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sukunasdirtylaugh · 11 months ago

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always a god never human II satoru gojo

tags: post shibuya au, alt au where satoru is cursed to be blind, fluff, argument, angst, regret

word count: 4.5k

note: I wanted to write something that could encapsulate what being human is for satoru in the best worst case scenario. some of you might love this as I do, and thank you for your support. also, I made a reference to odysseus and the cyclops so I think I got it right (I haven't read the odyssey in nearly 10 years). also forgive me and please correct me if I got the kikufuku part wrong. will make a part two if this comes out well (I already have it drafted).

satoru gojo had been exposed to curses for as long as he could remember. first, as a boy, then as a student in jujutsu tech, and finally as a friend and instructor to those around him; but he had never been directly cursed.

not until now.

"you may remain as the strongest, satoru gojo, but your strength will be the only thing to hold you. no one but yourself will disinter it, so don't waste your time searching for something already set as destined." he recalled.

"love will be your salvation yet damnation, for you will cry for your shortcomings and failures. no one but you will carry this burden. let it remind you of this day, of the battle in which you never, truly won."

he always wakes up in a cold sweat afterwards. with the erratic beating of his heart and the tears running down his cheeks, satoru clings to himself, pressing a hand to his heart so as to remind himself of his current position. the back of his throat feels rough like sandpaper, and he licks his lips before reaching for the glass of water he's reserved for nights like these.

he drinks nearly all of it, his heart heavy before his fingers fish for his phone by his bedside.

"hey siri," he speaks, voice hoarse, "what time is it?"

"it's 3:24am."

with an exhaled huff, he puts his phone to the side, making note to remember where it is in the morning. as he lays his head down and focuses on the feeling of blood rushing to his fingertips, arms laid out side by side and fists clenching and unclenching, he sighs.

tomorrow will be better, he tells himself, but it has to change, whispers the other.

"now listen, don't give me that look, it's serious!" your frown causes utahime, your longtime friend of 4 years to shake her hands out to grab your attention, causing you to stifle a smile from your face as you hide your lips behind your cup of tea. "I have a job proposal for you, from a friend. and I think you'd like the pay."

utahime had always been sensible on the topic of money. knowing your constant struggles as a college student and now graduate, seeking to find new sources of income to keep up with bills and student loans, the sorceress felt compassion for you, a friend of hers who has grounded and guided her through frustration after frustration; work and romance related. she's never had the luxury of normalcy to a life like yours, she knows, so doing this was in her best interest for your benefit.

she tells you she has a friend who has decided to take up reading. problem is, he's blind.

"he's not a child, though he acts like it sometimes, but he's not some prune old man either. he's around your age so I'm sure talking to him along with your patience won't be an issue."

besides the generous pay for your time, 6 hours a week for $500 as a starting salary, there was something about this arrangement that left you with a good feeling in your heart. and it wasn't because your client was blind, no. it was the sheer opportunity for growth, in doing something you loved and doing something someone wanted to partake in. so on the day of your arrival you dress your best, hair neatly combed with a pearl diadem and academia as your outfit inspiration for the occasion. "he lives in a secluded home," you recall utahime's words, "up on a hill, or cliff. I don't know. it's always cloudy over there," and you can make out the home on the hill. it's quaint, and you feel thankful for having picked the clothes adequate for the weather.

it surely looked like it was going to rain, so you quicken your pace until you're at the front door, standing still as you swallow the lump at the back of your throat. you were no psychic, but the way your heart churned and palpitated let you know something was about to change your life forever.

"you must be the girl utahime sent, I'm satoru. please step inside," you absentmindedly take in the smile he gives you, taking no answer from you before he opens the door to let you in. he wears a pair of black glasses, contrasting to his snowy hair and porcelain skin. wearing casual loungewear neither of you dare to touch one another in the sense of exchanging a handshake out of respect, or fear. it all feels formal, too formal as if this were a job interview or more.

"it's quite cold outside, isn't it?" after you step inside and change into a pair of slippers that are slightly too big for you, satoru shows you to where you would read to him.

he makes conversation rather well, you find, but there is slight awkwardness in the interactions but not in the way he moves around the house. as he moves up the stairs, he has a hand against the wall as he takes each step with precision, knowing when and where to step. you're fairly quiet, but polite in your conversation with him, until you reach the space he calls his 'study' which is just a room with a large window accompanied by books and belongings.

"you're probably wondering how on earth a blind guy has a clean place, right? well to answer your question, housekeeping."

"I wasn't thinking about that," you answer softly biting the inside of your cheek, "I was just admiring the window."

there's a momentary silence between the two of you. either satoru is surprised by your reply, unrelated to his blindness, or you have struck a sensitive chord, however, his nod makes you think otherwise.

"it is. before I was blind, I'd come here as a teen. house is mine, so even the doors are nice in here." and when he hears you agree, he smiles. "anyways, I'm sure utahime told you the basics about this, yeah?"

"yes."

"great. there's a book on that table to your right. you can start reading that one." as he walks, he takes a seat on a chair across from you. he patiently waits until you sit down again to ask, "before we start, would you like some water?"

"yeah," you breathe, "that'd be great actually."

"there's a few water bottles under the table next to you," he informs, making himself comfortable on the chair, limbs spreading comfortably as you take out a water bottle and glance at the book in your lap.

"this book is about malaysia," you read the title, "is that somewhere you'd like to visit one day?"

"maybe," he says, "it was from a friend of mine."

"did he go to malaysia?"

there's a long silence in between the innocence your question and his answer.

"he did," he answers slowly. "it was always a dream of his to go, so that's why I've kept the book." you don't press him further, instead nodding and suggesting on starting.

when you open the book, you don't miss the elegant cursive writing at the top right of the page.

n. kento

you frequent satoru's home every monday, wednesday, and friday for 3 hours every day. the pay is more than what you expect the first week, $750, but you wonder how this man can easily afford your services.

the bigger question, is how can he live alone in such a home like that? does he ever get hurt? what does he do then?

"yeah, I live here by myself." he answers your question on the third week of your employment. "it's pretty neat though. I don't have to worry about anyone misplacing anything I leave, you know?" his attempt at a joke makes you chuckle and walk up the steps behind him to his study. "are we reading something new today?"

"there's something different I want to try," he tells you, "last night, on the news, I heard there was a feud over some meso-american statue. something to do with jade material being one of the few in existence. I know this is beyond what we agreed, but do you think you can find an article on it?" you nod, affirming his request.

"great!" he smiles, relieved, "my laptop is on the desk. feel free to use it."

you wanted to say that was the last time he asked you for a favor like that, but it was you who fueled his interest. that day, you ended up finding 4 articles, and playing 2 videos about the subject. and as a result, both you and satoru engaged in related conversation until the end of your assigned time.

every few days, satoru would inform you on something (practically asking) and you'd reply by responding, researching the questions he ached to know. it went such way that you were reading him books less and less and more article, media coverage, and conversation.

"did you hear about the experiment trials being conducted by this company called oceangate?" satoru asks, interest laced in his voice, "they're thinking about sending people to view the titanic shipwreck."

and quickly enough, so were you.

"yeah, I also heard about it. I couldn't help but read an article about it. apparently, they've done a few trials, but the company is independent, so I don't know how safe it is or if they have government members involved..."

one of satoru's favorite moments consist of the following.

"did you hear about the crime case that just happened last week? the one with the girl who survived the car accident."

"I did!" you answer eagerly, "I heard her stepdad was the last person to talk to her boyfriend."

"do you think he murdered him?"

"it's tough to say," you bite your bottom lip in contemplation, "I knew he didn't approve of him because he was an aspiring musician, but these texts came out saying he wrote to his brother, 'that man better stay away from my daughter or else I don't know what I'll do',""

"no way."

"and that's not even the worst part," you adjust yourself on your seat, criss cross applesauce. "they found dna remains in his car before his death, hair. right before the car accident. there's speculation they argued before..."

"the accident." satoru nods.

as the weeks progressed, so did your conversations with satoru. the two of you had a knack for being adaptable in your interactions with one another. you could reach a book for an hour, then talk about some recent story or just spend a whole session talking, with the mention of an article or some source always being mentioned.

and satoru burned for that. with every interaction, he found himself looking forward to what else he could bring up, and so did you, even spending time of your own researching things he might be interested in learning about.

things the both of you turned out interested learning about.

"here," satoru could feel the warmth emanate from your body (or his) as you sat next to him, your body scooting closer to his, "hold your hands, yeah, like that," placing a small statue, no bigger than the size of a wine bottle, satoru freezes slightly as you guide his fingers to glide along the edges of the statue.

"my friend managed to get this one out of the archives," you explain, "of course, I just had to bring this to you too. can you sense the material?" the corner of satoru's lips tug upwards in acknowledgement of your excitement. it makes his heart squeeze and pulse in ways that felt familiarly unfamiliar. in a good way, of course. everything you brought in his life was good. whether he could see it or not, you were always so welcoming and sweet.

"is this... legal?" he out of everyone finds himself whispering. as if the authorities could be outside his door. you giggle.

"yes," you smile, "I asked my friend if she could let me borrow this for the day, to take 'pictures'." you chuckle, "obviously that's not what we're doing, is it?" a warmth follows satoru's cheeks as he shakes his head and you smile. "this mesoamerican statue is the same material as the one we read the other week, remember?"

we, satoru's words echo in his head as he nods. "y-yeah. thank you for doing this, you know."

"of course," you smile kindly, "I figured, out of everyone who could be here, I figured you deserve this."

deserve.

"open your hands for me, satoru." your soft voice speaks as you cup his hands, the ocean waves crash from afar. after much convincing, you managed to pull satoru out of his comfort zone. what's the point of going to the ocean if I can't see it? he asks.

well, what's the point of me reading to you and us interacting if you can't see me? you counter. and he realizes you've won.

he can smell the saltwater, can feel the wind blow through his hair and let his feet sink into the sand, but that's not what makes his heart skip a beat. your hands shouldn't feel this soft, he thinks. the way you allow grains of sand to fall in his hands feel otherworldly, holy. the way he senses you smile at him and place a shell on his palm, letting him trace the surface with his finger as you guide him makes him feel as the most enlightened man alive.

he can sense you're close, not by strands of your hair slapping his cheek as the wind blows, but by the warmth of your body. suddenly, he does not feel he is at the beach, but with the beach guiding her hands with his and feeling the warmth of what he feels is your smile.

he remains silent, you're looking at him, and he's looking at you underneath his shades. he's frozen. waiting for you to say something, to break this off as if this would never, by any of his wildest dreams, occur in any universe.

but you don't.

satoru feels his pulse quicken, breathing deepen as the point of your feet slot themselves to his, your nose barely brushes his own, causing the six eyed user to forget everything he once thought he knew of limits and boundaries. kiss me, he thinks, take me, he begs to the heavens. satoru thinks he could be captivated, deeper than any spell odysseus and his men were under at sea, but they were cursed by calypso's beauty, and he felt blessed by the touch of an angel. your touch enviable to the gods above.

when you kiss him, he feels like he just made the greatest discovery to mankind, like he's waited his whole life for this, a feeling that greatly surpasses galileo's lifelong accomplishments and napoleon's combined. no feeling, word, or sight could transcribe what it feels to have your lips slide through his, to have you softly gasp against his lips, and to have your body close to his. satoru is convinced that he has reborn, become whole by the touch of your lips which have sweetly imprinted themselves throughout everything he is.

he holds the back of your neck gently, so as to remind himself that you are here, not a dream but here with him. flesh against flesh, man and woman who share one breath.

when you both pull away, satoru feels himself begging to pull you closer, but the hands that push him from you let him know you need to breathe. and although his body cries otherwise, you speak breathlessly, a hint of a smile in your tone, "did you feel that shell? it was my favorite kind to collect growing up," and he smiles because he learns what it is to collect something as valuable as the shells, your lips.

with nearly 3 months of knowing you, there was a shift in satoru's chest one wednesday morning as you excused yourself for a call.

"...of course I don't! you think I want to live with him?" you ask, voice laced with disgust, "I won't be tied down like that again and you know it, Kiro. I'll be cursed if I have to be with someone like him again. you know I'd never stay for someone like that. It's dead weight on my shoulders, and I won't have anything but pity on him." your words, from the end of the hallway send daggers at satoru's heart.

"yes, I'm at work, what else do you want me to do? It's not like I can just fly my way to you in such a short amount of time. you should have told me..." a long pause, "yes... he's blind," another long pause, "I get paid on the 26th, but my boss won't let me work on the 25th, so you can sleep in my bed while I get home. and wear something under the covers, okay?" somewhere, somehow satoru wanted to tell himself he was not hearing things correctly, that you were still the same girl he knew to be around, but when you returned after your call, something was definitely wrong with you.

"so, how was you call?" he asks, feigning interest, "everything ok?"

"yeah, fine, thanks." you breathe, tired, opening the book in your hands, "chapter 21, the last spring."

one week later.

as much as he wanted to deny it, satoru was beginning to think you had changed. what was it? was it him? the kiss? the way he grabbed you? or have you finally had enough of these little visits that could have been masked as pity for a young man like him?

when the 26th passes, he does not ask what your plans are. as much as he wants to ask, he thinks it's not of his place to ask. is he doing the right thing? he doesn't know. it certainly doesn't ease the unpleasant feeling bubbling in his stomach.

"do you have a favorite treat?" you ask. caught off guard, he nods.

"kikufuku," he tells you, "when I was in high school, there was this elderly couple that had a kikufuku stand and they used to have the best ice cream fillings."

"I thought kikufuku was cream based?"

"It was, but not to them. their ice cream filling was one of a kind."

"when was the last time you had some?"

he laughs, "years ago. I'm pretty sure they ended up closing because the wife died, and she was the only living relative who knew how to make it."

"that's too bad."

"I know, but at least they were happy doing what they did." satoru then changes the subject, shifting the focus to a lighter topic.

on december 6th, satoru recieves a call.

"I told you, you don't have to call me sensei anymore," satoru groans, throwing a wooden sword towards yuuta, catching it flawlessly.

"why not? you've always been my sensei. or would you rather us call eachother cousins?"

"you're right," answered satoru adter a long moment, earning a laugh from his former student. "so what was it you wanted to talk about? clearly it was not to train, so what is it?"

"I just wanted to see how you're doing."

"well you could've just called..."

"you haven't trained with us in a while," yuuta sighs, "everyone. we don't really know what you're up to these days."

and he was right, but satoru would never admit it.

"what?" he asks, almost faking offense, "can't your sensei go on vacat-"

"-utahime sensei says you've been in your home a lot," he clarifies, "only few of us know. toge, panda, yuuji and I."

"what about megumi?"

"he's kind of in his own world," yuuta sighs, placing his weapon down before taking a seat next to gojo in the training room. "he knows things haven't been easy."

"you've kept an eye on him and yuuji like I asked, right?''

"to a degree," he admits, "I can't have them open up so freely because I'll always be their upperclassmen, but you... you're..."

"I get what you're trying to say." he answers flatly.

"you do?"

he nods.

"can I walk with you to your home?" yuuta asks, "there's another thing I'd like to ask, personally this time."

satoru finds himself agreeing with his younger student, what else could he do besides that? as the two walk, satoru finds himself giving advice he didn't think he could give, advising the student on what shall become of him now that he's already over age and in his own right to choose his destiny.

as he advises his pupil, satoru finds himself wondering the same for himself. he's turning a year older in 2 more days, what will become of him? what will he do? what does this mean in relation to kenjaku's damned curse? it aggravated him. upset him how everything felt so secure, almost ideal weeks ago, but now his life felt back in square one, returning to his home that he had grown used to be alo-

"surprise!"

not one, nor two, but several familiar voices called from the inside of his open, making satoru freeze in shock.

"surprise! we thought we'd surprise you sensei" panda's voice rang.

"he's right!" another voice, yuuji's appears, "we thought about making a little get together with our favorite sensei..."

"obviously someone had to plan this," satoru turned, stunned when shoko's voice came into play. "you?"

"no," she chuckles, turning to you but you quickly shake your head, reaching for utahime, "it was utahime!" you call, "she wanted to plan something nice for you."

"aww well aren't you sweet?" he grins tauntingly at utahime who can't help but send daggers your way as shoko muffles her laugh.

for the duration of the party, satoru is accompanied by his co-workers, friends, and students. he hears more about what they've done. what travels they have accomplished, and what romances some of them have experienced all while they share laughs. all while satoru searches for yours.

you stand a respectable distance away from him, deciding it would be best to let his friends and students take over since he hasn't seen them in so long. you weren't as special as they were, only having known satoru for the least amount of time, a part of you felt like a stranger. not that anyone made you feel left out, no. everyone was kind to you and even appreciative for your presence. however, you spent a whole majority of the party not talking to satoru, as if you weren't there.

when it came time to cut the cake, everyone who was an adult was nearly drunk. the students, all joyously supervised by ichiji laughed as they shared a group photo. yuuji, satoru's student mentioned something about adding the photo as his lockscreen, causing everyone to burst out laughing from ichiji's protests. everyone looked happy, with a twinkle in their eyes as the end to the party came to an end.

the students and ichiji were the first to leave, then shoko and utahime finding balance in one another, leaving you alone with satoru in his home.

"you didn't drink, huh."

"I don't really drink in social events." you shyly admit, scratching the back of your neck as satoru does not face you, looking towards the door where utahime and shoko left not long ago.

"you thought you were social?" his words take you by surprise.

"I, um.... I talked to your friends." you say, "they were very nice."

"I barely heard you."

"that's because you were probably occupied talking to the others-"

"-you didn't talk to me." he finds himself saying in annoyance.

"I didn't want to take your day away,"

"from who?"

"you."

"there's nothing to take from me."

"yes there is," you tell him. "your attention. you haven't seen your friends in-"

“they all pity me.”

“what? no they don-”

“-you’re not blind. people don’t… they don’t look at you like some pity animal, just waiting for you to fuck up.”

“you are not a pity....”

“oh yeah?�� he breathes, ragged. “then why the fuck did you agree to read to a blind man?”

there was some silence, regret pooled at the back of your throat and then a shift in your weight as you stood.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. I like you, “I- I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,”

“I- are we…?”

“I don’t think we should be seeing each other,” he expresses. “not for a while,”

“a while?”

“yeah, a while.’’

“do you… want me to leave?”

“I think it’s for the best.”

“Do you want me to come back monday?”

“I don’t think so,”

when you left, satoru's jaw tightened, hands now fisted by his sides and a body so rigid one might think he were frozen in place. satoru stays like that for several moments, eyes nearing a burning sensation as he focuses on where he would imagine the door is, almost expectantly waiting for your return as if this were a dream.

but it wasn't.

and as the minutes pass, he paces his living room. hands running over his hair.

he had done wrong.

"ichiji," his voice almost broke, dry and borderline desperate. “I…” I think I fucked up, “I want you to pick up y/n. She just left my place, but she doesn’t have a car.”

"I already did," he says, "she said just that."

“Did she tell you anything?” he finds himself expecting.

“not really..."

“how did she look?”

normal? Ichiji wanted to say, didn't you just see her? but the tone in satoru’s voice confirmed that he did something to leave you so quiet after the party.

“she was quiet,” he tells him, “...maybe she was tired from the party. you know, she organized it herself.”

“she... what?”

“yeah. utahime helped her bring the cake. she needed someone to drive while she carried the cake because she didn't trust anyone to hold it the 20 something minutes it took to get to your house. she told me she was trying to look for someone who knew how to make ice cream kikufuku and ended up finding the niece of the old owners of a shop she said you used to frequent. after long convincing, she was able to get the niece to help. I’m pretty sure she made the cake, with the help of the niece of course. she also made the dinner, and even had shoko bring in the drinks along with candles that your friend forgot to bring, — so I guess she was just tired, right?”

Satoru was speechless. unsure if it was the fact that you did so much for him or the fact that he had never heard, in his entire life, hear ichiji speak for so long with such conviction, it was everything he needed to hear.

right? the words in satoru's mind, head pounding with everything and anything relating you. and on the other side of the line stood a confused yet almost concerned ichiji.

"hello? are you still there?"

"yeah," he answered dryly, "is... is she home safe?"

"of course, I dropped her off." but it sounded like, why wouldn't she be? to which satoru felt like it wasn't a good enough answer. he needed to see, hear that you were okay. and he was afraid that he was regretting his words so easily.

"satoru," now serious, ichiji's words pulled him from his thoughts, "are you still there? what happen-"

"-I fucked up," he choked, "I... I said things I shouldn't have..."

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ofallthingsnasty · 11 months ago

Note

I'm not sure if you're still taking requests for the yandere alphabet, but if you are would you do A I and Q for Crocodile please? I absolutely love how you write him ❤️

Yandere Alphabet letters f, h, n and y for crocodile !!! i'm glad 💕 and of course!! prompt lists like that are super fun, they're excellent for warm ups (☆▽☆)

tw yandere, violence mention, death mention, minors dni

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

That really depends on your definition of love - is it love when he gifts you an entire wardrobe, when he keeps you fed and entertained, when he even indulges your little hobbies and gets you some pencils, some yarn, books? Or is that him playing dress-up doll with you, molding you into something that suits him? Is gift giving not a sign that he thinks about you, that he cares for you? Is it love when he graciously ignores you sulking over dinner instead of beating the blues out of you? Is it not love when he lets himself rest on your lap? Does love need grand exclamations and his hands on you all the time? But it really up to who you ask, hm? Because I'm sure that you see everything in a different light than him. In his mind, he's being more than generous, more than loving - while you probably feel like you're about to suffocate, know exactly that he expects gratitude for all the things he gets you, for all the patience he's shown you. So, is it love, a desire to care for you or is it yet another manipulation tactic? Probably both. As for intensity, that man's entire presence is the definition of stifling - he may not be intense in the traditional sense, but those tiny little touches, that hand on your shoulder, thigh, cheek will feel like they weigh a ton. He knows how to impose, how to talk without opening his mouth.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Nothing big, really. He doesn't want kids, he wants power and an Ancient Weapon - you're a nice addition to that. I think he just wants to keep the status quo once you've... been broken in enough. It's rather simple.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Okay, first thing first: you don't leave. Don't fool yourself into thinking that you can somehow slip through his fingers, that'd be entirely ridiculous - the only way out of this is one of you kicking the bucket, because even if the stars aligned and someone were to come to your rescue, he'd drag you back by the scruff of your neck. And if you die, well, tough luck. That little dream is over, then. Is it going to sting? Sure. Will he have a big fit over it? Depends on the circumstances. But he'll do as he always does - goes back to his never-ending work to accomplish something, to build up something, to get a profit out his work. There just won't be anyone to come home to like there used to be.

#okay regarding that last point: in my head he's had you since before robin appeared. he's in it for the long haul. and you dying? holy crap #of course he's not going to take that well but you won't be able to tell on the surface - he'll probably just try #to drown himself in his schemes. aw man i'm almost sorry for him #tw.yandere #/crocodile #/one piece #yandere one piece #crocodile x reader

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film-in-my-soul · 1 year ago

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Oh for Bingo can I get Outsider POV IceMav? 🥰

.⋆｡°✩ Carole eavesdrops but only because she loves her friend. ✩°｡⋆.

Pete thinks he's slick. He thinks that his late-night phone calls and dashes out to the mailbox when he's off deployment are sneaky and well concealed, but Carole Bradshaw didn't spend years hiding boyfriends from her daddy not to recognize the same tactics when they were waving right in front of her face.

At first, she ignores it, giggles behind her hand when Pete's not looking, ruffling Bradley's hair when he mimics her. There's no harm, she figures, in letting Pete keep his sweetheart to himself. He's never been shy before when it comes to love, but maybe, she thinks, he's growing up a bit, learning to slow it down when it matters. All Carole cares about is that he's happy, and by the way he can't quite keep the color out of his cheeks or the stars out of his eyes when she spots the edge of a letter or hears the soft whispers of a hushed phone conversation, he is.

The more she hears, though, the more she really looks, the more she realizes that maybe it's not because Pete's trying to be quiet about this thing he's got going on. It might just be because he has to.

As much as it's Pete's home when he's stateside, Carole doesn't try to tiptoe around her house; privacy is never a guarantee. Still, when she's up getting water or just needs to go outside and breathe in the chilly night air to chase away some stray tears sleeping in her half-filled bed leaves her with, she can't help stumbling on Pete tucked around the corner of the kitchen, phone cord stretched around to give his hiding place away.

He doesn't always see her, and she doesn't let on that she's there. In these moments, they're just two boats passing in the night. It doesn't mean that she can't hear, though, and try as she might not to listen, well... she doesn't get much gossip at the Post Office.

Pete's voice is even, a little tired given the hour, but more lovesick than stricken, so what little guilt might have clung to Carole if this had been one of the bad times when Pete needed whoever was on the other end isn't there.

"They're keeping you out there for another week?" He sounds positively anguished, and Carole sees the edge of Pete's foot kick out all discontent. There's no doubt it's his mystery girl. Pete doesn't even get that childish when Bradley steals the last strip of bacon. It makes Carole stifle a snort as she tries her best to open the back door without setting off its telltale creak.

She wonders if maybe Pete's girl is on a carrier somewhere, a secretary or something like that...

"But you're still gonna make it for Christmas, right?" He sounds hopeful, and then he lets out a chuckle so light and fond that it twists up Carole's heart in the best way.

"Look, I know you don't celebrate, but I still want you here." A pause. "Carole won't mind. I'll come up with somethin' to tell her."

Carole's brow furrows, and for a moment, she wants to speak up because Pete has to know that she wouldn't tell him he couldn't bring someone around for the holidays, especially if it's-

"Ice," Pete says with a sigh, and Carole feels her entire brain turn a bit on its axis, realization slipping into place between her wide-eyed slow blink as he continues, voice still soft, "It's not gonna be like that. And you know," his tone brightens. Carole feels that twist again, deeper somehow, "I've always been pretty good at thinking on my feet." Pete tappers off with a laugh, one Carole's heard more and more as the months have drifted by. Now she knows why, now she understands, and even though the tears had dried up when she'd walked down the hall, they're threatening to fall again for a hundred different reasons.

She leaves Pete to his call, then manages to slip out the backdoor without a hint of old wood croaking for attention and looks up to the sky.

Slowly, a smile pulls the corner of her mouth up as the stars blink down on her. The more she lets the understanding stew in her thoughts, the more she finds nothing changes. A part of her, somewhere deep, for a moment in the stillness of her brain making the connections between Pete's secrecy and the reasons why, had been worried something might. Because hoping you act or feel some way in the face of the unknown and knowing is different, and she's glad to know she's not any way she doesn't want to be when it comes down to it. When it's important.

And in the morning, if she passes Pete the last strip of bacon and asks him if he might be wanting to bring someone around for the holidays since it had just been them the last time he was on the ground, well, she's just thrilled when he says, cheeks going hot and eyes sliding away, that maybe he just might.

Ficlet Bingo!

#icemav #icemav ficlet #ficlet bingo #top gun ficlet

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eldritch-spouse · 2 years ago

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I wanna be hunted down by Zizz in a dream, come get me big boy

[Ah yes, I've wanted to do something with him for a while. The chase isn't that long, but I hope it's fine! Fem reader.]

TW: Dubcon then full consent; Mentions of past non-consensual somnophilia; Spit as lube.

You're not sure if you can call yourself a lucid dreamer.

Because while you've been aware of dreaming before, things have always felt a bit distant, fogged. When you touched a table, it didn't quite feel like a table. So you knew that it wasn't one, and that you weren't awake.

Lately however, your nightly episodes of brain activity have taken a sharp turn into the unexpected, if not mystical.

Everything has become so vivid. So real. It feels as if every part of your conscious has been pulled into these dreams, like there's nothing beyond the dreamscape. You truly are living in them, with no care for anything else. Nothing appears to be out of place, every minute detail sculpted to perfection, something one's brain is largely incapable of without extensive visual training beforehand. Which you have none.

They almost feels like someone else's dreams, as if you have been invited to take place in them.

Nothing about the location in which they take place is familiar to you either. This scarcely lit maze of rooms and halls is a warm, comforting mansion you have never set foot on in waking world. Not a bit of it rings a bell. The patterns in the floor are alien to you, the symbols inscribed in the ceilings and walls are meticulous but utterly nonsensical, the blue-lit candles, flickering into violet hues, are entirely new to you. Even the starry, abyssal skies fogging the small windows of this place raise no memory. Everything here is suspended in space and time, a crafted capsule which has consumed your resting hours.

At first, you were charmed. And how could one not be, right? It is a beautiful place, if a bit ominous, but you enjoyed roaming by those uninhabited divisions, captivated by pleasant scents and lulled into a comfortable tiredness that beckoned you to simply pick a corner and settle down. Although bizarre, this felt like home, like a cradle. A respite to life's many hurdles and clawing duties. No good thing lasts forever, as is common knowledge, and this is no exception...

A couple of days ago, the ambience in this dream mansion has become a tad stifling. Nothing has visually changed, that you can spot at least, but the air is heavier with some form of tension you can't quite place. Moving between rooms, no matter how much curiosity beckons, has become a slightly dreaded occasion, for every step of yours elicits goosebumps on your flesh. Eyes. There are eyes on you. Somewhere. Somehow. Someway. Immaterial and tireless, prey instincts pick up on them sharply. You turn and turn like a dancer in their stage, but there's only ever shadows staring back at you.

Someone has taken note of your presence here and you're an object of interest to them. Now comes the belated realization that you may not ever have been the owner of this mansion, as your mind liked to assume. Maybe not even a guest, but only a mere intruder. Are they angry at you?

You can't answer that. You don't know.

So, tonight, in an effort to not offend this entity of your lifelike dreams, you refuse to leave the banquet hall. Maybe, if you stay put in one place and don't touch anything, not even those beautiful padded chairs, it won't get angry at you. And it will look elsewhere. Should you apologize? To the air? No, come on, there's got to be a way to force yourself to wake up, right? Yes, you've read about this before. You need to blink! Blinking helps stimulate the brain into waking up.

After several moments of frantic eyelid flapping, you've determined that either this method is complete bullshit, you're horribly incompetent at basic functions, or this is simply too soft a strategy. The next hypothesis is to pinch yourself, or otherwise induce some form of pain that would be great enough to force an awakening. Pinch after pinch, scratching your arm, and finally, actually giving yourself a slap. Fruitless... And the worst part is that you felt it all.

Joy.

OH! Falling asleep! Falling asleep in lucid dreams helps. Perfect really, this place is already so tailored to personal comfort. The banquet hall is large, furnished with its laced curtains and the ambient blue lights that you love so much, there's many a plush seat to choose around these large, generously furnished tables, but your eyes gravitate towards another option a slight distance away. By one of the massive windows of this residence lies the most dreamy chaise-lounge you've ever witnessed. Dear God, had you not known any better, you'd say the damn thing is made for a giant. It's certainly about the size, no, bigger, than a king sized bed. Why is it so damn big?

Nonetheless, your hands drift across its velvet greedily as you sink onto it like an anchor, sighing in great satisfaction. Oh, what you wouldn't give for one of these in real life! The perfect solace after a day of troublesome, annoying work. This must be tremendously expensive... An adequate position is found, the mansion is warm enough that no chill dares pry into your bare skin and the nightgown you wear is more than enough cover. A smile resting on your cheeks, your eyes finally close and you bid this dreamscape adieu.

...

" Mm, are you truly that tired? "

Every bone in your body freezes.

Suddenly, the mansion has never been colder. You're afraid to turn around, because you know something large is behind you, so your horrified hues poise on the darkness of the sky, spotting a horned silhouette just barely reflected on the glass. What is this?

" I can't let you leave so soon, but worry not, we have all the time in the world. " It, or rather he, begins. This smooth, low and almost disinterested tone. Attractive, if not for the fact that you've never heard it before, that you've never pictured anything that sounded remotely like him. " There is no time in dreams. "

That's a very nice way of saying "you're here until I wish otherwise".

You can barely swallow the lump in your throat. " Who- Who are you? "

He's tapping something on the wooden table. This distinct clack clack clack that you know only something with claws can achieve. " Turn around and find out. "

Figures. Knowing you'll never move on if you dwell on the choice, you rip off the band aid entirely and turn faster than a startled cat, sitting up on the chaise-lounge and setting eyes on what might be the most majestic monster out there.

You were right, this is made for a giant. You're looking at him.

Where do you start? The way his grayish light skin almost seems to sparkle? The odd, dark garb that clings to his supple form maybe a tad too scandalously? The curious shape of his thin, crescent-tipped tail? Speaking of crescent- That's definitely the shape of his striking horns, this shapeless glob of matter swirling almost hypnotically between them, hues of yellow and blue framed prettily. Even more curious is the ashy veil covering his head and face, the sides bleeding into star-adorned shades of mauve. For lack of better wording, he's unexpectedly gorgeous. Fascinating. Certainly some type of demon, there's no doubt about it, though never did you think they could ever share this sort of ethereal look to them- Even mellow as he seems to be, your subconscious recognizes the power basically seeping off his presence.

Nothing in the room matters anymore, your vision and your dream shrink down to the monster before you.

What now? What the fuck do you say? This feels too real, too dangerous, too out of your depth, like you shouldn't even be talking to this guy.

" H- Hi? "

Bravo. Perfect. Survival ensured. You're a master of raw charisma.

The entity chuckles. " Good night. " He takes a step forward, making you lean back. " I'm glad to see you enjoy the mansion. "

It's his. That's obvious now. You've been loitering around his living space for nights on end apparently.

" I probably won't have to change too much about it. "

Change? Your eyes narrow. " ... You live here? "

A vague hand wave. " Yes and no. This is a careful reconstruction. I made sure to be as meticulous as possible, just so you can get a proper look at your new living quarters. "

Fucking what now?

" Excuse me? "

The demon pauses, then appears to brighten. " Ah yes, my faulty manners. Everyone calls me Zizz, I am Sloth's Icon. "

None of that made sense. " You lost me at ´Zee´."

" Zizz. "

That sounds a lot like jizz honeslty.

" Zizz. " You correct yourself. " Sloth as in, the deadly sin? Sloth? That exists, that's a place? "

He sighs, snickering to himself, probably at you. Amidst your inner questioning, you fail to react in time when he, Zizz, sits beside you on the sofa. The weight of the monster causes a slight depression that pulls you to him like a magnet. All it takes is one slight brush against his warm skin for you to jump back. Not very far away apparently, because he can still grasp your hand with unnerving ease. Even now, you feel like a toddler gazing at an adult, it's uncanny.

" Focus. " He coos, unaffected by the panicked pull that only results in making your wrist sore. " You don't need to worry about any of that for now, I want to share this night with you, ridden of any fear or doubt. " The grip tightens, his voice takes on a desperate lilt, excitement bleeding into his speech. "To get to know each other. I've met many a dreamer in my time alive, how can it be that my true mate has escaped me up until now? "

This is the most insane dream you've had in your entire life. Though, deep down, something tells you it's definitely not just a dream, maybe a curse. Some sort of nasty prank dealt onto you by something you can't comprehend for reasons that elude you. What if all of this truly is real, and you've caught the eye of a being older than you can conceive? Is there even anything you can do or is your fate being carved into stone with every word Zizz speaks? Sweat forms on your forehead the moment the demon starts moving your hand, hovering towards his chest.

" W-?! L-Let go! " But he doesn't, only stopping once that palm is firmly planted. Any further protests die when a frantic thump thump thump is felt. It takes you a moment to realize his chest is heaving a little.

" Can you feel my relief? My happiness? I swear on my name this heart has never beaten so fast. " You don't need to see his face to feel the level of mania this monster is under.

" S- Shut up. This isn't real! Get away-! " Perhaps it was the shock of hearing you shout, or the slight slump of the great monster's frame, but you manage to drag yourself out of his grasp, up to your feet, taking several steps back, as if he may lunge at any moment.

That never happens, but he does rise as well. One measured step at a time, attempting to close the distance that seems to deeply perturb him now. " You know better. My lonely little star, how I long to quell you... " A chill runs down your spine at the dip of his pitch, a baritone full of promises making it feel as if your knees are about to run off in opposite directions. " Your dreams have kept me warm at night, I only ask that you let me do the same for you. "

Nope. Mind racing, heart hammering, adrenaline making you feel lighter than a feather, you race out of the banquet hall with terror in each stride, fueled by the ringing of amused guffawing in the distance. It should have been a blaring flag that you heard no footsteps hot on your trail, and you only realize what a pathetic idea it was to attempt to hide in his mansion when Zizz appears standing in the next hall you come across.

" Where will you run to? "

Anywhere, anywhere you can. The door to your left disappears right as you are about to push it open, replaced by a seamless wall that you nearly rammed into, making the demon lord snicker. " This is childish, dear. "

You know you were only able to dash into the right one because he allowed you to. Lo and behold, it's a bedroom. Or at least you think it is, it's hard to tell with the ludicrous amount pillows tossed onto every corner. There's a humongous bed inundated in blankets and pelts, more cushions than you care to count, it even has a canopy with lights. Are those plushies? This... This looks like a rich kid's pillow fort. What the fu-

It was a mistake to linger, because a figure traps your back against itself.

" Ah, you've found my resting chambers, how astute. " Oh yes, he's definitely mocking you. Your flailing and kicking goes vastly ignored, not only is this creature immeasurably stronger than your untrained self, it appears determined to end your pointless game of cat-and-mouse. It's poetic that he didn't actually have to move much to catch you, really befitting of his title as, what did he say again, "Icon of Sloth"?

A tug at the hem of your nightgown distracts you. " Do you always dress this scantily to bed? " Zizz taunts, a lewd grin audible. " Perhaps for me? "

" In your dreams, pervert! " Maybe you should have thought twice about the wording. Though not all is lost, because he does let you go, taken by another fit of merry laughter.

" Oh, absolutely... " The giant moves towards the center of the room, tossing pillows away and arranging the blankets on that opulent bed. " Has anyone told you how adorable you look in deep slumber? I could barely keep my hands off you, there's a softness to your body that's so addicting, I could never hope to replicate it. Nothing feels half as good. "

The color washes off your skin, leaving you as pale as Zizz himself while you try to guess what was done to you when you were most vulnerable. Did he fondle you? Used you like some toy, some doll, unwilling to let you wake, to let you know- You feel dirty, skin crawling with all sorts of emotions, one of them being muted arousal. In spite of the repulsive act he's just admitted to doing, all your mind wants to focus on is the possibility of that large body covering yours, large hands curled over your limbs, taunting images filling you with shame. This is far from the reaction you should be having.

In an effort to escape, perhaps not so much from him but more so your reprehensible desires, you make one last ridiculous attempt to flee the room, rewarded by the door slamming itself shut. It signals the finality of your little game, as if he won't let you flee from your own wants.

" That's cute, but I'm not very fond of running. "

Cute. He thinks your genuine efforts to flee are cute.

Defeated, you stand by the door, in the most vain of hopes that it will miraculously open for you when most needed. When Zizz turns, you can almost feel the frown in his stance, like he's pondering. Sure enough, he was.

With a snap of his fingers, your clothes are gone. It was like a blink, one second they were there, the next your body was bare and cold. " Much better. " Zizz hums.

All you can do is squawk and cover yourself, face steaming in fury and embarrassment. " You sick fuck! "

That only earns you a senseless coo before he's making grabby hands and closing the distance. The pitiful attempt you made to dash left is halted by a thick forearm, and, in a blur of movement, you've been tossed onto that massive mattress.

The impact itself was painless, lord knows this particular division is so thickly padded that he could just about launch you at the walls with no risk of serious injury. Maybe motion sickness. But the shock of his strength keeps you still like a catatonic animal ready to die. He just- He slam dunked you into his bed like a fucking doll.

Said moment of weakness is fully taken advantage of, as Zizz crawls on after you, arms holding your naked form to his front and ripping a yelp out of your still very much terrified self when he flips to lay on his back. The move was calculated, he gets to rest his head and upper back on the several pillows and stuffed cushion he was previously arranging, trapping your dizzy body against him.

More than afraid, you're now mostly confused, grasping those merciful moments of motionlessness to steady your breathing. What now...?

Zizz appears to be very comfortable, if not happy, his light hum-turned-sigh letting you know how at peace the demon apparently is right now. You suppose he ought to be, with your tits against his abdomen and thighs brushing a- Oh for fuck's sake. He's hard. Of course he is, the freak. You can feel it pushing at his robes, nudging beneath you. That's definitely something to worry about. Dream or not, everything up until now has felt so unbelievably real that you're not chancing getting penetrated by something that would tear you in real life. Because you know you'll feel it.

Renewed, frantic squirming is smothered by a powerful embrace as Zizz allows you to tire yourself out, scratching and arching pointlessly like a pitiful bug's death throes. You're more than sure that achieved nothing except getting him noticeably stiffer. With neither grace nor dignity, you proceed to flop dead onto him.

" ... So? Come on, fuck me already, I can't do shit. " Taunting a demon is a horrid idea, but you're livid.

" Mmm, I was hoping it'd be the other way around. "

That just about makes your brain buffer entirely. " Huh? "

" I love your fire, it's perfect. " Large hands start roaming up and down your sides, warming you in more ways than one. " Show me more, please? "

You blink.

Is he serious? You thought he'd just take you however, get it over with. And yet, here he is, spreading his legs beneath you, short of breath at the mere thought of having a human so much tinier than himself taking control. This has to be some divine parody. A nasty god's prank. Although, possibly fueled by the novelty of that same idea, or maybe just hatching a brand new fetish, you consider it.

And by "consider", you mean you start grinding on him.

Zizz immediately lets out a hiss, immensely pleased, tail thrashing against silk sheets. " O-Oh, that was fast. I'm glad we're on the same page. "

" Shut up. " The nerve.

Unwilling to take it easy on the pervert that has forced you into these dreams for the past week or so, you start tugging and pushing at his outfit, annoyed by the way it appears to cling to his curves. Really it's just an impractical mess, do demons really wear this? " I hate this shit, it doesn't make sense. " You grumble, resigned to trying to tear the straps clinging to his hips and upper thighs.

The other only delights in your roughness it seems, laughing heatedly. " Maybe it's me who should wear less for you, no? "

That's not a bad idea, but like Hell you'll admit it. Nonetheless, he scoots and lifts his ass off the bed for you, but only just long enough for the garb to be edged up. You're not content with the way it looks balled up on his tummy, as you'd like to have full access to his body, but it'll do. Because it's not the main prize, that would be the purple-ish length that bobs free. Pretty. Zizz is hardly anything to scoff at, and even if you think the odd curl which appears to wrap around his cock is curious, you know that can't be safely ridden.

The doubt must show on your face, because he makes a quiet chuff. A digit rises, the amorphous blob shifting by his horns darts to it, until he flicks it your way. Although you recoiled, as if the thing was going to splat itself on your face, you squint an eye open and determine, after some gazing around, that it's perched above your own head now.

" Uh- Thanks? "

That solves nothing.

" Among other things, it will help you welcome me. "

That solves everything.

" Perfect. "

And, with little to no fanfare, you spit on his hard dick, using it to lube him as much as possible while you position yourself above that girthy trial. It's exhilarating, you've never been this rash and gross to a partner, you've never had so much control or been in a situation half as peculiar, your heart thunders when his tip pokes at your folds.

Zizz gasps, fingers trying to settle on your thighs, though you bat them away. " What's the rush, my star? We have endless time to enjo- Hhrk- Fuck ohh! "

Your eyes water and roll to the back of your head as, in a ballsy move, you take half of that cock inside. Your own breathless expletives join his noises when you feel him warm and twitching, filling you tightly. He really wasn't kidding, this thing works, the pain is minimal.

" L- Like you deserve that. " Rocking in an effort to sink further onto him, you can't help moaning, every shift bringing you sharp waves of pleasure. Lord, that strange growth around his member has a delectable texture. " Teasing me for nights on end, doing who knows what- Ah! "

A piston upwards has your vision spinning, a cry loud enough to pass as a scream ripped out of your throat, drowned out by his low, satisfied groan when the root of his member is swallowed and you're flush to him. Zizz appears to tremble, you don't have the wits to push his hands off again when he grabs onto your hips, stroking everywhere and moaning at the fluttering of your walls. " Every second of the wait was worth it, ohff- You're so tight. " The smirk behind his next words is almost gross. " Feels good? You can have this every single night if only- "

" I-... Is this really a dream? " You interrupt.

It feels too realistic, too accurate. Even with the powers you don't doubt this demon has, this is scarily vivid. Would a dream ever be able to replicate the sensation of something as huge as Zizz inside you? Are you being tricked and this is actually reality?

A touch to your cheek startles you back to the present.

" Do you want it to be more than a dream? "

Mouth agape, all you can do is stare back at the demon lord. The ensuing silence speaks volumes.

" Wake up. "

" W- What? "

" I said- " His other hand rips that dark veil off his face, lidded eyes on yours as a pearly white grin stretches on a void-like face. It's... Incredible.

" Wake up. "

With a harsh gasp, you jolt upwards on your bed, head smacking right into something solid and warm.

Oh God...

Gulping, you glance up in total darkness, greeted by the same face, with the same swirl of yellow and blue glowing above it. A sudden thrust makes you realize he's been here all this time, in your bedroom, in your mind.

In your body.

" Did you sleep well? "

#Zizz oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #yandere demon #monster boyfriend #terato #monsterfucker #minors dni

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phanfictioncatalogue · 2 months ago

Text

Therapy (2) Masterlist

part one

a map to the lost (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Dan's third therapy appointment, circa late 2014.

a pinch of sugar (ao3) - angelmichelangelo

Summary: dan comes home to find a treat waiting for him at home

But I'll Be Close Behind (ao3) - fringesandcringes

Summary: Exploring how they work through Dan's depression individually and as a partnership, through therapy sessions, episodes, and posting a YouTube video about it for the whole world to see.

Deceit and Devotion (ao3) - Thatonefunhun

Summary: Phil Lester has it all. A successful career doing what he loves, a “bestie” who's always got his back, and a can-do attitude! He’s living the life! But what goes on beyond the camera? And is everything as it seems…

Dropping Anchor in a Storm (ao3) - jestbee

Summary: Phil wakes in the early hours to a thin beam of sunlight breaking through his curtains, and the soft sound of Dan breathing by his side.

He should be able to bask in the peace and stillness of the room, but his brain won't let him do that today.

(TW) Exhausted (ao3) - breatherepeat

Summary: Dan has spent years in therapy unpacking the issues of his past and coming to terms with himself. In order to complete his journey of self-acceptance, he knew he would have to face some difficult aspects of his past. The only way to work through years of repressed memories is to bring them to light and process them.

It Gets Better (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: The air in the waiting room is too hot. Dan is hoping his therapist’s office is cooler— it usually is, she has a fan that she always turns on when he walks in— but he also is sitting with that heavy feeling in his stomach that today is going to be a hard day, and the room being stifling would just be part of his luck.

A fic about self-empathy and good sessions.

it's a church of burnt romances (ao3) - phanetixs

Summary: Dan backs into the car and the driver asks where he’s heading. His head swims with thoughts of Phil, and of guilt and embarrassment at how he’s subconsciously treating his friend. Whose life centres around virtues like chastity. And non-objectification goes both ways. Dan takes a few deep breaths, pressing a palm to his insistent bulge to quell his arousal. As always, it doesn’t work.

Well, he resolves, if he can’t get Phil out of his head, he’s got to get someone else into it. Or onto him, preferably.

Or, a Fleabag AU.

Redemption Arc (ao3) - philsmeatylegss

Summary: classic, slightly dramatic and unrealistic rags to riches au

run don't hide (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: Dan has a run-in with a girl from school.

somebody's gone (ao3) - dvp_95

Summary: Dan's first therapy session after the incident.

the brain inside my muddled head (ao3) - angelmichelangelo

Summary: dan sees his therapist

the uncertainties of sexuality (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: “For me, having a label means having to be that thing and maybe sometimes I don’t want to be that thing but how on earth can I explain that to them when all I have to do is talk about a cute boy or something and suddenly I’m a bisexual icon when I’m not...not that.”

Therapy Day (ao3) - kattdan

Summary: Sometimes therapy makes Dan feel worse and he seeks comfort in Phil.

thursday at eleven (ao3) - cityofphanchester

Summary: This isn’t Dan’s Thursday morning, and no matter how much and how long he’s been pushing the idea, these first steps have to be Phil’s own.

Unfiltered (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: "Start with the unfiltered version," his therapist had told him. "Write it all out, as if no one else will ever see it, and then work your way from there."

It's a long process, getting everything together, readying himself to open up about depression, but he can take it in steps.

we were never in the park (ignoring tornado warnings) (ao3) - pasteldanhowells

Summary: After Phil leaves Dan, Dan starts seeing a therapist. Then, Phil comes back, and Dan starts lying to his therapist about him.

What A Catch (ao3) - hygge

Summary: Phil visits the same cafe every weekday morning without fail. But, when he decides to visit the cafe on the weekend for once, the atmosphere that he had grown used to has completely changed thanks to a piano player named Dan. While Phil is ready to jump into a relationship, Dan is hesitant and is still trying to stitch his life together again after What Had Happened in his past relationship. And that’s easier said than done.

wherever you stray i follow (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: Dan brings Phil with him to therapy.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #dan and phil #masterlists #therapy #therapy Masterlist

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moremaybank · 1 year ago

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so glad to see you’re back! we missed you so much!!! i hope you’re feeling better 💗💗💗💗

seeing you writing about jj’s dad vibes again makes me so happy! but what are your thoughts on him finding out his partner has infertility issues or can’t have kids 🥺 like how do you think he’d react?

— 💗 anon

hi babe!! idk if you've ever seen one tree hill but my mind immediately went to brooke when she was going through this :((( tw: infertility issues

for years, you and jj imagined what it would be like to officially start your lives together. all the cheesy dreams of getting married, getting a place together, having kids. you wanted nothing more but to fill your shared home with babies and laughter and happy memories. but somehow, everything seems to come crashing down when you find out you aren't able to have children. of course there are other ways to start a family, but the shock of having something you've dreamt of for so long being ripped out of your grasp shocks you. it's a lot to digest. not only that, but now you feel like you're going to stand in the way of your boyfriend's wishes as well. you feel as if you're the reason he won't be able to have everything he wants from life. the fear of being a burden is far too much to bear, and when you see jj, it's difficult not to break down. "hey, pretty girl— woah, hey. what's wrong, baby?" you struggle to even say the words, but through your tears they come tumbling out. "i can't have kids." you avoid his concerned gaze, not wanting to look him in the eye. "what?" he asks. "i went to the doctor today. i thought i was pregnant, but i...it turns out i can't have kids." jj's hand cups your cheek, his thumb swiping your tears away. "baby..." he breathes. "i'm sorry, j. i— i know how much you want to have a family and i can't be the one who holds you back from that. i can't." jj's heart breaks. not because he views you as a burden the way you fear he does, but because his girl is heartbroken and he swore he'd do everything in his power to prevent that for the rest of your lives together. "you have nothing to be sorry about, alright? it's okay," he assures, pressing his lips to your forehead. "it's not. it's not okay. it's not fair. i wanna have kids with you, j. i wanna give you the family you've always wanted and i can't," you sob. "baby, look at me," he pleads. you shake your head, failing to find the courage to look him in the eye. "look at me, pretty girl. please?" he begs. your eyes finally find his, though your vision is blurry through your welling tears. jj strokes your hair, and he looks at you so tenderly that your heart breaks even more. "one way another, we're going to start a family together. i don't care if we have to adopt, or— or foster, or find a...what's it called when someone carries a baby for you?" you stifle a small giggle, "a surrogate?" jj nods. "yeah. a surrogate. however we do it, i don't care. what matters is that i'm starting a family with you. as long as i have you, all my dreams have come true, alright? i promise, princess." you sniffle, "are you sure? because i can't handle being the reason you don't get to have—" jj cuts you off with a kiss, deep and slow, and bleeding with all the love he has for you in his heart. "i've never been more sure of anything. you're my family. end of discussion."

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sirthisisa-wendys · 2 years ago

Note

Heeeey! I’m back with the angst requests (: can I request a scenario with Hanma of reader having feeling and him not sharing them back, unrequited love? I’m looking to hurt and I know you always pull through 🫶

Hey, welcome back! Will do! Glad to see you 'round these parts!

Love You, Mean It: Hanma Shuji x Fem!Reader

wc: 659

tw: angst

masterlist

"I love you."

Hanma's shoulders slump. He's standing out in the biting cold, listening to your profession of love... but it's not going well for either of you.

"I'm sorry. You don't even have to say anything back. I just thought you should know."

Silence passes between the two of you, and Hanma grimaces, looking at the street as if he wishes he could run into it and get hit by a passing truck.

What had been a simple physical relationship had turned on its head. Now... it's merely a nuisance. Shuji inhales the night air deeply, watching the shadows of the TV screens in the shop window dance across your face. But he has to say something, or you'd start to cry. And he couldn't have a crying girl on his hands.

"Look at this realistically – can you honestly see any scenario where we'd date and not annoy the shit out of each other?" You look up from your shoes in shock. "Besides, you're in a relationship right now – you know this won't end well."

"But I promise I'll break up with him!" is your response to all of Shuji's points. The him is the person you're both waiting for. The him is the man who brought you two under the same roof in the first place. Shuji wants to stop you from talking and keep you from incriminating yourself.

But you blather on, digging yourself into a hole about six feet deep. "Listen, I'll break up with him... and we can be secretive about it." Shuji flinches, and you take notice. "Not in a way that would make you seem like a side-piece. I just meant--"

"I know what you meant," Shuji replies cooly. "This isn't what I bargained for when you said you wanted to spend time with me. I'm putting my head on the chopping block by even touching you. Let alone fucking you when Kisaki's not looking!"

Shuji wants to shake you and make you wake up - this isn't a fairytale with some hidden ending. The ending is happening right now; the credits are rolling over your faces. "If you think for a second I'd betray Kisaki like that, you're insane."

"But you wanted--"

"Really," Shuji begins, stuffing his ice-cold hands in his pockets. "I just wanted to see how far I could get with you. I couldn't imagine being with someone disloyal to her core like you." The flash of hurt in your eyes doesn't go unnoticed. Shuji scoffs, shaking his head.

"I..." Tears come to your eyes. Shuji stifles a groan, biting his cheek so hard he draws blood. "Shuji, why would you talk to me like this?"

"You should go home and forget this ever happened. Break up with Kisaki if you want to; that's not my call. But this... this is over." Hanma drags himself away from you, feeling a snap of guilt in his gut. Sure, you'd been nice to him, and having a tryst with you was fun, but this was how things had to end. If he let it go on any longer, Kisaki would have his head and his balls.

Shuji's phone rings in his pocket as he storms off. Shuji answers it immediately; there's only one person who has his cell number.

"Did you do it?" the voice asks on the other end.

"Yes, boss," he replies.

"You sound displeased."

"I'm not," Shuji lies. "Just had to explain to her over and over again why we can't be together anymore."

"Good," Kisaki mutters, then sighs. "She'll come running back to me any second now."

"Just like you said she would," Hanma affirms, turning his head around and watching you pull out your phone as your wipe your face. Kisaki's phone buzzes against his ear.

"That's her. Gotta go."

The phone call ends, and Hanma steps into the street, still praying a truck would crush him for the hell of it.

#hanma shuji x reader #shuji hanma x reader #hanma shuji #shuji hanma #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #toyko revengers angst

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fieldofdaisiies · 1 year ago

Text

Lovers At Last (pt. 3)

secret santa gift for @iftheshoef1tz ❤️ @acotargiftexchange ship: Azriel x Eris type: angst (with a hint of fluff) word count: 3,4k words warnings: talks about domestic violence story masterlist | ao3

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting… (Mary Oliver, Wild Geese)

Eris folds his manuscript, and finally lowers his gaze from where he has been staring out of the window for the past minutes. He shoves the manuscript —something about blood tests to figure certain illnesses— and shoves it into the front pocket of his small bag. There's an ache in his heart and it won't go away. It has been there since the moment Azriel left. Last evening.

And this evening…Azriel will leave completely. Romania. What will Azriel do there? He doesn't even speak the language. And what if they catch him?

Harsh and Exciting - the only words to describe the journey ahead of Azriel and Eris can't let himself imagine what that will mean. What dangers Azriel will face. He will never see him again. Even if he survives he will never—

"Herr Doktor?" Schwester Nuala asks with a sort of urgency and impatience in her tone. Has she been talking to him for longer? Hasn't he heard her before? Noticed her?

Eris has to admit he doesn't quite care. He turns to look over his shoulder, his neck and shoulders tense from the pressure weighing down on him.

"A woman is here."

"For me?" Eris raises a brow and nurse Nuala stifles a chuckle. She knows it is not appropriate to laugh at your boss, but he looks like a deer caught in headlight and she wonders what he has been thinking about that has captured him so terrible.

"Not exactly, but she wants to see the woman called Emerie. Is she allowed to visit her?"

Eris draws in a deep inhale and then nods. He moves his bag to the end of the desk, leaning it against the wall, the manuscript long forgotten.

"Who is she? Someone from the family?"

Nuala shakes her head. "No, she says she is a friend. She is the singer from the theatre. Gwyneth Berdara, the slender woman with the copper hair and the wonderful voice."

Eris curls his hands around the backrest of the chair, almost like he wants to keep his body from curling inwards. The singer who often performs with Azriel's orchestra. Why out of all people would exactly she be friends with Emerie.

Eris shakes his head and brings a hand up to brush his hair back. Nuala is still looking at him, waiting.

"She-she is allowed t-to." Eris clears his throat, and smoothes out his sterile coat. "I am coming with you, I need to check on the girl anyway."

Eris follows Nuala out of his office, sliding his hands into the pockets of his white sterile coat, fumbling with pieces of fabric - something to keep him occupied and calm his racing thoughts. He can't let him go. He can't let him go alone.

But he has to. He can't come along. Azriel has to stay.

There is so much going on his mind. It feels like a whirlwind is brewing. The emotions make him feel dizzy, his head heavy. His heart heavily thumps in his chest, aching fiercely.

The woman here for Emerie is waiting patiently, a smile blooming on her lips when she takes in Eris.

He swallows and then clears his throat again. "You are—"

"Gwyneth Berdara. If I remember correctly you are a constant visitor of the theatre, am I right?" she asks with a smile on her face. She just wants to be kind, but the mention of the theatre makes the back of Eris' mouth ache.

He wanted to forget about Azriel so badly. At least during the hours at work. Thinking of Azriel will become inevitable in the evening, the long hours at night, anyway. But at least now…he wanted some peace, but it is not possible. Azriel is always there, his love for him too strong, his touch and scent imprinted on him. Azriel is always with him. HIs heart is with him. Azriel, has given him his heart, and Eris always keeps it safe.

I carry your heart with me I carry it in my heart

I am never without it

Anywhere I go you go, my dear (e.e. cummings)

When Azriel first told him he loves him…Since this very moment Eris treasures his heart. But he…he had not even once said it back. Too scared of what it means. Too scared of getting his heart broken. And now he is the one who broke Azriel's heart. The director expected it to be safe with Eris and all he has done with it, is cause it pain..

Eris extends a hand. "After you, Frau Berdara." He has to swallow again, his throat burning like he has drunk acid.

They enter the room where Emerie rests with a few other women and her eyes immediately light up when they land on Gwyn.

Eris gives the women a bit of space, preparing his utensils - the ones he needs for Emerie. She will receive a bit more of a painkiller through a syringe so sleeping and lying on her back becomes easier. The gastritis has been very strong.

"Why are you here?" Emerie asks, a lovely smile gracing her lips. She reaches her hand out to Gwyn who immediately takes it and then sits down on the bed.

"Because you are my best friend, and you are not feeling well. Obviously, I came to see you." Gwyn smiles, her thumb brushing over the back of her best friend's hand.

"Oh, Gwynny," Emerie hums. "But how do you have time? You are always practicing on Monday mornings?"

Gwyn shakes her head and Eris focuses on her, syringe in his hand somehow forgotten.

"Singer cancelled the orchestra practice today. And also the show this evening. He said he wasn't feeling well and had to cancel."

Eris' throat constricts. Azriel truly meant it. He is going to leave. Today.

The doctor's hands start to tremble, almost so much the syringe slips out of them. But he tries to level his breathing, tries to focus. This is his work - he has to concentrate.

Eris' gaze lifts and he looks at the window, outside. Almost like he can see right to Azriel’s home. Or the place he called home. Azriel will soon leave and he will never—

It is the women's giggle that fetches him back to the moment. Eris turns to them, his fingers curling tighter around the cool tool in his hand. He has to focus now.

"I will give you another small injection, Emerie. If that is alright?"

Emerie nods, a small smile on her lips. Eris can see the slight hint of nervousness in her eyes - a syringe scares many people, she is definitely not the only one.

Eris gentle takes her arm into his hand, cleans the skin, searches for a vein and then inserts the injection without Emerie noticing anything. He has very skilled fingers - his patients never feel any kind of pain.

But still a grimace spreads over her face and she looks up at Eris with big eyes.

"There you go, Emerie. This will help with the pain and speed up your healing," the doctor reassures her with a warm smile.

Emerie nods weakly, Gwyn holds her other hand, concern etched upon her face.

"Frau Berdara you can stay a while, but Emerie needs a lot of rest at the moment," Eris advises. "I'll leave you two for a bit. Emerie, take it easy. If you need anything call for a nurse."

As he exits the room, the door closes softly behind him, giving the two best friends some privacy.

Once outside, Eris inhales deeply, his eyes closing. Is this a sign? That Gwyneth Berdara showed up here? Is she here only so she can remind him of Azriel?

Eris swallows thickly and shakes his head.

"Guten Abend, Herr Doktor!"

His throat feels so dry when he wants to answer, his voice croaky when he finally brings out a greeting of his own. "Guten Abend, Schwester Cerridwen."

He walks past her, not even deigning her a look. His head feels dizzy, the world around him blurring. It is almost like walls are moving closer, capturing him. He feels like a captive, his throat constricting. He can't breathe anymore, stumbling to his office. His hand comes up and he fidgets with the top button of his shirt, loosening it.

He is going to lose Azriel. He loves him and now he is going to lose him. He is going to lose the love of his life.

The doctor staggers into his office, nearly tripping over his own feet. A ragged breath leaves him when he braces his hands on the white desk and throws his head back. The only thing from crying out loud are the thin walls of the hospital. People would hear him and think he has gone mad. And maybe he has.

He definitely has. For letting Azriel go. Alone.

Azriel has been alone so much. And now he left him alone as well.

If something happened to Azriel, he would never—

"Not now!" He growls as an answer to the knock on the door. He is not in the right state of mind to talk about medical business right now.

He has to do something. He can't let him go alone. His life is Azriel. And without Azriel his life is not worth living. He has to—

"Yes, now!" That voice.

Eris only merely lifts his head, but his entire body shudders when his eyes land on Leutnant Proteus. Oberleutnant Keir's second yesterday.

"Can I help you, Herr Leutnant?" Eris asks, not able to keep the bitterness from his tone.

"I am here to pick up my daughter." His voice is nothing but a bored snarl, and the elder man strokes a hand down his coarse beard.

"Unfortunately she is not yet ready to leave."

"And who says that?" The Leutnant steps into the room, giving Eris a once-over.

To that Eris straightens up. He turns off the light on his desk, surrounds it and leans his hip against it. Then he crosses his arms in front of his broad chest. "I say that. And I may ask you now to leave. My office and the hospital. Emerie stays at least another night."

"She won't—"

"She will." Eris tilts his chin. "She needs to recover. Would you like me to call for someone to escort you outside?"

Eris' demeanour does not waver, despite the worry and whirlwind in his mind, he portrays the image of the confident and cold doctor.

The Leutnant snarls, and shakes his head. Then he turns to the door and takes two steps toward it. His hand curls around the handle, slowly and he pulls it open. Eris knows there is still something to come and he doesn't have to wait long.

"Everyone is aware that you like to stray a little bit from who men are supposed to like. Heard you have a thing for dicks."

Eris clicks his tongue, and then a cold chuckle leaves him. Leutnant Proteus is almost out of the door, making sure some people catch up on their conversation. But Eris has none of it.

"Quite bold words for someone who hits his own daughter." His voice is loud, and stern.

The Leutnant swirls around, rage etched upon his features. "You—" he seethes, but Eris cuts him off by lifting his hand.

"If I or one of the nurses and other doctors ever see bruises on her arm again, Leutnant, I will make sure that you will never ever work in this position again. If needed, I will make sure to personally escort you to a prison cell." Eris dips his chin. "If you'll excuse me now, there is something I need to do," Eris says and shrugs out of his coat. He shoves past the Leutnant and then rushes down the corridor. To his nurses and colleagues, he says, "Keep your heads up, and…have a good evening."

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. (Mary Oliver, Wild Geese)

And what he loves — there is only one thing, one person in his life that he truly loves. And this person's name hollows through his mind when he sets out for a sprint, air whooshing in and out of his lungs.

✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　 . ✦

"Fuck," Azriel groans, his hand brushing some damp strands of hair out of his face. His jacket does not fit into his old, shabby suitcase. Maybe he does not need it anyway? It is summer here in Berlin, hence it is also summer in Romania. He tosses the jacket away and tries to close the suitcase again.

The tears he shed throughout the night are still visible on his face, now dried streaks on his cheeks.

He shoves a small leather wallet into the outside pocket of his suitcase and his eyes land on a folded piece of weathered paper. It unfolds with a soft crinkle. His mother's smile, so warm, so familiar, something he hasn't seen in so long.

These were happy times. Berlin before the war. Before the…

As his fingers trace the edges of the photograph, his gaze lingers, lost in the whirlwind of emotions it evokes. The love, the loss, the ache of separation - they all swirl within him.

And now he is going to lose another person. He has no idea when or how he is ever going to see his mother again. She is still in Great Britain, and how should he get there?

He is alone. Azriel is once again alone. Like always. He is always alone. And just when he thought he wouldn't be alone, having found Eris, having fallen in love with him, he is losing him again.

A tear makes its way down his cheek, and Azriel blinks rapidly. He neatly folds the picture and shoves it back into the wallet, packing it away and continuing to pack.

Azriel rushes around in his flat, collecting bits and bobs, here and there. And as he rushes around, he spots a ring—a special ring. It’s just a simple silver band, no stones or anything on it. Eris gifted it to him a short time ago. Holding it gently, he feels its heaviness, carrying memories of a love that…no longer is. A love that is forbidden and was never meant to last.

Azriel swallows thickly, fighting the dryness in his throat, the ache at the back of his mouth. With a heavy heart, he places the ring gently in a pocket, letting it rest against his chest, close to his beating heart. The pain is palpable, throbbing in the silence of the room, only interrupted by the noises of cars outside and his own ragged breaths.

The sun is slowly starting to set which means he has to leave soon. He needs to catch the evening train.

18:12, Nordbahnhof, Platform 6

He draws in a deep inhale. Then he continues to pack and also clean his flat. It feels like closure. Leaving this place and everything he has had here behind. A new part of his life is going to start. One he hoped would include Eris. But if the man doesn't want to join him…

Azriel just doesn't understand what would keep Eris here.

Eventually, his suitcase is sealed, the room tidied, and he stands there, in front of his mirror, in the fading light of the outside world. Azriel regards himself for a moment, and knows, even if it means leaving the person he loves most behind, that what he is about to do is the right decision. He can't live here anymore.

Can't pretend to be someone else every single day of his life. He wants to be somewhere where he can be himself. Somewhere…somewhere else. Not Germany. Not a country that has never accepted him. Not a country that will never accept him. He needs to leave.

Azriel smoothes down his shirt, and inhales deeply. The light in his eyes faded the moment Eris told him he wouldn’t come with him. He knows it will take a long time for the light to return, but he will find happiness. Somewhere. Somehow.

Azriel reaches for the switch, plunging the room into darkness. For a moment, he lingers, taking in the quiet emptiness that now envelops his life. His heart. There is the void again. This deep, dark and cold void.

Eris had started to fill it with love and happiness. He made him feel alive and—

Azriel shakes his head. He does not want to think about that now. Or him.

With a resigned sigh, he turns towards the door, fingers grazing the cool door handle. His scarred fingers curl around it and he…he did not want to think about Eris, but he can't help himself and remembers the first time they met — when Eris tended to his wounds. He fell in love with him in that moment.

Azriel pulls down the handle and opens the door. His breath catches in his throat.

Their eyes meet, a collision of emotions

The weight of unspoken words hang heavy in the air, a palpable tension. The silence stretches out, taut like a violin string, almost like the part in a piece of music before the big climax. Until Eris breaks the stillness.

"I fell in love with you the first moment I laid eyes on you. Right away I was taken by your eyes, your smile, your beauty, your kindness, your charm, but it was your mind, your intelligence, your wit, that won me over. Every time we touch I get a sort of feeling no one else could ever evoke in me." Eris swallows thickly. "You being in my life brought me more happiness than you can ever imagine. I know you love me."

Eris moves in closer. "And I love you. With my whole heart and body. And I should have told you so many times before. I love you, Azriel." He inhales. "And I want to join you. I want us to run away together. Wherever it takes us. I want to be with you. Wherever we go, wherever we end up. Because I love you."

He cradles Azriel's face in his hands, making him meet his gaze. "You are the person I want to spend my life with. The one person I want to grow old with. And if we are not allowed to live here the way we want it, we have to seek life somewhere else."

Azriel is too baffled to talk. But Eris doesn't need him to talk. Not yet.

"Your mother still lives in Britain, doesn't she?"

Azriel nods, his throat too constricted to talk. "Seems like we try to go from Romania to Great Britain. We are leaving tonight."

“Bu-t you?” Azriel is still speechless, lips parted, his eyes wide open. “You…you don’t want to leave?”

“I want to be with you, Azriel.” Eris strokes his thumbs over his lover’s cheeks. “I don’t want to spend a single day without you. I need you in my life. You are my life. I can’t let you go. I love you.” His thumb catches a single tear, brushing it away. “Wherever you are, I want to be with you. I will find work again and so will you. And we will always have each other.”

Dropping one hand, he slides it into Azriel's. "Let the journey begin. I love you and I can't wait for a future with you."

Stepping outside, they are embraced by the night, hidden in the shadows of the city that is going to sleep. They don't know what awaits them in the future. In Romania. At the train station. They don't know if police is waiting for them. They don't know how dangerous the journey will be. But they will try. Whatever it needs to find true happiness.

the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting (Mary Oliver, Wild Geese)

Harsh and exciting - just like the journey ahead of them!

azris tags: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams @acourtofladydeath @secret-third-thing @born-to-riot @honeysuckle-daydreams13

#azriel x eris #azris #acotar gift exchange #azriel #eris vanserra #acotar #acosf

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fungiac1d · 2 years ago

Text

The House of Lamentation.

Mammon x gender neutral mc.

TW: trypophobia (mentions of holes in the skin), cannibalism? Demons eating humans. Mc is dead but not really (free interpretation), religious themes.

Summer mornings always work the same for me; the sheets stick to my body and I slowly get away from them, meanwhile the streets are completely silent. In summer people left the neighborhood because they had holidays, the birds don't sing since s long time, cars rest... I get up and I lay on the couch, closing my eyes, my mom hums while she cleans. I know all her songs.

This morning is quite different, after liberating myself of the sheets a cold sweat ran down my back. I got out of my room bare footed, my mom's eyes smiled at me more than usual. There wasn't music, just an intense noise coming from my inside; it has been years since I heard such a strong buzzing, it stifles my skin, it sings.

I looked at my mother and I went to the bathroom, my flesh burnt and I couldn't breath: singing, right in my stomach, all my body vibrates with it.

Then I went to the empty street, with the sleeping cars; I thought about the day before and hands, that like the sheets, stick to my tights. In summer everything remains dead, the grannies won't go to talk in the street because there is too much sun. Maybe the hands were a had dream, the asphalt amplifies how hot it is and it envelopes everything, the street is narrowing.

I think about the birds singing, I think about a world with noise which wouldn't be empty like the broken melodies of my mother's humming.

I walked until I found a small river, one I haven't seen ever. I wasn't afraid so I sat in the humid earth to get my foot in the green water, down to my knees. Then I looked at my hands, waiting for them to grow big, emaciated holes, but nothing happened.

I thought that because I saw a hive, big and overflowing, bleeding on the river where my foot rested. For a moment I wanted to open it a go inside, since I can't become a hive; I think someone opened me too and something came inside, now it's making noise so I'm never lonely again, it overflows my mother's songs.

If I'm dreaming where will I wake up? In my bed? In my father's bed? Will I be twelve again? I think there has never been a river here, I think something bad has happened.

What if I open the hive? Will all the stingers break my skin? When I was younger my parents took me to lakes so I bathed and had fun, showing the world my sun kissed belly, I look down at the river. How would it feel? To drown in honey? My organs suffocate under the noise, my skin cries and I think: there has never been a river here, or a hive, something bad has happened.

I kept walking until I reached a home, there was a man outside, his skin is rich and sun bathed, with shining eyes, he looks at me, flooded with curiosity.

—What are you doing around here?

—I'm lost.

—Then you are in the right place.

—Am I dead?

The question makes him burst out laughing, his laugh is the first thing to sounds real since I got up.

—Don't worry your pretty head over that—he gets up and walks over to me—here is all you need.

I look over to the huge victorian house.

—You want my soul?

His eyes shines.

—Your soul? Aren't you a little dumb?—he flickles my forehead, smiling—you need some rest, don't you?

When we get inside, he shows me a room. My own, he says.

—This is not only my house, but the guests too. It has a life of it own.

The walls get colder.

—What's is name, then?

He throws be a mischievous smile before answering:

—I like to call her—he caress a wall, smiling, his teeth are precious like small drops of milk—the Hose of Lamentation. It will give you anything you want.

I slowly lay down on the bed.

—Now sleep, there is so much waiting for you.

Before falling asleep I think about going back home, or to the river.

He closes the door.

The next time I open my eyes I'm still here. He is already waiting for me.

—So what do you want to do, little boring thing?

—Is there a garden?

—Let's find out.

There was a garden. He holds my hand softly, all the flowers are unborn yet, I caress the prick.

—Will you stay?

I only nod, afraid of saying the truth: I don't think I can go back.

—Good, you'll get used. The house is amazing, there is a casino in the basement just for me! It gives you anything—he gets closer to me, I can smell him—and you will be ok.

And I believe him, just like that, his name sounds weird and heavy on my tongue but when he says mine is like a soft eater flow running down.

—Are you sure I'm not dead?

For the first time, he looks at me with a more serious expression. He has a little smile dancing on his lips, I think he is very beautiful, I like his eyes, does he like mine too?

—Does it matter? If you are dead?

—I guess it doesn't.

As days passed I found myself growing more and more comfortable, the food was unique: my grandma's cookies, that cake which made me so happy in my birthday... For me, we are the only ones in the house, I don't see any guests.

He is soft with me, he watches me sleep sometimes and when I wake up he is still there, as if his day started when mine did.

He might be a little rough or hot headed sometimes but when he looks at me in the morning, with a mix of awe, affection and need, my bones move and ache in all my body.

[Then let me eat your heart, Ophelia, which shed my tears.]

The story goes like this: it's one of many nights, he looks at you. A fresh wound, pink and shining, water falling, needles.

The only meaning of pain and love is that they are endless, and the only comfort to this is their own eternity.

He looks at you knowing that time is running up, what is a body? A broken plate, a shattered shell. He gets closer but he only smells his own hunger, feeling his heavy tongue: hunger emanates from it own self, like pain.

But he has been wonderful for you, you got all you wanted and needed. Slowly getting to your soul and desires.

This night is different, because you wake up noticing how close he is. His eyes are shining, liquid gold.

You think about his teeth, small, pointy, there are so many, they are precious like milk drops. The loneliness in your house also comes to your mind.

The house BUZZES and you know that it will devour you. Is the payment for the company, for the cookies, for a cake of your eleven birthday.

Once again you look at him, and the necessity bleeds inside of you, you want more. Is not enough with the walks you wake, or with the way he looks at you sleeping, you need more.

He reeks like hunger, but not the one that makes your tummy ache and your mouth salivates, he craves your necessity, your avarice, the happiness you hold because you have everything thanks TO HIM, to the HOUSE, you feel like a fish, with your soft belly exposed to a fork and a knife, exposed to his teeth.

So you bring your hand up, closely followed by the volcanoes of gold that are his eyes, your insides scream. But you touch his lips softly, waiting for his mouth to be opened and you think: Jesus body is the bread, his blood is the wine.

When the mouth opens you pass your fingertips through the teeth, pearls, it's a humid mouth, warm, the tongue gets closer to your phalanges and you think: the bacchae kills a small mouse, to eat it's raw skin, cleaning it's little bones. That mouse is God, we eat God.

The house keeps buzzing, exactly the same way your insides did that morning when you got up.

His jaws close up around your hand and you scream, this is all you have ever wanted.

#obey me fanfic #obey me shall we date #mammon x gender neutral reader #obey me x mc #mammon avatar of greed #om! mammon #mammon angst #mammon x mc #shall we date mammon #obey me #house of lamentation #obey me house of lamentation

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cloveswifey · 2 years ago

Text

Treat You Better

Best-friend!Rafe x Fem!Reader x boyfriend!John B

Type: Angst, Fluff

Words: 830

You were excitedly sharing the details of your day at work with your boyfriend, John B, talking at a rapid pace.

"And then, oh my god, you won't believe what happened!" you enthused.

"Y/n, can you just stop talking for a minute?" John B interrupted, his tone heavy with frustration.

You came to an abrupt stop, feeling your stomach drop as you went quiet.

"I'm sorry," John B sighed, "I didn't mean it like that, baby."

"It's okay," you replied softly, "I think I should start heading home. I don't want to be out too late."

You held back tears, hurt that he would yell at you like that. John B had never raised his voice at you before, let alone about something as trivial as you being talkative.

John B nodded, looking guilty as you stood up to say goodbye. He moved in to give you a hug and kiss, but you turned your head, keeping your eyes lowered.

"Take care of yourself," you murmured, before walking away.

As you left his house, you instinctively made your way to your best friend Rafe's place. You knocked on his door and waited for a few minutes, your tears flowing freely down your face as you bit your lips to stifle your sobs.

When Rafe finally opened the door, he quickly assessed your condition and looked at you with concern.

"Y/N, what happened? Are you okay?" he asked, noticing your distress. You couldn't speak and simply broke down into his arms, clinging to him for comfort.

Rafe held you tightly, urging you to speak and telling you that he wanted to hear your voice.

But you couldn't find the words to express yourself, and Rafe understood. He carried you upstairs to his bed and settled himself beside you, snuggling closely to offer you warmth and support.

In the midst of your tears, you replayed the hurtful and thoughtless words that your boyfriend had said to you. Rafe could see your pain and anger building up, and he spoke up sternly.

"It was him, wasn't it?" Rafe asked, his voice full of conviction.

You nodded, feeling drained and hopeless.

"He said I'm annoying and wouldn't stop talking," you sobbed, "I know I'm annoying, but..."

Rafe didn't let you finish. "You wait here. I'll be back in ten," he said, putting on his coat. "I always knew he wasn't good enough for you. Fucking Pouge," Rafe muttered under his breath as he stepped out of the room.

After a while, you finally managed to fall asleep, but you were abruptly woken up by the sound of the front door opening and footsteps approaching.

Your heart raced with fear and you held your breath as the footsteps drew closer. You wondered if it could be an intruder or if something urgent had come up. Nonetheless, you tried to remain calm and alert, ready to face any situation that would come your way.

You lifted your head and saw that Rafe had brought John B along with him. "He's here to apologize," Rafe informed you, nodding in John B's direction.

You felt a mix of conflicting emotions - relief that John B had come to make things right, anger at the way he had treated you earlier, and a gnawing uncertainty about whether or not you should forgive him.

You reluctantly got up from Rafe's bed, wiping the remnants of tears from your face, and faced John B.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" you asked him, your voice steady but cold.

"Baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I was just angry," John B pleaded, his voice thick with guilt as he looked into your eyes.

You shook your head slowly, tears welling up in your eyes once more. "No, John B. I don't want to be with someone who finds me annoying. I'm sorry," you confessed softly, feeling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

"Please go," you whispered, feeling exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the moment. "I loved you, but it's not working anymore."

"Loved?" John B repeated, his face creasing with sadness as he looked at you.

"You heard her man, leave," Rafe interjected, nudging John B's shoulder to signal the end.

John B turned away in tears and walked away, leaving your life for good. It broke your heart, but you knew that you deserved someone who would listen and appreciate you, no matter what.

After John B had gone, you collapsed in Rafe's arms, crying uncontrollably. Rafe held you tightly, rubbing your back gently in an attempt to soothe you.

"It's okay, I'm right here," Rafe whispered softly, trying to comfort you.

You snuggled against his chest, feeling exhausted and depleted from the day's events. As you drifted off to sleep, you heard Rafe whisper, "I'll take care of you, my Y/N. I love you…"

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highwaytothedangerzone502 · 2 years ago

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Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 9

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 2212

Warnings: Discussion of violence, bad home life

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: I'm Only Me When I'm With You Life As We Know It

****

Hangman

He sat by the pond reading a book on fighter jets, trying to take his mind off the scrabble with his brother's best friend, Kyle, earlier. It'd left him sporting a black eye, although that'd actually come from Nick. The fight would've continued- and possibly have gotten much worse- had Michael Seresin not stepped in and broken it up. Of course, when Jake tried to explain what happened, it was his word versus Nick's. Michael believed the latter and grounded Jake for two weeks. This didn't stop Jake from sneaking out of his bedroom through his window, though. He had to get away from the stifling atmosphere and, more importantly, away from his brothers, mainly Nick.

"Jake?" Annalise's voice, which typically calmed Jake, sent his nerves spiking. He'd kept his unstable home life from her since he'd met her in June of that year. With Christmas this week, he wanted to maintain the cheerful ambiance. Thankfully, she approached from his good side, so he kept his focus on his book but smiled.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said, flipping to the next page. "What are you doing here?"

"Walking Kory," Annalise replied, scratching the head of her golden retriever. "What the hell are you doing out here? It's freezing."

"Wanted to get out of the house."

"And sitting in the frigid temperatures on the frozen ground to read your book was the best place you could come up with?" Annalise crouched next to him, and Jake realized he couldn't escape the situation without telling her the truth. Sighing, he turned his head to look at her. Her eyes immediately widened at the sight. "Who did that to you?"

"Nick. I caught his friend Kyle stealing money from my wallet and confronted him about it. When I tried to take it back, we started fighting. Nick joined in and socked me. Now I have this shiner," Jake explained, motioning at the injury. "My dad broke up the fight but believed Nick instead of me when we told him what happened. Got grounded for two weeks. I snuck out my window because I didn't want to be in the house."

"Those dicks!" Annalise exclaimed, fury alight in her eyes.

"Yeah, well, that's my brother and my dad. I swear Dad hates me. Always takes my brothers' sides in everything, regardless of whether it's Nick or Matt."

"How come?"

Jake shrugged. "No idea. It's been like that for as long as I can remember. Why do you think I want to get out of this town so badly when we graduate?"

"I figured you're ready to get out in the real world like I am..." Annalise said, standing up. She offered her hand. "Come on. Let's head to my house and get you an ice pack."

"I don't want your parents to see me like this."

"Mom and Dad won't be home until tomorrow, and Jackie is at a friend's house tonight. They won't know," Annalise assured, wiggling her fingers to silently insist he join her. Jake relented, taking her hand and allowing her to help him stand. The pair strolled back to her house with Kory trotting happily between them.

Upon entering the Blackwood household, Jake knelt down to pet Kory while Annalise grabbed an ice pack. She handed it to Jake and sat next to him. "I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?" Jake replied, placing the ice pack to his eye.

"For what happened with your family and for making you feel like you couldn't come to me about it."

"No, no, that's not- that's not why I didn't tell you. I know I could've told you; I just didn't want to. You can't do anything to stop it, and I didn't want to burden you."

"Nothing you tell me is ever a burden to me, Jake," Annalise assured, placing a hand on his knee. "Besides, burdens are too heavy for one to carry alone. You should have someone to come to about this."

The sincerity in her voice and in her words broke the dam of everything he'd held back from telling her. He told her about the fights between his parents, how his mom would end up in tears after each one, and how she would never leave Michael Seresin for the sake of her sons because she worried about losing the custody battle that would ensue from a divorce. Jake told Annalise how his mom was his only ally in the house and that Matt had slowly been getting nicer since he left for college, but Nick brought out the worst in him, and Matt would often slip back into his bullying habits when he returned home. Jake confessed that the first day he ran into Annalise, he'd gotten into an argument with his dad because he didn't want to join the family business, and Michael Seresin lost his damn mind over it. Jake admitted he'd thought about running away on numerous occasions and that the only thing keeping him here was his mom and-

"You," Jake finished. "Don't get me wrong, I've always had friends, but I've never felt as close to them as I do you. I get that that's cheesy, and maybe I'm saying this because I got a small concussion or something in the fight earlier, but... yeah. It sounds stupid coming out of my mouth now..."

"No, no, it's not stupid at all," Annalise said, shifting so she sat cross-legged. She dropped her gaze from his. "I've never really had close friends before. I used to when I was little, but we moved so often, and I hated how much it hurt when I left that I decided to avoid making friends entirely. I'd be friendly, sure, but not have friends. That way, I wouldn't be upset when I inevitably moved again. I tried not to get too close to you, and I even prepared myself for us to never speak again once school started-"

Jake frowned at the admission. "Why did you think we wouldn't speak after school started?"

"Because you were Mr. Popular, and I was invisible. Except for when I'm around you, I'm a ghost, whether I intend to be or not. But you proved me wrong, and I'm really glad you did. You're the only close friend I've ever had. So... thank you."

"I'm not sure if I should be honored that I'm the only person you've allowed to be a close friend or if I should be insulted that you thought I'd stop talking to you because of my popularity," Jake joked lightly, although the latter did, in fact, concern him.

"No, it wasn't because of your- it was just that you were a somebody, and I was a nobody. I thought: why would you want anything to do with me once you were with all your friends back at school?"

Jake chuckled. "I never told you this, but my friends weren't busy the entire summer, you know. They were the first day I met you but after that? They invited me to all kinds of things, and I skipped hanging out with them to be with you."

Annalise stared at him in bewilderment. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I liked being around you more than I did them."

She shook her head, still apparently unable to believe his words. "But why? All I do is play guitar and talk fighter jets."

"And nearly decapitate me with said guitar."

"That was one time!"

"Which I will never let you live down," Jake replied, shooting her a cheeky grin. She swatted playfully at his arm in return. "In all seriousness, I love that you found your interests and what you want to do already. You have a path to follow, a future that you have all planned out. I had no idea what I wanted until you came along. You helped me realize that I want to be a part of something bigger than myself. I want to do something no one in my family has done before and make a name for myself."

"I get it, but I also know you, Jake. Part of you choosing the Navy is because you also want to fly badass jets, don't you?"

"I really want to fly badass jets," Jake whined. "Can you imagine being up in an F-18 flying at almost Mach 2? Or an F-35?"

Annalise pursed her lips. "Will you hate me if I say yes?"

Jake narrowed his eyes at her. "Say 'yes' to what?"

"That I can imagine? Because I've been up in one?"

His mouth dropped slightly open, stunned at the response and insanely jealous. Deciding he had to give her hell for it, he declared, "We can't be friends anymore. Nope. We're done!"

"It was my birthday present this year... I asked for it again for Christmas. Don't know if it's going to happen, but if it's any consolation-" a bashfulness seemingly overcame Annalise- "I, uh, I might've asked my parents if we could swing having you go up with me too. As your Christmas present from me."

Jake blinked, processing her words. "... But- but all I got you was a new guitar-"

"You did?" Annalise perked up instantly.

"Yeah, but that doesn't even come close to going up in a fighter jet! My present game is weak compared to yours!"

"Are you kidding? Guitars aren't cheap, Jake! The fact that you got me one is amazing!"

Jake scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, but-"

"No 'buts.' The guitar is perfect. I can't wait to see it!"

"Might have to wait until after Christmas since I'm grounded..."

"Speaking of which-" Annalise checked the time- "how long before your dad finds out you're not home?"

"He probably won't notice I'm gone until dinner, so I have a couple more hours."

"Do you want to risk getting in more trouble by not being home?"

"What's another week of being grounded? Besides, you're worth it," Jake said, unsure of where his sentimentality and borderline flirtatious remarks stemmed from. "Want to watch a movie?"

"Uh, only if you want to watch The Notebook because that's the only option you're getting."

"I need to see what the big deal is about the movie anyway, so why not?"

"It's romantic, and it has Ryan Gosling."

"What's with the letters thing?" Jake asked as he followed Annalise into the living room. They sat on the couch while she pulled out the movie and put it into the DVD player.

"You'll have to wait and find out, but it's super sweet," Annalise said with a wistful smile. She then added, "If a guy ever did that for me, I might marry him on the spot."

"Noted."

"What? You planning on marrying me or something?"

"No, I'm just making sure no other guy finds out your weakness and exploits it."

"Please, my one true love is fighter jets, so no need to worry about that." Annalise patted his shoulder, and he ignored the twinge of pain in his heart at her words. While she most likely meant it as a joke, the thought he might never have a chance with her hurt more than he cared to admit. Of course, it was probably for the better. What did he have to offer her? Now or in the future? Annalise came from a strong, stable family. She had goals and had the means to reach them. Jake was the polar opposite. Sure, he had the same goals as Annalise, but if his dad caught wind that his son wanted to join the Navy, his head might actually explode from fury. Besides, Jake's home life was anything but stable. Why would a girl like Annalise ever date him? She wouldn't, and he doubted her parents would let her either, so Jake decided being her best friend would be the only thing he'd ever be to her, and that was okay. As long as he had her in his life, that's all that mattered. Annalise had swiftly turned into his rock, his anchor, and he feared what he might become without her to keep him grounded. Jake could do nothing to risk losing her.

"Hey, Annie?"

"Annie?" she echoed, giving him a curious look. "That's new."

Jake cocked his head, confused himself. "Sorry. I didn't- I don't know where that came from. I won't call you that again."

"No... it's fine."

"But no one else calls you Annie?"

"I know," Annalise responded, smiling shyly at him. "I'm only allowing you."

"Why?"

"Because you're you." Jake couldn't help but smile cheekily, prompting Annalise to add, "Don't let that give you a big head. Otherwise, you'll lose the privilege."

"Understood."

"So, what were you trying to tell me before I interrupted you?"

"I just wanted to thank you for earlier and for letting me escape that hellhole for a bit."

"I've got your back, Jake. You made the mistake of getting close to me, so now you're stuck with me. You know that, right?"

Jake raised an eyebrow at her. "Forever?"

"And always."

"Sounds good to me." Jake slung his arm around her shoulders, and Annalise rested her head on his shoulders. They settled in to watch the movie, both finding comfort in each other's presence.

****

Tags: @lgg5989 @shanimallina87 @polikszena @summ3rlotus @icemansgirl1999 @supernaturaldawning @thedarkinmansfield @lyannaforpresident @lapilark @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @simpofthecentury @shadeops21 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @double-j @bradshawsandbridgetons @catsandgeekyandnerd @peachiicherries @multifandomcnova @fandomsstolemylife00 @bookloverhorses @mak-32 @midnightmagpiemama @luckyladycreator2 @ellamae021 @genius2050

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9

If you're not on the tag list and want to be, just let me know :)

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blackjackkent · 1 year ago

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Melissan's body hits the platform with a dull thud and Caden stands above her, his sword at her throat. He wants her dead - for the safety of Faerun, primarily, but there is also a painful throb of Bhaal's lingering power at the back of his mind, demanding vengeance...destruction...murder...

He squeezes the sword, closes his eyes tightly, gasps for breath in the stifling heat...

And a voice breaks through the chaos, driving the place to utter stillness in an instant.

Melissan, writhing on the floor in utter rage and desperation, reaches up and grabs the blade of Caden's sword, trying to twist it out of his hands. Blood wells between her fingers and smears on the metal and she screams like a wounded animal.

The solar looks on, unimpressed, at this show of panic.

Light flashes from the angel's fingertips, striking into Melissan at the eyes and then surging over her whole body. The woman goes abruptly rigid, then topples to one side, silent and still on the platform.

As if nothing at all had happened. the solar turns to look at Caden with that unruffled, detached smile.

At Caden's side, Imoen shifts, then steps forward to stand next to him, her head high in spite of the fear he can see in every line of her face.

Caden almost laughs - certainly it can't be so easy - but the sound dies on his lips as another wave of blue-white light washes over them. He hears Imoen gasp, and then she sags slightly, one hand going to her chest, feeling the emptiness there where Bhaal's power lay. Then she relaxes, looks to Caden and smiles cautiously.

Caden feels tension spread through his whole body at once as the solar's eyes turn back upon him again. He swallows, tries to stand as straight as possible, even though all he wants to do is lie down forever. The blood is still dripping off his blade onto the floor.

Caden listens, staring at her in wonder. What she describes...it sounds like unmitigated bliss. To live as a man with no touch of a god in his veins? To live among his friends, with no need to fight or to shoulder the burden of the world? To be free?

He is so tired. He wants to lay his head in Aerie's lap and sleep for a year. He wants freedom and life and home so badly that it aches in his chest.

How can there be another choice than this? What else could the solar possibly think he would want?

Oh. Of course.

Caden feels slightly dizzy, a wave of nausea rising in his throat. With a word, he could turn the course of the gods. He could claim his murderous father's power - perhaps for good, or perhaps until his mind cracked with the overwhelming evil.

The solar speaks as if this is some tempting choice, as if something about this would call to him more than the idea of life and freedom. And, more astonishing than that...his friends think he might be tempted, too.

Rasaad is the first to speak, and it's evident he is trying very carefully to be controlled, impartial.

Caden once again feels his throat tighten with unshed tears, unable to speak. The affirmation means more than he can say, the confidence from this man whose opinion he values above almost all others that he would make a good use of this terrible power...

But he does not want it.

The others circle around him, and he can see the muted grief in their eyes - all of them ready to bid farewell to someone who has meant so much to them. There is the attitude of a funeral in every expression. Their words tumble out over each other, each of them feeling some pressure of time slipping away and desperate to make sure he hears them before he disappears.

But in the midst of them all is Aerie, who has gone very still while the solar spoke, and her eyes are locked on Caden's as if even to blink would be to lose a moment with him.

He reaches out, grabs her hand tightly and presses it to his lips, shaking his head. His throat feels stuck, and all the words he wants to say won't come out - I'm not going, I won't do it, I want to go home, I want to live, I want to be yours, always...

What emerges instead is ragged and hoarse, a few stammering words that do not do his heart justice.

Tears well in her eyes and she throws herself against him, wrapping her arms tightly around him, face pressed into his shoulder where he feels his shirt dampen from her tears.

He holds her against him, presses his face into her hair. Even as he struggles to articulate his feelings, he can sense the solar watching them, those burning eyes digging into the back of his head.

Is he making the wrong choice? To deny an angel when it offers him such power? Is Rasaad right? Could he use it for good?

She hiccups, trying to control the overwhelming fear that has her clinging to him, and nods slightly against his shoulder. He can see her struggling to square her shoulders, to be brave as she has learned to be in their adventures together. And even as his heart aches for that fear and love that he feels from her in equal measure, he is proud too - so proud of who she has become.

And in that moment, as she gathers herself to stand alone, he knows that his first instinct was right. He cannot leave these people, this world, this life. This is where he belongs.

She starts to draw back, but he holds her to him, catches her cheek in his palm and turns her eyes to his. "Don't fear, my love," he whispers, and tips his head to press his lips against her mouth. "Don't fear," he whispers against her skin. "You will never be alone. Not today, or ever."

He lifts his head, glances to the others, meeting each gaze intently. Some steadiness has returned to his bearing, and he says, with a sudden calm certainty, "I am not going anywhere."

The solar has been watching this play out, expression unmoved but suddenly intensely interested.

The solar tilts her head slowly to one side - and then smiles, the first true smile Caden has yet seen from her.

A ripple of uncertainty and then relief passes through all of his companions in a moment. Imoen grins widely and throws an arm around his shoulders, hugging him tight to her side.

The others gather around him, grins bursting on to each face in turn - but Aerie's reaction is the only one that he truly has eyes for. If her grief tore at his heart, her joy is similarly all-consuming; he thinks he could simply drink in the light in her eyes for all of the life now remaining to him.

Her arms are around him and her face back in his chest, and his friends are on all sides like a protective wall against everything that he has endured. And they are free, all of them.

It is over... The idea is bewildering, overwhelming. None of them seem quite able to process it.

The solar waves a hand, and the teleportation spell wraps around them.

The last thing they see as they disappear from the platform is the harsh green light lancing out to envelop Melissan's body, and the last thing they hear is her scream of rage and agony.

#bjk plays baldur's gate 2 #caden of candlekeep #holy SHIT this got long #and took a long time not least because there was no opportunity to get a text recap of this conversation #so i had to replay the fight AGAIN and then cap it line by line #ugh #but eeeeeeeeeee!#this is a better ending than i was afraid caden would get :D #he is FREE!

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seitmai · 8 months ago

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I feel lowkey bad for the huge paragraphs of comments so I'm gonna use the read more function again lol

"It's just pedicures and pottery," you whispered against Bradley's lips with a smile as he held you close so he could feel your round belly against his body.

That sounds like a perfect evening/outing!! 😍

I would probably the people out of my life if someone ever organized a Bachelorette party with penis shaped stuff, pink sash, etc. For me

When Natasha started honking her horn, he let his forehead rest on your shoulder. "She's the worst." You just laughed and kissed his cheek as you said, "She's the best, and you know it, Daddy."

Bradley don't even try it, we all know Natasha is the best

Bradley stood on the porch with Noah and waved until you were out of sight, and then Noah asked, "Can we get Mommy a coloring book?" "Hey," Bradley said, nudging the door open while also making sure Skittles didn't get outside without her leash on. "That's a great idea, Bub. Maybe a Princess coloring book? You can give it to her for the wedding?" His son looked so much like a tiny version of himself, and he had to stifle his laughter as Noah nodded stoically and said, "Yeah, she'd like that. I have so many great ideas."

Noah is so thoughtful and unlocks a ned headcanon for me: Noah will be the best and most thoughtful gift giver all his life and the ideas come just super easy to him because he is so observative and he listens

"Yeah, okay. I can try to make them the way you like-" "Mommy left some in the fridge."

Ahahaha I love it, Noah won't even let Bradley finish that thought

You groaned and said, "I like all the older, DILF-y actors." Natasha started cackling as you covered your eyes with your hands. "You have a type!" she said amidst her laughter. "And your type is Rooster!"

Nothing wrong with that 😌🤷🏻‍♀️

"Well," she said, leaning a little closer to you like she had a secret. "You found a good one. Or rather, I kind of found you for him. But regardless, he's a keeper. Kind of because he has Noah."

I just love Nat haha

Natasha hummed as she took another forkful of dessert. "I'm telling you, he'll always be good like that. He's a planner. Very responsible."

And she is the greatest hypewoman!

"Yeah, I'm going," he groaned. "Nat will just have the guys drag me out if I don't go willingly. But I don't really care about looking at strippers. I got you and your perfect tits right here at home."

You were the picture of sated perfection with his cum oozing out of your pussy and your wet fingers skimming along your swollen belly and breasts. You were his young, pristine babysitter and his pregnant wife-to-be and everything in between. "I love you."

🥵🥵🥵

The guys had apparently all been so excited when Natasha mentioned the strip club, she had a hard time holding in her laughter. The plan all along was that she'd take Bradley and the rest of them to dinner and then to The Tiger's Cage- San Diego's premier male review.

Ahahah I can't 😂 this is the best thing ever!! Nat not only tricked Bradley but the others too 😂😂😂

"Mommy?" Noah asked as you got him changed into his dinosaur pajamas. "Are you going to adopt me?" You smiled and kissed him on his chubby cheek. "I am," you promised. But when you looked at his face, his brow was pinched with worry. "Is it going to hurt?"

This is so peak kid logic, I love it 🥹🥰

Bradley Bradshaw: Nat brought us to The Tiger's Cage. My name is on the marquee. It says CONGRATULATIONS DADDY BRADSHAW

Not the marquee😂💀

"You smell like Axe body spray. I can't believe someone is marrying you." "Jesus fuck, Nat. I smell like Axe because you took me to see male strippers."

The Axe body spray, I can't 😂😂😂

"Princess," he crooned softly when he saw you, and your heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes.

The baby cow eyes strike once again!

"They tried to get Daddy Bradshaw up on stage. I pointed to Jake and said it was him."

Iconic😂 Why do I feel like Jake would deny that he liked it 😅🤔

The Younger Kind Part 60 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Your bachelorette outing and Bradley's bachelor party are both hosted by the same person, but they couldn't be more different. Spending an evening at home with Noah is reminiscent of your babysitting days, but now he's asking you some pertinent questions.

Warnings: pregnancy topics, swearing, smut, drinking, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Natasha was outside in her SUV on the driveway, ready to pick you up for your bachelorette outing. You refused to call it a bachelorette party since it was just the two of you going out for the evening, but Bradley made sure his best friend knew to spare no expense when it came to anything you wanted.

"It's just pedicures and pottery," you whispered against Bradley's lips with a smile as he held you close so he could feel your round belly against his body. "I'll be home in a few hours."

He grunted softly, kissing you a little deeper before releasing your lips. "We'll still miss you," he murmured, letting his hands roam along your hips while Noah sat on the area rug and worked on one of the new coloring books you picked up for him. "And don't overdo it." When Natasha started honking her horn, he let his forehead rest on your shoulder. "She's the worst."

You just laughed and kissed his cheek as you said, "She's the best, and you know it, Daddy."

It would have been impossible to dispute that fact. She was the one who took care of you when Bradley wasn't stateside. "Go have fun."

"Bye, Mommy!" Noah said, popping up to give you a hug when Bradley released you. He scooped his son up since he didn't want you lifting anything, and you gave Noah a kiss on the forehead.

"Have fun with Daddy," you told him, kissing him once more before heading outside to Nat's idling SUV.

Bradley stood on the porch with Noah and waved until you were out of sight, and then Noah asked, "Can we get Mommy a coloring book?"

"Hey," Bradley said, nudging the door open while also making sure Skittles didn't get outside without her leash on. "That's a great idea, Bub. Maybe a Princess coloring book? You can give it to her for the wedding?"

His son looked so much like a tiny version of himself, and he had to stifle his laughter as Noah nodded stoically and said, "Yeah, she'd like that. I have so many great ideas."

Bradley took him back inside, and they ended up stretched out on the floor together. Noah continued with his masterpiece while Bradley started searching for options on his phone. After a few minutes, he found an independent shop that made coloring books with different themes based on photos that you send to them. "Do you like this?" he asked his son, holding up his phone.

Noah looked at the sample pages as Bradley scrolled through them. He nodded and said, "Mommy is prettier than that."

"She absolutely is," Bradley replied as he realized the wedding was in a week and didn't know if a custom book could even be completed in that short amount of time. "Let me see if we can get something like this for her. If not, we can always save it for her birthday."

His son started to pout at the mere mention of having to wait longer for it, so Bradley started typing up a message to the owner of the shop, hoping that he'd be able to explain that it was for his wedding. Once that was done, he checked the time and asked, "Do you need a snack before dinner?"

"Ants on logs," Noah replied without missing a beat. Bradley had no problem with the healthy snacks you somehow tricked the two of them into eating, but he was always told he never got the peanut butter proportions right.

"Yeah, okay. I can try to make them the way you like-"

"Mommy left some in the fridge."

Bradley chuckled as he stood up, coaxing Noah to abandon his coloring project for the time being. "Of course she did. She's the best." Somehow even when you weren't here, you had everything covered.

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

"Okay, so if you could ditch Bradley and marry a celebrity, who would you pick?"

You burst out laughing in the pedicure chair next to Natasha with your hands resting on the roundest part of your belly. "Who said I would? Even if I could?" She gave you a look followed by an eye roll before you said, "You'll laugh at me, so I don't even want to say my answer."

"Just say it," she prompted as you dragged your foot through the warm water.

You groaned and said, "I like all the older, DILF-y actors."

Natasha started cackling as you covered your eyes with your hands. "You have a type!" she said amidst her laughter. "And your type is Rooster!"

You thought back to all the time you wasted with Greyson and other guys your age and grimaced. "I don't think that was always my type. It's a more recent development, and I'm not mad about it." You moved your hand on your belly and added, "Boy suck. Men are at least marginally better."

"Well," she said, leaning a little closer to you like she had a secret. "You found a good one. Or rather, I kind of found you for him. But regardless, he's a keeper. Kind of because he has Noah."

"Mostly because he has Noah," you told her, and then both of you were laughing.

After your nails were painted a vibrant purple, Natasha took you out for dinner and let you eat until you were full. You could tell your body and appetite were changing by the day, but you refused to feel self conscious about it in front of her. The two of you were sharing a slice of cake for dessert when you said, "He really did plan almost everything for the wedding. All I did was help him pick out matching suits for him and Noah to wear. And I picked out some flowers and my dress, but that's it."

Natasha hummed as she took another forkful of dessert. "I'm telling you, he'll always be good like that. He's a planner. Very responsible."

You felt silly telling her what was on your mind, but you said it anyway. "He pays my credit card bill. Not that I spend a lot! I try not to! I usually just buy groceries and things for Noah." She nodded like your words weren't as startling as you thought they were. "I kind of wanted to surprise him as a thank you, but if I buy something, he'll see it on the credit card statement."

Maybe you should have been wary of the smirk that found its way to her lips when Natasha said, "What if I rally the boys one night this week and take him out for a little bachelor party?"

"Oh," you said softly. "You'd do that? Just something lowkey?"

"Super lowkey," she agreed with a nod.

You could easily imagine them going to Top Golf or out for some drinks. "I think he might really like that."

"Or.... and just hear me out," she said, holding up her hands innocently after handing her credit card to the waiter. "Or, you let me absolutely roast him for the night."

You studied her face; how bad could it be? She was Bradley's best friend after all. Even if she was giving him a hard time, she'd probably make it fun. "What did you have in mind?" you asked as the two of you left the restaurant and headed for the pottery boutique down the block.

"A few things I'm going to need your approval for," she replied casually. And while you worked on making yourself a mug that said Noah's Mommy, you listened to Natasha's not-so-lowkey plans for Thursday night. By the time your mug actually looked like a mug, you gave her full approval.

"I almost feel bad about this," you told her with a laugh.

"I don't."

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

The following evening after Noah was in bed, Bradley set you up for a nice shower while he cleaned up the kitchen from the chicken enchiladas you made for dinner. When Nat called him, he held his phone to his shoulder with his cheek and kept working.

He answered the call and asked, "Hey, what's up?"

"Your bachelor party with me and the guys starts at six o'clock on Thursday evening."

He laughed in response. "It's funny that this is the first time I'm hearing about it."

Bradley could practically feel her rolling her eyes through the phone. "Just be ready to go."

"Ready for what?" he asked, knowing better than to just trust her with this. The dating app was one thing, and that had turned out great in the end, but he wasn't going to blindly go with her on this.

"Uhhh... just some stuff."

"Natasha."

"Bradley."

"What did you do?"

There was a brief pause before she said, "Just be ready for dinner, booze and some strippers."

With a deep sigh, Bradley closed his eyes and said, "I'm going to have to check with my wife-to-be about the strippers, Nat." You had to know by now that you had nothing to worry about, and he wasn't even all that keen on going to a strip club, but he didn't want you to be upset.

"She knows the plan."

He froze as he loaded the dishwasher. "She does?"

Natasha laughed, and Bradley swore he felt his skin crawl. "She does. Be ready for six o'clock on Thursday."

"We have work on Friday-"

She already ended the call. Bradley finished cleaning up when he heard you getting out of the shower. "God damn it, Nat," he muttered as he turned off the kitchen lights and made his way back to the bedroom where you were all wrapped up in a towel.

"Hi, Daddy."

He groaned at your words and your little smirk. "Hey, Baby. Can we talk for a minute?"

Your eyebrows shot up as you held your towel around you a little tighter. "What's wrong? Is it something about the wedding? Did the marriage license not go through? We only have six days."

"No, no," he promised, reaching for you. "It's not that. It's... I just got off the phone. With Nat."

You looked relieved as you leaned against him. "Good. I was worried for a second."

Bradley didn't quite know how to approach this topic now that he was here. Natasha would be as tenacious as a junkyard dog about her plans, so he had to say something. "You don't have anything to worry about."

You laughed softly. "That sounds nice."

He cleared his throat and said, "Nat called about my bachelor party night?"

It came out more like a question than a statement, but you just nodded and said, "Dinner and drinks and the strip club."

"Yeah," he rasped. "You approved this whole thing?"

"Mmhmm. To be fair, it was all her idea. I just told her it was okay."

Bradley tipped your chin so you were looking up at him, your face fresh and perfect after your shower. "If this plan is not okay with you, then I'm not going."

"It's okay with me," you replied easily. "I trust you."

He studied your face. "I feel like I'm going to end up babysitting everyone on a work night. Two days before the wedding."

You snorted in response. "You'll have fun. And so will everyone else. You should go."

You didn't stop him when he slowly tugged your towel from your fingers and pulled it open. And yeah, your tits looked perfect, but so did the swell of your pregnant belly and your soft skin. He was hard as soon as the towel hit the floor.

"Daddy," you whined softly, shivering in his arms. It was December, and the nights were chilly in San Diego; you had taken to snuggling with him even more than usual in your sleep. "Now you need to warm me up."

"My pleasure," he replied, scooping you up and dropping you carefully onto the king sized bed that you picked out for the room. "Let me start right here," he whispered before he kissed you softly, covering your body gently with his. "Feeling warmer?"

You shifted beneath him, spreading your legs wider so he was nestled against your pussy, his cock straining against his jeans zipper. "A little bit," you whispered innocently.

Bradley smirked, and when he brought his hand up to stroke your breast, he said, "I told you, I got these perfect tits right here."

"Bradley," you giggled as his fingers skimmed along your skin, but when he stroked his thumb across your tightly furled nipple, you arched your back and made a raspy gasping sound. Your eyes went wide as you looked up at him. "Oh my god," you moaned.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling his hand away, but you were already nodding vigorously.

"It felt really good." The words rushed right from your lips as you rolled your hips up to meet his. "Different, I guess. I can't explain it."

When he rubbed your nipple between his thumb and index finger, he smirked. You were instantly squirming and moaning, reaching for his zipper with one hand and his hair with the other. Your eyes were wild even though he was being gentle, and he dipped his head down to whisper in your ear. "You're extra sensitive right now. It's the pregnancy hormones." He plucked and stroked as you started panting. "God damn, Princess. You like that?"

"Yes!" Your voice already sounded broken, and he'd barely touched you.

"Shh. Keep quiet like a good girl." But his words and hand seemed to have the opposite effect on you, because you just got louder. Bradley reached down to where you had his cock free from his zipper and pulled your hand up to his lips. He kissed your fingers before shoving them a little rough into your mouth. "You have to be quiet if you want me to play with you."

You moaned around your own fingers but nodded your head, and at least you were quieter now as Bradley kissed his way from your neck down to your tits. He didn't know how he was going to manage you when there were two kids in the house trying to sleep, but at the moment, he didn't really care. You were going to be his wife in a few short days. That thought alone had him bucking his cock against the bedding as he ran his mustache along your peaked nipple, inhaling your wildflower scent.

When he pulled your nipple into his mouth and sucked, he could tell your breasts were already a little bit bigger than before. Soon you'd be bigger everywhere. Getting even more sensitive by the day. He was painfully hard right now, listening to your muffled screams and tasting you. He licked and sucked until your tits were both damp from his mouth and overstimulated from his mustache.

When you started bucking up, Bradley eased his hand down to cup your pussy and found that you were soaked. He couldn't remember Meredith getting quite like this as he dipped his middle finger into your slick and easing it down to your hole.

"Daddy," you gasped as you pulled your fingers from your mouth. "I'm going to come."

You looked shocked by your statement as you sank down around his finger. He could already feel your tight pussy fluttering around him as he whispered, "You want me to make it so good?"

His only answer was a whimper as you bit your lip, and he knew he'd make sure you were always taken care of in every way. Carefully, he added a second finger and started to circle your clit with his thumb. You were shaking a bit, your pretty tits bouncing softly as he ran his nose down the valley between your breasts.

"Be a good girl. You know where to put those fingers, Princess," he coaxed, watching you slip them between your lips. Then he let you have his mouth on your tits again, while his hand worked at your pussy. He carefully drew a shaking orgasm out of you as you slobbered on your own fingers, not stopping until he was afraid you'd be too far gone soon.

"Daddy," you whined around your fingers as he ran his tongue flat across your nipple.

"Let me fuck you," he begged, realizing he was already close and needing to be inside you. "Please, Baby."

You reached for his cock and guided him home, and he fucked you with his jeans barely pulled down, coming inside you after just a few strokes. You were the picture of sated perfection with his cum oozing out of your pussy and your wet fingers skimming along your swollen belly and breasts. You were his young, pristine babysitter and his pregnant wife-to-be and everything in between. "I love you."

"Keep me warm all night, Daddy."

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

As you sent Bradley off with Natasha, you shared a conspiratorial look with her. You only felt slightly bad for keeping the bachelor party plans to yourself, and ultimately it made you feel good when Bradley went out for the night in an old pair of jeans and an uninspired shirt. He didn't look the part of a man who wanted to try to dazzle some strippers, and you loved him for it.

"Bye, Bub," he said, kneeling to kiss Noah where he stood at your side. "Be good for Mommy." Then he stood and kissed you deeply. "I won't be out late, okay?"

"Stay out as late as you want," you told him, running your fingers along his cheek as he pulled away from you. "Just don't have a hangover on Saturday."

He smiled and focused on your face even as Nat and the guys yelled at him from Javy's car in the driveway. "Our wedding day. It'll be perfect. Like you."

"Go," you told him with a laugh even as you had butterflies in your belly. "Have fun. We'll be here when you get home."

With one more kiss, he was off and jogging down the walkway. You watched him climb into the backseat, then they all waved at you as Javy backed out of the driveway with Natasha in the front seat. You were wondering how long it would be until Bradley called you to tell you he had in fact been taken to see a bunch of male strippers. The guys had apparently all been so excited when Natasha mentioned the strip club, she had a hard time holding in her laughter. The plan all along was that she'd take Bradley and the rest of them to dinner and then to The Tiger's Cage- San Diego's premier male review.

But you didn't hear from them at all while you and Noah ate macaroni and cheese together. You still didn't hear a word as the two of you took Skittles for a short walk to look at Christmas lights. You even let Noah dip his hands in green paint to make a Christmas tree art project to hang on the refrigerator, but nobody called or texted you.

"Mommy?" Noah asked as you got him changed into his dinosaur pajamas. "Are you going to adopt me?"

You smiled and kissed him on his chubby cheek. "I am," you promised. But when you looked at his face, his brow was pinched with worry.

"Is it going to hurt?"

"Oh, Noah," you said with a surprised laugh, pulling him into your arms and holding him against his growing younger sibling. "Not at all! It won't feel like anything."

"Then why are you going to do it?" he asked, face muffled by your shoulder.

You soothed his back with your hand, considering his question. For all intents and purposes, you really were his mom. Bradley added you to his will; if anything happened to him, Noah was solely yours. "I kind of want to have a little piece of paper with an official signature that says we get to be together forever. Does that sound okay?"

"That's adoption?" he asked.

"That's adoption."

"Yeah, okay," he agreed with a little shrug before climbing into bed. "Can I sleep with Skittles again?"

The pup appeared in the doorway, always excited to hear her name. "She can stay in here until Daddy gets home." You set the dog in bed with him and gave him a little kiss on his forehead as he yawned. "I love you."

"Love you, Mommy." He was half asleep as you turned on his night light and left the room. When you checked your phone, you smiled, having finally received the message you were waiting for.

Bradley Bradshaw: Nat brought us to The Tiger's Cage. My name is on the marquee. It says CONGRATULATIONS DADDY BRADSHAW

You were doubled over in laughter, holding your belly and trying not to wet yourself. Because he also sent a picture. All of the guys were lined up under the marquee sign, and you were pleased to see that they all looked like they were being good sports about the entire thing. Bradley was the only one who looked slightly mortified.

You texted back Go have fun, Daddy Bradshaw!

Natasha sent you some random photos as you got ready for bed. You were surprised Jake was there, given your history with him, but even he looked like he was having fun. You laughed at a picture of Bradley drinking something pink and blended, and then the photos stopped.

You wondered what was going on, but you kept yourself busy. Bradley told you not to clean up, promising to take care of everything tomorrow night before the wedding in the backyard on Saturday afternoon. Since you had the time and the privacy, you tried on your wedding dress one last time, sliding the fabric along your legs and zipping it up your side. You grabbed your purple paper crown, which was looking a lot worse for the wear now, and set it on your head.

When you looked in the mirror, you smiled. The dress fit like a dream and hugged your bump. The crown looked fun at the moment, but you wouldn't wear it on Saturday; you were pretty sure Bradley considered it a 'bedroom' item at this point anyway. Mostly, you looked happy. Like someone who was accepted in this perfect place. Like a woman who was needed here. And you needed the Bradshaw boys to be your family.

You wore the dress around for a few minutes before carefully unzipping it and getting ready for bed. It was late now, but you requested the day off tomorrow, and you wanted to see Bradley when he got home from his bachelor party. After you checked on Noah and Skittles, you curled up on the living room couch.

Every time you stopped to think about the wedding, you got a little anxious. When you asked Bradley what he had planned for dinner for the reception, he just told you he had everything under control. He said all you had to do was show up with some sort of wedding vows, but he didn't tell you anything that he had planned.

You dozed off on the couch, somehow still exhausted all the time, and you had no idea how late it was when you woke up to the sound of laughter and a key in the front door.

"You smell like Axe body spray. I can't believe someone is marrying you."

"Jesus fuck, Nat. I smell like Axe because you took me to see male strippers."

"Well, I know I had a great time tonight," Natasha cackled as she guided Bradley inside, and you stood up with your hand clasped over your mouth. He was a swaying mess, and he was holding a huge wad of cash and a bag from a convenience store.

"Princess," he crooned softly when he saw you, and your heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes.

"Hi, Daddy."

And then he was on you, so gentle in his overindulgence, it was almost surprising. He was looking around like he wasn't sure what to do with everything he was holding, trying to touch your belly.

"I'll see you on Saturday," Natasha said with a smile as she closed the door behind her, and then you were alone with him.

"What's in the bag? Are why are you holding a roll of cash?" you asked as you guided him to the couch.

He sat down hard and handed everything to you as you stood between his splayed legs. "The strippers were dudes. I made Nat and Javy stop so I could get you some Skittles. I'm really drunk. Can we get married soon?"

When you looked in the bag you found six packs of your favorite candy. "Wow, you must be very intoxicated if you bought a pack of Sour Skittles too."

"Did I?" he asked before stretching out on the couch. "Shit. I'll eat them. Come here."

You sat on the floor next to him and handed him the bag of Sour Skittles as you counted the nearly seven hundred dollars you were holding. "Bradley, where did this come from?" you asked in alarm.

But he just crunched on some of the candy in response. "Oh, these are fucking nasty. Baby, can we please get married?" he rambled, dumping more Skittles into his mouth.

You pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him there. "Were getting married in like thirty-six hours. Now can you please tell me where you got this money from?"

"Huh?" he grunted like he'd never seen it before. "Oh. Oh, that." Then he casually dumped the rest of the Sour Skittles and chewed them up while you laughed and shook his arm.

"Bradley!"

He swallowed and dropped the wrapper on the floor before pulling you up onto the couch with him. "Jake got tips for stripping, and Nat made him give me the cash."

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked with in shock as you tried to settle into a comfortable position on him.

"They tried to get Daddy Bradshaw up on stage. I pointed to Jake and said it was him."

You couldn't stop laughing now. "But you got the cash?"

"Yeah," he said, eyes drifting closed as he propped his arm behind his head. "A wedding gift. For the honeymoon."

Just as you settled your head on his chest, you popped back up again. "Are we going on a honeymoon?" You started to feel a little apprehensive about going away for an extended trip without Noah while you were pregnant, but Bradley brought his big hand up to settle on your back as he snuggled in a little more.

"Next year. After the baby's born. Anywhere you want to go."

He really did kind of smell like Axe body spray, and he definitely needed to take a shower, but you let him hold you for a few minutes while he slept.

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

Part 61 will be their wedding! Thanks so much for reading and letting me share this family with you! We're almost to the finish line. Thanks @caitsymichelle13 for the request about the coloring book; stay tuned. And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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