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#his ladder to the stars
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“Your need for victory blinds you… your need to prove yourself is your undoing. Until you overcome it, a padawan you shall remain.”
But he doesn’t! The duel flashback has to happen soon or right before Attack of the Clones, and it’s the war that shoves Anakin to the front lines and into an early knighthood that we know he isn’t ready for. He’s a general in an environment where his life and other people’s lives depend on him winning. He has to achieve victory. He’s rewarded constantly for proving himself competent and capable so he never gets a chance to unlearn this flaw. In another life, he might have gotten the time to unlearn it before he was trusted with total independence and knighthood; Obi-Wan expects to have that time to help him, to finally figure out how to communicate with his padawan. But they don’t get that time, and Anakin never learns.
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mumblesplash · 10 months
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as if he needed more ways to be everywhere at once
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july-19th-club · 4 months
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and also late stage holmes canon is like star trek in the way that you'll get stories like "illustrious client" which was so good that when elementary went to adapt it they were like "three of these things (Sherlock Holmes Serious Concussion, Kitty Winter Acid Attacks Her Rapist, and Shinwell Johnson's Whole Thing) are so iconic we have to build an entire season around each of them or, like, "blanched soldier" which has a good mystery, a strong emotional through-line, and a really fun narration gimmick, BUT . then also in between stories like this you get stories like "shoscomb old place" which is just like. mildly bad like it's just not the best mystery, plus a dash of antisemitism, and stuff like "three gables" which is actively offensive in many ways
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clonememesfrikyeah · 1 year
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*helping 99 with maintenance *
Alpha-17: “Here, hold this for me.”
Little Rex watching 17 climb up a precariously balanced latter that looks like it won’t hold his weight while holding a giant ball of tangled electrical wires: “Seventeen I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Alpha-17: “Nonsense Rex, it’s fine. We just have to staple this wiring up into the rafters and replace the panels and we’re good to go. Now hand me the staple gun.”
Rex: “If you say so…”
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luvevee · 1 year
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Scarlet and Violet, performance wise really lacking to the point where it's obvious there needs to be changes to how staff need to be treated better and given more time to work, are really some of the best games in the mainstream series I've ever played and I just really want to talk forever about how amazing it all is
#my switch is getting repaired for drift but man am i itching for it back#I was in the middle of the champion assessment too#but omg I really love the game and the writing and grgrgrgr#I want to bite sada/turo until they blow up#i want to hold arven nemona and penny for being such well written characters with their struggles and bonds together#i want to shake clavell's hand for being an older man in a very gen x/z environment trying to be hip but also wanting the acadamy to-#actually be safe and welcoming while taking accountability for how bullying was ignored and his own dismissal of team star#i want to cry because the teachers are so nice and understanding and actually educate their students while being open to help#and how miriam is an example of someone who tries so hard to achieve their dream for it to be just out of reach#and how the gym leaders have so much personality and how the e4 are so close-knitted together with a little girl in the middle of it all#how koraidon/miraidon thrive under the love the get from the protag and how they act just like giant dogs with the attention they want#and how they're considered low on the ladder in their species in terms of power and size but still have lots of pride and power#i wanna learn more about the crater grgrg#just really really love this game and i miss my lite neee come back to meeee#and yeah i've played from firered to now in terms of mainstream so yeah def i'm being serious#but for real the staff deserve more respect and time literally everyone can agree the game could've waited if it meant better treatment#I really appreciate the love that went into it despite the crunch but it's still shit about the obvious rush#like we know it's not the switch please lengthen the time for people to work on the games so both parties can actually enjoy things#but yeah#pokemon sv spoilers#rosebud posting 💐
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kitnita · 5 months
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telepathically kissing otter on the forehead for every save
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opens-up-4-nobody · 1 year
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...
#shout out to that tiny glimmer of focus i had Saturday before i dumped ants on my brain#now im stuck in. i have to be productive but i csnt focus but i csnt do anything fun loop#half of my brain: what if u just relax? the othet half: no. shut up. what i just agonize until i explode?#annoying. and im apparently on call for jury duty the entire month of January#which means i have to be back from home by jan 2. and i probably have to stay until at leas dec 20th here#so optimistically i could have 12 full days and 2 travel days. but we'll see what happens#my mum is looking at flights for me bc im a barely functional person and i end up in hysterical tesrs everytime i have tk buy plane tickets#everytime they call i feel like im talking to them from the bottom of a well. like hi! hello! nice to see familiar faces!#tell me tales from the outside world! oh not much going on? thats ok we can still talk tho. talk and talk and talk#i talk to much. because im stuck in this well and im sad and i want someone to help me but also the ladder is right there and im choosing#not to stand up. so the conversation ends and i go back to laying half submerged and crumpled up in my well water#slowly unraveling into my stagent little puddle#and i cant stop thinking about all the time im blurring away#my mum asked if i was even coming home for Christmas#and im like. of course im coming home. i dont want to be here but its so hard to get my brain to justify leaving#i dunno. i just have to get these stupid manuscripts done. and applications submitted#so i can at least breathe a little. and then hopefully ill get accepted somewhere and i can throw myself into something more wonderful#so i can at least see the stars from the bottom of my sad little well#ugh. the amount of time i spend paralyzed by all the things i have to do is infuriating#just start something. make progress and eventually youll be done. stop whining abt it#ay ay ay. mayhaps i should just quit today and hope for a better tomorrow#but then im just pushing back everything a little further. ay. it never ends#unrelated#srry for being so mopey :-P like i said i talk too much
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autistickfigure · 11 days
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i remember maybe what inspired me for stories is like. playstation all stars has a little origins section for each character which explains their backstory. Hey i just found out plastation all stars came out when i was 6 WELL anyway that was one of the first things that inspired me to flesh out things i guess. i love knowing why people are here and doing these things. i feel like i wrote some stuff in like a notebook somewhere about chug + lollipop (but maybe that was later?) i dont know where or if it survived. maybe it was about hat instead i also really liked smash bros + ratchet and clank + pokemon. and some other things i dont remember
#memory posts#i dont know if i actually played it when i was 6 i just know that the music from that game is still played by my brother when i sleep#(music as in the intro music where its like Woahhhh. Brace yourselves..)#before youtube put looping on phone i made playlists for the songs i wanted to listen to when i slept (ihome)#well. at FIRST i would just wake up and put it back on again but if i listened to them enough i would make a playlist#one time a 50 minute ad starting playing and i thought it would end so i didnt get up until Quite a time#the playlist naems were named 5 stars after fnauhg. and they consisted of like multiple different lyric videos of the songs#with varying qualities and dead air. I ALSO eventually got a loft so putting the music on consisted of getting down the ladder quickly#+ quietly putting the music again then getting back up the ladder quickly + quietly#there was a drawing of cyndaquil (or typshlosion?) on my wall i taped on with like a health bar under it that was kind of not full#all the way. and a drawing of sonic my brother made me but i scratched out the to and from so it had my name on it (and looked like i did i#my room wasnt ever really clean. at least not because of me. i always got the lowest grade in organization in elemntary school#(they graded what the inside of your desk looked like. mine had so much THINGS in it)#my bureau had stickers from every school i went to so i could remember them (It broke when we moved..)#the wood planks were all fucked up cuz i paced and jumped and ran to music and thinking#there were a couple of . nail indents on the floor#in the ladder of the loft i scratched in THE BIG BAD WOLF DIDNT DESERVE IT (or similar) because there was a play where he was on trial#and determined by how much screaming there was WE COULDVE MADE HIM INNOCENT but everyone else didnt like him i guess#my elemntary school had lines on the floor so i looked at them when i walked and for a time i looked at my feet whenever i walked#we got bella in 2012 and shes a cute awesome animal chihuahua.#these are things about me i guess this is the post. HI :3
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the-time-lord-oracle · 2 months
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"Now that's what I call a wee drop of the creature."
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hoao · 1 month
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haikyuu is incredible man…
you ever think about the fact that some people exist not to become stars but to lead others towards the light? ….
hinata was so moved by the little giant that his life found meaning the moment he came into his life (and the little giant never really ended up becoming a pro volleyball player in the first place despite his drive and talent!)
nekomata sensei’s “all we have to do is to lower the net!” shaped kuroo’s entire existence. it left such an impression on him that kuroo turned it into his goal in life: helping as many people as possible discover volleyball.
kuroo himself never going pro but becoming instead a bridge between people and volleyball (which he loves so dearly he wants to make it everyone’s business).
takeda sensei’s “He Who Would Climb a Ladder Must Begin at the Bottom” (which he says to hinata during his first year) became so meaningful to him that hinata hanged it on the wall of his bedroom in Brazil.
sugawara becoming a teacher and getting emotional when facing hinata (to whom he used to set when kageyama refused to do it) and kageyama (who quite literally took what had been his place up until the moment he came) and their growth.
you might think you will never end up doing anything great. instead, i believe you might not end up doing something grand, but whatever it is that you do in life it will always be great and you simply never know whether that one thing you said once or that one thing you once did will ever become the driving force behind someone else’s dream.
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carcinized · 1 year
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Man i wish i could draw soemtimes
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mmelionsblog · 4 months
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The Lights [Finnick Odair x Reader]
warnings: (panic attack),, n just overall cuteness overload !1!1!<3
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You were having yet another panic attack inside the bunker, Katniss was by your side in an instant when Finnick was nowhere to be seen. “Deep breaths in, deep breaths out. Follow after me,” she whispered, rocking you back in forth in her arms. You tried following her directions but in the end, you failed and your panic attack was getting worse and worse.
“Is she okay?” Peeta asked Katniss, who looked back with a ‘does she look okay?’ look towards him. ‘ go get Finnick . NOW ’ she mouthed to Peeta, he nodded and walked off.
It was just you and Katniss again, and Katniss felt you to the core. You had just started to hyperventilate, and all she could do was hold you close to her body to keep you warm and try to get you back on track.
About ten minutes after Peeta had left the two of you, pairs of footsteps clicking to the floor could be heard. Katniss turned her head towards the sound, and exhaled out when she saw Peeta and Finnick behind. “Thanks for looking after her Kat.” Finnick nodded his head towards her, “she is my best friend. I’d be a bad best friend if I didn’t do anything,” Katniss gently lifted you up, the two of you walking towards Finnick.
“Hey, hey princess. What’s wrong? What’s got you so worked up?” Finnick took you into his arms, thanking Katniss once again as the other two walked away to who knows where. “I- I- I shot him,” you whispered, your hands going to your face to scratch at it. Finnick grabbed ahold of your hands, rubbing them gently with his thumbs. “That’s not what we’re gonna do today,” he chuckled with a soft smile.
Whenever you had panic attacks, you’d always scratch your face to the point it bled. Finnick helped you get out of that mess. He led you to the stairs, always getting permission for you to go outside the bunker just to look at the stars whenever you had your panic attacks.
He led you up the stairs, at a slow pace to not startle you. “How was your day, my love?” He hummed, wrapping an arm around your back and rubbing it slowly with his hand.
Finnick waited a few minutes for you to calm a bit down, he knew whenever he started conversations it would take some time for you to answer. “O—Okay,” you stuttered out. “What was your favorite part of your day?” He asked you.
You twiddled with his other hand that held yours. Playing with the golden ring on his ring finger. You smiled softly. “waking up next to you,” you whispered. the tears from your eyes finally came to a stop, wet streaks visible on your cheeks with your puffy red eyes. “Really?” Finnick’s lips turn to a huge wide smile onto his face. You giggled softly and nodded. “Really.” You repeated.
The two of you finally got to the top, and both of you had to climb up the ladder. Finnick got up there first to open the trap door, and then you followed suit. He grabbed your hands to pick you up quicker, and then sat you on the dirt ground. He closed the trap door and placed grass over it.
The two of you walked and walked till you got to your safe log that was surrounded by trees and bushes, big enough to fit you and Finnick sitting on the green green fresh grass. You sat on the said grass, while Finnick sat on the log behind you.
You leaned back into him, getting comfortable as Finnick wrapped his arms around your waist. You grabbed ahold of his hands and started to play with them, while you heard Finnick counting the stars.
“You’re never gonna get them all,” you giggle out, looking up at him from your spot. He looked down at you, “you made me lose my spot.” He pouted. “How many stars did you have in counting just right now?” You asked.
“50. 50 stars.” Finnick hummed. You made a duck look face, moving your lips to signal to Finnick you wanted a kiss. He chuckled and leaned down to you, to kiss you softly. He pulled away, his eyes half open as he looked at you with nothing but love.
“I love you,” Finnick spoke, kissing your lips once more.
“I love you too.”
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lovebugism · 3 months
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HI BBY COULD U WRITE A grumpy!steddie x sunshine!reader , they are all moved in together & its nearing christmas SO reader is the one whos decorating , maybe the boys neglect to see how excited she is & they end up feeling really guilty cuz they just see her putting all of it away 🥹🥹
ty for requesting :D — the boys catch you taking down christmas decorations after not being supportive about your love for the holidays (ditzy!reader, hurt/comfort-ish, 1.3k)
blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚
Eddie rouses in the early morning, weightless and unusually cold. The first thing he notices is that you’re not wrapped around him like a koala and snoring softly in his ear. How could he not? The lack of you has always been innately palpable.
With his eyes still closed, he reaches across the mattress in search of you. He figures Steve must’ve pulled you into him at some point during the night. The two of you are probably tangled together and hogging all the covers at this very moment.
“Ow,” Steve winces groggily when Eddie accidentally smacks him in the face.
The boy turns towards the voice and squints through the haze of leftover slumber. He squishes Steve’s scruffy cheeks together with a pale hand. “You’re not Sunshine,” Eddie observes gruffly, still playful despite being half-asleep.
Steve swats him away with his eyes still shut. “Obviously not.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” the honey-haired boy slurs, right before leaning forward to shove his face into your pillow. His next words are muffled and nearly inaudible. “Bathroom, maybe?”
Eddie goes to call for you. His chest inflates with a deep inhale, prepared to shout for you like a needy child. Something clatters distantly in the living room before he can. It’s so obviously you — clumsy, well-meaning you. The always doing things you shouldn’t be doing on your own because you’re too sweet to ask for help you.
Both of them know this, so they rise from their sleep without a word shared between them. They find you trying to steady yourself on a rickety step stool, halfway crouched on the highest level with sparkling tinsel in your hand.
The two boys catch your eye, one as equally sleepy as the other. 
Eddie’s hair has been extra fluffed by the cotton of his pillow. The wild curls halfway conceal his swollen features. He’s in one of Steve’s sweatshirts and a pair of thin boxers. Steve, meanwhile, is in a shirt so tight you’re almost sure it’s yours. The fabric has risen with sleep and his plaid pants hang low accordingly. The bottom of his tummy and the tip of his happy trail are on display for you. 
They’re effortlessly beautiful. Both of them. But their presence makes you grimace.
Your attempts to do all this quietly have obviously failed.
“Did I wake you?” you whisper, just in case.
“Yeah, you woke us— what the hell are you doing?” Steve wonders as he rushes to you, very suddenly alert. He helps you off the old, uneven ladder with hands that are impossibly warm, even over your shorts.
Eddie stands ahead of you and takes the tinsel from your hands.
“I was un-decorating,” you shrug.
“Un-decorating?” Eddie scoffs.
Steve squints at you, features swollen and lined with indentions of sleep, still not quite understanding. “Okay… Why?”
“’Cause you guys said you hated it.”
“Hated what?”
“All of it!” you retort, still a bit vaguely, and gesture all around you.
The living room looks a little like the North Pole puked all over it. There’s an intricately decorated Christmas tree in the corner, perfectly fluffed and packed to the brim with vividly-colored ornaments. String lights are draped over the ceiling, and you’ve hooked ornaments over them, too. Every doorway is lined with sparkling tinsel and lit-up stars and ribbons tied into bows.
It was beautiful. Well, you thought it was, anyway. No one else seemed to agree with you. 
You try not to let it hurt you too much, but the subtle ache in the pit of your chest is almost impossible to ignore.
“We didn’t say we hated it!” Steve insists with a wavering voice. “…Did we?”
Eddie makes a vague I don’t know type of sound. He leans his wild head to the side and shrugs once. “I’m pretty sure you did call it tacky, actually.”
“Well, you said it looked like a Hallmark movie threw up in here!” Steve argues without thinking twice.
The older boy squints his puffy, chocolate eyes. “Shut up, dude.”
“You shut up!”
“See, this is why I’m taking it down,” you laugh over their bickering. You smile despite your distant hurt. “You obviously hate it. Both of you.”
Steve sighs. He stops being annoyed with Eddie for a second to give you his full attention. He goes distinctly soft when he looks at you, structured and sleepy features visibly melting. His long fingers give your sides a squeeze.
“We don’t hate it, babe. I promise. We’re just not, like, as into it as you are.”
“And that’s okay! Right?” Eddie blurts from beside him. He crosses two arms over his chest and shrugs. “I mean, we don’t have to like all the same things as each other, you know? What’s important is that we all support each other…”
Steve glances over his shoulder and sends the boy an incredulous gape, half confused and half impressed. 
Eddie cowers beneath it. “…Or whatever. I don’t know. Stop looking at me like that.”
“Well, I feel super supported right now.” You laugh but it’s a little bit forced, weighed down by hidden emotion. You’re obviously still upset about the whole thing — even if you’re trying to pretend that you’re not.
“Shit, babe. I’m sorry,” Steve sighs and wraps you up in his arms. He presses you into his chest, palms spreading over your back and rubbing gently along the length of it. He buries his nose at the crown of your head — you smell like a mixture of your shampoo, his hairspray, and Eddie’s body wash.
You hold him back but shake your head at his affection. 
“No. It’s okay. It’s just Christmas decorations— it’s stupid.”
“No, it’s not stupid,” Steve insists before the words can properly leave your mouth. He pulls back from you, just far enough to hold your face between his palms. He smiles softly down at you, so quiet it’s barely there. His thumb swipes over the sleep lines pressed into your cheek. “You were really excited about it, and we were assholes. And we’re sorry… Right, Eds?”
Eddie’s face scrunches from where he stands beside you. “Hey, I was preparing my own I’m sorry speech over here, Harrington.”
Steve’s hands drop from your face when you turn around to smile at the wild-haired boy. “Yeah? Let me hear it.”
Eddie brings you into his arms next. His hug is tighter than Steve’s, borderline smothering as his arms cross over your shoulders rather than your back. He hides his face in your hair when you tuck yourself into his chest.
“I love you,” he starts, muffled from where he’s pressed against you. The end of each sentence is followed by a soft kiss to your head. “And it’s not stupid. And we’re sorry for being assholes.”
Your laugh is stifled by his t-shirt. He smells like smoke and Steve’s body wash and your perfume.
“That’s exactly what I said,” Steve whines, his pout evident in his voice.
“Yeah, but I said ‘I love you,’” Eddie argues like a child. “So I win.”
“Well, guess what— I love you too, babe.”
You laugh again. It’s more audible this time when you pull away and turn to Steve, grinning all stupid as you grab his arm to drag him over. “I forgive both of you, so you both win,” you assure when the honey-haired boy towers over your back to join your embrace. With both of them holding you like this, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so safe.
“Ha!” you hear Steve scoff, followed by a smacking kiss to Eddie’s cheek.
The wild-haired boy rolls his eyes and pulls slightly back to look at you. “Want us to help you hang all this stuff back up?” he wonders, then cuts himself off. “Actually. Nope. We’re gonna help you hang all this stuff back up. Whether you like it or not, Sunshine.”
He’s always called you that. He said it was because of your smile, but when you beam up at him, he realizes he might’ve gotten it all wrong. You’re brighter than the sun — than a thousand suns — and if he had to choose between sunlight and the way you’re looking at him right now, he’d choose you in every lifetime.
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peachesofteal · 4 months
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Dead Disco / Chapter 10
Dead Disco masterlist
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Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Relationship issues, anxiety, self loathing, crying. Angst. Brief mention of asshole ex. Eating related issues. Mention of prescription medication, mental illness and depressive/manic episodes. Pre established throuple. Darling is her/your own tag/warning. Excessive internal monologue. You held onto the hot pan too long, and now you’ve been burnt.
"Look at me." 
"I can't." You keep your eyes clenched tight, so tight it hurts, lungs burning inside your chest. 
"Yes you can, darling. Just open your eyes." Simon's voice is soft, an entreating melody, grit and gravel smoothed out with the gentleness of his words. You get lost in it, the soft murmuring, the easy request, and when you open your eyes, he's still right in front of you, thick palm on the back of your neck, Johnny by his side. "Good girl." 
"I'm sorry." You whisper, and Johnny's brows crease, his fingers brushing along your cheek. 
"Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry for, darling. Ye never do." 
"I didn't-" you gasp for a breath, and Johnny shifts, moving so that you're in front of him, sat between his legs, back against his chest. His hand holds yours, nestling above your breastbone. 
"Breathe with me. Ye can do it." 
"I didn't- I wanted to be better. Be different. I didn't want you to see." You try to explain, try to make sense of it for them. Simon's fingers intertwine with Johnny's, his other hand still firm on the back of your neck, your body cradled between them, in the space that once never existed, a space that now feels like it's been carved out just for you. Johnny pushes closer, holding you tight, and Simon leans forward, forehead touching yours, voice barely a murmur. 
"We've always seen you, darling." 
The floor is a fairly comfortable spot to lay.
It’s comfortable enough, you suppose, as you lay on your back with your eyes fixed on a spot along the ten-foot-high ceiling. Maybe you could paint the ceiling. With clouds. Or a night sky. That might be cool. 
Voices vibrate through the flat, locked door the only thing separating you from them, Johnny’s tone pitching with increasing anxiety, Simon’s cadence soothing, and calm.
He’s calling your name. Calling you darling. Calling you anything to try to get you to come to the door.
You’re overreacting. 
You’re a fool. 
You close your eyes. A night sky might be cool. You could do a lot with the stars, or maybe even the milky way. Get some greens and greys and cobalt in there. Make it look like a long exposure photo. And the moon, you could certainly paint the moon. You’d have to find a ladder tall enough though. And you’d probably need help. You haven’t painted from a ladder in years, not since you did that one mural for- 
“Darling.” It’s Simon. Again. And again, and again, again. Darling, darling, darling. “It’s getting late. Will you open the door?" You keep your eyes closed, but for a minute, your mind fractures, splitting in two, confusing emotions and thoughts bubbling up to the surface.
Don’t think about it. Don’t. 
“No.” You croak out in a whisper. It’s quiet, but he hears it. You know he does.
“Please. I need to know you’re alright, at least.”
You held onto the hot pan too long, and now you’ve been burnt. 
It’s late. The streets are probably mostly empty. You could run down them, if you wanted. You could take a train anywhere. You could take a plane, even, go on a vacation. Go somewhere nice. Go somewhere tropical, maybe get a cute rental, spend some time in the sun or by the oc- 
The thoughts are rapid fire. They spill over, trying to patch up the expanding wound in your heart. They grow and twist, convincing you it’s a good idea, the best idea, to just slip away for a little bit. To go somewhere you don't have feel this, where you don't have to know this as well as you do. 
Don’t think about it. Pack it up. Put it away. 
Johnny’s eyes haven’t left your face. His fingers stroke from the crown of your head and hairline to your temple, your cheek. He’s staring at you like you’re something precious, like you’re a piece of gold, something marvelous he’s never seen before.
“What is it?” You ask, half asleep, drowsy in the bed. You’re still wrapped in a post orgasm haze, cocooned in the soft and sweet of their attention, affection, and Johnny only smiles, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead. 
“Ye’re so special to us. Ah love ye. Did ye know that?” You shrug, ducking your face away, pressing it into his shoulder to avoid his eyes. 
A wave of longing crashes over you. It swells in your heart until tears prick in your eyes, and you take a deep breath to steady yourself. 
It’s so much. So much more than you ever imagined. So much more than you ever thought you could have. 
“She doesn’t.” Simon says over your shoulder. His hand sits on your waist, the touch firm. Grounding. Like a tether to their world. Their love. You turn, nose pointing up towards the ceiling, looking at him through your peripheral, your fingers intertwined with Johnny’s, holding onto them both. Seeing them both. 
“Tell me again.” 
The TV in the living room is on.
You can hear it’s faint murmur, some movie playing on low volume, the guys undoubtedly sitting stiff on the couch, waiting for you to appear.
You stare at the dark, nearly blackened trees that you’ve painted onto canvas, long, broad brushstrokes taking up too much space, bark texturized to appear burnt, nearly dead, forest scourged by a disease or fire, you’re unsure.
“It starts to chafe us.” Us. Us, he said. Us. Him and Johnny. Right?
“It doesn’t seem fair.”
You’re unsure of everything right now. Unsure about how you should feel. Unsure about what’s happening inside your head.
“-sometimes I worry… about it being the right thing…” The more you think about it, the more you start to lose your grasp. Were those his exact words? Did he mean something else?
For the first time in a long time, you think about one of your ex's. You think about a person who made you feel so small, so much like a burden, a horrible, unwanted responsibility, all the time. You'll never have what regular people have, he said. No one will ever be able to put up with this fucking circus. No one will want this. 
Was he right? 
You should have gotten out. The sentiment replays over and over in between your ears, the awful, miserable doubt and fear and sadness picking away at you until you can feel yourself starting to compartmentalize it all, trying to sort it into neat little bins, trying to keep the weight that is sinking to the bottom of your soul from drowning you, trying to build a wall around your heart.
It’s not conscious. It’s like you’re not even in the driver’s seat anymore, not feeling the full effect of your emotions, not letting it in.
It’s how you felt, when you packed your bags the last time. How you felt when you checked into the hotel, like you were on autopilot. Buried beneath a mountain of feelings but enclosed in a glass cage, segregated from it all.
You should have gotten out. 
“I said I was listening.” 
“But I don’t want ye to listen. I want ye to talk, darling. I want ye to tell us how ye’re feeling. We can’t do this if ye’re not able to communicate.” Johnny’s voice is steady, but there’s a hint of anger behind it, a small flare just starting to light. It makes you angry, that he’s getting angry, and it churns in your stomach until you’re biting out a retort. 
“I communicate just fine!” 
“Do ye?” He snaps, exasperated, your head jolting backwards with wide eyes. “Because from where I’m standin’ it feels like ye’re trying to be stubborn on purpose. Like a child.” 
“A child? You’re calling ME a child?” The air in their apartment is suddenly paper thin, and you hold your breath as Johnny watches you with that same, unchanged, irritated expression. 
“Alright. This is over. We’re taking a break from this conversation.” Simon tells you both, fingers sliding over your shoulder, the touch meant to comfort, reassure, but you jerk away. 
You eye your purse, your keys on the counter. 
“I’m just gonna go home.” 
“No.” He rebukes, and Johnny pales. 
“No, darling. Ye just got here, and we missed ye so, so much. I’m sorry, I dinnae mean-” Johnny pleads, crestfallen, and it makes you feel worse. Like you’re failing him. Like you’re failing at this. Like you’re not good enough for it, for them. “Please?” He adds, and you wilt, silence falling over the three of you again, awkward and wrong. 
“It’s alright.” Simon says. “If you want to go. I’ll take you home.” 
“I can get home on my own.” You try not look at him, finding mundane details in the floor, the sink to stare at instead of their faces, resisting eye contact until Simon steps directly back into your line of sight. 
“I’ll take you.” He steps closer, and like there is a magnet pulling you into his orbit, you respond, tilting your face backwards, letting him see everything. The tears. The anger and sadness. The confusion. He’s intentional with his movements, letting you anticipate everything, the movement of his hand, the bend of his body as his lips come down to press against your forehead. “Tomorrow, alright?” He asks and tells with the words, seeking permission, giving command. Tomorrow, you’ll talk. Tomorrow, you’ll get it sorted. Tomorrow, you and Johnny will apologize. And you’ll try again. Like you always do. 
You nod, because the promise of tomorrow, the assurance that this hasn’t all come crashing down, is the only way any of you will be able to sleep tonight. 
“Tomorrow.”
They both straighten on the couch when the door clicks open.
“Hey.” Johnny says softly, hopefully, and Simon says nothing, just watches you like you’re a wounded animal that might try to flee at any moment. On edge. Vigilant.
Your mind turns, but nothing comes out of your mouth. No response. No acknowledgement. Just empty silence that feels like a thousand pounds, all laying on top of the three of you. Suffocating you. Killing you.
You beeline for the bedroom.
Running away. You’re running away. Are you really going to run away? 
The memory of the hotel haunts you, the awful, empty pit in your stomach that could have swallowed you whole, the dark curtains and dark room enveloping you in a never-ending spiral.
All you wanted was to be found. All you wanted was to be home, with them.
All you wanted was your home, the one you built, made, suffered for, with them. The one that you carved out inside your own bones to hold space for two others, not just one. The home that you completely changed your life for, the love that you believed would see you through it all. 
The love that was always them first. The love that you barged in on, knocked walls down, forced yourself inside of. The love that they held for one another, before they ever held it for you. 
Your head feels like it's underwater. 
Did you make a mistake? Should you have sent them away that time? Should you have fought yourself harder?
The bed calls to you. It begs you to lay down in it, to burrow yourself beneath it's soft sheets, curl up on top of it's ridiculous mattress. Get lost in it. Be found in it. Let your boys curl themselves around you in it, let them kiss you softly and make you promises about how much they love you, or how they understand the way you feel.
If you close your eyes, you can almost see the future. Minutes would pass before Johnny crept inside the door, scoping it out. Doing the recon. Looking for you. His heart would soar when he saw you in the bed, his fears allayed, and he'd hold you so tight you'd think you were suffocating. 
If you were lucky, Simon would come and turn your brain off. Johnny would pass you to him and he'd bring your deepest insecurities, your worries to light, dragging them out to be exorcised and vanquished, by the only men capable of doing so. 
Is that what you want? 
Should you have gotten out? 
“There she is.” Johnny coos above you, warm palm cradling your cheek. You blink, fog encasing your mind struggling to clear, and you push yourself up onto your elbows. 
“What-“
“Happened?” Simon finishes from where he kneels next to the couch, concerned eyes trained on yours, not missing a beat. 
You blink. What did happen? Did- 
“When was the last time ye ate something, darling?” Johnny asks, not unkindly, palm at your back to relieve the pressure from your elbows, moving you into a sitting position so he can take the spot on the couch behind you, effectively wrapping you up in his arms as Simon settles on the other side. 
Shame curdles your stomach, hot embarrassment flaring in your veins. You avoid peering over Simon’s shoulder at the disarray of your kitchen, wincing when you realize he’s sitting on a pile of your dirty clothes. 
“I had breakfast.” You whisper, but Simon shakes his head. 
“When?”
“Yesterday.” You try to adjust, to sit more upright, but the sudden movement has your head spinning, and your palm covers your eyes, little groan in your throat. 
“Easy.” Johnny soothes. Your water bottle is in his hand, and he unscrews the lid for you, lifting it to your lips. “Slow sips, darling. Not too much.” 
It’s easier this way, you realize. Easier to do what’s being asked of you, easier to listen than to think. After a few sips, Johnny pulls the bottle away, and wide fingers stroke your cheek. 
“This is what you were talking about. A few weeks ago.” Simon murmurs, concentrating all his focus, all his attention, on you, fingers still caressing your skin gently. Lovingly. 
“I didn’t mean for it to get so bad this time. I… usually have a better handle on myself.” You try to lie, but Simon cocks his head. 
“Do you?” His fingers hold up the scrap of paper, the one with your note to yourself scrawled across it. 
‘You HAVE to, or you’ll regret it.’ 
You bite your lip, but Simon’s thumb presses into it, rolling it out from beneath your teeth, as Johnny rubs your arm, lips soft against your temple. 
“I’m going to take you home. To ours.” Simon tells you slowly, each word deliberate “Johnny is going to clean up your apartment and pack you a few things for the rest of the week.” When you don’t answer, brain slow to catch up, Johnny murmurs in your hair. 
“You have to agree, darling.” Simon watches, silent for a moment before he answers the unspoken question, still cradling your face with one hand. 
“You can trust us.” 
“Where are ye going?” Johnny asks when you appear from the bedroom, hesitant steps keeping him far enough from your body, desperation written all over his face.
“Out.” Your answer is short, sufficient. It feels like it’s coming from another person. You still think you might be underwater.
“Out? No… we need to talk and-“
“I don’t want to talk. To either of you.”
“Darling. Stop.” Simon tries to cut you off, but you turn sharply, away from them both, backpack swinging on your back.
“Ye canae run away from this, from us.” Johnny pleads. “We need to talk about it. Communicate. Like we promised.”
“Like we promised?” You hiss, sizzle of anger breaking through the ice that’s frozen in your veins. “The promise that we made to always tell each other how we’re feeling, the one that he can’t honor?” You jerk your thumb towards Simon, who tries to take a step towards you, only for you to retreat. “Don’t corner me!” you snap, and against your attempt at control, your voice breaks, sob welling in your chest.
Don’t think about it. 
Don’t think about it. 
“It’s alright.” His hands are palms out, cautious. It’s supposed to make him look like he’s not a threat, make him seem harmless. But he’s not harmless. This gaping hole in your heart says so. “We don’t want you to leave.” He implores. “Please. I- let me explain.”
“There’s no need. Everything is pretty clear.”
“No, it’s not.” Johnny argues. “Just, let Simon at least tell-“
“Tell me what? Tell me how it’s not fair? Does it chafe you too, Johnny? You also thinking what’s the right thing? Because it’s an us thing, right? You and him. It’s an us and me. It’s the us that I suffer for.” Your voice crests, and Johnny flinches.
“I made a mistake.” Simon whispers. “Don’t let my stupidity make you question your place in this relationship. We love you, darling. I love you.” Tears burn at the back of your eyes, and you feel the horror of the truth, the confusion about your love for them, their love for you, searing together into a snarled mess.
“If I left you, the both of you, at the end of the day, you’d still have each other. You’d still be together, and I would have nothing!”
“That’s not true. We canae exist without ye.” Johnny sounds broken, hopeless, but you blow by it, dancing around Simon to pull your prescription bottles from the kitchen cabinet by the sink.
“If I died tomorrow-“
“Do not say that.” Simon cuts you off. “Don’t ever say that.” His knuckles are white at the edge of the countertop, expression stricken, and Johnny looks horrified. They both watch you like they’re afraid of what you might say next, what you might do, and nausea pools saliva on the back of your tongue.
Don’t think about it. 
You close your eyes, and search for that underwater feeling. That untouchable feeling, the boxes being packed away in your mind, and try to cling to it, try to shut up the incessant stream of doubt and loathing and everything going wrong inside your head.
They don’t need you. They have each other. 
You chafe them.
Don’t think about it.
“I need…” You trail off, trying to take a deep breath. Trying to organize your thoughts. Trying to hear yourself through the noise of everything else, through the searing pain that’s ripping through your heart.
“It’s alright, darling.” Simon murmurs, encouraging you. “Tell us what you need. Whatever it is.” Johnny’s face has shifted from despondent to hopeful, eyes wide and locked onto yours, while Simon waits, his normal steadfast and patient demeanor nowhere to be found, instead he’s more anxious, more nervous than you’ve ever seen.
You close your eyes again. Your voice shakes when you finally speak.
“I need a break.”
773 notes · View notes
bradshawssugarbaby · 13 days
Text
Urban Cowboy - Jake Seresin x Reader
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pairing: Jake Seresin x f! reader
warnings/content: smut, unprotected p in v, mildly mean!dom Jake, teasing, jealous Jake
word count: 3.2k
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The sounds of some 80s pop song echoed throughout the Hard Deck, a cheap colourful strobe light flashed around the room, its rainbow coloured beams striking random bargoers as they began to dance along to whatever was playing. It was new idea your aunt had come up with - doing theme nights at the bar once a month as a way to freshen things up and breathe new life into the military bar scene. 
Since you moved here four months ago, you’d gotten familiar with the regulars - there was Bradley Bradshaw, a man far older than he looked, with a penchant for comandeering the piano if the bar needed livening up, Natasha Trace, who had a fiery personality and often kept the other guys in their place, especially when the beers were flowing and they started flirting with unsuspecting patrons, Robert Floyd, the shy backseater who was always polite, tipped well and seemed to be the permanent designated driver on nights out, Reuben Fitch, who stood about a foot taller than you, and always had a witty comeback on hand, just in case, Mickey Garcia, who was sweet, but could talk anyone’s ear off about Star Trek, and Javy Machado, resident score keeper and pool table champion. 
Leading the group, was your Aunt Penny’s boyfriend, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. He often would come in, finding a table at the back of the room for his squad before abandoning them to spend the evening at the bar, chatting your aunt up and offering up any excuse to come behind the bar and sneak a hand to her hip or steal a squeeze of her rear. It was sweet the way your aunt and Pete were loved up, like a couple of teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. 
This afternoon, Pete came in at four o’clock sharp, just as he promised to help set up. As he hung a couple of decorations you and your aunt had managed to find online, he turned to you and smiled, watching as you prepped the theme night’s cocktail menu.
“I forgot to tell you, another one of my guys is going to be here tonight. He’s been off training at a different base for the last few months, just landed in this morning. You’ll like him. He’s a firecracker.”
“Isn’t that your way of saying he’s a cocky asshole?”
“I wouldn’t say asshole. He’s just very…confident. I think you’ll like him though.”
“Are you talking about Jake?” Penny piped up as she looked at Pete, watching as he climbed up the step ladder to hang another decoration from the ceiling.
“Yeah, don’t you think they’d hit it off?”
“I think she might hit him.”
“What? No way. Jake’s not that bad.”
Penny scoffed and shook her head, laughing. Holding her hands up in surrender, she walked away, retreating back to the bar to begin making sure all the key ingredients to your drink menu were where they needed to be. You continued to stuff the evening’s special menus into their plastic protective sleeves, shaking your head at Pete’s attempts to try and set you up with someone from his squad. It wasn’t the first time, you’d been on a date with Bradley once before, but found the age gap was too great between the two of you, with Bradley in complete agreement that you were much better suited as friends than lovers, and on a date with Reuben, who, despite efforts between the two of you, there was no chemistry shared there. 
As five o’clock approached, you hurried into the back stockroom to change into your themed outfit for the night, pulling your hair out of the velcro rollers that Penny had helped you wrap your hair up into, creating the perfect 80s voluminous curl that would make even Christie Brinkley jealous. Your tight fitting Daisy Duke style shorts accentuated your curves, hugging your thighs and hips in all the right places, your crisp white button down shirt tied just under your bra, showing off your tanned, soft midsection. A pair of mid-sized silver hoop earrings hung from your earlobes to complete the look. Your aunt’s stash of Aqua-Net hairspray was all you needed to finish it off, stepping out the back door to shake your curls out and spray them with enough hairspray to ensure they wouldn’t budge for the night. 
You reentered the bar to find Pete’s friends piling in, the other regular patrons all trickling in and getting comfortable as they came through, turning the bar into a sea of cheesy fake mustaches and 80s style Hawaiian shirts, brightly coloured polos and coordinating Bermuda shorts, wigs and legwarmers. The evening was quickly livening up, and you got to work behind the bar with your aunt, pulling pints and mixing drinks, firing off orders left right and center as the bar filled with partygoers. 
An hour into the night, Bradley approached the bar, his aviator sunglasses perched atop his chocolate coloured curls, his loud, brightly coloured Hawaiian print shirt buttoned just enough to allow a few sparing curls of chest hair to peek out from the top. He leaned against the bar, smiling at you, his mustache neatly combed to closer resemble a style from the 80s. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was trying to emulate Tom Selleck. You’d seen pictures of Bradley’s dad and Pete from back in the 80s, and recognized the shirt anywhere. It was clear Bradley was dressed identically to his father, and you had to admire the dedication he had to the theme. 
“What can I get you, Bradshaw?”
“Hi dollface, I’ll take a Budweiser. And a chance to take you for a spin later?”
“We’ve done this before, Bradley,” you laughed as you cracked the top off the beer bottle and slid it across the counter to him. Bradley shook his head as he sipped the frothy liquid, grinning as he set the bottle down on the counter.
“I didn’t mean you. I’m practicing. I can’t be dressed like this and not use some kind of weird 80s shit to impress a girl, right? I’m just…using you for practice. Did it work?”
“Bradley, why don’t you, I don’t know, just, be yourself?” 
“Because tonight I’m not myself. I’m some single 39 year old in the 80s trying to get a date, apparently.”
“Well then, gag me with a spoon, that was gnarly. Try a different line. One that doesn’t begin with “dollface”?”
“Got it, thanks!”
You watched as Bradley sauntered away to go try his luck with a pretty blonde over by the jukebox. You smirked to yourself as you heard Bradley start singing along to Madonna, carrying the tune with an impressive baritone that you weren’t expecting. You knew he could sing, but singing Madonna was a whole new side to him. Turning your back for a moment, you began fixing a drink for yourself, mixing together the ingredients for a Shirley Temple. You looked up to see a tall, broad-shouldered blonde man approach the bar counter, his hair slicked back, and a blonde mustache that made poor Bradley’s look unimpressive rested on his upper lip. The most stunning pair of bright green eyes looked at you, and a set of perfectly straight, whitened teeth fresh out of a Colgate commercial flashed a smile at you.
“Hi Darlin’, I’ll take whatever’s on tap.”
“Sure thing,” You nodded, trying hard not to audibly gulp at the adonis of a man standing in front of you. 
“Are you new ‘round here?” he drawled, “I’d remember a pretty face like yours.”
“Uh, within the last four months, yeah.” you nodded as you finished pulling a pint of draught for him, the frothy head of the beer perfectly resting in the glass. 
“Oh! That’ll explain it. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, at your service, m’am.” He winked, and you felt yourself melt a little at the sight of this human embodiment of a Ken doll flirting with you. 
“You’re Jake?”
“Depends who’s askin’, Honey.” His accent was thick and heavy, something straight out of those reruns of The Andy Griffiths Show that your mom made you watch when you were a child.
“I’m Penny’s niece,” you nodded, giving him your name and laughing softly as your cheeks blushed, “I moved down here to help her out with things around here while I try to figure some life things out.”
“I see,” he smirked, sipping his beer, the foam brushing against his mustache as he set the glass down. “And does that list of things you’re figuring out include finding a strong, charming, handsome Southern boy?”
“It might, do you know any?” You quipped, raising an eyebrow as you sipped your own drink, pretending to feign disinterest in the handsome stranger before you.
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“That so, hun? Who? Do I know him?”
“Not yet, but I think he sure would like to know you, Darlin’.”
You shook your head, your curls bouncing as you started to laugh, unable to control yourself. Jake was as bold as he was handsome, and you were suddenly realizing what Pete was referring to when he said that Jake was confident. He practically exuded a cocksure confidence from every pore in his body. And while that would normally repulse you and send you heading for the hills, with Jake, it felt different. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, his magnetic charms and graces pulling you in, and your inhibitions wearing down. However, you also knew how to deal with men like this - he was in need of an ego check, and you were just the person for the job. 
“Is that right? Well, you tell your little Southern-fried wannabe cowboy of a friend that if he’s interested, he’s going to have to stick around the bar all night. I promised Aunt Penny I’d help her make sure this night went smoothly, and I don’t need a knockoff Dukes of Hazzard cast member distracting me.” 
“Wannabe cowboy?” Jake gasped in feigned offence, clutching his chest dramatically as he slipped into an even thicker accent than earlier, “Now Darlin’, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re breakin’ my heart over here. One thing I ain’t is a wannabe cowboy. You know, I used to ride in rodeos as a kid? Was one of the best there was for under 15 year olds, ‘til I decided to join the Navy instead.”
“Oh, so you’re like, a real cowboy then,” you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm. 
“S’pose you could say that. Only one real way to find out, ain’t there?”
“Take you to a farm and watch you wrangle cattle on horseback?” you retorted sarcastically.
“You’re funny, I like that.”
“I bet you do.” 
Jake leaned in across the bar, a smirk forming on his lips as he looked at you, his bright green eyes fixated on your lips as you spoke. His long eyelashes fluttered at you as he eyed you up, practically undressing you with his imagination. You grinned as you gestured to the sign behind you, reading that if you disrespect a lady, you owe everyone a round. 
“Watch it, Lieutenant. If you’re not careful, I’ll go ring that bell and you’ll learn a very expensive lesson.”
“Oh, Darlin’, I can guarantee, I ain’t gonna learn anything from it. I’m just dumb enough to do it again. Can’t help myself around a pretty girl like yourself.”
You scoffed and rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you laughed at his relentless attempt. You knew the only reason he persisted was because you were teasing him, but at the same time, you didn’t mind the attention he was giving you. He wasn’t as tall as Bradley, or as broad shouldered, but he was built like a linebacker, with a solid frame and the accent alone was enough to drive you crazy.
It was almost 11 when Jake stopped you again, this time, outside of the stockroom when you’d disappeared back there for more maraschino cherries and pineapple juice. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, causing his pastel-coloured polo shirt to bulge around his biceps. His lips curled up in that annoyingly perfect smile once again as he stood in your path.
“Hey, Honey, need a hand with that?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” you shrugged it off, shaking your head as you smirked at him, “You often follow girls into storage rooms?”
“Only the ones worth following.”
“Wow, Lieutenant, with a response like that, it’s a wonder you don’t have a trail of broken hearts following you around.”
“What is your issue, anyway? You got a thing against blondes? Pilots?”
“Please,” you smirked, shaking your head, “I went on a date with Rooster. He’s a pilot.”
“Is it ‘cause I’m from Texas?”
“No, it’s because you’re probably the most arrogant prick I’ve ever had the displeasure of coming across, actually. God, it’s like you think all you have to do is flash that stupid handsome smile and I’ll throw myself at you.”
Jake’s face fell slightly as he raised an eyebrow at you. You could tell he wasn’t used to having a girl put him in his place like this, but his crestfallen gaze was quickly replaced by that shit-eating grin he seemed to never go without sporting. 
“Honey, you’re real pretty when you get mean like that.”
“You’re impossible,” you sighed in exasperation.
“But you love it, don’t you?” 
Jake closed the gap between the two of you as he spoke, taking a couple steps closer to you. You bit your lip as you hesitated, thinking about the consequences that might follow if you acted on your desires. 
Fuck it. 
Your hands gripped the fabric of his polo shirt, pulling him down to your height as you crashed your lips into his passionately. You kissed a slow, hot trail up to his ear, a breathy moan escaping your lips as he put his hands on your hips to bring you in as close as possible, his body heat radiating on to you. 
“You gonna show me just how good you are, Cowboy?”
“Yes, m’am. I reckon I could show you a better time than any other man in here.”
Jake’s hand slipped down your curves, reaching around to cup your ass cheeks as he hoisted you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around your waist. You quickly discarded the cherries and juice that were in your hands, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. Jake’s lips worked their way along your neck, wet, fervent kisses that made your body squirm with pleasure, your arousal growing and burning in your stomach with each second. 
“Back door?” He murmured against your neck, his hands keeping a firm hold of your ass.
“Two steps behind me, to the left,” you panted, nodding your head as he sucked on your skin. 
It was unseasonably warm for May, the humidity hanging in the air as you left the air conditioned building. Jake pushed you up against the wall, using it as leverage as he quickly reached down to undo your shorts and wiggled them out of the way. He ran two of his thick fingers along the outside of your lace underwear, stroking the dampened fabric as he smirked to himself.
“Someone’s eager, aren’t ya, Darlin’?”
“Just shut up and fuck me, ok?”
“Now, that any way to ask for it?”
A wicked grin appeared on his face as he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, stroking at your clit with a feather light touch, just enough to make you whine for more. 
“Jake, I swear to fuck, if you don’t take me right now.”
“Shhh, Sugar, don’t want anyone to hear, do ya? Unless you get off on getting caught,” He purred as he coaxed his fingertips inside of your dripping entrance, pumping them into you with precision.
You tossed your head backwards as Jake thrusted his fingers further into you, each movement harder and faster than before. The determined look in his eye alone was almost enough to send you over the edge. This man was hell-bent on making you orgasm, and he was on the right track to get you there within a matter of seconds.
“Fuck, s-so close, Jake,” you keened, your fingers gripping his thick blonde hair as he brought you to your climax.
“That’s it, Sugar. Look at you, you’re a mess and I ain’t even started on you yet.”
“J-Jake, please,” you whimpered, coming undone as he fucked his fingers into you at a breakneck pace.
“Speak up, sweetheart, can’t hear ya.”
Your head started to spin as he pulled his fingers out of you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he slammed his hips forwards, shoving his thick cock inside of you, causing you to cry out in ecstasy at the sudden fullness. Trying to be quiet, you secretly thanked your lucky stars that the sounds of Your Love by The Outfield blared throughout the club. Just as the chorus picked up, Jake rocked his hips forwards again, fucking himself into you with enough force to make you feel as though he might blow your back out right then and there.
“That’s it, Sugar, takin’ me so well,” Jake smirked, “What was that you said about bein’ a wannabe cowboy? Bet those other boys can’t fuck you like this, now can they?”
You were practically rendered speechless by Jake’s precise, rhythmic thrusts into your cunt, his masculine grunting and teasing proving enough to throw you back over the edge once again. Your legs began to shake and shudder while he bucked his hips up into you, his eyes full of lust and hunger as he brought you to your second orgasm of the night. Your walls clenched around him tightly, eliciting a low, pornographic moan out of Jake. 
Raking your fingers through his hair, tugging on it as you threw your head back, you screamed out his name, louder than you intended. You lost your ability to hold yourself together as Jake’s thrusts became sloppier, his own orgasm following close behind yours. 
“Fuck, am I good?” He groaned, his eyes pleading for permission.
“On the pill, you’re good,” you panted, nodding quickly as Jake let himself go inside of you, your name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer as he repeated it over and over, praising you.
“Now, how ‘bout letting a strong, handsome Southern boy take you out on a date so he don’t feel so bad about fucking you until you can’t walk a couple hours after meetin’ ya?” He grinned as he readjusted himself and pulled his clothes back up. 
“I think I can fit you into my schedule, on one condition.”
“Mhmm? What’s that?”
“Next time, you come wearing a cowboy hat.”
“Deal, Sugar, I’ll even let you wear it.” 
418 notes · View notes
forbidden-sunlight · 2 months
Text
yandere!Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader Valentine's Day scenario
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Warning: aged-up!reader [in early to late twenties], obsessive behavior, vulgar language, knowledge based on the first four episodes of the 2024 series.
There may be possible triggers in this story.
If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your mobile device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.
You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!
Hey guys, welcome back to another Hazbin Hotel fic, starring Hell's one and only Radio Demon, Alastor and his little darling!
This is a collaborative piece with @isuckatwritingsobenice with special thanks to @witch-of-the-writing-desk and @riddle-simp for providing criticism and feedback. If you would like to read the one that started it all, I'll leave a link to it here.
As always, bullying is not tolerated here. If you have nothing nice to say, please do not say it. Furthermore, if you believe the warnings listed above will make you uncomfortable, please leave now.
For those who have decided to stay, sit back, relax, and let's see what's going on for tonight's broadcast :)
Although he had figured out why you were and what he needed to do to push you in the right direction, Alastor was still annoyed with what he was…feeling towards you. 
When his mother died, he had stopped feeling. There was no reason to keep feeling when the only person in his entire world was gone. Is that the reason why he became a serial killer? Who knows. Is she the reason why he keeps smiling, because he always remembered her saying that you never fully dressed without one? Absolutely! Why bother wearing a frown all the time when he could keep everyone on their toes with a smile and a salutations over the radio? 
So why is it that when he thinks about you, it is like his mind is torn between annoyance and fondness? Why does he have the urge to simply hide you away from the world and keep you all to himself instead of making your misery even greater for his own amusement? He doesn’t know and if he doesn’t figure out why, he knows he will lose his temper very soon. Charlie had already demolished  the second to last wall of his patience on the insistence that everyone in the hotel should participate in a crafting session to celebrate a human holiday. Valentine’s Day, of all things. 
He is a gentleman. And a gentleman, as his mother has always taught him, is to never raise his hand against a woman. She did not say anything about Lucifer’s delusional daughter who believes that the people of Hell can be redeemed. Even you, someone who is just as rational and calm as he, believed in her. That a sinner had a chance to go to Heaven when their actions in life are reflected on their afterlife. It’s common sense, really. 
So why couldn’t you see that? Even Vagatha was starting to have some doubts too. But she would not dare say what is truly on her mind about this passion project to Charlie’s face yet due to her incredibly strong loyalty towards the princess. 
Regardless of his observations of these two ladies, Alastor found himself caught in the enigmatic web of emotions as he observed your seemingly indifferent facade from his favorite chair in the parlor. He was not helping with decorating the hotel. You were though. You stood underneath Charlie, steadying the ladder she stood with gloved hands as she pinned strings of pink and red paper hearts over the hotel’s entryway. Vagatha was nearby, busying herself with other tasks, including asking Husk to please not drink all of the red wine, they are saving it for tonight! Angel was flirting with Husk. Husk shot a rude gesture in return. Niffty was making the hotel spotless again when she already cleaned it a few hours ago. Alastor had no idea where Sir Pentious was and frankly did not care. 
When he had decided to help with the hotel, he was just going to watch from the sidelines and let everything run its course. But there was something being formed here. A connection was beginning to make itself known and he did not like that. The Radio Demon comes and goes as he pleases without being tied down to anything or anyone. If this feeling continues to fester inside of him, why he’ll toss himself into the fiery pits just so that he could be his old self again!
“All right, these are all done!” Charlie said happily, pulling away to look at her handiwork with pride before she averted her gaze to you. “You good there, [First Name]? Sorry I had to pull you away from gardening to do this!”
“I don’t mind.” You said. [Eye Color] irises watched as the princess began to climb down, each step squealing creak-creak beneath her stilettos. “What will we do about snacks and dinner? We already have the drinks covered through Husk.” You held out a gloved hand to the princess on the third step from the bottom. Charlie gladly took it, but not before she spun you around, the bone-white skirt billowing slightly to reveal the laced-up boots on your feet. 
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out! In fact, I’ll make a grocery list for Niffty right now! Then we’ll need to see if we can add anything else. Ooh, maybe something for the staircase? Or the chandelier? This party is going to be so much fun! Can’t you feel the love in the air, [First Name]?!”
You blinked at her. “No.” You carefully distanced yourself away from her. “But I do remember there is something I need to bring inside before I forget about it again. I’ll be right back.”
You bowed your head to them and scurried across the parlor, making quick strides across the parlor and taking a left underneath the intricate railings of the grand staircase. There was a light click, and then there was silence. 
The hotel, constructed on the hill, possessed a limited garden space that showcased carefully manicured flora.  There was also a greenhouse. Both locations were left unexplored by Alastor because he knew the flora you had carefully tended to, and in his opinion, it was too soon to share his secret just yet. However, he did know that the door under the grand staircase, the centerpiece of the hotel’s architecture, was how you always traveled around. 
 Each corridor held secrets, inviting exploration and mystery within the confines of the Pride Ring’s overlook. But the door you took was a shortcut to whichever place you desired to go to: the garden or the greenhouse. Fifteen minutes passed, and then the door opened again. 
Walking out of the staircase, everyone saw the bright red roses cradled carefully in your gloved hands. 
Charlie squealed in delight, racing towards you with wide eyes. Vagatha followed close behind.  Angel just looked up from his phone to see what was all the ruckus in faint interest. 
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh! You did it, [First Name]! You really grew something!!” Charlie all but shouted, her excited cries bouncing across the vaulted ceilings. Vagatha leaned forward, a small smile stretching across her face. “Great job.”
“It was a little tricky, but I was finally able to figure out the proper fertilizing formula, including a place where they can get just enough sunshine but not so much that the petals would not be burned. An inch of water each week. Too much water and I might actually kill the roots.” You explained. “Since the weather doesn’t change much down here except for the occasional acid rain, these actually had time to grow.” You then took one flower, holding out to Vaggie. “For you.” You said, then placing  another one in Charlie’s hands. “And you. If you’d like to make them last for a little longer, put them in a vase with sugar water.” 
Charlie beamed. “Thank you!”
“Thanks.” Vagatha said.
 You inclined your head, then crossed the room and proceeded to pass around your hard earned flowers to everyone. You kneeled down to Niffty’s height, tucking one behind her ear before standing up. She jumped up and down in happiness, causing the flower to fall but she caught it, holding it as if it’s the most precious treasure she had ever been given. She promised to give you something in return, to which you politely declined. 
You walked over to the bar and handed a rose to Husk. He stared at the flower, then back at you before he put down the bottle he had been drinking from on the counter, plucking it from your hand. “Thanks kid.” He muttered, laying it next to him and then taking another swing of his booze. Angel immediately slid into one of the booths, grinning toothily at you. 
“Got any for me, toots?” 
You held out a rose to him. He made a flirty joke and promptly shoved it in his chest. “So~? How do I look?” He crooned, batting his eyes at you as he pushed up his chest floof right in front of your face. Honestly, when will this whore learn this is not how someone speaks to a lady?
Your countenance held a fleeting perplexity at his vulgar words and actions, your brow furrowing for a moment before your stoic expression returned…though Alastor could see…an inquisitive expression in your eyes. You were thinking about something. What he did not know and he was quite curious to see what you do next. 
So he sat in silence and watched. 
He watched you stretch your hand outwards, carefully extracting the rose from Angel’s person. Angel opened his mouth, no doubt ready to complain when he froze midway as you artfully placed it on the right side of his head. You withdrew, casting a scrutinizing gaze upon him before nodding in approval. 
“Flowers adorning your hair enhance your allure far beyond the glimmer of rainbow glitter or imitation jewels.” You said. For the first time since he arrived at the hotel, the famous pornstar Angel Dust was rendered completely speechless. The only thing he could stutter was a ‘thanks’, a faint red hue staining his pale face. 
The gradual decay of the rose in your hand did not escape Alastor’s notice and he was delighted. A manifestation of the latent powers he possessed, to cause living things within a certain distance to wither. He smirked, appreciating the subtle dance of his influence. You spun around, meeting his gaze. “Permission to approach, sir?”
Husk gagged. Vaggie groaned. He laughed. 
“Of course you can~!” He said. Oh, you were trying so hard to respect his personal space, how adorable! Goodness, hadn’t you caught on that he only touches people that he is interested in? Why, he’s touched Charlie’s shoulders so many times that he is shocked that Vagatha hasn’t tried to stab him out of jealousy!
So you approached him. But when you held out his rose to him, it was already dead. 
You were shocked but you did not need to say anything; your face, and your eyes, told him everything. He was pleased and amused all at the same time. What would you do next? He thought. You looked down at the rose, then back at him. Carefully placing the other rose, the one that wasn’t completely decayed yet, on the coffee table. Your gloved fingers coiled around the stem of his rose and deftly snapped it in half. You took another step, and leaned forward to pin it to the left side of his coat. 
You took a step back. You looked at the flower, then back at him. “It still suits you.” You said. “Although it is dead, a decayed rose suits you just as much as a fresh one.” 
Alastor felt his withered heart pulse under his skin for the briefest moment until it went still again. He knows he is a dapper of a gentleman, someone who takes pride in his appearance and knows how to use it to his advantage. But hearing your compliment made him preen in his seat. Almost. He had a reputation to uphold. 
“Coming from you my dear, that is the highest praise I had never believed would be uttered from your lips~!” He said, abruptly standing up from his chair and staring down at you with a grin. “Now that I’m all spiffed up, it’s your turn~!”
You tilted your head to the side. “I don’t understand.” You said with an expressionless face.
“I just remembered that I have an errand to run in our dear city, and I am in need of your skill sets~!” He was rambling. He knew it and it was pissing him off because the Radio Demon does not stutter or act flustered around anyone. He snapped his fingers, feeling the familiar thrum of his magic as it left his body, evaporating into a plume of red mist that covered your body before it disappeared as quickly it had come. Gone was the same outfit you wore every day, and in its place was an outfit much more suited for any self-respecting woman; a light pink sequined flapper dress, a rope of pearls around your neck with a nice little cloche hat to top it off. And he mustn’t forget the pair of white heels on your feet!
Yet just as the applause track echoed across the parlor, Alastor noticed that you looked away from him. You were uncrossing and crossing your adamantine skeletal arms, the gloved hands being the remaining piece from exposing the scars of war entirely to curious eyes.  
Oh. Oh. You were even quivering? Such a shame. 
Trying his best to ignore the disappointment gnawing at his bones, Alastor sighed and snapped his fingers again, dispelling the enchantment on you and simultaneously replacing the outfit with something….much more suited to your style, but matching him in every sense of the word. A white ruffled white blouse poking out from the collar of a red waistcoat, a matching ruffled skirt that covered your legs and stretched to your ankles, where the black-heeled stilettos peeked out from. The white gloves were dyed to onyx, and the cute hat was replaced with one that had a wider brim with a black rose stitched on the side. In your hands was a red parasol. But his favorite, personal touch was the ruby brooch shaped like a stag, like him. 
Replacing the emerald one you wore every day, supposedly in memory of Major Gilbert. The man whom you claimed did not love him romantically since you cannot love. That tad-bit he had overheard when you shared one thing about yourself in the group exercise. 
But more importantly, you no longer seemed anxious. In fact, you were back to your normal, monotone self~! How wonderful and annoying!
Alastor grinned in approval, twirling his microphone expertly between his fingers before rapping the end of it against the floor with a loud thump. “Now then, shall we be off, my dear~?” He said, extending his arm for you to take. You looked at him, then back at Vagatha before you stepped towards him, very cautiously placing your gloved hand in the crook of his arm. It took a lot of self-control to not pull away in disgust from the contact, but he held onto his composure because he is a gentleman not a brute. 
“Now then, let us be off~!” He bellowed.
“You’re supposed to actually be helping us around the hotel, not fucking off, you prick!” Vagatha yelled, her lovely silver hair standing on end as she swore in Spanish. Charlie was trying to calm her darling down with a sheepish smile, wishing the two of you a good time and don’t worry about a thing. Alastor just grinned and quickly led them out of the hotel, down the steep hill and into the city.
Though as soon the two of you were parading through the streets, you immediately pulled away from him and stood exactly five feet behind him. He could not help but feel amused by your antics, nor the relief of actually having his personal space back even when he had offered his arm for you to take, not the other way around. You knew better than to initiate contact. Although unexpected joy hummed in his veins, this…genuine connection, this bond, began to chip away around the edges of his collected facade. And as the two of you continued your walk through the Pentagram at a steady pace, there was also this irritable and irresistible annoyance starting to bloom in the back of his head and quite frankly it was beginning to give him a headache. Why is he feeling so many things at once? Can’t feelings have an arranged timetable so he doesn’t lose his reputation as a fearsome overlord? 
Why are feelings…so damn complicated? Why? 
Not wanting to sink any further between the allure of your company and his own resistance to vulnerability, Alastor began to hum a little tune to distract himself. He did not want to think. He refuses to fall even further than he already has. He turned his head slightly, gazing at you from his peripheral vision. You were looking around curiously, watching sinners live their sinful lives and probably wondering why you had earned the same damnation as they did. At least that was what he initially thought until he saw your eyes darting from the street corners, the buildings…ah. The cameras.
You were worried about Vox seeing him after he had put the little pest in his place last week? Oh, you were quite a little darling, weren’t you?
“There’s no need to be concerned about those tiny picture boxes, my dear!” He exclaimed suddenly. “This face was made for radio, the proper medium to express oneself!”  
“...You’re certain?” 
  “Of course! Now it should be around here…ah-ha! Here we are! Follow me or you might get swept up by another gentleman!” Alastor joked as he quickened his pace towards a mortar-and brick building sandwiched between two other more modern buildings on the other side of the street. The restaurant, embraced by mortar and brick, stood between modern edifices. Its interior exuded a warm ambiance, with dim lighting casting a subtle glow on polished wooden tables. The booths were nestled in the back, providing a private setting for the two of you. The menu possessed an array of culinary delights, promised a refined venison experience.
 Rosie had recommended this place to him a while back, but never got around to it after he left for his sabbatical seven years ago. You did not keep him waiting, matching your stride with his and the host’s. 
Despite just how much the host trembled in fear at the sight of him, handing out the menus and stuttering the name of their server, the host couldn’t stop staring at you with a dazzled, licentious look in his eyes. Alastor had to hold back the urge to make the server part of his menu. Or maybe he shouldn’t? Perhaps this youngster needed a reminder just who he is? 
“…Alastor? Alastor? Sir?”
Your voice called out to him, the barest hint of concern laced with curiosity before he shook himself out of his thoughts. “Yes, my dear?” He asked. 
“Are we doing a reconnaissance mission?” 
 The static around him screeched to a halt, and he stared at you with an incredulous expression. 
“I beg your pardon?”
“You had said that you needed my skill sets on this outing,” You said, blinking at him, folding your gloved hands together on the sleek wood table. “My specialties from serving in the war include that as well as hand-to-hand combat and weapon handling. Is….this about new territories that are up for the taking? Why was the extermination date moved up to six months? Or this mission on a need-to-know basis?”
…He knew you were oblivious to Angel’s flirtatious remarks and modern slang, but he did not think that it would extend that you did not know that when a gentleman takes a beautiful lady for a night around the town, it means he has the intention of courting. What sort of life had you lived before coming down here? More importantly, how does he explain without looking like a complete fool?
The Radio Demon thought for a long moment before a proverbial lightbulb went off inside his mind. Yes, he thought delightfully. That will do. Mirroring your position - spine straight, bony fingers interlaced, and placed neatly on the table, maintaining eye contact. He spoke. 
“Considering your skills-set, I wanted to see if you are truly as talented as you claim to be~! And there is no better way to evaluate a person’s worth than through a simple test. A game, if you will!” He leaned forward, pushing a wave of his powers throughout his body, releasing it from the bottom of his shoes and scattering throughout the establishment. Well, his friends at least. Now for the rules. 
“My shadows are somewhere in this restaurant. Some are easy to see at first glance, some are not~! Find all six of them, and you get a prize! If you guess incorrectly, however, then you must truthfully answer a question I will ask.  The time limit will be until we leave, and you must maintain eye contact with me at all times! Since this mission is….a personal one of mine, you must be able to blend with the crowd and not draw attention to yourself, to us, or this mission will be compromised. Any questions?” You shook your head. 
“Wonderful~!” He bellowed in delight 
And then the game began. 
Between interruptions with their server and mild conversation, you whispered where each shadow as you looked at the second side of the menu, unable to decide what to try. He obviously recommended the venison, and he would either say you found a shadow or guessed incorrectly. By the time you had informed the server of your entrees, you found three out of six. You got two tries wrong. Alastor got two questions out of you. 
“What was your life like before coming down here, my dear?” He asked. 
“I served in The Great War as a soldier of the Leidenschaftlich Army. My commanding officer was Major Gilbert Bougainvillea.” You answered. “When I was relieved from my duties, I worked at a postal company until my death.”
“And do you know what it means when a gentleman asks a young lady to join him for an outing?” 
You opened your mouth, and then closed it, confusion flitting across your face for the briefest moment until you answered him. “I do not.” You said slowly. “From my experience in the barracks, the men would escort the young ladies that have caught their interest to the pub or somewhere else…and they  would not come back until past curfew. The major would lecture them if he caught them.  He told me…it was a sex thing. But I was too young to understand what he meant back then.”  
Alastor almost choked on his venison at your words, his equilibrium thrown off for a moment before he quickly recovered, swallowing the delicious morsel and maintaining his dignity by wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I…see.” He said slowly. “And you are aware that this is not that kind of courting, correct?”
“Yes.” You answered. “Because you do not like anything related to sex, which is perfectly fine.”
“But do you know that when a gentleman courts a young lady without…that in mind, it is because he has a romantic interest in her?” He asked, staring at you straight in the eye. “And he would like to get to know a little more in a setting that does not include any third parties?”  There. He thought as he saw your eyes widen just a fraction. Understanding. You were catching onto his intentions! Finally, another emotion! You have shown him another expression besides indifference and confusion! Good job!  Now will these blasted feelings finally go away? Out of sight, out of mind as they say!
Then the look on your face melted away, becoming a mask of stoicism as you answered him softly. 
“I appreciate the sentiment….but I am afraid that I am no longer capable of feeling emotions, at least…what it truly means to love someone. It can come in many forms and is expressed differently with each person. The romantic sense…it isn’t meant for me. And I’ve come to terms with that when I was alive, and when I came here. I am grateful for what I already have.”
In the back of his mind, Alastor had actually thought he would get another reaction out of you, perhaps seeing your cheeks turn red and hear your heart thumping against your rib cage. But at the cost of hearing someone actually reject his advances?
That does not seem quite fair, does it? He chuckled darkly in amusement. 
“Hm~. You say that you are no longer capable of expressing yourself beyond a grim facade? I beg to differ, my dear. I have seen you show  discomfort, anxiety, and understanding all within a single day of being in my company. I can guarantee that’s the most I have ever seen of you since you came to the hotel.” He craned his head to one side, still smiling. “But fear not, I wholeheartedly welcome a challenge.” 
With that being said, he graciously decided to extend the little game with the progression of their meal, right up to when the waiter brought them your desserts. There were still three shadows to find, and he continued his line of questioning, observing your reactions and demeanor as you answered him. 
Alastor will not lie and say that your rejection of courtship did not bruise his pride. He was used to being feared and worshiped in a single breath. Being liked was something else entirely, yet being disliked? Quite rare, with the exception of Vox and the other Vs. 
“You can certainly keep me on my toes, darling.” He said playfully as he stood up from his seat, walking to your side and offering his hand. You stared at him owlishly before placing your hand in his gloved one. 
“My mind cannot change that easily I’m afraid, Alastor. You are wasting your time.” You said. 
“We shall see, my dear. Perhaps you just need a little more…persuasion.” He replied, before delivering the final question to you, a personal one: how many had you killed when you were a soldier? You replied. I cannot remember anymore. 
He was quite stunned at your answer…but he was satisfied, and that was all that mattered. He knew more about you than Charlie probably could ever pull out of you during a group exercise. No one else. Not Husk, Not Niffty, and certainly not Angel Dust nor Sir Pentious. And that gave him an advantage over anyone else who would be so bold as to approach you with a romantic intention. 
“I see.” He hummed. “Come, come, you’ve passed the test~! And I did promise a prize to the winner~!”
Instead of the traditional flowers, chocolates, or stuffed animals that were given to a lover on this atrocious holiday, Alastor had purchased  new ink ribbons for your Remington typewriter and another pair of leather gloves. Perhaps he will allow you to keep the outfit he dressed you up in. You did wear the same thing every day. It was better than trusting Angel Dust with upgrading your wardrobe. 
You thanked him, the barest stretch of a genuine smile stretched across your face as you cradled the bag that held your gifts before it disappeared as quickly as it came, and you focused on the road ahead. Yet to him, the fearsome Radio Demon…it was such a smile that lasted long enough to commit it to his memory, and reinvigorate his desire to pursue you. 
After all, no one else in this cesspool is worthy to court the soldier maiden of the Hazbin Hotel except for him…
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