shot fake $100 bills high into the air, making Callie flinch. She looked back into the ring as the paper money floated down around them. Alex rolled her eyes in annoyance and turned to say something to Trent.

She stood stiffly at the top of the stage until Matt moved, and they made their way down the entrance ramp. Trent started jaw-jacking, but Callie tuned him out as she took her place on the ring apron. Matt, however, took the bait; Aubrey had to push him back as they yelled at each other. Eventually, Trent scoffed and turned back to Alex.

“You wanna start?” Callie heard him ask.

But Alex didn’t even get the chance to open her mouth before Matt yelled, “No, we’re starting the match!”

Alex and Trent exchanged a look, but she stepped through the ropes and out onto the apron next to the turnbuckle. Matt removed his leather jacket and tossed it to the floor. Aubrey called for the bell, and the match started.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex didn’t know if Matt was ignoring Callie, if Trent just wanted to beat the shit out of Matt, or if it was some combination of both. But whatever the case, the match had been going on for nearly ten minutes now, and neither of them had even tried to tag in her or Callie. It was aggravating, but at least it worked in her team’s favor. The match had effectively become a singles contest, and Trent had far more experience wrestling on his own than Matt did. That, and his cardio was better. If it continued like this, it would only be a matter of time before they won.

Matt tried to whip Trent toward the ropes, but he reversed it and pulled him into a side headlock. He pivoted toward a corner and charged, running up the turnbuckle to hit a float-over DDT. He went for the pin—but Matt kicked out at two. Afterward, both men remained still on the mat, taking what chance they could to catch their breath. Alex eagerly stepped up onto the bottom rope and banged on the turnbuckle. She wanted in.

“Trent! Tag me in!”

She leaned into the ring, reaching as far as she could, and he looked over at her. But just as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, Matt hit him with a clubbing blow to the back. He grabbed him by the hair and jerked him into a chinlock. It wasn’t a move that Matt typically did. Alex knew it meant he was getting tired.

The crowd started clapping in rhythm for Trent, and Alex stomped her boot on the ring apron in time. Trent wrenched at Matt’s fingers, prying them away from his face. In response, Matt pulled him to his feet and swiftly maneuvered to hit a float-over DDT of his own. Alex bit down on her jaw as she watched him hook his leg. Trent got his shoulder up at two.

Alex stepped back up onto the ropes. She was tired of this. “Why don’t you tag in your partner, huh, Matt?” she taunted. “Worried she can’t beat me?”

Matt glared daggers at her as he climbed to his feet. “I don’t want to subject everyone to having to watch you wrestle,” he spat.

But Alex’s wit was just as quick. “Oh really? You look awfully lost without your little brother out here doing all the work.”

That needled him. She knew it would. But what she didn’t expect was his response.

“Please, you wouldn’t even have a contract if you weren’t on your knees for Kenny every night.”

For a second, Alex was stunned into silence. But then a white-hot rage bubbled up inside her. She ducked through the ropes and charged toward him.

“What’d you say to me?”

“You heard me.”

“Why don’t you say it again.”

“Get out of the ring, Alex!” Aubrey ordered.

“Matt!”

At Callie’s warning cry, Matt instinctively whirled around and dodged—and what happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion.

Trent flew toward Alex like a bullet. He crashed into her and knocked the wind from her lungs, sending her violently back into the turnbuckle. She felt a pop in her right shoulder, and then nothing but searing hot pain.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Trent realized what he’d done, he felt sick.

He hadn’t known Alex was in the ring. That DDT had left him dazed, and he’d been oblivious to his surroundings until he’d spotted Matt with his back turned to him. So he went for a spear. But Matt dodged at the last second. Trent had absolutely no chance to stop himself or correct course, and he rammed full speed into Alex.

He watched in stunned horror as she writhed against the turnbuckle. She clenched her right arm, her face screwed up in pain. She was hurt. He’d hurt her.

“Alex—”

Smack!

He was abruptly cut off by a superkick to the jaw. He crumpled to the mat. Matt dragged him by the ankle further into the ring and pinned him. The count sounded distant and faint.

One.

Two.

Three.

The bell rung. Trent felt Matt throw down his leg as the music started, ringing in his ears. He stared up into the lights, unblinking, while Matt’s arm was raised in victory. He’d hurt her. He’d hurt her and then lost the match.

“Alex,” he said again as he rolled over onto his hands and knees. She was still huddled against the turnbuckle, clutching her arm as Aubrey checked on her. He felt sick all over again.

“Alex.” He crawled over to her and put a hand on her knee. She looked up at him. Unshed tears shined in her eyes. It broke him. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “It was an accident—”

“Alex!”

Suddenly, Kenny was in the ring. He practically pushed Trent out of the way as he knelt in front of Alex. “What’s wrong?” he asked her.

“I think it’s dislocated,” she winced.

Trent looked at her right shoulder. It hung visibly lower than her left. His heart dropped into his stomach.

“Let’s get you to Doc,” he said as he tried to move toward her again.

But Kenny blocked him. “I got it,” he bit. Trent didn’t have it in him to argue.

He watched as Kenny helped her to her feet and ushered her to the ropes; he held them open for her so she could gingerly duck through. As she stepped to the other side, Alex looked back. For a brief second their eyes met. But then Kenny put his arm around her, and she turned away and disappeared into the back.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie couldn’t stay out there a second longer. She was horrified by what she’d witnessed. The way Matt had taken advantage of Trent’s awful mistake, how he hadn’t hesitated to kick him in the jaw—there’d been a viciousness in his eyes that she’d never seen before. And she didn’t want any part of it.

She stormed off before Aubrey could even raise his arm in victory, marching quickly up the ramp. Kenny nearly bowled her over on his way down to the ring, and she turned to watch as he ran to Alex’s aid. But then she saw Matt coming after her, and she turned back around and hurried through the entrance tunnel.

“Callie!”

She didn’t stop or even glance his way. She just kept walking.

“Callie! What the fuck?”

That got her stop and face him. “Me what the fuck? You what the fuck, Matt? What the fuck was that out there?”

If looks could kill, she was certain she would have been dead on the spot. “Are you serious?” he spat. “I won the match and you just ran off!”

Her eyes darkened. “Well, I didn’t want to be a part of it anyway, right?”

Matt bit down on his jaw. There was nothing he could say to that. She gave him one last glare and turned her back on him again, praying that was the end of it. She just wanted to leave. Alone.

“I want your shit out of my house by the weekend.”

Callie halted. His words were like a knife in the back. They hurt. And suddenly, she wanted him to hurt, too.

She turned around again, her head held high. “That’s fine, because I don’t want to move back to California anymore.”

She held his gaze in defiance. But Matt just laughed, cruel and low. “Let me guess, Orlando with Cash?”

She faltered. He knew about yesterday. But she steeled herself again. “No. I want to move to Orlando for me.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay.”

“That’s the truth!”

“Was all this just a rebound to you?”

If his previous words had been a knife to the back, those were a blow to the gut. Tears sprung to the back of Callie’s eyes. Her voice came out strained. Apologetic. “No. I care about you, Matt. So much that it scares me.”

He laughed again and looked away. “Coulda fooled me.”

She took a step toward him. “Matt—”

“Have fun in Orlando,” he cut her off, and that time it was him who stormed off and left her behind. Alone.

#aew fanfiction #kenny omega fanfiction #cash wheeler fanfiction #matt jackson fanfiction #trent beretta fanfiction #the elite fanfiction #young bucks fanfiction #best friends fanfiction #adam page fanfiction #hangman page fanfiction #hangman adam page fanfiction #ftr fanfiction

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ready-to-obeyme · 4 years ago

Note

Hey~ could I also get a scenario in which when MC returned to the human world after the exchange program MC finds themself a human lover? It was unexpected and it came out of nowhere, even MC wasn't expecting it but now they're both very in love and MC's lover seems like they're going to end up being a keeper? MC always kept things platonic with the brothers despite the obvious signs that they had feelings for MC, I'm sorry 🥺 I don't mean to hurt the babes but I'm just really craving the angst

//hey~ angst hitting HARD today!! I listened to ‘i hate u, i love u’ by gnash the entire time I wrote this just in case you wanted some background music to this HAHA

Scenario: MC finds a human lover + Demon Brothers Reactions

alternatively: ‘how do the demon brothers deal with heartbreak?’

Lucifer

Finding out that you actually found someone else to love would… hurt, to say the least. He’s heartbroken, but doesn’t let anyone know, especially not you; he doesn’t know if his pride can take the sympathy you would give him, especially when he thinks back to the times he could have done something more. He’s possessive of the time that he actually does have with you now, knowing full well that you are, in fact, not his-- entertaining the idea that he could sweep you off your feet. He derives pleasure from knowing that his pact is still on your body where it can be known to your love that he claimed you at one point. Know that if he ever meets your lover, expect icy stares and non-starting conversations from Lucifer. If you tell him that it bothers you, he would eventually prevent his hostility from going too far. He would never stop you from being with your lover-- especially since they make you really happy. (Who is he to deny that for you anyways when he’s hurt you in the past?)

Mammon

The man is actually really hurt, especially since you found someone so unexpectedly. Mammon is frustrated that things ended up this way, but he’s more mad at himself than anything else. He wished he was more open with his feelings because maybe then something could have changed and he would have had a chance with you. Sudden as it is, it’s hard for him to put anybody else above you, but the heartbreak is actually hard for him to handle. He hides his feelings by being overly protective of you: checking up on your lover, checking up on you, and being overall a little clingy. Unless you tell him otherwise, he won’t stop, but if you express any discomfort, he’ll retreat into himself and deal with his feelings by himself. You’ll probably have to give him a lot of time to get over you because he was so in love with you and he regrets not being able to tell you.

Leviathan

He’s disappointed but… what can he say: he kind of expected it? Levi always has had the habit of being self-deprecating to the point that it comes naturally to him (sad boi :( ), so when things like attraction and love don’t fall in his favor, he can’t say he’s actually surprised. He probably doesn’t even realize that he represses these feelings for you and acts like normal as your best friend. As a result, however, he does have these sudden flares of jealousy when you talk about your lover or he sees a picture of the two of you together. He’s quick to distract himself with other things, be it anime, gaming, or doing something with you. He tells himself that he’s happy for you-- and he is, but it’s hard to let go of his romantic feelings for you so abruptly especially when he refuses to address it.

Satan

Satan doesn’t know how to react at first. He’s surprised at how sudden it is, and then it’s all regret from there. He wished he had talked to you more, made his intentions more obvious, or even just telling you out-straight so that at the very least, he would feel like he tried his best and got closure. But now that you’ve found someone else-- and are happy with them-- he cannot bring himself to bring to light his feelings because it wouldn’t be fair for you to deal with them. Out of all the brothers, he’s the one most used to keeping a happy front, used to hiding his feelings of anger, so choosing to hide that he’s actually pretty sad that he no longer had a chance with you is natural to him. But any time your lover ever dares to make you unhappy… consider them threatened. If you don’t look into it further, you’d never know that Satan ever harbored feelings beyond friendship and that your lover passes him a wary glance every time they see him.

Asmodeus

He doesn’t know what to say. It’s hard for him to process what he’s feeling when he’s swiping through pictures of you and your lover together or when you tell him and his brothers shyly that you found someone you’re happy with. What about him? Why couldn’t you love him? He probably acts pretty normally around you, but for a while, he tries to avoid you when he can. Every time he sees you, he’s just reminded that you didn’t choose him. Asmo goes out a lot more often and surrounds himself with people that-- he realizes later-- he doesn’t really care about. But it’s a lot easier to avoid how he’s feeling when he’s trying to have fun. Even if he doesn’t mean to, he is more distant with you, and unless you talk to him, he probably will not willingly acknowledge that what he’s feeling is, in fact, heartbreak, because that means for whatever reason, despite how beautiful or lovely he is, he just wasn’t for you.

Beelzebub

Beel is sad, and he wishes he could be less obvious about it, but thinking that he wouldn’t have a chance to be with you anymore makes him queasy. It alarmed you and his brothers the first time he stopped eating so early in dinner that he made a few excuses-- not very good ones-- at first, but it happens so often everyone thinks he’s sick. Which is true to an extent-- he’s not physically sick, but he definitely is lovesick. He doesn’t really like to confide with anyone about the fact that he was-- is still in love with you even though you already have someone else because he feels like he should have stopped the moment he found out you were unavailable. Eventually though, he quietly tells Belphie before they sleep, and that’s one of the first times he acknowledges his feelings and the pain that comes with pretending to be okay with it. He wished he was just okay and that he could be happy for you, but for the moment, it’s hard to be when he feels so heartbroken.

Belphegor

Out of his brothers, he readily accepts that you found a lover in a human most. He expected that you’d find someone you’d love, and it’s only fitting that the person that can make you happy is someone that could grow with you. He’s disappointed, of course, and it shows in his lethargy and half-hearted responses to things regarding your lover-- but you only need to give him time to get back to something close to normal. If you gush about your lover, however, he isn’t so patient or gracious as to respond without being a little annoyed. As much as he wants to be happy for you right off the bat, he’s still nursing a wounded heart, and seeing you so blatantly happy with someone that’s not him is making him a little angry because surely even you could tell that he had some feelings for you. As long as you don’t really speak about your lover in front of him, he can steadily make peace with his feelings

#obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me #obey me headcanons #ANGST #keke

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years ago

Text

Peach and Pear

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: So I woke up the other morning and wrote this story before getting up for the day. It’s set in a place here in New Zealand and I’m really proud of this little world I randomly created.

Word count: 2945

Once upon a time, there was a little peach that lost his way for the first time. The peach had always been a very successful fruit, doing many things each day to become one of the best peaches around. He was strong and healthy and he was full of talents. A lot of the other fruit admired him a great deal--

“Then why did he get lost?” a curious, high-pitched voice asked, and before you could continue with the story, someone else did for you.

“He woke up and realised he was tired of being successful because he did so much each day,” your husband Jinyoung answered, walking over to you and your daughter, who scooted out from under the blankets you had just tucked her under to reach out her little limbs towards her father. Sitting down on the opposite side of the bed from you, Jinyoung pulled her into his arms, planting a kiss on the top of her crown affectionately.

“You know this story too, Daddy?!”

“Oh yes,” he replied, shooting you a look. “Who do you think told Mummy about it?”

“I want to hear what the peach did next!” she exclaimed and you cleared your throat to continue the story.

Jinyoung laid there, unmoving, as the alarm continued to shrill around the room. Normally he would turn it off and roll back over, knowing he had a second one set for when he truly had to be out of his bed. Yet, when that one sounded as well after the first one had gone on for too long and given up, he still didn’t rush out from under the blankets.

For the first time in a long while, he felt unmotivated.

He had business meetings and English lessons to attend today. Not to mention, his daily swimming practice was waiting for him to start the day. He would then head into the office, working until six precisely, where he would go out for dinner with a client who was investing more into his company. Afterwards, he was expected to hit up the gym for leg day, and finally wind up back here, finalising any paperwork before reading another chapter in a self-improvement book and go to bed by eleven.

And then the day would repeat, usually with some variation to the workday, but still with the continued structure that he expected from himself each day.

Today, however, he didn’t care for any of it.

Jinyoung wanted a break. He couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t follow the same continuous pattern that all around him had come to rely on. He was too predictable now, twenty-six and thriving as a businessman, successful enough to have his name in the tabloids often as a measure that many others in the industry strived to match. No one had expected the handsome man to create such a storm at his age, let alone at all. Yet the proof was in the pudding, or in Jinyoung’s case, his relentless endeavour to create a stable and solid life plan for him and his company.

Whilst he had worked tirelessly on building the foundation of his business, his university pals were off taking in the world. Mark had gone snowboarding at every well-known skiing resort, and Jackson was in America promoting Team Wang whilst collaborating with top names on every country’s celebrity list. Jaebum had travelled to Europe to learn more about the way music was produced there and BamBam was never in the same continent for too long, having fun being young and rich. Even Youngjae and Yugyeom had found themselves leaving this place to find better horizons. Only Jinyoung had stayed.

He wasn’t bitter that he had chosen to, but it did mean his youth was spent grinding each day and not truly lived. As he laid in his bed, still uncaring that the second alarm had come and gone, he realised he craved reaching out for what he had missed out on. He wanted to explore a foreign place and do so without much planning.

He was usually the research and implement type of guy, but today, he simply packed a small suitcase with the necessities for travel and climbed into his car, heading towards the airport.

With passport in hand, he watched the departure board for one of the places to stand out to him. Many flights were heading out within the next couple of hours, though there was one about to leave in forty minutes. Striding towards a desk, he smiled at the clerk and asked to buy a ticket to that destination.

“Sir, are you sure?” she asked, slightly perplexed by the sudden passenger request. Jinyoung nodded and she cringed. “There’s no business class left and it will take-”

“I’ll take it,” he confirmed, sliding his credit card across the tabletop towards her.

And that was how Jinyoung found himself in the back row of a twelve-hour plane ride to New Zealand.

“Wow!” exclaimed your daughter, eyes round with the adventure. “The little peach travelled all the way here! Did he make any friends?”

“Well,” you said, glancing at your husband before nodding once. “He turned up unexpectedly and asked to stay at a pear’s broken down bed and breakfast.”

“Which was basically in the middle of nowhere,” Jinyoung added on with a smile, glancing over at you fondly. “And it didn’t have any central heating.”

“That was because the pear herself hadn’t quite found out how to fix that problem, and the peach had chosen to get on a plane without checking that New Zealand was in the middle of winter.”

Jinyoung laughed, placing his daughter back under the blankets before continuing the story.

You blinked at the man standing upon your porch, shivering in his thin coat, the snow that was falling outside having covered his dark hair. And when you realised you weren’t hallucinating, you gasped, jerking open the old door across the wooden floors and stepped aside.

The foreign man dove inside out of the howling wind, and you shut it out with some effort in closing the door before stepping in front of him.

“How did you… I mean, it’s freezing out and you’re barely layered up. Please, follow me to the fireplace, you need to warm up.”

Once he was positioned as close to the fire as he could get, the man unravelled his arms around his waist and outstretched them towards the embers to thaw out. You left him there and dashed down to the kitchen, flicked on the jug and waited for it to boil.

Just who was this strange man? And how had he stumbled across your place at this time of night?

When your uncle died earlier in the year, his estate had been left to you. Your father, and his brother, had passed away some years prior and since your parents had been separated, what your uncle owned had been rightfully designated as yours.

“An inn?!” you echoed the words the lawyer had just read out, sitting up further in your chair. “My estranged uncle owned an inn?!”

“I wouldn’t be too excited, the place hasn’t had any guests in years,” the lawyer remarked, but you were already looking at the photos of the charming building, imagining what a bit of paint and gardening could do for the place.

So that’s how you wound up leaving the city life for the small township in the Buller district that had less than 1000 people living there. And, it was definitely going to take more than paint and some gardening to fix this place.

“You’re as crazy as your uncle was for trying to do up that house,” Katie, the owner of the only tearooms in Reefton, mentioned when you came in for lunch earlier in the day. “It’s got more problems than the number of people living here.”

You smiled grimly. “You don’t need to remind me.”

“Why not sell it and go back to where you came from, Y/N? The land would be worth some. I’m sure a farmer around here would happily bulldoze down that eyesore of a home and run his sheep or cattle over it just fine. In fact, I think Bill was-”

Imagining the crumbling building no longer existing didn’t make you feel any better. Glancing up at Katie, you shook your head. “It’s Reefton Estate. You can’t just go tearing down history like that.”

“There’s history, Y/N and then there’s money traps. Sure, in its heyday that place must have been spectacular and full of guests all the time with the gold rush and all. But this isn’t the eighteen hundreds. There’s only the novelty of finding gold at Shanty Town if you’re a tourist these days.”

“I don’t need gold, and I can’t just sell up.”

So you got stuck in with what you could do. You hired a contractor from Greymouth to come and look at your home, and with an extremely long list of projects thereafter, you started tackling them one by one. The place was liveable, but it still had a long way to go to be back to its former glory.

And you certainly were slower than most, being a one-woman team, with a trickle of funds available. As a joke, you placed an advert up online looking for volunteers to help lovingly restore the estate.

Of course, no one had come, until now.

Handing the stranger a mug of tea, you sat down beside him and smiled gently. “Did you mean to come here?”

“It’s a long story,” he said, smiling weakly. “I’m Jinyoung and you are?”

“Y/N,” you replied, holding out your hand in greeting. He took it, and your eyes nearly popped out of your head with how cold he still was. Rubbing it repeatedly, you tried to warm him up until Jinyoung gripped at your wrist and eyed you warily.

You balked and let him go. “Sorry, it’s just that you’re so cold. Not many people venture out at night around here without thermals on.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he mentioned with a soft smile, nodding once. “Thank you for the tea.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

Before the night wore out, Jinyoung had told you of his rash plan. He had left Korea and come to New Zealand on a whim, and again, chose his next destination in the same way as he had his last.

You gasped. “Of all the places to choose in New Zealand, you ended up in Greymouth?!”

“To be fair, I wasn’t really aware. I thought it would be bigger and have more people,” he admitted and you laughed.

“The coast has people; just they tend to know each other. Oh boy. It won’t be long until word spreads about you coming here either.”

“How will that happen when it’s just us two here?” Jinyoung asked and you sighed.

You didn’t want to have to explain it tonight. When you had arrived from Christchurch, it was as if you had a giant beacon on your head that every resident of Reefton could see from their homes. You had been inundated with visitors both very friendly and extremely nosy for an entire week before you felt that you had met almost everyone. And although you got used to the gossiping nature of the place, you still didn’t quite like it either.

You somehow felt protective of Jinyoung. Besides, when the light arrived in the morning, you were certain he would climb into his hired vehicle and continue on his sightseeing ways.

However, you found him merely staring at your entryway, aghast.

“Morning,” you called and he whipped around, trying to wipe the perturbed look off his face. Clearing his throat, you shook your head to stop him. “I know, it needs a lot of attention.”

“Only one fireplace works, the rooms are freezing even with the space heater you gave me and you have a hole in the ceiling above me.”

“There’s also the west wing that has two inaccessible rooms, one of the bathrooms upstairs is blocked and there’s no way anyone will be able to stay here in the next few years to produce any revenue,” you added on with a smile, handing Jinyoung the coffee you had made him. He thanked you silently, before allowing his gaze to travel up the walls again. “It would probably make nice firewood to some farmer who tore it down for the land to run his animals over-”

“It has charm,” Jinyoung said then, cutting you off. You merely stared at him, wondering who he really was. He was the only person you had met since inheriting this place that had said those words to you. “It has a lot of potential to become something amazing, after a lot of work, of course.”

“I think so too.”

“Do you have the blueprints at all?” he asked and you cocked your head to the side.

“Thought you were sightseeing?”

“Well, there certainly seems to be a lot to look at just within this house, don’t you think?”

Jinyoung said he would stay for two weeks, helping you with projects that could be started with a bit of manual labour. Two weeks turned into a month, with trips to Greymouth for further supplies. And after then, you stopped asking when he was going to go back to Korea and his company. Part of you didn’t want to know the answer, having grown attached to the man. He was more playful than you had expected, and you spent most of your days laughing and soon your nights curled up together in front of the fireplace.

Of course, the gossip mill ran wild. Jinyoung didn’t care, and after three months, he even held your hand as you walked downtown, allowing the nosy store owners to pick up their phones and ring around that you had found yourself a man.

“Did the peach ever return home?”

“He did, three times,” Jinyoung stated, holding up the right amount of fingers before counting them down as he spoke. “First, because he felt he had to go. But he had found he could run his company from New Zealand with relative success.”

“Especially once he invested in better internet connection at the inn,” you interjected with a knowing look and Jinyoung rolled his eyes before dropping another finger.

“He came back here because he couldn’t stop thinking about the house and worried that pear would end up hurting herself badly. Which, had he not gotten on that plane and walked through the door when he did, pear would have fallen off a ladder onto the ground.”

“Instead she fell on top of the peach,” you said with a laugh and Jinyoung nodded.

“And the third time he went back was to finalise the sale of his company and bring his parents back with him.”

Your daughter sat up eagerly again. “Why did his parents come?! Did he miss them?!”

“Of course. But there was another reason too,” Jinyoung said, glancing at you and reaching out for your hand. You took it and he rubbed the set of rings that lay over your left finger. “The peach and pear got married.”

“Wait a minute!” your daughter breathed, pointing at her father and then you repeatedly before clapping and squealing. “That’s you and Mummy!”

“And now we live in Reefton Estate together, don’t we?” you told her, and her little head bounced up and down.

“Which thankfully has heating.”

“And no more holes in the ceilings.”

“The west wing can be rented out to staying guests.”

“And the peach and pear lived happily ever after.”

“With their own little peachy-pear!” cried your daughter to end the story, which had you all laughing, hugging the sweet child.

And once she had finally drifted off to sleep, you stepped out into the hallway on tiptoes, trying not to make the floorboards creak and wake her back up.

Of course, the house had been repaired. But it still carried most of its original parts, and definitely needed more work. The floors were next on the list to replace.

For now, tiptoeing back to your room down the hall was the best option you had. And when Jinyoung shut the door behind you, he pulled you into his arms, resting his head on your shoulder. You leaned back into him, cherishing the moment.

Mostly for his warmth, and he knew it.

“We need to work on the heating in our room.”

“It made sense to do the guest rooms at the time so we could make money,” you reminded, spinning around softly so you could face him. “Besides, I remember you saying at the time that we had each other to keep warm with.”

“That’s how peachy-pear came along,” he pointed out with a low chuckle and you slapped his shoulder playfully.

“We should get that heating sorted quickly then in case we end up growing more fruit,” you teased but Jinyoung shook his head in answer, leaning down to capture your lips briefly.

“I don’t mind growing more fruit with you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s one way to keep us both warm, too.”

“Why did you turn up on my doorstep all those years ago?” you breathed out, staring at your husband lovingly. You still couldn’t quite believe your luck.

As if he read your mind, Jinyoung smiled. “It wasn’t luck that brought me here. It was a need to find my forever home.”

“You chose well in a broken-down inn,” you retorted, to which he chuckled again.

“It has its charm,” he said before nuzzling his nose into yours. “And it has you.”

_________________

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snelbz · 4 years ago

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The Ranch {17}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @snelbz x @tacmc

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

The Ranch Masterlist

Cassian groaned as he shoveled the last of the manure into the wheelbarrow and Azriel grabbed the handles and pushed it off to the side. With the rain that had blown through the night before, the pen was a muddy, nasty, literal shitty mess. His boots sunk down past his ankles and every step was a battle not to step right out of it, leaving it in the sludge.

The autumn air was finally starting to cool down, but that didn’t stop the sweat from forming on Cassian’s brow. He lifted the hem of his shirt.

“Where’s Nes at today?” Az asked, taking a drink from his bottle. Cassian wasn’t sure if he had water in there or something else, but he shrugged.

“Not sure exactly. She said she had some errands to run and she’d see me later, but that was at eight this morning.”

He suddenly realized he didn’t know how long ago that was. Tomas had been appearing more and more. It seemed like every time the two of them were out, they’d see him.

“I should probably check-in.” He said, pulling his phone from his back pocket. He didn’t even have to open his phone though because he had two missed texts from her.

What time are you meeting me?

And a few minutes after that, he received, Where are you?

It was like a light bulb turned on.

Azriel saw the look on his face. “What happened?”

He looked down at himself, sweaty and up to his knees in manure. “I’m in deep shit.”

Nesta sat in the waiting room, one hand tapping on the side table where her phone was sitting, the other rubbing her growing belly. The bump had decided to finally make its appearance in the last week and both Nesta and Cassian had a hard time not constantly rubbing a loving hand over it.

If he forgot about this appointment, she was going to kill him.

Her phone rang and his name appeared. She tried to keep the bite out of her voice and completely failed as she answered, “Hello.”

“I’m on my way,” he said, in a way of greeting, and it was clear he was completely frazzled.

“They’ll be calling me back any minute, Cass,” she whined, totally not caring that she was whining in a room full of people.

The pregnant ones understood.

“It’s a ten-minute drive, and I’m pulling out of the driveway now,” he said, and true to his word, she could hear the old truck engine revving in the background. “I’m sorry, okay? I was shoveling shit.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “You better be here soon or I’ll have your balls.”

There was a pause. “You may want to pick a different threat, that one kind of turns me on.”

Nesta’s lips tightened. “I’m hanging up now.”

“I love you,” he said.

Nesta sighed, loudly and dramatically. “Love you.” Then she hung up, just as the door to the office opened and a nurse stepped out. “Nesta Archeron?”

Grabbing her purse, Nesta brought herself to her feet and followed the nurse down the hall, all by herself, Cassian-less.

Oh, she would have his balls, for sure.

Thirteen minutes later, Cassian was hurrying into the office, an entire room full of patients turning to stare at him. He hurried to the counter, where a young woman was checking in and he waited, not so patiently. When it was his turn, the receptionist didn’t even glance up as she said “Next.”

Cassian stepped up and said, “My fiancée was called back a few minutes ago. Nesta Archeron?”

She continued typing away at her computer. “And?”

Cassian blinked. “And I need to get back there so I can hear my kid’s heartbeat?”

“Are you on the approved list of guests?”

“Approved list of-? Ma’am, I’m the baby’s father.” He was starting to get frustrated. Nesta was literally going to cut his balls off if he missed their gender appointment.

She finally looked up at him, eyes widening at just how much mud and shit he was covered in. “I’m afraid that doesn’t automatically add you to the list. We have to have Ms. Archeron’s approval before we can let you join her.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Can you ask her?”

She went back to typing. “She’s in an examination. I’m afraid I can’t disturb her.”

“For the love…” Cassian pulled out his phone, dialing Nesta’s number.

She answered on the second ring. “Where are you?”

Lovely. She was pissed.

“I’m here. I’m in the lobby. The receptionist won’t let me back.” He glared at her, but she didn’t look up. He knew she heard him though.

Nesta gasped. “Oh, crap, the approved list of guests. I’ll have my nurse add you now.”

She ended the call and Cassian blinked. Why in the hell did everyone know about this stupid list but him?

A nurse in her late twenties came through a door in the office. She handed a slip to the receptionist that he recognized as Nesta’s signature. The receptionist glanced at it and said, “I’ll need to see your driver’s license, Mister…” She glanced down at the form again. “Nazeeri.”

He pulled out his wallet and handed the ID to her, saying “Nazari.”

She typed some information into the computer, the only time she’d done so where Cassian didn’t assume she was trying to ignore him. She handed him his ID back and said, “Follow Claire.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and did as he was told. As soon as they left the waiting room, Claire said, “Sorry about Jenny. She’s been in a bad mood for the past few weeks.”

“Apparently so,” Cassian mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. He was led through a winding hallway before following the nurse into an open doorway, where Nesta sat on an examination table, her arms crossed.

She took one look at Cassian's appearance and her lips tightened.

“I was-.”

“Yeah, I know,” she snapped, then laid back against the table. “Let’s just do this.”

Exasperated, Cassian sat down in the chair beside her while Claire, who had already taken Nesta’s vitals and information, went to get the doctor.

“I’m sorry,” Cassian said, when the door was shut and they were alone. “It was either this or go get cleaned up and changed and then being late and missing it all.”

“You’re already late,” she said, staring up at the ceiling.

“Okay,” Cassian said, slower. “Later, then.”

“Isn’t this important to you?” She asked. “We’re finding out the gender-.”

“I know, I know,” he said, quickly, and took her hand in his. “And yeah, it’s pretty fucking important, alright? I just lost track of time, that’s all. It was a mess out there.”

She scrunched her nose and looked at him through her side-eye. “You do smell like shit. No wonder the receptionist didn’t want to let you back here.”

Cassian mumbled something along the lines of approved list, my ass, but stood and kissed her softly. “Hi.”

She smiled. “Hi yourself.”

He sat back down and groaned. “This morning was bad. We got so much rain last night.”

Nesta nodded. “When I went to get the eggs out of dry storage, I nearly stepped into a swamp off the back steps.”

“The pen by the house is flooded,” he said, leaning forward and resting his knees on his elbows. “Az and I spent the whole morning moving the herd to the back pasture. He’s gonna go rent a tractor and clean it out today, but I’d guess that the ‘horseback riding’ won’t be happening before dinner.”

Nesta sighed. She was going to have a lot of angry guests over that. But what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t control the weather.

The door opened and the doctor stepped in. “Miss Archeron, how are we feeling today?”

“Good,” she sighed, all things considered. “I’ve yet to puke so far today, so I’m considering it a win.”

The doctor chuckled and pulled up a stool to Nesta’s side. “Well, your vitals look great so all we have to do now is take a look at this baby. Are you ready?”

Nesta nodded, her hand tightening in Cassian’s as the doctor switched the monitor on and pulled out the little device that would be moving over Nesta’s abdomen.

She hated that thing.

It was always unusually cold.

“Pull up your shirt for me, and lower your waistband,” her doctor smiled, waiting patiently as Nesta did so, then she looked up at the screen and waited.

The probe touched her belly and the screen was met with black static, then, a tiny little, gray-blurred being appeared. Cassian couldn’t really tell what was what, but he knew from Nesta’s smile that they were looking at the baby.

Their baby.

He sat in awe, his hand still in his fiancée’s as the doctor showed them the little feet, the little hands, the little head and lips and nose. The baby was real, growing inside of her, it was actually happening - she was becoming a mother. He was going to be a father.

When they were done making sure the baby was growing as it should be, after the measurements were taken and some pictures were snapped, the doctor asked, “Would you still like to know the gender?”

Nesta nodded. “Yes, please, but don’t actually tell us.”

He chuckled. “Gender reveal party?”

She nodded.

He turned the monitor away and typed a few things on the screen, before he printed three black and white images. They went straight into an opaque envelope and he sealed it before handing it to Cassian. “Congratulations.”

He extended a hand and Cassian hesitated, looking down at his own dirty hand. “I don’t think you want to. It’s exactly what you think it is.”

He laughed and said, “Understood. Miss Archeron, I’ll see you in four weeks. Keep an eye on that blood pressure.”

She nodded. “Yes, sir, thank you, Dr. Brigham.”

He smiled and left the room and Cassian slowly turned to look at her. She was beaming and Cassian could barely stand how gorgeous she was.

Pregnancy was treating Nesta well. Her morning sickness was still abhorrent and her back constantly hurt, but aside from that, it wasn’t bad. Her emotions had mellowed out, for the most part, and with Azriel and Maggie’s help around the B&B, they had been able to handle everything they’d thrown at them.

Except for Nesta’s nightly nightmares.

She’d spoken to Dr. Brigham about them and he assured Nesta that weird sleep habits were just a part of pregnancy, including nightmares. So every night, Nesta would wake up in a cold sweat, never remembering anything but the dream. She’d always say the same thing, though:

“He’s getting closer”.

“How does lunch sound?” Cassian asked, helping her off the examination table. “I’m starving.”

Nesta chuckled, “You stink.”

He shrugged. “We’ll sit outside. Come on, baby, when is the last time we got to spend time together that wasn’t about the B&B?

He skimmed his thumb over her cheekbone and she melted into his touch. “Fine. Lunch. But then we have to get back.”

Cassian nodded and flipped the envelope in his fingers. He held it up. “Our baby is in here.”

She laughed again. “Actually, she’s in here.” Nesta lovingly rubbed her stomach.

He raised an eyebrow. “She? Did you see something on that ultrasound that I didn’t?” His eyes narrowed. “Did you peek?”

“No!” She laughed, shaking her head and taking his hand. “Just a...feeling I have. Call it mother’s intuition.”

They left the room and headed back to the lobby, where Nesta made her follow up appointment with the surly faced receptionist. They got to their vehicles and Cassian looked at the envelope again. He glanced up at Nesta. “I’m gonna open it.”

She snatched it from him and stuffed it into her purse. “I’m taking this directly to the bakery.”

“Not even going to let your sisters see it?” Cassian asked, leaning against the truck.

She snorted. “Of course not, they’d tell one of us before the end of the day.”

Cassian laughed, his hand lovingly caressing her bump, and said “I’ll meet you at the restaurant. I love you both.”

She leaned up and kissed him, “I love you, too.”

Cassian got into his truck, the engine roaring to life, and headed off in the direction of the restaurant while Nesta walked the ultrasound to the bakery across the square.

She had the sensation of being watched the whole time, had felt someone’s eyes on her since they walked out of the doctor’s office. As she climbed back in her car, she fought the urge to look around and find him.

She knew he was there, but after so many calls to the police where he’d done nothing except be present, she knew she just had to ignore him. He was in a public place, so was she. There was nothing illegal about what he was doing. He has valid reasons to be where he went, so it couldn’t even be considered stalking, only coincidence and happenstance.

But as she backed out of her parking spot and headed to lunch, she saw him in her rearview mirror. And the look in his eyes said he wouldn’t be content to do nothing forever.

She was safe with Cassian, though.

She believed that, wholeheartedly, which only made her want to haul ass to the restaurant quicker. He was already there when she pulled up, waiting for her at a table outside.

She raised her brows as she walked up to meet him. “Did you order?”

He blinked, then looked down at his appearance. “Do you really want me greeting more strangers like this today?”

Nesta laughed, breathlessly, as she shook her head. “I’ll go inside.”

The little BBQ joint was only a few miles from their house. Nesta went inside and ordered a heap of food, because everything sounded delicious and she just couldn’t choose. After she ordered and went to head back outside, she froze by the door, because she noticed that red truck that had pulled into the far parking space.

Her hands began to shake, nausea began to roll in the pit of her stomach. She slowly looked at Cassian to see if he’d noticed.

He was scrolling through his phone, lost to the world around him. She was thankful she’d ordered their food to go, not because they had planned on leaving, but because there was so much of it. Now, all it would take was a quick mention of nausea and Cassian would go into overprotective daddy mode and take her straight home.

But then he’d also take her straight to bed, and she had too much to do today, on top of feeling well enough to actually take care of the things she needed done.

Cassian finally noticed her frozen on the sidewalk and he smiled at her, but it faltered when he noticed her expression. “What is it?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, just…” She glanced down at the cups in her hand. “Just realized I forgot to fill up our drinks.”

He stood, taking them and kissing her. “You’re looking tired, baby. I’ll get them, you sit that gorgeous self down and I’ll be right back.”

She wanted to protest, to tell him she’d go with him, but she nodded and smiled, sitting where she could see the red truck. She didn’t want her back to him. She needed to be able to see him.

Cassian was quick, and a moment later, he’d come back with not only their drinks, but three plastic bags full of food.

“Ready? We can eat in the cabin. Or outside, somewhere-.”

“Ready,” Nesta breathed, taking her lemonade from him and strutting to her car, where she shut herself inside. “See you at home,” she said to Cassian as he walked behind her, a worried expression on his face as she raced home.

He watched Nesta drive away before pulling himself, and their feast, into the truck. He had seen Tomas, of course, and was watching the red truck now as he pulled onto the road in his rearview mirror. He was hoping Nesta wouldn’t, though, didn’t want to cause her any more worry or stress. So, naturally, around Nesta, Cassian pretended that Tomas didn’t exist.

When he went in to get their drinks, he kept one eye on her the entire time, the other on Tomas out of the tall, glass windows.

They couldn’t spend their lives being scared.

Although Cassian wasn’t scared of Tomas, he was just pissed off. He talked to Azriel and Rhys about it on multiple occasions, but they told him that he should just lay low, there was no point in doing something stupid that would land him in jail while his pregnant fiancée, and Tomas, were still out there.

He had to do something, though.

He was tired of doing nothing.

He was tired of Nesta being afraid, of having the nightmares, of calling the cops only to be told that nothing could be done.

But he didn’t voice a word of it to Nesta.

She had enough going on.

He was back at the ranch within minutes, staying right behind Nesta the entire time. Once they’d pulled onto the main road, he hadn’t been able to see Tomas’s truck anymore.

And that was almost worse than knowing he was with them. Not knowing.

She parked her little car in front of the cabin and waited until Cassian was out of the truck and walking towards her to open her door.

He asked, “You saw him, didn’t you?” A silent nod. “Why didn’t you say anything?” She shrugged. “I didn’t want to worry you. I just wanted to have a nice lunch with my fiancé, but everywhere I turn, my demons are there.”

He set the bags down on the top of her car and wrapped here up in his arms. “He will never, never hurt you again, Nesta. I promise you that. He’ll never get close enough to try.”

She nodded and he kissed the top of her head. “Come on, let’s go inside and eat.”

She made a face of disgust and said, “I’m not hungry now.”

He sighed and said, “How about a relaxing bath, and then we’ll eat?”

“Yes, please,” she sighed. “I’ll go start the water if you put the food away.”

“Deal,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

He watched her walk to the back of the house, towards the bathroom and the huge tub in the corner. He waited until the water started running to make a phone call.

He pulled the business card out of his back pocket, deciding that no matter how nice they were, lawyers always looked like scumbags.

The law offices of Vanserra and Family answered and he asked to be patched through to one of the defense attorneys.

“Lucien Vanserra.”

Cassian said, “Luce, hey. It’s Cassian. I know this isn’t exactly your area of expertise, but you got a minute?”

In hushed tones, he explained the situation with Tomas, asking what their options were.

Lucien laid it out for him, basically telling him that they were doing all that they could.

“My only real suggestions,” he said and paused, and Cassian could hear tapping in the background. The drummer never could stop, even at his big kid job. “Start keeping track of when and where you see him. He’s got to be finding out where you are somehow. See if you can notice a pattern of some sorts.”

Cassian nodded, putting the food in the refrigerator. “I can do that. Anything else?”

He heard Lucien sigh. “I’d say a restraining order, but he hasn’t approached either of you since you asked him not to, right? Just shows up...waits?”

He nodded again and then remembered on the phone, he had to speak. “Yeah, never engages, he’s just always there.”

“Then like I said, keep track of when and where you see him.” Lucien added, “And maybe carry a gun.”

He snorted. “You act like I already don’t.”

Lucien laughed and the line was quiet for a minute. “Be careful, Cass. This guy has already made the first move once. What’s to stop him from doing so again?”

The comment sent ice into his veins, but he didn’t want Lucien to realize that, so he joked, “Dude, what are you, a defense lawyer, a criminal or a cop?”

A dark chuckle. “All three. It’s my job to outsmart the police,” Lucien crooned. “Why do you think I’m so good at it?”

“Today is one of those days that I’m glad you’re on our side.” Cass heard the water turn off in the bathroom. “I gotta go, man. Thanks for your help. Send me a bill for your time.”

Lucien laughed and said, “It’s pro bono, as long as you let me defend you when you kill him.”

Cassian chuckled, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He hung up and went into his bedroom. Their bedroom. Soon to be their only room, with a baby.

Cassian hadn’t thought about their living situation until just a few weeks ago when Nesta had been looking at the bedroom wall with an intensity that worried him. When he’d asked what she was looking at, she said she was trying to decide which wall to put the crib on.

Nesta should have been planning the nursery of her dreams, picking out paint colors and themes; should have been helping him put furniture together by explaining the confusing instructions.

Instead she was deciding which piece of furniture to shove out of the way to make room for their child to have somewhere to sleep.

Cassian stripped off his shirt in the bedroom, tossing it directly in the hamper. He walked into the bathroom and found Nesta sitting in the tub. When she saw him, she gave him a soft smile and scooted forward. Stripping off his jeans and socks, he stepped into space she’d given him and sat down, stretching his legs out on both sides of her body. He wrapped his arms around her and began rubbing slow circles on her belly with his thumbs.

Nesta leaned back, loving how safe she felt in Cassian’s arms, how at home it was.

Cassian was amazed at how much Nesta’s belly had been growing in the recent weeks. At first, he felt like it had taken her so long to show at all, now there was a little bump, his baby inside, growing rapidly.

Hopefully the baby was fairly average.

Cassian had been a giant baby, always tall and broad shouldered, even at birth. He weighed nearly thirteen pounds.

If Nesta was going to give birth to a thirteen pound baby, he was pretty sure she’d be kicking his ass and taking away his rights to give her more children.

“So,” he began, quietly, “when is this gender reveal party when I can find out the sex of my own child.”

Nesta snorted and looked up at him over her shoulder. “Tonight, for dinner.”

Cassian blinked. “The bakery is giving you something by tonight?”

“Feyre’s going to pick it up on her way,” Nesta said. “It will only be the six of us, so we can just do it here.”

Cassian nodded, slowly, suddenly feeling guilty, once again, about how much space they had privately available. But Nesta had worked so hard on the B&B, had made her father’s dream a reality.

“You’re in deep thought about something,” Nesta murmured, running her fingers over his knees.

“I want to build a house,” Cassian said. “Here, on the property.”

Nesta’s fingers froze. “We have a house. Three, in fact.”

“This little one bedroom place? And, my cabin? You’re counting those as houses?” Cassian said. “I mean, they’re great for when we were just alone, Nes, and I love my cabin, and intend to keep it there for when I piss you off and you kick me out for the night, which will happen at some point, I’m sure of it…” Nesta chuckled and flicked his knee as he continued, “Look, I just….We don’t have any room for the baby, Nes. And I intend to defy the odds and give you more kids at some point, and what then? We can’t stay in this place, or the cabin, or the main house, with all the guests…”

Nesta nodded, slowly, before leaning back, resting her head against his chest, once more. She looked up at him and he met her eyes. “I know. I’ve thought about that a lot lately, too.”

Cassian took her hands off his knees and intertwined their fingers together. “I just want you to be somewhere where you’re comfortable and not feel like we’re all living on top of one another. I mean, me alone...I’m a giant. Lying down, in the bedroom, I can nearly touch one wall with my hands, and the other with my feet.”

Nesta laughed, breathlessly. “I suppose you can.”

Cassian’s eyes softened as he brought her fingers to his mouth and pressed his lips against her skin, softly. “We need more room. I do, you do, the baby does, all future Nazari babies do.”

“Gods, how many kids do you plan on putting inside of me?” Nesta muttered.

“As many as I can,” he muttered.

She paused for a moment, looking at their joined hands, then asked, “And what if this is the only one we have?”

Cassian tilted her chin up so that she met his gaze. “Then I’ll still be the happiest man alive.” She smiled softly and kissed him.

It was then that she felt it. Not quite a movement, but a small flutter. Small enough that she thought she might have imagined it, had it not repeated it right after.

She softly gasped. “Cass!” She grabbed his hand and placed it under hers where she’d just felt the flutter.

It happened once more, but Cassian said, “I can’t feel anything.”

Nesta began to cry. “I can. I can feel her.” It was overwhelming, going these months of constantly feeling sick and crying and craving weird foods, only having a belly to show for it.

But now, not only had she seen her baby today, she’d also felt it. “She’s in there and she’s healthy and happy.”

If Nesta was crying, it usually meant Cassian had done something wrong. But seeing her cry tears of joys…

In that moment, her smile had never been brighter, her eyes had never sparkled so brilliantly.

Cassian didn’t move, didn’t say a word. He simply watched her, dwelled in her excitement, watched as she expressed joy, relief, excitement. She sighed, and wiped at her eyes as Cassian continued to run his hands over her stomach.

He couldn’t wait to feel that baby kick, but he would, for now. He’d let her be in love with those little feelings that only a mother could feel.

He didn’t even bother to tell her that she called the baby she again.

He swore she looked on her way to the bakery, but he’d keep that confident suspicion to himself.

“Happy and healthy,” he repeated, and kissed the back of her neck. “And very well loved.”

“Yeah,” Nesta agreed, quietly. “She is.”

They stayed like that for a while, snuggled together in the tub, silent and comforting, until the water began to cool. Then Cassian was out and helped out his fiancée, dried off, and warmed up their food.

After they ate, Nesta went to check on the guests that remained in the B&B while Cassian cleaned up around the little house, considering four more people would be inside in a couple of hours. Azriel, it seemed, got enough taken care of for today and told Cassian to relax.

Cassian hated relaxing.

So, he cleaned. By the time he was done, the little house was spotless.

Around four-thirty, Elain came bounding up the stairs, bursting through the door. “Nesta said you had the ultrasound pictures.” She held out her hand, opening and closing it. “Gimme.”

Cassian was sitting on the couch, watching a roping, and drinking a beer. He stared at her. “You know they don’t have the sex of the baby on there, right?”

She sat down on the couch next to him and said, “Come on, Cass, you have to know! I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

He laughed. “Even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Ugh, why do you have to be so loyal?” She slumped back on the couch. “Where is Nes anyway?”

He got up to get a fresh beer, grabbing one for Elain, and said, “Up at the house, playing host to the guests.”

“Why’d you say it like that?” Elain asked when he sat back down.

He sighed. “I’m just worried it’s too much. With Tamlin’s trial wrapping up and the baby coming. Not to mention all the Tomas bullshit.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “What about Tomas?”

He took a swig of beer. “Nes hasn’t told you?” She shook her head. “He’s practically stalking her, but he only does it in public places, and he never speaks. It’s…freaky.”

Elain blinked, then took a long, deep breath. “Have you-.”

“Called Lucien this morning,” Cassian began, before she could even finish the sentence. “There’s nothing that can be done until he actually commits a crime. Unfortunately. But it really has her on edge, you know? She never wants to go anywhere, never wants to do anything because she knows she’ll run into him. I have to figure out how he knows where she’s going. After I know that, Luce can make something happen...he thinks.”

Elain sighed, her face in her hands. “I hate that guy.”

“That’s a pretty popular opinion around here,” Cassian muttered, strutting into the kitchen to pull out the meat he’d be grilling soon. “I don’t know what to do about it.”

When he looked at Elain, she was leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, nibbling on her bottom lip. It seems she didn’t know, either, and Cassian felt oddly guilty for killing her giddy vibe.

“Anyway,” Cassian went on, pulling out a beer and popping the can open. “Enough of that. Why are you here so early? Aside from hounding me about my unborn child.” Elain chuckled, although the worry lingered in her eyes. “I brought decorations, of course.”

“Of course,” Cassian laughed.

Elain eyed the beer in Cassian’s hand then looked back into the living room, where the one he’d just gotten, minutes before, sat. “Are you intending to get drunk before this thing? Because, if so, warn me now. I need to know when it’s time to cut you off. How many have you had?”

Cassian just rolled his eyes. “Calm down, mother, I can take care of myself.”

Elain just narrowed her eyes.

Cassian cleared his throat. “I’ll...pace myself.”

“Good,” she said. “Now, help me, tall person.”

First, Cassian brought out the ultrasound picture they had left on the counter, the one they were going to get framed, and let Elain ogle over it for nearly twenty minutes. Then, Cassian was helping tape up an absurd amount of streamers all over the little house, only stopping when Elain was satisfied.

Quiet voices streamed through the open windows about an hour later, and Cassian opened the door to find Nesta and Feyre walking up to the little house, arm and arm. It was good to see her in such a good place with her sisters. It wasn’t so long ago that Nesta had just come back and found Feyre’s hand smacking her in the side of the face.

But now it seemed like a whole different lifetime.

“Where’s the cake?” Elain asked, after they’d come in and Nesta was telling which spices to get down for the dry rub she’d been craving.

Feyre was setting the table. “Rhysand is getting it when he gets here. I left it in the back of the fridge at the house.”

Cassian looked around, noticing he was drastically outnumbered by the Archeron girls. “Speaking of Rhys, where is he? And where’s Az? He told me at, like, two-thirty that he could handle what was left and I should rest.”

The girls remained silent, all with a familiar glint in their eyes.

Cassian stilled. “Oh, shit, I don’t like that look.”

“They’ll be here,” Elain promised. “Az went home a little while ago to shower. He got done what he was supposed to, don’t worry.”

“Okay,” Cassian began, slowly, unable to judge that damned Archeron look.

Nesta met him on the porch and kissed his cheek. “They’ll be here soon.”

And they were, about half an hour later with bottles full of cheap, shitty whiskey. Apparently it was a night of celebration, not only over their gender reveal, but over the fact that they had recently become engaged, had opened a successful B&B, and now were only mere months away from giving birth to their first child.

No wonder Elain was so worried about his afternoon beer consumption.

Apparently, he had a long night ahead of him.

He grilled steaks and chicken behind the little house and they ate and drank and bonded, which was something Cassian felt didn’t happen a lot lately. He saw them all, sure, from time to time - Azriel the most often - but, they rarely were able to all get together.

After dinner, Rhysand went and got the cake from the main house. It was a little cake, just enough for them all to have a slice.

“Okay, so, apparently, when we cut it open, the inside will be either blue or pink,” Nesta explained. “So.” She had the knife in her hand and was staring at the cake, but she didn’t move to cut it. She cleared her throat. “So.”

Elain was practically bouncing out of her shoes. “So, so, so! If you don’t do it right now, I’m going to!”

Azriel just put his hands on Elain’s shoulders, silently telling her to calm down, but his smile was bright and humored.

Nesta looked up at Cass, biting her bottom lip.

He asked, “You ready?”

“No. Yes.” She was absolutely glowing, happier than her sisters ever remembered her being. “Here.” She gave the knife to Cassian. “I’m liable to start crying the moment I see a color, so you should probably do the honors.”

He chuckled and turned the cake around, where only he and Nesta could see it and carefully sliced the knife through once. It came out clean, just the tiniest bit of white frosting clinging to the edge.

One more cut.

They saw it at the same time.

“Oh, shit.”

“Oh, my god.”

Elain was practically breathless when she demanded, “What is it?”

Cassian looked down at Nesta, who was already crying, and turned the plate around.

Revealing the pink cake inside.

Elain was instantly crying, and Feyre was looking at Rhysand with a look that said she had mad baby fever.

But Cassian just looked down at Nesta, at the tears in her eyes and the smile on her lips, and kissed her, softly. “You were right.”

She rolled her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Of course, I was. Get used to that.”

He cursed, silently. Not only was he marrying Nesta Archeron, but he was about to have a tiny version of her running around, too. He had a feeling those stubborn genes of hers were stubborn themselves.

“Hmmm,” he mumbled, at last, which only made her grin widen. She kissed him, once more, before cutting the cake up for everyone to share.

A girl.

They were having a girl.

Cassian hoped and prayed that she would be just like her mother.

An hour later Nesta was staring her fiancé down, hands on her hips. He had taken up a very similar posture. “Call me if you need me.”

“I will be with my sisters,” Nesta said. “And I’m not far away. I’ll be fine.”

Her voice was reassuring, she tried her best to be reassuring, but the look in Cassian’s eyes told her that she’d woken up in a cold sweat one too many times.

“You’re just going to the cabin,” Nesta said, then gestured over to the little, old cabin, where Beau ran around in front of it. He hadn’t stopped since they told him the baby was going to be a girl. “Try not to let those two assholes get you too drunk.” She gestured to where Azriel and Rhysand waited at the bottom of the stairs.

Cassian snorted, and kissed her softly. “No promises.”

Then he was walking away, all of them carrying a ridiculous amount of alcohol as they crossed the grass, then the driveway, and entered the cabin.

Nesta went inside of her little house, where her sisters had poured themselves a glass of wine.

After plopping down in her armchair, Nesta scowled. “I want a glass of wine so bad.”

“A few more months,” Feyre winked.

Nesta settled her hands lovingly over her bump.

Her baby girl.

“And then some,” she said. “Breastfeeding.”

“Allow us to make a toast in your favor,” Elain said, lifting her glass filled with wine in the air. “To baby girl Nazari.”

She clinked her glass against Feyre’s and they both took a drink. Nesta couldn’t help but laugh at the display.

“When is Azriel going to propose?” Nesta asked, a minute later.

Elain nearly choked on her wine.

“It has been a while,” Feyre mumbled, eyeing the middle sister.

Elain sighed. “I don’t know. Sometimes I just wanna grab him by the neck and tell him to get on with it.”

Nesta snorted. “You should. And make sure you tell me when you do. I wanna be there to see that.”

Feyre laughed, but her eyes were on Elain. “He’ll come around to it,” Elain stated, and she sounded confident in that statement. “But, there is something I want to ask you about.”

Nesta’s smile faded as she realized her sister was talking to her.

“Cassian mentioned that Tomas has been….stalking you,” Elain went on, fiddling with the stem of her wine glass.

Her reaction confirmed the statement. She was white as death, her eyes haunted, but she cleared her throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve run into each other a few times, but-.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Feyre said, cutting her off. “Cass himself told Elain and Rhys told me.”

“How long has this been going on?” Elain asked.

“Nothing’s going on.” Nesta said, looking at the television.

“Nesta,” Feyre said, her tone forcing Nesta to look. “You’re protecting your stomach. Look me dead in the eye and tell me nothing is going on.”

Nesta glanced down. Where she’d been rubbing soothing circles over her belly, she was now nearly hunched over it, an arm over it.

A long, slow breath escaped her before she said, “Since the brick went through the window.”

Elain and Feyre remained silent, but then Elain said, quietly, “Nesta, that was weeks ago. Months ago.”

“Yeah,” Nesta muttered.

“Nesta,” Feyre began, shaking her head. “You should’ve told-.”

“Why?” Nesta interrupted. “So you could’ve done what exactly? If the law, the officials can’t do anything, neither can you.”

Her sisters remained silent, and Nesta instantly felt guilty. She shouldn’t snap at them. They were only concerned, it wasn’t their fault.

“I just...give me one night when I’m not thinking about it,” Nesta said. “Please.”

“Okay,” Elain breathed. “Well, do you have any names picked out?”

“Yeah, we...” Nesta paused and hesitated, and then she felt that small flutter inside of her once more. That small movement that was hers and hers alone. She could see Cassian’s face earlier, after she’d first felt their daughter, the disappointment when he couldn’t say the same.

So she would give him this. She’d keep their names to herself, for now, so he could have that feeling, too.

She just knew her sisters weren’t going to like it.

#theranchnessian #sharacollab #snacmc #snelbz tacmc collab #snelbz x tacmc #nessian

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meixdoll · 4 years ago

Text

The way back home.

Kaelumi Drabble. More of a character study about Kaeya.

Comfort / Stablished relationship

—————————————————————-

In the big scheme of things, it all sometimes ends up being quite different from what you originally grasped on a smaller onlook. This was a piece of valuable information he had come to learn recently, and since then, tried to tackle smaller issues with this perspective in mind, whether they’d be snippets of chatter the wind carried to his ears, clearing a misplaced hilichurl campsite or tackle down pesky deskjob, like today.

He couldn’t get his mind around how Jean managed to do a job this tiresome and yet, at the same time, this incredibly boring. Just sorting out the reports about incidents implied reading facts through the eyes and handwriting of soldiers that sometimes gave as much importance to the details that truly mattered as one would give to the gravel beneath one’s boots. Not to be unfair to his men or anything but a lot of them had absolutely no imagination or skill to be making an incident report worth reading, and he had to at least skim trough them all. This was exactly the sort of duty he had been continuously avoiding since he was given the option of becoming Acting Grand Master. But now, in an odd twist of fate, Varka had to go through early retirement, leaving now Grand Master Jean on charge, relying as always in her right arm Kaeya Alberich, now Grand Commander of the Knights of Favonius, to alleviate some of the job involving the surprisingly heavy duty of protecting Mondstadt. One would think that a land of peace such as this one required no nonsense involving chivalry or anything of the sorts, but alas, he was there at a late hour doing some overtime reading (or trying, poor him) through some of the world’s most boring incident reports.

The bell from the cathedral broke the stream of his rambling thoughts, making him painfully aware of his body. He rubbed his good eye and let the piece of paper fall softly on the desk. No matter how much overtime he did, there was no way he would finish sorting out all of that before tomorrow, so it was probably best to leave it as was. “Heh~” he scoffed. He definitely could see the bigger picture now, after all. He had changed. And still he was no less upset with having to admit he did felt tired. Today, in particular.

The street was dark and wet when he finally left headquarters. A chill ran through his skin, making him take a sharp breath, tasting cold air and wet grass, and he stared back at the building looming over. To be frank, there was a time when it had felt like home, until it didn’t. Then again, with Master Crepus dead and Diluc not talking to him, “home” was somewhat of a really foreign thought to him, no matter where he slept. He tried to keep calling the Order’s premises “home”, and when he couldn’t, tried to get something he might call “home” to himself by buying a place to absolutely no avail. It was comfortable, but not really anything he would give a status over simply just a house. Until it wasn’t.

Kaeya disguised a little smirk behind a gloved hand, pretending to warm it with his breath, even though there was no one around. Maybe he wasn’t that different after all. He set up foot down the city stairs to the lower levels, thinking again over the recent past happenings. Being nostalgic wasn’t something very common when it came to him, and the gloomy atmosphere of late night Mondstadt after an autumn shower was perfect for lingering about sweet nothings from the past. He made it all the way to a bannister where he could see the roof of Angel’s Share tavern.

He sighed when he thought about just around two years ago, when he would stop by and get face planked on the taverns table, if his estranged brother wasn’t around. If he was, he would be happy to pester him for a bit before Diluc decided he had enough and asking Charles to replace him at the counter. Some time had passed since he was living that reality everyday, before the incident that changed everything.

Now, he was at least partially confident that he would be amicably greeted by his brother, who would try to annoy him with insisting on serving him a soft drink until he’d finally pour him a glass of wine and slip some finger food that Kaeya absolutely hadn’t ordered right below his nose.

Reconciling many years of antagonizing with each other on the heat of the battle had been the most uninteresting and corny way of giving closure to an awful chapter in their lives, and yet reminding the “don’t get yourself killed, you ass” Diluc yelled, swinging his claymore, still made the corners of his mouth twinge upwards. He then reached another flight of stairs. To the left he would be on his way to the tavern. The younger version of him would undoubtedly be on his way there already. But his younger himself was desperately trying to get back some sense of normalcy out of his brother’s cold gaze. The present himself however was sore from desk hours and so tired that he would probably fall face first on the counter with simply smelling the wine. Tonight he needed something different.

“As you did yesterday... and the day before, no?” he thought, messing with himself, just to mess with someone, really. He hadn’t changed that much. He turned to the right. Mondstadt’s night life could miss him for another day.

His house was one of the tiniest ones, but for himself and his need for privacy and away from his job was just the right fit. Privacy, specially, was something he wouldn’t have back at the headquarters bedrooms. His affairs and misdeeds outside service hours were best kept secret and hidden away. More than a place to crash it indeed had been, but not exactly of the cozy variety. Coziness was yet again a foreign concept that he heavily associated with Master Crepus´s care, small Diluc and Jean running around saying nonsense about pet turtles and the strange yet comfortable clothes he had been given after being taken in as a Ragnvindr. He hadn’t felt coziness and comfort since father’s death, hadn’t felt the homely warmth, the yearning for your own safe place being embraced by someone dear close to the fireplace after getting inside all muddy and with a scraped knee. Things change over time. But then again maybe they don’t. A clear display of that was the joy and relief he felt when he noticed the familiar glow of the lit fireplace in the living room shining through the window. Things had changed because his place was now a proper home, and hadn’t changed because no matter how short he made his absence be, he was on a constant edge, fearing coming back to an empty house, to darkness and the hard crumbles of breakfast bread he had left over the kitchen counter that morning. And every time he came back, there were signs, all over the place, that he had nothing to fear, that there was someone patiently waiting to see him closing the door behind him.

He was truly a foolish man, he sighed, and pulled the heavy auburn door open.

A jingle broke the heavy silence laced with lumber crackles, and he almost regretted allowing the idea of hanging a handful of tiny bells over the door frame, that right now, by contrast, made an awfully sharp noise. The living room opened up to his right hand, and his eye shot straight to the bundle of cushions and blankets plopped on the couch beside the window. A pair of intense gold eyes glistened, blinking a pair of times and once again after two tiny and delicate hands rubbed the sleepiness away from them. Lean legs shifted, and a book fell to the carpet.

“I wasn’t sleeping!” She said, groggily. Kaeya chuckled.

“I think I’m gonna have to scold you then, since it’s about past midnight, miss Lumine”.

Still wrapped in blankets, the girl made a little pout and raised an eyebrow at him, as a reproach for his use of the honorific, which made him laugh softly.

“That’s a very accurate impression of Master Diluc, you’re incredibly talented”

“I may not be in the need of throwing an attitude towards Sir Kaeya”, she said, emphasizing the honorific, “if he wasn’t treating me like a kid”.

Still smiling, Kaeya got rid of the heavy blue jacket and the fur collar, propping them in the couch arm rest. He sat down near her bundled feet and undid the buckle around his neck, and then took his gloves off.

“I would never do that, ace.”

Still feeling the dizziness of sleep, Lumine couldn’t get a sharp retort fast enough, and limited to a little smile, bashfully removing the blankets off her. She liked the nickname way more than she would admit, even before the familiarity with the knight grew at an alarming speed.

“Where is Paimon?”, he asked. The little bug was usually the first one at the door, sharing a thorough summary of everything she had eaten today. Her absence was pretty telling about just how late he had come home today.

Home.

Lumine suddenly jolted and stopped moving, grimacing. “Ah... about that.” Kaeya playfully tilted his head towards her. “I kinda wanted to make dinner tonight since you’ve been very tired lately so...” she only stopped talking for an instant while he scooted just a little closer to her. How ridiculous it was, she thought, that he could still get on her nerves with so little. “So I did. But...” Kaeya brushed off her face a misplaced lock of hair, and urged her to go on. “But you were taking so long she just didn’t listen and ate your share as well.” Kaeya pursed his lips, holding back a laugh. “She obviously started feeling ill, so she went upstairs, and hasn’t been back since”.

Kaeya swiftly picked the book from the floor. “So no dinner for this poor knight”, he reproached out loud in a truly pathetic voice.

Even though Lumine knew he was half-joking, she made a move to stand up, “I can fix you something quick now if you want... I’m...”

Unexpectedly, she felt the light plop of a book down on the top of her head. She swiftly threw a cushion to his chest on revenge, laughing. He was also laughing, sincerely, not the curated and affected one; truly laughing. He did that a lot, lately.

Still laughing, he softly wrapped his arms around her waist and let his weight take them both down to the couch. Lumine’s face went as red as an apple in zero seconds, but what he was really interested in, was the drumming of her heart beating faster and faster into his left ear.

It came with no surprise to her, she knew now that he was not in the least the cold, charming and cunning person he usually made everyone believe. Still, some displays of affection startled her greatly simply because of their spontaneous nature, leaving her hot faced and unsure of what she should do for a few moments. This time, however, she cradled his head softly, burying her fingers in his hair. “Was your day this big of a nightmare?” She whispered. Looking down she could only see his blue locks and his good eye closed, face buried deep into her chest.

“Nah. I got to finish like this. It’s really not bad”. He muttered, enjoying the caresses she was giving him.

The warm embrace of someone loved, by the fireplace. Somehow different but still.

It was home.

“Ah, says the handsome Mr. Kaeya” she said, jokingly, reliving one of the first conversations they had.

“Ah, so you DO have feelings for me.” , he started. She waited for the next bit, but then felt the slow and regular pace of his shoulders moving up and down, and chuckled.

This change of pace in her life was indeed pretty different to what she was expecting. But it wasn’t bad at all.

To her too, it was home.

————————

Thank you all for reading! This was supposed to be a Drabble to get my writing muscles stretched but it ended up being kinda lengthy. I’m sorry. I hope you like my awful writing.

#genshin impact #kaeya #genshin kaeya #kaeya alberich #diluc ragnvindr #jean gunnhildr #genshin traveler #genshin lumine #lumine #kaelumi #lumikae #Genshin impact fanfic #Kaelumi fanfic

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musette22 · 4 years ago

Note

As it's Chris' birthday today, what's your Evanstan headcon for how they are spending it? We don't know if Chris is still in LA (as far as I know), do you think he might be back in Boston to be with his family? That would mean Seb could easily visit him now that the lockdown in NYC is over. Or would he fly to LA to celebrate with his bf? (He hasn't been seen in NYC in the last couple of days either, right?) Or will the only hang out virtually? I would love to know what you are imagining 😊

Hello darling!! So yesterday, I said I probably wasn’t going to write any Evanstan for a while, but then I woke up this morning and had a lovely little Evanstan headcanon fantasy about Chris’s birthday - as you do - and then I thought screw it, let’s write this thing. So here’s a little drabble (well, it should’ve been a drabble) about how Chris might have spent his birthday 😘

A/N: This is just a nonsensical little fantasy scenario that doesn’t actually make any sense, but the idea made me happy, so I hope it’ll make you guys happy too! Don’t look too closely, please, there’s some overlap with previous fics and this was all written very quickly and hasn’t been edited properly because it’s late where I am and I need to sleep lmao 🙈 Sorry about that!

Happy birthday, Mr. America

*********

Chris likes surprises, generally speaking.

Not the nasty kind, like when a part unexpectedly falls through, or someone gets angry at him out of the blue and he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. But he likes it when exciting things happen and shake things up a bit, like when he’s having a lazy day alone at home, and a friend suddenly shows up on his doorstep to tell him, change of plans, we’re going bungee jumping. When that happens, Chris will happily drop whatever he’s doing and jump in the car, because that’s the kind of thing that makes him feel alive.

So when he arrives at the Evans’ family house today, on his birthday, and is greeted by a chorus of Surprise! and Happy Birthdays from a bunch of people he hasn’t seen ages - literal years, in some cases - Chris is delighted and touched; excited to see familiar faces and catch up with his friends and family.

That excited feeling lasts for a solid few hours, until his Aunt Melanie corners him and starts telling Chris about her Pilates instructor. This isn’t the first time she’s tried to set Chris up with whichever wonderful girl she’s most recently met and feels would be perfect for Chris, but this time she’s really hammering on about how she just can’t understand why a good-looking, successful young man like him hasn’t found a wife yet. She no doubt means well, but that doesn’t mean Chris is about to go on a blind date with her Pilates instructor.

When he’s finally managed to excuse himself under the pretense of needing a bathroom break, he sneaks off to the back of the house, to his dad’s old study. As soon as the door closes behind him, he lets out a sigh of relief and leans back against it for a moment, catching his breath. He loves his family to bits, but there’s no denying they’re a lot. There’s a sofa in the study, a wide, navy blue one, and Chris lies down on it, stretching himself to his full length. He closes his eyes, hoping to nap for a couple of minutes, but no dice. His aunt’s comments play in his head on a loop, causing something uneasy to stir in his stomach.

The thing is, she’s right. He should already be married and have a couple of cute kids to dote on. He’s wanted to have a family and settle down for a long time, ever since he got done with sowing his wild oats and calmed down a little. He’s the long-term relationship kind, and there had been a few girlfriends with whom he thought he definitely could see a future.

That had been Before, though. Before Sebastian Stan had waltzed into his life and upended everything Chris thought he knew for certain, complicating everything in the best and worst possible way. After the initial shock of developing feelings for another guy wore off, Chris had simply accepted his infatuation as a fact of life, and it had become something he carried with him always, but never acted on or even spoke of. He wouldn’t know where to start. It was clear there was something between them, though. The way Sebastian looked at him sometimes… It had to mean something. For the longest time, they’d danced around each other, always just shy of outright flirting, and there had been a few times when Chris really thought something might finally happen between them. But it never did.

And now it never would. They��ve hardly even seen each other, over the past year, after they stopped working together. Sure, they kept in touch from time to time, but there is only so much keeping in touch two work friends can plausibly do before it gets weird or necessarily has to turn into something else. And Chris thought he’d accepted that, more or less.

But then last week, he and Scott had gotten drunk together – like really, stupidly drunk. At around 3 in the morning, Scott had put on The First Avenger so he could make fun of Chris in his skin tight leggings, and then suddenly Sebastian’s face had been right there on his TV screen: larger than life, young and handsome like he’d been when Chris first felt that tug in his gut when he’d looked at him.

And Chris, whose brain-to-mouth filter unfortunately ceases to exist entirely whenever he’s had too much to drink, had just blurted out, “I think I’m in love with him.”

Initially, Scott had thought Chris meant that Steve was in love with Bucky.

“Well, clearly,” he’d slurred. “They’re soooo gay, oh my god.”

And instead of using the misunderstanding to cover up for his unfortunate drunken slip-up, Chris had slowly shook his head and corrected, “No, with Sebastian. ‘M in love with Sebastian. Have been for a long time, I think.”

He’d passed out not long after, possibly his subconscious’ way of trying to protect himself against the barrage of questions from Scott that Chris had been in no state to answer in that moment. Inevitably, Scott had tried to talk to him about it the next day, but Chris – hungover, embarrassed and annoyed with himself for opening his big mouth and spilling this secret that he’d managed to keep for close to a decade – had told Scott to leave it and that he didn’t want to talk about it. Nothing was ever going to come of this now anyway, so it was much better if they could all just forget it ever happened.

Scott and he had gone to dinner at their mom’s that night, and of course, Lisa had instantly sensed something was off. Unfortunately, Chris never did stand a chance in hell against his mother, so when she took him to aside after dinner and outright asked him what was wrong, he’d had no choice but to spill the beans. Besides, if he didn’t, Scott would probably have found a way to guilt him into telling Lisa, eventually - they’d always shared everything with her, after all.

Lisa had been so loving and understanding, just like Chris knew she would, and despite the aching in his chest, he was grateful and a little bit relieved to know he wasn’t keeping something this significant from her any longer. But in the end, it didn’t change anything. Of course, Lisa had asked him why he didn’t just go for it, told him to just go for it, call Sebastian and ask him out for dinner, but Chris had dismissed all her suggestions. It just wasn’t going to happen. Certainly not now, not anymore.

She’d dropped it, eventually, but Chris is under no illusions that he’s heard the last of it.

Since then, he’d tried to put the whole fiasco out of his mind, but then Aunt Melanie started badgering him about his marital status and it had all come rushing back again.

Just when Chris about to give up on trying to nap and head outside to get some fresh air instead, there’s a knock at the door.

Chris sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Come in,” he calls, not bothering to get up because it’s probably his mom coming to check on him. “Hey, mom,” he says, when Lisa’s head does appear around the door.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she replies, smiling. She opens the door a little wider. “There’s someone here to see you.”

“Oh?” Chris says, sitting up a little straighter for whatever friend or family member his mom wants him to meet so urgently, but then Lisa steps aside to reveal –

Sebastian.

Sebastian is here. In his mom’s house. Standing right there, looking a little apprehensive and unsure, but still so fucking gorgeous it makes Chris’s heart stop for a moment inside his chest, before it starts up again at double speed.

“Hey, Chris,” Sebastian says, and it’s his voice, he’s really here, in Chris’s dad’s old study, speaking actual words at him.

What the fuck.

Chris gets to his feet so fast he feels a bit lightheaded, lightly swaying on his feet before he manages to get some semblance of a reply. "Hi. What- Sebastian. What are you doing here?"

Sebastian’s eyes flicker to Lisa for a moment, looking at her a little uncertainly. She gives him an encouraging nod.

“Um,” Sebastian starts, turning his eyes back to Chris again. “Lisa, your mom, invited me to your surprise birthday party.” He licks his lips nervously. “So, yeah, happy birthday. And, um. Surprise.” The last word is accompanied by a dorky little wave, and Chris is just. Speechless.

Literally, can’t form any words speechless, which is highly unusual for him. When he just keeps standing there, staring a Sebastian like he’s some kind of fata morgana, Lisa rolls her eyes and nudges Sebastian with her elbow.

“Well, go on, then,” she prompts, nodding in Chris’s direction. “He won’t bite.” Then, the look in her eyes turns mischievous, and Chris has half a second to think oh no, before she adds, “Unless you like that sort of thing, of course, but then he'd ask first. I raised him well.”

Sebastian makes a strangled sound, but starts towards him nonetheless, and before he really knows what’s happening, Chris is holding Sebastian in his arms. Holding him in his arms and burying his face in the crook of his neck and breathing him in. Sebastian’s arms go around him, too, a little tentative at first, but growing tighter, more secure, the longer the hug lasts.

And it lasts, much longer than a casual happy birthday hug between friends is supposed to last, but Chris can’t for the life of him bring himself to let go. He knows he’s clinging, that he’s got his nose pressed to the spot below Sebastian’s ear and that’s probably far too intimate, but Sebastian’s arms around are wound tightly around Chris’s waist and his cheek is presses to the side of Chris’s face, and he’s not letting go either.

Finally, after what feels simultaneously like forever and the blink of an eye, Sebastian inhales shakily, his chest expanding against Chris’s. With Herculean effort, Chris makes himself pull away. But, of course, that brings with it the complication of being able to see Sebastian’s face, flustered and glowing, eyes shining with something unnameable. They’re so close then, their faces only an inch or so apart, and when Sebastian’s eyes flicker down to Chris’s mouth for a split second, Chris’s restraint breaks.

He lunges forward, and Sebastian does the same, and their mouths crash together awkwardly and suddenly, they’re kissing. Really, actually kissing.

Chris’s hands fly to Sebastian’s face, holding it like it’s something precious, causing Sebastian to make a small, desperate sound that reverberates throughout Chris’s entire body. When he licks at the seam of Sebastian’s lips, Sebastian parts them immediately, letting him in, and Chris is drowning. Drowning in the kiss, in Sebastian’s taste, his smell, the little sighs he’s making against Chris’s lips, like he’s just as overwhelmed and stupefied and happy as Chris is, while they cling to each other like they’re each scared the other’s going to disappear if they dare to let up for just one second.

Eventually, though, they have to break apart for air. Chris presses their foreheads together, unwilling to put any more distance between them than is strictly necessary, still breathing the same air. When Chris eventually opens his eyes, he finds Sebastian looking back at him in a way that makes his knees feel suddenly weak.

"Hi," Seb says, voice low and husky.

"Hey," Chris replies, his hands on either side of Sebastian’s face, thumbs idly caressing his cheekbones.

Sebastian giggles, a light, happy sound that makes his nose do that scrunchy thing it does, and Chris wants to die. He groans, pulling Sebastian back in by the back of his neck –

And then Lisa clears her throat. Sebastian startles; he’d evidently forgotten she was still there, or maybe assumed she’d have left to give them their privacy, but that just goes to show Sebastian doesn’t know Lisa very well – yet.

"Well,” Lisa says, a grin in her voice. “I'll leave you two to it then, let me know if you need anything.” She pauses, before cheekily adding, “Anything at all."

“Yes, thank you, mom,” Chris says quickly, keen to spare Sebastian any further embarrassment. Sebastian’s hiding his face in Chris’s chest as it is, arms still wound around his waist, and Chris is literally about to pass out from how fucking cute that is.

Holding up a placating hand, Lisa finally retreats, closing the door behind her.

Once they’re alone, Chris steers Sebastian towards the couch, sitting down and pulling him into his lap. Sebastian lets himself be guided, straddling Chris’s thighs and giving him a coy look through his eyelashes. Chris blows out a slow breath to center himself a little, bringing up his hands to settle on Sebastian’s waist.

He knows they’ll need to talk about this at some point, but right now he can’t think of a single way to express what he’s feeling, and what this means to him. Right now, all he can do is stare at Sebastian in wonder, relishing finally getting to look at him the way he’s always wanted to: unabashedly, fondly, and very appreciative of exactly how tempting Sebastian’s lips look – especially after having been thoroughly kissed. By him.

“Fuck,” Chris breathes, overwhelmed, leaning in again to catch those pretty pink lips in another kiss.

Sebastian responds beautifully, opening up right away, melting into him. His arms wind around Chris’s shoulders, fingers scratching gently through the hair on the back of Chris’s head, making him shiver.

It’s sweet, at first; lips sliding together lazily, slow and lush, but eventually, the kisses turn a little dirtier, with nipping teeth and teasing tongues. When Sebastian bites Chris’s bottom lip a bit too hard, pulling on it, Chris literally goes cross-eyed for a second. The hand that found its way into Sebastian’s hair tightens instinctively, pulling his head back just a little.

“Oh,” Sebastian breathes, eyelids fluttering, and Chris instantly feels all his blood rushing south.

He can’t believe it. He can’t believe he has Sebastian here, in his lap, looking like innocence and sin wrapped into one, looking at him through heavy lidded eyes like it’s Chris who’s something to be desired. And Chris wants. He wants so bad, with every fiber of his being, to have Sebastian right there and then, but he has just enough presence of mind left to know that they can’t rush this, can’t make any rash decisions they might later regret if they don’t talk about what’s happening first.

Words still seem impossible, however, so instead, Chris takes one of Sebastian’s hands in his and presses a kiss to the center his palm, hoping to convey with that one gesture everything he wants to say but can’t.

When he looks back up, Sebastian blinks at him, his eyes wide and stunned, before he suddenly grabs Chris’s face between his hands and starts planting breathless kisses on his cheeks, his eyelids, his forehead, and even his nose. Chris lets himself be kissed, basks in it, feeling like his heart might burst, and when Sebastian finally presses his lips to his mouth, Chris seizes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Despite Chris’s best intentions, it turns heated again in no time. Without his permission, his hands slide under Sebastian’s shirt, stroking the smooth, warm skin of his back, while Sebastian mouths at Chris’s jaw, then trails a path of kisses down the column of his neck.

“Seb,” Chris groans, hands tightening convulsively on Sebastian’s waist. “Sebastian, wait.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Sebastian pants, lifting his head to look down at him. He’s disheveled, his hair a mess, pupils blown, his lips red and a little raw from mouthing at Chris’s beard. He looks stunning.

“Jesus, you’re beautiful,” Chris says honestly, touching Sebastian’s left cheek.

Sebastian ducks his head turning his face into Chris’s palm, but he’s smiling, which makes Chris smile, too, then they’re just smiling at each other like a couple of dorks.

Chris shifts their positions to get more comfortable, tugging at Sebastian until they’re both lying on the couch on their sides, face to face. Pulling him closer, into his chest, Chris swings a leg over both of Sebastian’s, and Sebastian takes the hint immediately, snuggling into Chris and tucking his head under his chin so they’re full on cuddling.

“Best fucking birthday present ever,” Chris mutters into Sebastian’s hair, his hand tracing idle patters on Sebastian’s upper arm. In reply, Sebastian presses a kiss to Chris’s chest, over his heart.

Somehow, they snooze for a little while, just drifting in and out of consciousness, neither of them seeming to want to untangle themselves from the other, until after an indeterminate amount of time, there’s a soft knock at the door.

Chris hums questioningly in reply, not wanting to wake Sebastian, and the door opens cautiously. Lisa pokes her head in again, and the moment she sees them, all wrapped around each other like that, she covers her mouth with her hands, cooing softly.

“Happy Birthday, baby,” she whispers, her eyes shining with affection and pride.

“Thanks, mom,” Chris whispers back, blinking back tears. “Love you.”

From where he’s half asleep on Chris’s chest, Sebastian murmurs, “Love you, too.”

#evanstan #rpf #my fic #or something like it #don't know what this is #happy birthday chris #Anonymous #the keep reading tag is ducked #sorry about that guys #:((

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