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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 4 months

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ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR - PART 1

Pairing - Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary - When you were attacked in your own home, you confined yourself with Jonathan to help you heal. Until you learn a sickening truth that changes everything.

Warnings - extreme NON-CON, dub con, rough sex, drugging, oral, hand job, grinding, manipulation, stalking, controlling.

Word count - 6.9k+

Notes - I've been working on this for a long time and after many rewrites, this is the first of a two part story. This simple idea turned out to be so long that I had to split it up otherwise I would never finish it. Probably the darkest story I've written. Please note story isn't in chronology order. Comments/messages are urged if this even deserves the second part please. And I'm sorry but I hate proof reading.

For the first time forever, you felt as if you’ve finally recognised your priorities. You wanted Jonathan, you needed Jonathan. In desperate need of your call for help, you visualized screaming his name. Not the authorities, not a knight in shining armor, not a God, it was Jonathan.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop trembling as you remained curled up in a ball in your kitchen. The room was as dark as the deepest corner of a cave and it was as cold as ice on this winter’s night. All of your thoughts didn’t match up with each other as if they were scrambled in a pan like eggs, you struggled to remember where and who you were.

Hesitantly, you gripped onto the edge of the counter, your knuckles turned white as you pulled your aching body up as your hands searched and patted over the counter top. Feeling the home phone in your shaking hand, the buttons flashed a dim white light, but it was all a blur to you as you dialed the number. Holding the phone to your ear with an unsteady grip, you listened to the phone ring. Praying to any God that he would answer. Right when you thought the call was going to ring out, you heard his breathing on the other end of the line for a brief moment.

Your friendship had recently hit rock bottom with Jonathan, it was your fault, you know it was. You shouldn’t have been drinking in such an emotional state, you shouldn't have dressed the way you did, you shouldn’t have looked at him in that manner. You were selfish, merely wanting somebody’s complete attention. You've always led on Doctor Jonathan Crane, the ruthless misanthrope psychiatrist who had an undying obsession with you. But that night, you foolishly crossed the line you were determined to stay away from.

“What is it?” Jonathan answered, not sounding pleased to be answering a call at this time of the night, or by you, most likely both. But you were so relieved to hear his voice that you couldn’t help but to sob out loud. It felt like a massive weight was lifted off of your shoulders yet you never felt more empty. Your voice choked as you attempted to say something, anything. “Darling? What’s wrong?” Jonathan continued, his tone completely switching as he voiced his concern.

“I- Johnny… I-I” you cried, lost for words.

Your mind was still fuzzy as you looked down at your body, your pajama shorts ripped in multiple spots and dried fluids all over your flesh. You could hear him begging you to tell him what was wrong, had something happened to you? But you were still too deep in a state of shock and confusion to say anything. No matter how desperately you wanted to beg Jonathan to come save you, all you could do was sob.

“Calm down, I’m leaving right now sweetheart. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Please stay calm darling” he promised you before hanging up the line. If he could stay on the phone with you, he would.

As the line went dead, you collapsed back onto the floor, curling back up into a ball as your body trembled in mental and physical distress. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t do as he asked, how could you stay calm after this?

Jonathan used the spare key you gave him to open the door and quickly punched in the security code to your alarm system. Rushing down the dark hallway, he was calling out your name repetitively and flicked on the lights in the kitchen to reveal the heavily intoxicated you. Jonathan rushed to your side and kneeled, your eyes were glued shut from fear, your teeth chattering as he slowly went to touch your shoulder. Startled, you shrieked and flung yourself back, hitting your head on the wooden counter which caused flashing white lines through your darkened sight.

“Shhhh” Jonathan soothed, pulling your body towards him, embracing you. Your body was as stiff as stone under his. “It’s just me sweetheart. Jonathan, it’s Johnny” he clarified, rubbing your back as he pressed his warm lips to your cold temple.

Your mind was still unclear with whatever hardcore substance was in your system and you struggled to keep your eyes open. Your skin felt filthy, as if you were drenched in grease. It was difficult to breathe, your chest tight and throat dehydrated. The feeling of agony weighed heavy on you, keeping you locked to the cold tiled floor. You looked at Jonathan with hesitation through teary eyes, not trusting him.

When you realized it really was him you cried into his chest, letting it all out, holding onto him for dear life. Gently cooling by your ear to help calm you down, Jonathan rocked you back and forth as his eyes wandered around the lit room. He could see the havoc of your kitchen. The utensils spread all over the counter, broken glass and water on the floor.

“I’m here, you’re safe now” Jonathan promised you and despite your disoriented state, you knew his words to be true.

Doctor Jonathan Crane was an intriguing character. Many would use precise words such as: bumptious, narcissistic, cunning and barbaric when describing him. He was a walking hazard. They’d all warn you to stay away from him, he was expressed as a psychotic genius who lets Hell rain in Arkham Asylum through his experiments for his own intellectual growth.

To you, he was kind, understanding and never failed to make you feel like the most important person in the room. You cannot lie, your friendship with Jonathan was certainly unconventional. But Jonathan was smitten by you, and you felt tenderness with the idea of always having someone there for you.

After almost an hour of blubbering on the floor, you laid back in the passenger seat in a dopey state, wrapped up in his coat as he cautiously drove you back to his house, gazing over to you every few seconds. The paranoia of that man, that monster coming back was too overbearing. Jonathan inwardly deemed that he would be able to take better care of you. He never had optimism in others, especially to the care of you. When the engine’s rumbled came to a sudden silence in the garage, Jonathan completely looked over to you, his fingertips brushing over your jawline. He grabbed your small bag in the backseat first, he’d pick up more belongings in the morning. Opening the car door for you, he wrapped his arm around you protectively and picked you off the ground bridal style.

“Do you have any idea what he gave you sweetheart?” Jonathan projected as he carried you to his bedroom, laying you on the bed. Gently, you shook your head. “Well, you don’t look like you're overdosing…” Jonathan observed, checking your pulse. “But better to be safe than sorry” he murmured.

Jonathan disappeared and reappeared swiftly, standing by your side with medical equipment. The vital signs were quickly checked. Besides your disorientation and heightened sense of fear, you showed no physical symptoms of an overdose.

“Any chest pains? Nausea? Abdominal pain?” Jonathan asked slowly and you continued to shake your head. Humming in response, Jonathan searched through his bag and picked out a tablet. “Take this” he instructed.

But you were skeptical as you squinted your eyes to the small white pill. Jonathan sighed and motioned the pill towards your lips. Your dry lips parted as he slipped the pill into your mouth, followed by the rim of a water bottle to help swallow it down.

“You need a bath, then I’ll make you some tea, okay?” Jonathan told you, caressing your forearm.

Nodding in agreement, you watched Jonathan slip into the ensuite and you heard the water running, Your body lightly trembled as you closed your eyes and when you opened them again, you were in the bath with Jonathan kneeling beside you as he ran a cloth up and down your now warm skin, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The water had a scent in it, lavender you believed. The steam dancing up into thin air over the water.

You looked around your surroundings and then down as you saw your exposed body. Your arms instinctively went to cover yourself as your whimpers began to grow. A hush left Jonathan’s lips as his hand intertwined with yours to help calm you. He gave you a stern stare that screamed for you to stay calm. Yet his soft eyes were begging you to trust him, you took a deep breath in and laid your head back. It’s nothing Jonathan hasn’t seen after all.

Jonathan wrapped the towel around you tightly after he guided you out of the tub, his hands rubbing up and down your shoulders as he walked you into his walk-in wardrobe. He helped you dress into your pajamas, yet the short sleeves and pants made you feel insecure. Your arms wrapped around your body and Jonathan cocked an eyebrow to you. After studying your expression, he pulled out his old university hoodie and slid it over your head. You sighed in relief, the scent of him still strongly on the fabric.

Trailing after him like a lost puppy to the kitchen, he flicked on the kettle and plucked out an apple from the fruit bowl. Whilst waiting for the kettle to boil, he quickly sliced the apple into bite sized pieces and hand fed you bit by bit.

“It’ll help calm your mind” Jonathan exhaled as he poured the hot water into the herbal tea. The mug was set beside you as he watched you momentarily, waiting for the tea to cool down.

After a few minutes you took a small sip and breathed out, fresh tears pricking at your strained eyes. Everytime you closed your eyes you could see him, that monster, creature. Shifting your focus directly onto your tea, the two of you stood in silence, Jonathan’s eyes still set on you. The clock read 4:08 as its hands ticked loudly.

He took your mug as you finished it. “I’ll sleep on the couch” he stated, gently pushing you in the direction of the bedroom. You came to a sudden stop as you turned around to face him.

“Please don’t… Stay with me” you weakly begged, dreading the idea of being alone.

Jonathan’s eyes softened as he nodded in agreement and he guided you to the bedroom. He laid you comfortably on the bed and vanished into the walk-in wardrobe, returning in cozy pants and a long sleeve top. You slipped underneath the bed as his blue eyes stalked you, Jonathan slithered onto the bed and underneath the covers like a snake, pulling your fragile body towards his. Your breathing was staggered as laid your head on his firm chest, he left the lamp on, caressing your back as your tired eyes urged you to shut them but you were too afraid of seeing him again.

After what felt like hours of just laying there, even though it was only a few minutes, your breathing got rougher as the memories began to control your thoughts. Your hand wrapped around his side firmly and Jonathan looked down.

“Breathe in darling” Jonathan whispered.

“What?” you frowned, looking up to him.

“Breath in” he softly smiled, you did as he said. “Now breathe out” he continued on. Breathing out, Jonathan coached you to do it over and over again.

Your chest relaxed as you laid your head back onto his chest, your tired eyes taking over you as you continued to breathe in and out at a steady pace. He whispered calming thoughts by your ear, he was so good with words.

“That’s a good girl” Jonathan whispered as you fell into a deep slumber, free from fear just for now.

You met Jonathan at Gotham University. Everyone on campus despised him, a cocky know it all who’d jump at a debate whenever it raised on the surface. Jonathan was the first in all of his classes, no matter how hard all of the other students tried, he was unbeatable. But you couldn’t help but to be curious with his presence when you’d see him around campus. He was cute, charming if he wore the right clothes, but he was certainly a unique character. Jonathan was passionate, eager and sharp.

He was in the year above you so you never had a real reason to talk to him. But if you’d walk past him in the hallways you’d greet him, he would never reply back however, hardly acknowledge your existence nevertheless. Yet sometimes you’d look up wherever you were on campus and catch him watching you. Like you were a gazelle in an open field. Usually people would instantly look away after being caught, but he continued to stare, as if he was studying you, dissecting you apart with his ocean blue eyes.

It wasn’t until your second year when he approached you in the campus gardens, blocking off the sunlight, you looked up to the boy with dark hair. “Is it Professor Dickens or Winston that has you in such a state of distress?” Jonathan questioned you cockily, staring down at you with a sly grin, his hands behind his back. His rectangular framed glasses made him look goofy yet somewhat intimidating.

After a short silence, you responded with a light chuckle, “Dickens” and Jonathan hummed loudly.

“Ah, I do not speak from experience. However, many find Professor Dickens to be rather… rigorous” Jonathan replied, leaning over to look at the book you were studying. “I remember that textbook, it was rather unchallenging. What are you struggling with?” Jonathan asked, kneeling down next to you now to look at your jots in your notebook.

“All of it really” you sighed, furrowing your eyebrows at how he is actually associating himself with you. “I had to leave town for a few days, my grandma was very ill. Professor Dickens didn’t approve of my appeal for an extension” you muttered slightly, feeling a wave of anger at the situation.

“No issue, I was Professor Dickens star pupil” Jonathan responded, taking your notebook off of you without consent. Jonathan was all of his Professors’ star pupil. “I’ll be sure to make you the next” he grinned at you.

Your peculiar friendship rapidly continued to blossom over the months. Multiple times of the week you’d find yourself residing somewhere hidden on campus with Jonathan, sharing reports, experiments and research with one another. He became your mentor, tutor, inspiration to strive for brilliance in your education.

Jonathan didn’t seem to be as evil as everyone made him out to be. However, you quickly realized that this behavior was merely reserved towards you. Not that he ever did any romantic gestures towards you. You could just read his eyes like a children’s book. Shamefully, you liked Jonathan, a lot more than you wanted to. Jonathan was a puzzle that you had this urge to try to solve, yet at times the pieces you’d connect together felt sinister which you ignorantly chose to ignore.

To Jonathan’s clear distaste, you were already in a relationship. Daniel was your high school sweetheart, but that relationship quickly went sour as you graduated. If you weren’t so comfortable with him, you would have broken up with him at the first red flag. No one should put up with the abuse and neglect he showed you. Especially with the bad habits he had picked up during your relationship. But you were young and naive, too afraid of what life would look like without him.

Jonathan became aware of his maltreatment towards you when he noticed a light bruise over your jaw and a horrible excuse as to how it occurred. He knew you were lying by the way your cheeks would turn a few shades darker. This situation was no exception. But he said nothing, surprising with how he was always proud to state his opinion. Jonathan unhappily went along with your little lie to keep you content.

Then, Daniel disappeared into thin air. Packed up all of his belongings abruptly in the middle of the night and never saw his face again. It wasn’t a surprise really, he had a cocaine issue, most likely made a few bad friends in the dark alleys of Gotham. You weren’t sure he ran away, or if something far sinister had occurred. Nevertheless, it was a shattering experience. But you had Jonathan to lean on for support and you couldn’t be anymore grateful.

Expectedly shortly after, Jonathan confessed his feelings for you confidently yet emotionlessly. He was extremely understanding when you said that you couldn’t think about seeing people again yet and how you’d hate to ruin your friendship. Because it did mean so much to you. Jonathan only couldn’t resist keeping those thoughts inside of him any longer. Your friendship continued on like normal.

When Jonathan earned his doctorate, you demanded he’d celebrate with you. As if he even had any other options. You were going to plan him a special night, but he had already beat you to it, he was such a control freak. The night was spent at one of Gotham’s finest restaurants. He wore his finest black suit and you wore a gorgeous bodycon silk green dress. It was the first time you had ever drank with Jonathan, you had a bottle of champagne on ice to share. Traditionally, Jonathan placed his card in the folder and flashed you a grin. It was one of the best nights of your life, living in luxury, gratefully with him.

“I know I told you no gifts, but there is one thing that I wish from you” Jonathan exhaled as he parked his car outside of your apartment block. He looked over to you slowly and you could feel your heart pound in your chest, your throat tighten as if something had tied rope around it.

You knew exactly what path he was walking down, this day was bound to pounch back at you again. When else then after an unofficial romantic dinner at one of Gotham’s finest?

“Yes Johnny?” You awkwardly chuckled, the streetlamps illuminating his expression of despair.

“A kiss” he whispered, his look begging you to agree with him as he straightened his posture.

“Jonathan” you warned, breaking eye contact immediately. What else should you have expected? It was your typical romantic dinner, he paid the bill, now you had to pay up with a different currency.

“Just once… Every time I heard students snicker behind my back about how I… Couldn't pull…” Jonathan’s tongue clicked as if a drop of venom fell onto it. “I could never help but to feel embarrassed with them being correct, for once” he continued on, looking away from you in the same. “But yes, I have never had the pleasure of kissing a woman before, especially someone as beautiful as you” Jonathan admitted, sighing dramatically at the embarrassment.

“Never?” You frowned towards him, feeling slightly guilty.

As if it wasn’t as clear as day, he never spoke about his natural urges with you. A part of you was convinced that he would come out as asexual one day. It was all so extremely rare for him to get along with others, he would never do a sneaky link, especially during the academic period. No wonder he was always such an asshole to others.

“Unfortunately my brilliance in psychology doesn’t even out my ill-manners towards others” Jonathan exhaled, biting on his lips at the unfortunate truth.

Perhaps it was the champagne urging you towards him, but Jonathan just looked so sweet and innocent right now. You couldn’t help but to feel sympathy for him, especially after all he has done for you.

“One kiss…” you stated, holding up one finger.

Jonathan gently nodded and leant towards you eagerly, his hands snaked to your back to pull your bodies together. If only you could hear how rapid his heartbeat was. He was hesitant, so you closed the distance and pressed your lips against his.

Jonathan hummed, his mouth opening ajar for his tongue to slip out, subconsciously you allowed his slippery tongue inside your warm mouth. His hands slowly slid up your back as your tongues danced together in the silent atmosphere. Right as you noticed your body being drawn to him you abruptly pulled yourself away from him. The pair of you silently caught your breath.

There was a brief moment of silence, your mind still registering how intense of a kiss that was. How strong it felt when it should have felt like nothing.

“Thank you darling” Jonathan smiled as he leaned back into his seat, but his hand danced over yours and you allowed him to.

“We need to find you a hooker to get you laid” you laughed, playfully smacking his hand.

If your studies didn’t teach you much of manipulation, Jonathan sure did. He was a puppeteer, you’d never want him to attach strings to you. Considering how afraid you were of getting his claws on you, you seemed to forget the leash you had on Jonathan. He’d do anything for you, you’d be lying if you said that you’ve never taken advantage of that. But at the end of the day, your relationship with Jonathan was simple and fundamental. To his dismay, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

There was this unwritten debt between Jonathan and yourself. He gave you favor after favor without hesitation over the years accompanied by a toothy grin. Jonathan continued to mentor you in your last year of university despite having a demanding full time profession. Landed you an interview at Arkham Asylum when you were in desperate need of a job. It was only temporary to be in the forensic psychiatric department, working with the criminally insane just wasn’t your ideal workplace unlike Jonathan’s. You were much more interested in neuropsychiatry. He gave you an excellent reference for your current job. Realistically, you shouldn’t have gotten the job with a salary that good, but he made it work. Jonathan has been your rock for years, you egocentrically seemed to forget how much you really did depend on him.

It made you feel like a horrible person, but he was already clingy enough with you, not that you seemed to complain, you enjoyed the company. You’d talk most days despite your busy schedules. The pair of you would spend the majority of your free days together by exploring museums, watching theater performances or going out for a lovely meal. The blind eye would assume the pair of you were a couple, sometimes you even wondered if you were.

Jonathan hated it when you hung out with others, especially if you didn’t tell him prior. A foul word never slipped his mouth, but you could hear it all in his tone, if not see it in his stern expression. Sometimes you’d tell him of your dates just to get him to back off every once in a while. Doctor Jonathan Crane was a jealous man around you, because he couldn’t have you the way he wanted to. A part of you grew to find it stimulating over the course, because he had no control in the situation.

Yet your love life was hopeless. The vitality of your sex life purely depended on one night stands after a drunken night out. Whenever you were asked on a date, he’d ghost you before the second date. So you gave up on dating for a long time, focusing on your work instead. At the end of some nights with an empty bottle of wine, you’d think of Jonathan, the potential there was with him. But you would always feel your stomach turn, or throat tighten at the thought of being completely his.

But then, you unexpectedly fell for your new coworker Anthony Gray. Anthony was a total catch, confident, charming, respected, physically built and loving. There was this instant spark that neither of you wanted to deny, eager to pounce on the sensation. Within the workplace you found yourself sneaking around with him, kissing him, touching him, feeling him inside of you. The workplace had a conflict of interest policy, let alone a no fucking on the job policy. The two of you kept your affair hidden, there were eyes everywhere in Gotham and you’d be stupid to get fired over having dinner in the wrong place. If it wasn’t in the building, you’d be at one or another’s house. It was a thrilling sensation to keep your relationship a secret from everyone in Gotham, including Jonathan, but the pair of you were figuring out how to make it work publicly.

Telling Jonathan of your little love affair was the least of your priorities even though the relationship was growing more stable by the day. Even though you never gave him any hints of mutual affection, he seemed to be eternally entranced by you. Patiently waiting for the opportunity to have you, claim you, own you.

Unknowingly, well slightly knowingly, you distanced yourself from Jonathan. Only by missing a few phone calls from him and sounding distracted over the phone when you did answer. Typically, Jonathan picked up on this unusual behavior within a snap. Suddenly showing up on your doorstep one day as if to catch you out, with a loaf of bread in his hands.

“Oh, Johnny! What brings you here?” You chuckled, looking him up and down.

“It had been a while, so I thought I’d surprise you. Grabbed it from that market place we use to go to every weekend” he answered, heavily emphasizing on the words ‘use to’.

After an awkward moment of silence, you took a step back and gestured to him to come inside, he took your offer instantly.

“So, what have you been up to?” Jonathan asked, his tone making it sound like a demanding question.

“Just working really, going out a few times” you replied, hoping the lie will lead him down the wrong path as you pulled out the bread knife from the block. Jonathan hummed as he dropped the bread onto the cutting board, almost in a forceful manner. You turned back to him, frowning as you tried to read his emotion.

You’d think with your doctorate in psychiatry you’d be able to completely read him right now, but in moments like this, he was a wolf hidden amongst the trees.

“Everything okay Johnny?” You murmured.

There was a low groan that left his lips, his eyes twitching slightly as he debated to say what he really wanted to say. “Just backed up with a lot of paperwork” Jonathan eventually answered, spinning on his heel to pull the butter out from the fridge.

You weren’t ready to shatter his heart into millions of pieces, not yet. Especially in such an isolated setting, it made you feel anxious to the core. Just a few more weeks, of peace, of zen with Anthony. Then you’d break the news to Jonathan, perhaps your friendship too, and most certainly his heart.

You brought Anthony over to your house the next day, unaware of a lingering figure across the street who’s knuckles turned white and teeth gritted together.

After a few slow knocks, you lowered your head as you waited patiently for the door to open. You look down at your dress again, you had changed your clothes multiple times. Everything you put on made you feel ugly and insecure. The door swung open, Jonathan gave you a sympathetic look as he gestured you to come inside. His hands briefly rested on your shoulder as he took off your coat, revealing your simple yet elegant black dress. Leading you to the living room, you sat on the space gray couch, eyes looking over the small cheese board.

Jonathan wandered off to the kitchen, his back turned to you as he picked up two wine glasses and a fine bottle of shiraz. The sound of the dark red substance gracefully falling into the glass filled your ears as you played with the rim of your dress.

“So, how are you feeling?” Jonathan asked softly, standing tall as he held out your glass.

“Like shit” you mumbled, accepting the glass without hesitation and downing half of it within one big chug. Jonathan snorted lightly as he sat down next to you.

“Darling, darling, darling” he sighed, his lips resting on the rim of the glass. You rolled your eyes at his lecture like tone and expression. Feeling like he was going to scold you like a child. “You should have had me meet him first, for a third party perspective and opinion” Jonathan continued on after he took a sip.

“Didn’t realize this was mediation Jonathan” you gritted your teeth.

When Anthony didn’t show up to work one day, you found it extremely odd. Presuming that he would have contacted you if he wasn’t going to be showing up. You had messaged him a couple of times during the day but they were all left on delivered. It wasn’t until you got home from a tiring day's work that you saw the letter in your mailbox. By the time you got to his house, everything looked to have been moved out through the open blinds.

“I’m sorry darling, I am” Jonathan swore.

It was an opposing response from Jonathan. Yes, he was sorry with how negative you were feeling, but he couldn’t help but to feel happy at the outcome of your relationship. His fingertips brushed over your bare knee as you finished the glass, motioning the empty glass towards Jonathan for a refill.

He chuckled lightly and took the glass from you. The taste of grapes lingered on your tongue as you waited for his return. The glass was almost filled to the rim. Jonathan wasn’t much of a drinker, he always claimed how alcohol could kill his intellectual potential. But on nights like these, he made an exception for you.

When you were three drinks in, your thoughts and emotions came to light, just as Jonathan predicted. “I just-” you slurred, fingers trailing over the rim of the glass. Your eyes watered at the thought of Anthony and how he left you without proper closure. You blinked hard, the wine hitting you much harder than predicted, perhaps that’s what happens when you’ve hardly eaten all week. “Don’t understand” you eventually finished your sentence in a mumble as Jonathan returned with your fourth glass of wine. “He told me he was fixing things with his ex, moving across the country to be with her. I didn't even know about her…” You sighed loudly, feeling your eyes prickle and swell up.

“He’s a moron who cannot appreciate beauty, what else do I need to say darling?” Jonathan cocked an eyebrow to you, swirling the remaining drops of wine in his glass.

You felt dizzy, your thoughts were slightly disoriented as you hummed longly in return. There was a gentle sway in your body, as your tongue poked into the wine. Jonathan finished his wine and placed it on the coffee table with a clink.

Leaning closer to you, your heartbeat picked up and you could feel jittery over your skin. Were his eyes always that captivating blue? Your stomach turned, in a good way, a way you’ve forgotten about for so long.

“You deserve to be treated so much better” Jonathan confessed through a sigh, his arm snaking behind your back to pull you closer to him.

Of the few times you’ve drunken with Jonathan, he has never been this touchy. Yet, you couldn’t help but to feel a new sensation of this.

“I know, I’ll get over it eventually” you responded, avoiding eye contact with him. Yet you couldn’t help but to enjoy the warmth and security of his arm around your body.

“Do you know how a man should treat you?” Jonathan murmured, a small sly grin on his lips.

“How?” You frowned towards him in a growing blurry vision, unknowingly leaning closer to him.

“Worshiped every day, body, mind and soul” he answered calmly, his eyes slowly examining your body.

“You don’t mean that” you lightly scoffed, bringing the drink back to your lips to distract yourself, as if that will do any help.

When you put the glass down on the coffee table, Jonathan took your chin in his hand. Staring at one another, you waited for him to make a move, but he just admired you, his lips ajar open as his thumb rolled circles over your soft skin.

“I do” Jonathan vowed. Your head felt unfocused, your body felt like it was floating. This was like you were in a dream. “I can treat you so much better. I will treat you so much better” Jonathan corrected himself, now gripping onto your inner thigh instead of your chin. “Just give me a chance to show you how you deserve to be loved” Jonathan pleaded, pressing his forehead against yours. “Please” he begged softly, waiting for you to open the door for him. Your face turned away at his words, at his pleading.

On any other night, you probably would have ran for the hills. But tonight, you desperately wanted to get Anthony out of your mind. It felt contradicting with how right and wrong it felt. But it didn’t phase you what would happen tomorrow, you wanted Jonathan right now.

There was no response from you, Jonathan took that as his que to guide your face to directly look at him so he could kiss you. It surprised you with how soft his lips were, the way he hummed softly as he gently pushed his tongue into your warm mouth. After a quick stiff moment, your stance relaxed and you leaned closer to him. Your arms naturally wrapped around his shoulders to pull him closer to you. Jonathan groaned into your mouth, his hand pulled your hips over to straddle his lap.

It felt so wrong, but he was so skillful with that tongue of his. Your logic was imprisoned by your sensations right now. Soft hands running up and down your heated skin, you couldn’t resist but to moan back into his mouth. Your cunt was aching for him so you non controllingly began rocking over his already formed boner. He nibbled at your neck, causing you to giggle as you grind over him in an unsteady motion.

You lifted your hips up slightly as your hand brushed down his torso, Jonathan’s head fell back as he watched you, his mouth open. There was a slow moan from him as your hand cupped his crotch, Jonathan grinned widely, his own hands slipping down to unbutton his trousers. Quickly, your hand slipped underneath his underwear and you were stroking his firm size slowly.

“Let me take you to the bedroom” Jonathan pleaded and you hummed in a daze like state.

Jonathan picked you up and impatiently carried you to his bedroom. Giggling like a child over his shoulder, Jonathan laid you onto his bed, your flats falling off in the process. He straddled you down just as quick. The lamp was already on so you took a good look at his expression.

An animal. That’s what you saw initially despite your heavily drunken state. A predator who was ready to attack his prey and you were helpless right now, the back of your mind was hoping that you’d just sink into the bed to get away from him.

He wasn’t as gentle as you’d hope him to be as his soft hands groped your body. “What are you doing?” You murmured, as he slid down your body, his knees landing on the floor.

There was no response from him except a groan. He pulled your hips forward and scrunched your dress up. It felt like fireworks exploding up your skin, the way his fingers trailed over you. Jonathan pulled your thong off of your legs, kissing your inner calf afterwards.

“Wait…” you objected, common sense trying to snap you out of this trance, but he ignored you.

“Waited so long for this, so, so long” Jonathan moaned, crawling up your lower body until his breath reached your bare cunt.

Kissing your inner thigh, Jonathan looked at you, just wanting to take your nervous expression in for a moment. He placed your legs over his shoulders as his tongue slithered over your core. Your abdomen tensed and legs tightened around his head. His tongue zigzagged over sensitive skin, causing a rather loud yelp of pleasure. It was humiliating with how fucking good he could use that tongue of his.

Your growing orgasm built on your tummy as his tongue slipped inside your sweet hole. Your fingers gripped into his hair to pull his head away, it was just all so much, you felt like you were blacking out. But Jonathan’s head was stuck in your cunt like it was glued. He was lapping you up as if he was starving, his left thumb found its way to your clit and rubbed desperately to make you release.

“Jonathan” you moaned, eyes squeezed shut.

Jonathan only moaned in response, his mouth full of your sweet substance. You tried to hold it off, but failed miserably, coming all over Jonathan’s face without warning, your hips rocking in rhythm with your orgasm. However, Jonathan greedily ate you all up, quickly climbing on top of your body. He swiftly pulled your dress off over your head and his hands trailed over your breasts. A small laugh left his lips as he ripped off your nipple covers, his crotch pressed into your abdominal.

Jonathan smiled wickedly to you and even though you were still in your post orgasmic daze, you could see the craze in his eyes. But you were too intoxicated and horny to scrutinize him. Your arms reached out to pull him closer to you. With his smaller size, you didn’t expect his back to feel so firm. Kissing each other hungary, Jonathan’s hands quickly tried to undo his trousers.

His hips flexed back as he pulled out his size. Your lips separated as he stroked himself a few times, looking down to your entrance. Even though your vision was blurry, you could see how big he was crystal clear. You gulped heavily as Jonathan hovered back over you with his tip pressed against your entrance. Jonathan gave you a soft kiss on the lips as he began to thrust in.

“Oh! you feel like heaven. I have found paradise…” Jonathan declared through moans. He was most definitely the largest you’ve ever had. It was hurting more than pleasuring, but you were so wet. “Your cunt wraps perfectly around my cock darling” he praised, his hand brushing over your flustered jaw.

“It’s hurting” you whimpered, your body stiff underneath his. Jonathan blinked a couple of times but didn’t respond.

“You’re mine, all mine. Always have been, always will be” Jonathan grunted as he fully pushed himself inside of you. Your walls squeezed around his cock as you grumbled in agony. “You’ve finally come to realize” he exhaled, his hand brushing the side of your face as the pleasure slowly overthrew the pain.

His words seemed to have sobered you up. This is exactly what you were afraid of, this turning into ownership. Jonathan could see the glimpse of horror in your eyes, he smiled widely as he gradually picked up his speed as your canal adjusted to his size.

You wanted to throw him off of you. But your mind was so engaged in your physical sensations and drowsiness of the alcohol that you could only lay back and guiltily enjoy yourself, expressing how satisfied you were by your moans.

“Jerked off to the thought of you every single fucking night” Jonathan grumbled out, his nails digging into your flesh. “Such fucking torture” he spat.

Jonathan pushed your thighs apart as his cock traveled in deeper, groaning like crazy as his balls were slapping against your skin. His grip on your upper thighs will probably bruise by the morning. The mixture of both of your moans was heaven to his ears. You’ve never seen Jonathan smile so much, he couldn’t wipe it if he wanted to.

He also seemed to refuse to break eye contact with you, as if he was studying you or was afraid you’d run away if out of sight. His nostrils were flared and jaw clenched as he continued his pleasure-filled attack. You were pulsing around his size, his breathing seemed to stagger, pace losing its rhythm.

“Come on darling, one more time… I know you can be a good girl, come so I can” Jonathan moaned.

You can’t tell if it was a beg or a demand. His words were so gentle, but that look in his eyes was as if hell would break loose if you failed to comply. Regardless, you did as he asked, clenching as tight as you could around him as you cried out, your back aching as you swore you could see stars. Jonathan quickly followed, falling completely on top of you as his arms quickly snaked around you.

He kissed you passionately as he pumped his seed deep inside of you. When his lips pulled away from yours, he was moaning your name over and over. A wave of exhaustion crashed over you. Your eyes felt so drowsy, all of your energy completely drained dry. Jonathan caressed your cheek as your sight was quickly consumed by darkness.

What have you done?

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #jonathan crane #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane dark #the dark knight trilogy #dark smut #smut

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 4 months

Text

Pressing

Jack Daniels x F!Reader, dude ranch AU

A Palomino oneshot, but can be read on its own

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Summary: Jack marks you as his in an unexpected way.

Warnings: PWP, Jack's belt leaves an impression on reader's skin, unintentional branding, unprotected sex, long-distance relationship, desperate and feral cowboy, no physical descriptions of Reader, very lightly edited, written as part of the Palomino universe, set after the end of the series, but can be read as a oneshot on its own

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: This little story came from an ask sent in by 🐴 anon in December 2022, which I have long lost, about a song that mentions a guy’s belt buckle leaving marks on his girlfriend's inner thigh while fucking. Naturally, they thought of Jack’s belt. 🐴 anon, if you’re still here, thank you for the inspo and for your patience ❤️

Also thank you to @lola-lola-lola for getting me horn knee about our cowboy again 😘 Writing Palomino smut first thing in the year was not on my 2024 bingo card, and I’m not mad about it!

Cutest dividers by @firefly-graphics.

It’s been two and a half months. Week after wretched week of phone calls on stolen time. Day after day of aching to reach through the phone screen and the distance between you to touch him.

It’s hard being hundreds and hundreds of miles apart. It’s even harder on weeks when he’s in the mountains with no reception. Harder to find time to call when you have to work late and he has to get up at dawn.

But you endure it all - for days like this.

It’s a rare weekend off in the high season, with Teak pulling back-to-back pack trips to cover for him, joking that he can’t take all his sighing and pining for his Darlin’ anymore.

Jack takes the last flight out on Friday night, arriving first thing on Saturday morning, before the city - or you - wake up. You’re half-buried under the duvet when the jingle of the key in the door jolts you from shallow slumber.

On unsteady feet, you wobble out into the hallway, crashing into the walls as you go, balance off-kilter from sleep.

But it’s ok - he catches you, all white t-shirt and tight blue jeans. Incognito, if you will, in casual sneakers, but the cowboy hat is on as always. You knock it off post-haste, burying your face in the side of his neck in a desperate need for contact, his warmth seeping into your skin and wrapping you up in the deepest of comforts.

His hair is longer than he usually keeps it, and your fingers twist into his tousled curls when you pull back, taking in the stubble on his sharp jawline, and his tired eyes. But before you can say anything, he leans in and slants his lips over yours.

The taste of airplane coffee is sharp and bitter on his tongue as he kisses you deep and messy. You startle when he suddenly slams the door shut behind him, not realising it was still open, and his beat-up weekend bag is tossed carelessly behind him somewhere in the doorway.

The legs of the kitchen table scrape jarringly against the floor as he crowds you onto it, big hands cupping your ass and pulling you against his straining erection through his jeans.

‘Fuck, it’s been too long, darlin’.’ His voice is gravelly from an apparently sleepless overnight flight, and hearing his voice finally on the shell of your ear has you whimpering needily.

‘Can’t wait any more,’ he growls, desperation thick in his voice.

With a flick of his wrists, he shucks off your ratty sleep shirt, eyes hooded as he gazes down at your tits, like he can’t believe he’s actually touching you. Cupping them, soft and heavy, with reverent, rope-worn palms, he sucks one nipple after the other between his lips, making you squirm against him and leak wet and sticky between your thighs.

Strong hands hold you in place easily as you buck, the scrape of his moustache almost painful on your over-sensitive skin, nerve endings on fire after being deprived for long weeks.

Too impatient to wait, you tug your pyjamas shorts down your hips and kick them off clumsily, panties tangled in your damp folds as you writhe under him.

You feel the breath catch in his broad chest at the peek of your pussy, a rapidly growing damp spot darkening your cotton underwear. Hooking his thumb under the fabric, he tugs it unceremoniously to the side, baring you to him.

‘Look at all this,’ he marvels, tracing the fleshy pad of his thumb through your folds, making you arch clean off the table. ‘So wet for me and you’ve barely woken up.’

‘Been thinking about you the while night,’ you admit, hips twitching as you chase his touch. ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

‘Did you touch yourself, darlin’?’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘No. Wanted your fingers. Your cock.’

His nostrils flare at your answer, unabashedly possessive in the way he looms over you.

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs into your throat, nosing the side of your neck while thick fingers thrum against your clit. ‘I was so hard for you the whole fuckin’ flight.’

As if to prove it to you - not that you need it - he rolls his hips into your inner thigh, the hard bulge undeniable.

You mewl, hooking your ankles around his waist. ‘Fuck me now, Jack - please.’

There’s a wordless fumble for the solid sterling flask bottle of his belt buckle, his usual level-headed composure nowhere to be found as he pushes down his jeans with shaking hands, just enough to pull his cock out of its denim confines -

And then he thrusts home inside you.

After months of only your fingers, it’s a stretch. But what a delicious stretch it is.

You feel him throb deep inside you, feel the thunder of a pained groan in his chest, pressed up against yours. Your cunt is all slick and give to his determined strokes as he begins to move.

There’s no finesse, hardly any awareness, when he fucks frantically into you. His solid weight pins you to the table, and it rattles precariously under your back.

Your legs are splayed obscenely wide and bent at the knees while Jack pounds into your wet heat, eyes wild and mouth hanging open, watching your tits bounce as you take him, your nails digging into the cotton of his white t-shirt. He never did take off your panties, and the fabric rubs your clit just so with every one of his thrusts, rapidly sending you to the edge.

In the back of your mind, you’re aware of the coarse scrape of his jeans against your inner thighs, and something digs hard into the tender skin, the repeated motion dulling the sensation to an almost numb pressure.

When you cum, you’re crying out before your head catches up, your body convulsing with blind bliss as your pussy clenches around him in a hot rush. The blood pounding in your ears is drowned out by your chants of his name, and then his hips start to stutter and his whole body tenses, frantic eyes on yours as he teeters on the edge.

‘Where, darlin’?’

‘Inside me.’

The words have barely left you and he’s coming, broken pants against your lips as he comes and comes and comes - spilling inside you, filling you to the brim until he’s empty, turned inside out.

Slumped, boneless on top of you, humid pants pressed into your shoulder, his fingers tangle with yours, squeezing as if to let you know that he’s here.

You almost doze off, the gradually slowing rise and fall of the cowboy’s broad chest a comforting anchor, when he rouses you with gentle lips along your jaw. You giggle, feeling him softening and sliding out of you, making a mess of your kitchen table.

‘Mornin’ darlin’,’ he says somewhat belatedly, warm eyes crinkling as he smiles at you.

‘Morning,’ you grin back, and when he shifts, you wince at the ache in your joints from being pinned to one spot for this very vigorous wake up call. His hands smooth over your legs in apology, and you jump when his fingertips brush over somewhere at the juncture of your upper thigh that is surprisingly sore.

‘What’s that?’ you ask, puzzled.

Jack doesn’t answer, curiously quiet. You look down to where he’s bracketed between your legs, watching him trace his index finger over the unmistakable imprint of his distinct belt buckle on the inside of your thigh, where it’s been digging into your skin the whole time.

He glances at you. ‘I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’

‘No, you didn’t,’ you give him a knowing grin. ‘And are you really sorry, cowboy?’

He doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. Gently pinching your swollen folds together, he groans when a milky bead of his cum dribbles out of you, running down the inside of your leg and smearing onto the flask-shaped impression.

‘Ain’t sorry about somethin’ that looks this good on you, darlin’.’

‘Could’ve asked me before you branded me, you know,’ you half-joke, running your own finger along the deep lines carved into your skin, for now.

‘Beggin’ your pardon, I tend to forget my manners when I’m balls deep in a pussy as sweet as yours,’ he retorts, one eyebrow arching when he feels you shiver at his words.

You huff in jest, ‘Doesn’t sound like much of an apology if you asked me.’

‘Whatcha want, darlin’? Me on my hands and knees for you?’

Heat flashes under your skin, from your cheeks down to your toes, and Jack’s eyes darken as his tongue wets his bottom lip. ‘Alright. I hear you loud and clear, ma’am.’

Slowly, he sinks onto his knees in front of you, his joints creaking endearingly as he goes, and you can’t help but tease, ‘Easy there, cowboy.’

The wicked tip of his tongue peeks out, and you bite your lip in a moan when it cleverly traces the outline of the belt buckle on your skin, ending in a playful nip that pulls a gasp from you.

With an unapologetically smug grin, Jack winks. ‘I’m only just gettin’ started, darlin’.’

Note: Thank you for reading ❤️ I’ve missed these two, and if you’re new to Palomino, I hope you’ll give the series a chance!

#palomino series #jack daniels fanfiction #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x fem!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x fem!reader #x reader #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey imagine #jack daniels smut #agent whiskey smut

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idiswhadidis · 5 months

Text

only you

mafia-bf jungwon x fem.doctor reader

sypnosis jungwon got hurt and you‘re the only one he wants - genre fluff, angst - warnings blood, needle, stabbing wound, cursing - wc 0,8k

a/n. hey there i posted earlier than i expected wohoo have fun reading <3

knocking onto his door rather harshly, annoyed and concerned written on your face

15 minutes ago you got a call from his personal assistant telling you he got himself injured during a mission and wouldn’t let any doctor help him if it’s not you

and here you are, not so patiently waiting for him to open the god for saken door

„i swear to god Jungwon if you don‘t open the door i will not come again to treat your ass ever again.“

not hearing any response or movements you get anxious he might be actually bad injured and fell unconscious

fishing out the keys you got from him in cases for these from your back pocket, feeling absolutely stressed

as you step slowly into the room you see the light shining through the door from the bathroom

walking to it and knocking on it, not hearing a response once again

„when i step in and i see you not unconscious i will smack you for not answering me even once mark my words“

you turn the knob and the first thing you see is a topless Jungwon right infront of a sink full with tissues tainted with blood

„fucking shit“ you speed walk up to him and take a look at him, seeing him drenched in sweat his bangs sticking onto his skin and his breathing a bit unsteady

„took you long enough“ he says the audacity

„what the fuck happened“ you say full with panic, him taking his hand off from his adomen

„got a bit traced by a knife?“

„traced?! - you mean stabbed“ taking as many tissues as you can and pressing your hand onto the wound trying to stop the bledding as best as you can making him squeeze his eyes shut and lean onto the sink for support

„love, don‘t be so harsh god damn“ glaring at him „you‘re so stupid you are bad injured but you didn’t let your doctors treat you? are you kidding me you could have passed out before i got here and it could have gotten more complicated“

looking up at him you see him smiling at you, „i love to see you care for me“

smacking his arm and pressing onto his wound a bit more had him throw his head back

„fuck okay sorry“

„try to lay down slowly so i can treat your ass“

„always so nice to me“ he says with a pained voice as he try’s to lay down

taking your hands off his wound you take a better look at it seeing that it‘s not that deep so it didn’t damage any organs

opening your bag full of medical stuff preparing to stitch him up, handing him a towel to bite on

„you know the drill i will numb the area but you still gonna feel pain“

you hear him snuck in a breath every time the needle goes through it „just 3 more times okay hang on and don’t close your eyes or i will haunt you“

making him chuckle silently

putting a bandage on it and done.

you take a deep breath brushing your hair back and looking at Jungwon who’s already looking at you with gratitude-

„i will definitely get more wrinkles from all the stress.. - you’re pretty dirty shall i help you wash up?“

nodding at you, and helping him getting freshen up.

you wait outside for him to change into different clothes and prepare the bed

hearing the bathroom door swung open you turn around seeing him in sweatpants and a tanktop

„thank you love“

„no problem just promise me to let your doctors do their thing when its gonna happen again which i hope the fuck not but still..“

„can‘t promise“

„jungwon-

„i wouldn’t trust any other doctor besides my lovely girlfriend who is a doctor herself“

turning back around, a slight pinkish taint on your cheeks feeling a bit flustered „you‘re annoying“ you mutter

you feel arms wrapping around your waist pressing you to his chest his face on your neck tracing it with his nose and leaving butterfly kisses along it, making you melt into his arms

„i’m sorry for making you worry princess, i didn’t thought the mission would escalate like that, and you know you‘re the only person i want to see after such disaster“

„it’s okay and i know, i mean it wasn’t the first time but i for sure hope the last- turning around and giving him a stern look

„-got the person who stabbed you atleast his punishment?“

„the next second after he did that, don’t think about it“

leaning a bit down and tucking your hair behind your ear, whispering against your lips „i love you“ making you peck hip lips muttering a i love you back.

„well can we now got to bed, your assistant woke me up in the middle of a dream“ you turn around ready to jump into the cozy duvet

him smacking your butt „i for sure hope it was about me"

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yikesharringrove · 20 days

Text

He doesn't talk anymore.

It was a jarring switch, and everyone still isn't used to Steve's persistent silence.

Because before, he was nearly as chatty as Dustin. Always trying to make the kids laugh, yelling at them and calling them shitheads (albeit lovingly).

He doesn't even laugh anymore.

His windpipe had been badly crushed by the demobat's tail wrapped snugly around his neck.

He had needed surgery.

Surgery that had only added to the lacerations and the keloid scars around on his neck.

And really, it's not that he can't talk.

He couldn't for awhile, and it still hurts sometimes.

But he doesn't fucking want to.

He has nothing left to say.

Because he had made peace with death.

Several times, actually. Throwing the burning bottles, being choked in a dried-out lake by a creature straight from his nightmares.

In fact, he had been mostly ready to venture into the sweet beyond since last summer.

His leg shook under the table, and he was staring at the silver ring on his thumb, spinning it around, and around.

He didn't really like when Robin left him alone at their donation table, she was much better at talking to the people that stopped by, bringing more clothes they didn't need, or coming to pick up something to replace what's been lost.

But Robin was doing her best to move on. Chatting up Vickie in some corner, somewhere.

A small cough got Steve's attention.

It was Susan. Hargrove. Mayfield? Did she go back to her previous name after her abusive husband left her with the corpse of his son?

"I found another box. I guess Maxine had been-" her eyes welled up, and Steve's hands stopped spinning the ring around his thumb. "Well, I think she kept some things of his."

Steve's hands shook as he stood up.

He knew Billy and Max had been much closer than they let on.

He knew Max missed Billy more than she could really express.

He opened the box.

Right on top.

It was that fucking jacket.

The brown leather one. The one that was older and softer, more worn than anything else Billy owned.

Because he loved it. Because he took care of it. Because it was his favorite.

And something in Steve broke a little, and he raised the jacket to his face, and he breathed in deeply. He didn't care who saw. He didn't care that Susan's face had gone pale and her tears had started falling for real.

"Oh."

He barely heard her voice over the blood rushing in his ears, the smell and the memories and don't fucking cry, Steven!

Susan closed the box up carefully. Steve finally lowered the jacket.

"I can put this in your car. So you can keep them. You deserve to-" she glanced down at his hands, and the silver ring, tarnished and glinting on his thumb. "keep them."

Steve brought his hand up to his wobbling chin, touching his fingertips gently under his lip, bringing his hand back down, palm up.

Thank you.

He hoped she got it. Understood the way she understood his tears.

She took his hand briefly.

"I wish we had met differently. I wish-well. I'm sure you wish the same thing."

Steve nodded. His leg had started shaking again, making his whole body tremble. He felt unsteady on his feet.

He fished his keys out of his pocket, handing them to Susan so she could take the box and tuck it in his trunk.

"You take care, then. You, you remember him well."

Steve nodded again, hot tears dripping off his chin.

Yes, ma'am. He wanted to say. I'll never forget him.

But,

he doesn't talk anymore.

#oooh this wasn't supposed to be this sad but idk i guess this is whats happening #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #yikes writes

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notthestarwar · 9 months

Text

God I'm legit screaming thinking about my reply to this comment again tho

Like. Such an interesting aspect of the clones is that they did have their childhoods taken from them. It isn't the same as a species that develops at double the speed of humans! Cause they ARE humans. Which absolutely does not mean that they are adult sized children. They are adults. They think like adults. They are developmentally, physically and psychologically adults: but they are not the people they would have been, people with a whole well adjusted childhood behind them.

Which I think is frankly a fascinating thing to explore. It's a great metaphor. When looking at things like: if anyone bothered to ask, could they have consented to their place in the army? Which. Yes. On an individual basis they absolutely could. They are adults, they deserve the autonomy to make that decision and have it accepted, even if the choice they make isn't necessarily the one that another sentient with a different childhood might have made in their position. They can consent. But is it informed consent? Well no. They've kinda been brainwashed. Ethically, you're on unsteady territory there in asking them to choose when you know what their answer is going to be. Does that mean you shouldn't ask? Hell no! Of course you should ask. Does that mean you shouldn't accept their decision? Of course not! They're adults and it's their life.

The only way to approach this ethically would be to give them all the information beforehand and hope that they're as informed as possible. But really. Whatever you do, it isn't really right. The ethical thing is for noone to be in this position in the first place. This isn't ethical unless the clones did have childhoods and were not programmed to WANT to die for the republic and you don't have to ask them under those circumstances, because you've conscripted your army in a normal way.

Anyway my comment (and the fic) kinda went about this in looking at things from a Jedi perspective. Mace is asking. What the fuck do you do in that circumstance? Army has been raised and created in a horrible way, you had no idea and couldn't stop it and now they're being delivered to you. How do you do right by them? You can't! Certainly not as Jedi. Theyre in a ethical trap. They can only try their best but whatever they do, they are promoting the fucked up system that put these men in that position in the first place. Even if they could walk away from the republic (highly debatable) You either leave them to fend for themselves knowing there will be a huge loss of life, or you go in to war alongside them, hoping that in doing so you can smooth the way for them. Hoping that you'll figure out how to free them soon. Hoping that you can save as many of their lives as possible.

Like wow. Terrible situation to be in for anyone. No way you're getting out of that one without betraying them in some way. But for the jedi? Who rely on a philosophy that promotes the importance of all sentient life, to stop them falling and pretty much losing themselves to a mystic power that's gonna do all it can to turn them in to a time bomb, destroying themselves and hurting as many ppl as possible on the way out. Like I can't think of a less conflicting ethical dilemma for them to find themselves in. The war destroys the Jedi. If Palpatine was patient he wouldn't have needed order 66. They were never getting out of that alive. The war broke them, it was in complete opposition to their philosophy and they were tearing themselves apart from the inside.

Anyway this is my comment:

"It is!!! I think this is such a key way that its really hard for anyone to do right by them and be fair. They are adults, it wouldn't be fair to force them in to the life of a child. Or to patronise them. But in the same hand, they shouldn't be adults, something was taken from them and it's not fair to just ignore the fact that their childhoods were stolen from them. They aren't the people they'd be if they got to live those childhoods, but they aren't children either. They think like adults, they feel like adults; but adults that grew in to adults without the learning potential that a proper childhood provides.

It's an extreme, but it's an extreme of an issue that's unfortunately common irl. As an adult whose childhood didn't give you what what you needed, you are innately aware that you lost something that you can never get back. You can make the most out of who you are now, but without a time machine, you'll never have the childhood you should have had. And that, I think is something that Jaster himself is very aware of. When Mace tells him this, he knows the weight of it and he immediately knows that for the clones, it's so much worse.

Like I don't think it should be understated that the whole situation with the clones and the Jedi being asked to lead them was like perfect Jedi torture. It's a complete moral quandary and every way betrays their philosophy. The clones were slaves. They were born to be soldiers, trained from birth, their entire lives built around this war they didn't choose. But it was all they knew. They were indoctrinated in to that life from birth. Had the Jedi found a way to free them, I honestly think the vast majority of the clones would have been offended. They had been raised to believe their life's meaning was to fight for the jedi. They wanted to. It may not have been an informed decision, but, they did want it.

And that's when you really come in to difficulty with, these are adults that should be children. Because it isn't fair to tell another adult that they are wrong to want what they want and that they only want that because they don't have the experience to realise its a bad option. You can't be like 'I know what's best for you'. They are just as much of an adult as you. They are just as capable of thinking things through as you are. But in the same hand, had the clones been born in to a different life, would they still want to be soldiers? Probably not! But they are already adults by this point, their brains are developed, they can't get that childhood back. So to say 'I know that's what you want but it's only because your lack of childhood made you incapable of seeing what's right for you' would be humongously fucked up. There really isn't a way for the Jedi on the council to approach them that doesn't betray at least a part of what the clones are and I think that's important to address."

I do think it's a really interesting thing to chew on and a lot of the debate I see around it in my eyes misses the point completely. There isn't a right answer. There was never going to be a right answer. This didn't happen accidentally. Palpatine set it up to cause as much damage as possible. The clones were born betrayed and the Jedi, were fated to play a part in that, whatever they did. There was no way out.

#about: clones

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lynnzelds · 7 months

Text

re4r leon kennedy x afab!reader (kinktober prompt four - thigh riding)

resident evil kinktober masterlist

wc: 1,302 words

(tags: thigh riding, reader is super clingy and needy, reader is a bit of a brat, rough sex, unprotected p in v, leon fucks reader on his desk, aftercare)

a/n: my writing has detoriated as i am sleep deprived as hell. oof. i at least went back and did some light edits so that it's readable. with that said, enjoy whatever words my fingertips decided to conjure.

Today is the day that your boyfriend returns home from a long mission, and as you hear the clicking of a key, you eagerly leap from the couch as the front door opens to reveal Leon, shoulders slumped from exhaustion but a small smile on his face as he sees his favorite person in the world standing before him. You run over to him, wrapping your arms around him and clinging to him like a magnet. His smile grows wider, the fatigue leaving his eyes for just a moment, and he slips his fingers into your hair as he presses his lips to your forehead.

“Missed you,” he mumbles. You repeat those words back to him, continuing to hold onto him. You nuzzle your head into his broad chest.

“You can let go of me now,” he laughs.

You make a “nuh uh” noise that gets muffled by his shirt. He sighs and picks you up as you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He carries you over to your bedroom, already used to how clingy you are after he returns from month-long missions. “Come on, love, I need you to let go,” he says quietly into your ear once he makes it inside your cozy room, his deep, smooth voice leaving chills on the back of your neck.

“Need you,” you whine, burying your head into the crook of his neck.

“Love, I can’t,” he says, trying to shake you off of him a few times before giving up. “I’m tired and still have to get work done.”

You don’t budge.

Leon sighs. “How about this? I’ll let you get off on my thigh while I write up my report, and if you’re good, I’ll reward you later.”

You pull away from his neck, your eyes lighting up. You finally loosen your grip on him and set your feet onto the soft carpet as he removes his jacket and unbuckles his belt. He walks over to the office chair in front of the small desk situated in the corner of his desk, and once his trousers fall to his ankles, he takes a seat in the chair and pats his bare thigh.

You swiftly pull your shirt over your head–and it’s then that Leon realizes that you intend on stripping yourself bare. Your clothes hit the floor and then you go over to Leon, the cold air hitting your naked body.

As he logs onto the computer and begins his work, you position yourself over his left thigh. You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling the warmth that radiates off him, and lower your weight onto him. You slide yourself up his thigh to press your body against his, whining in pleasure as his leg provides pressure and stimulation to your clit.

With unsteady movements at first, you begin to grind yourself into Leon, his name falling from your lips like a sweet melody. Your pace grows steadier, and your hushed moans make their way into his ear. You glance down at his boxer briefs, noting his growing erection straining against the confines of the fabric. You move your hand down there to palm him, but he growls quietly and pulls your hand away from him.

“What did I say about being good?”

You bring your arm back around his neck, letting out a huff of defeat as you continue to rut yourself into his thigh. You close your eyes as you rest on his shoulder, fantasizing about him grabbing your hips and bouncing you on his thigh, but you know he won’t give you any attention. Not unless you’re being disobedient, that is…

“Leon, please,” you whine into his ear, “need you.” Your desperate hand makes its way down to the waistband of his boxers, attempting to tug it down, but Leon forces your hand away again.

“Enough,” he says firmly, moving your hand up to his shoulder. You can sense the impatience growing within him. You smirk as your hand makes its way down his chest, feeling every inch of his musculature.

Leon sighs heavily, knowing that you intend to touch him again. He stands up with you in his arms, and next thing you know, you feel the cold hardness of his desk slamming against your back, making the air leave your lungs. You’re surprised he didn’t break the desk.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” he says in a harsher tone than he means to, pulling down his boxers and letting his cock spring free. He slides it down to his knees, taking a moment to spread his precum over his cock before he lifts your legs up and positions himself at your entrance. “How many?” He takes notice of the shocked expression on your face. “You want my cock that badly?” You bite your lip and nod, feeling desire growing in the pit of your stomach despite knowing that he won’t go easy on you for this. “Well that’s what you’re gonna get,” he growls, before pushing himself into you with a long groan. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to his size, and tears form at the corners of your eyes.

“Leon, I’m–I’m sorry,” you whisper, but you know it’s too late for his forgiveness. He pulls back before slamming into you roughly–a loud cry leaving your throat. You can’t help but squirm around the desk as he continues his relentless pace, that coil in your stomach building up quickly.

“You asked for this,” he says. His heavy balls slap against your ass with every thrust, the sounds of your moans joining in with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. He relishes in your loud cries and quick, heavy breaths, his hips never relenting.

You want to apologize, but your words won’t get through to him. Your head spins as he continues to fuck you roughly, the pleasure building and building. It’s too much, but you need more…and then the words “don’t stop” leave your lips. He grins slightly as he slows down a little, just enough to let you catch your breath. A part of him feels guilt for having been so rough. He doesn’t want to hurt you.

You moan his name so much it seems like it’s the only word in your vocabulary, your walls convulsing around him at around the same time his cock twitches. He grunts as he picks up the pace once more, moving your legs to have them wrapped around his waist as he continues to rock his hips into yours.

You don’t even get the chance to tell him you’re close when your orgasm comes crashing down over you, pleasure rippling throughout your body. Leon is soon to follow, emptying himself inside you with a low groan. Once he’s finished, he pulls out and lowers your body gently onto the desk, his expression immediately shifting to one of concern.

“Are you alright, love?” he says softly, running his calloused fingers through your hair.

“‘M okay,” you respond, panting hard.

He pulls up his pants and zips himself up before lifting you from the desk, noticing how worn out you look from just a single round with him. He carries you over to the bed and leans down, kissing you on the forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, brushing back your sweaty strands. Feeling the exhaustion from both the mission and the physical exertion from pleasuring you, he then says, “I could use a nap now–care to join me?”

You nod eagerly, and he crawls under the covers next to you, holding your naked body close to him. He whispers sweet nothings into your ears, just in case he had hurt you during the sex. His warmth engulfs you as you both eventually succumb to sleep.

kinktober prompt list by @flightlessangelwings

#kinktober #resident evil #fawktober2023 #kinktober 2023 #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader

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simpfr · 11 months

Text

There isn't enough of him.

I love this lil guy even though i haven't watched the movie yet and I can't find any fanfics of him? Not even on ao3 dude. So I'm gonna do it myself. Correct me if i make mistakes or if he's out of character.

I wish you knew.

Part 1.

"You don't think that's weird, do you?" he asked with worry in his voice as he looked you deep in the eye, searching for the slightest twitch or look of of disgust to confirm that you did in fact, think it was weird.

He just confessed his undying love for one of your friends, gayatri, and how he would stare at her constantly while admiring her every move from afar. Her smile, the way she talks, everything.

But, what he wasn't aware of, was that you already knew all of that and how it saddened you to know that you really never stood a chance of capturing his heart for it was already in the hands of someone far better than you.

Oh how you much you wish he would think of you like that instead.

You couldn't help but crack a smile out of both sorrow and jealousy, "of course not. I would've been a fool to not have realized that months ago."

"Wait what... YOU KNEW??" he exclaimed while crawling over to your side of the bed to hold your shoulders in a tight grasp.

With the way he was acting you would've thought i confessed to being a master mind behind a mass genocide.

"Well, who wouldn't be able to recognize that luxurious hair of yours nearly everywhere they go?" you sassed while rolling your eyes playfully to which he smiled at.

"Should've followed y'all with a bald cap on then."

was it wrong that you liked how close he was to you right now? If only you leaned in a little closer so you could—

"Oh no, You don't think she realized too do you!?" dang it.

with a long sigh, you answered, "No pavitr, I- she's as busy as bee. She doesn't have time to look around her surroundings and look at people."

for a split moment, it looked as if he had something to say but decided to go against it and just nod instead.

Nothing after was said. Just pure silence that was neither comfortable or awkward. A loud beep came from his watch he for some reason randomly got three months ago as a disappointed look arose upon his face.

"Uh, I gotta go. Remember to close the door and leave the key in the machine, okay?" he smiled before leaving with a bag in hand not giving you the opportunity to respond.

"Sure." you said to..well, technically the door.

Surprisingly, you didn't end up leaving but instead ended up accidentally falling asleep which, in your mind, was considered disrespectful but it's not like you did it on purpose.

You got out of his bed and remade it before proceeding to clean the house as a way of saying "sorry for over staying my stay". Pavitr was a tidy person so there wasn't much of a mess in the first place and it made you finish right in time to hear a crash from inside the hall.

Quickly, you grabbed the most damage doing item, which was ironically a bat, and began to approach the room.

"Shit. I really did a number on myself this time.." the voice you guessed belonged to whoever cause the loud bang before said. Wait was it—

"Pavitr?..." the boy looked at you in shock, face fully appalled as if he was caught in the midst of committing a crime.

He had cuts and bruises everywhere while his breath was clearly unsteady making you even more concerned than you were before.

"Are you okay!??!" you exclaimed as you rush towards him dropping the bat in your hand as you did so. you began looking all over him for more injuries that you haven't seen while asking questions like, "who did this?" "does it hurt?" and not before long you realize he had a deep gash on his left cheek.

You carefully placed your hand behind it, rubbing the area to cease the pain, "you aren't in a gang, Are you?" the question was dumb and naive yet you still asked, and to that he let out a heart filled laugh as he placed his hand over yours, "I'm fine, and no I'm not in a gang, y/n." he gave your hand a quick squeeze before placing back to your side.

"Are you sure? You look like you've been working out a lot..."

What you said didn't click for a hot minute before, boom.

You wanted to off yourself.

And of course, the boy who you complimented had the most cockiest smirk known to man on his face, "that's where your mind was at?"

Not even bothering to explain yourself, you went for the first kid and returned.

"Sit."

He compiled without a fight, probably exhausted from the standing up for so long after already being tired.

And with that, you began to work your magic.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳

You ended up cuddling after you both took a shower (not together) and pavitr immediately fell asleep while you were caught up with your thoughts.

Does anything I do make him feel like i do whenever he does something?

Does what we're doing right now make him as flustered as I am?

Did anything I do matter?

Truthfully, you wanted the fact you did what you did to consume his mind and make him feel the way you do for him which could be admitted as...weird.

You just wanted your feelings to be returned, was that too much to ask for?

You couldn't help but stare and admire his features and the way the dim moonlight blocked by the curtains complimented his features so well.

"I wish you knew."

╞══════════╡

Part 2

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #pavitr prabhakar #pavitr x reader #pavitr my beloved #romance #x reader #pavitr x you #pavitr prabhakar x reader #light angst #fluff

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nomazee · 28 days

Text

bite my tongue, chew on ice

true to your word, you take dan heng out for breakfast after he spends the night taking care of you. it would be nice if you weren't so distracted by the way he looks at you and the stirring in your stomach.

dan heng x gn reader — 1.4k — sequel to this fic, introspection, aggressive pining, sweet and sappy oh my god it's so sappy, reader is trailblazer and this is set somewhere vaguely in canon, just stupid and cute, lots of feelings and thoughts,,,

notes: i love you dan heng hsr,,, i will love you forever and ever dan heng hsr

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

You always make good on your promises. That’s the one thing you take pride in.

The morning after your drunken spree in Belobog, the memories of the night come flooding in, vivid enough to strip you of your remaining dignity (which isn’t much). You bore yourself to Dan Heng, sweaty and vomiting, and he’d seen more of you in one night than you ever planned on revealing to him.

Embarrassing, yes. But you promised to get him breakfast as payment, and you don’t take breakfast (or promises) lightly.

With minimal nagging, you manage to pry him out of his room, shutting down his remarks of it’s too early, I don’t need breakfast, are you sure you sobered up, do you need an antacid, do you even have money? in favor of linking your fingers with his and dragging him into the cool morning air of Belobog.

(His hand doesn’t pull away from yours. You could swear that he squeezes back, the jutting knuckles of his hands digging into yours as he tightens his grip when you stumble just a little bit on the pavement.)

When the both of you eventually get settled across from each other in a booth, a glass of water for each of you as you browse the menu, you notice the disgruntled expression on Dan Heng’s face. You can’t help but pry. It’s in your nature, whatever parts of it you have an inkling about, and with Dan Heng, your curiosity is always on high alert.

“What’s wrong? You look like you hate this,” you can’t help the way your anxieties seep into your words. You take a tentative sip of your water (no ice, lukewarm, gross), trying to cover up the sweatiness in your palms as you beg and pray that he won’t just stand up and leave and call this breakfast a mistake.

“No,” he says, a leading tone in his voice. His eyes trail along the unsteady movements of your hands, as your fingers go to tap against the smooth glass of your cup. “You just… beat me to it. I was supposed to check on you this morning and get you water. I didn't think you would be awake this early. I thought I had time.”

Your chest tightens and blooms and flourishes with fondness. It’s a feeling so intense that it leaves you dizzy, your gaze goes distant, your fingers stop thrumming against your cup and your other hand tightens into a fist in your lap. It’s an exercise in restraint, to stop yourself from reaching over and grabbing Dan Heng by the shoulders and shaking him around until you never have to feel this affection again. It’s addictive and beautiful and horrible.

Your lips part, wanting to say something but all of the vowels and consonants play dissonant keys on your tongue. Instead, you settle for a smile, bashful and fond, fond, fond of Dan Heng and that furrow between his brows when he thinks of what to say, the way he’s staring at your hand against your cup. You want to know what he’s thinking, to let your hand slide across the table, hold his forearm and feel the skin and the life underneath, have him do the same to you. The cancer of all worlds sits in your chest, but you hope he finds it to be kind and gentle, you hope he tames it into something good.

“Dan Heng,” you start, letting that sick sick affection seep into your voice like rainwater into the cracks of pavement, and you can’t get enough of the way his name sounds against your teeth. “You’re so stupid. And sweet,” you tell him, trying not to melt into the floor. “I didn't think you’d still try to take care of me in the morning. I assumed that watching me throw up everywhere kind of, um, turned you away.”

“You didn't throw up everywhere,” he corrects, because he’s stubborn and always tries to debate you on stupid things, “And it wasn’t that bad. It didn't bother me. It was just you. It… came naturally.”

And he can’t bear to look at you. He rips his eyes away from yours and you can see the way his face warms up, visibly red and blotchy on his cheeks and neck. Naturally. It comes naturally to him. The care, the hotel mouthwash, checking on you and making sure you laid on your side. He says it came naturally.

You feel sick, and in love, and isn’t that all just the same? The smile doesn’t leave your face, and your cheeks hurt and you fight off the urge to hide your face in your hands and run away like a baby. You’ll face your fears, damnit, even if your fears are just the beautiful man in front of you and the feelings blooming on the right side of your chest, just above your heart.

“This is me taking care of you, then,” you tell him, trying to get across some semblance of warmth in your tone, trying to get him to understand that none of this is a joke to you, it never has been. You feel choked up, words strumming against your vocal chords. Too many to use, never enough time to say anything. A glance to the side confirms that no waiters are coming to take your order, but the laminated menu in your hands became obsolete the moment you sat down and looked Dan Heng right in his pretty eyes.

“You never eat breakfast,” you continue, “I don’t think I’ve really seen you relax. You should try knitting.”

His expression only turns more bashful, if possible. His mouth twists into something displeased, but lightheartedly so. “I tried knitting.”

“No way.”

He covers his mouth with his hand, the warmth in his face only building as he struggles to meet your eyes. “It was just for a bit, and I was never good at it. After March joined, she kept making me try the same things as her. Knitting, cooking, sewing… she said that she thought it would help me figure myself out.”

“Oh my god, Dan Heng. She was so right.”

Dan Heng makes a discontent noise, something like a mindless murmur of annoyed words, but by the way his lips twitch, you can tell he’s a little bit amused. And so are you, because the image of Dan Heng sitting next to March 7th with a tangle of yarn in his lap is a little too hysterical.

He has this stupid smile on his face now, and you could almost call it lovesick, the way he keeps looking back at you with his hand still covering half his mouth, like he’s ashamed of the way he’s softening. You like him soft, you like him malleable, warm like this with the window next to you streaming pale yellow light onto the table and the crown of his head. A sick, sick, in-love part of you wants to squish him in your hands like a slime ball and toss him around the room and play catch with yourself. You mean this with love, of course.

“Dan Heng,” his name, again, falls off your tongue, “I’m not actually that hungry. Can we go back to the parlor car? And I’ll— I can cook you something. Whatever you want.”

He pauses, and you can see him flitting through potential responses. You’re half-expecting him to make some sarcastic quip, like You shouldn’t be anywhere near a kitchen or Any food that comes from your hands will probably be inedible or You have many skills, and cooking is not one of them. Instead, he looks at you, a contemplative look in his eyes. He’s thinking, and that’s always a dangerous thing.

“Yeah,” he finally answers, finally looking at you, finally holding your gaze with the same warmth spreading through your palms. You want— you need— you’re craving nothing more than your hands on his and his mouth against yours. He’d be an awful kisser, you’re sure, awkward and clumsy, but you’d be just the same.

“Can I—” you start, cutting yourself off but letting your awful lack of self-control take over. “Can I kiss you? Do you want that?”

And he’s too lovely, too stupid and funny and his face hasn’t cooled down for a moment and the sides of his neck are still flushed red. “Not here,” he tells you earnestly, and you see his hand twitch just a little bit against his face. “Once we get back, you— you can do that.”

It’s a promise, and Dan Heng is starting to get good at those.

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

taglist: @tragedy-of-commons

(pssst!!! send me a msg or fill out the form in my navi to be added to the taglist!!!)

#dan heng x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr fanfic #dan heng fluff #dan heng hsr x reader #hsr dan heng x reader #hsr x you #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x you #dan heng x you #dan heng fic #hsr fic #honkai star rail fic #im missing tags let me think (im the biggest tag spammer on earth)#dan heng #honkai star rail #trust that my 1k follower roman colosseum amphitheatre battle will be happening soon

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soulaires · 8 months

Text

Whiskey on ice.

pairings: Aaron Warner x Fem!Reader

summary: What’s the best thing that ever happened to you and why is it (drunk) Aaron Warner?

warnings: alcohol, ooc(?) Aaron Warner, kissing, suggestive themes, fluff, and a light smut!

« words: 2.09k ┇ao3┇reblogs are appreciated! »

🪩:: voicemail ; read my other aaron warner fics here.

The phone buzzed insistently on your nightstand, waking you from your deep slumber. Groaning, you fumbled for it in the darkness, squinting at the screen.

Kenji’s name illuminated the room.

Of course, it was fucking Kenji. Damn you, Kishimoto.

“What the fuck do you want?” You mumbled, your voice thick with annoyance and sleepiness.

“Hey there, sunshine,” came Kenji's sarcastic voice through the speaker. “So sorry to interrupt your slumber, sleeping beauty.” Kenji slurred, clearly drunk.

“Kenji, it’s two in the morning,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Well, I’ve got a little situation here,” he replied, his tone strangely cryptic.

Jesus Christ.

“What kind of situation?” You asked, growing more concerned by the second.

“Aaron fucking Warner.” Kenji deadpanned.

“He's had a bit too much to drink,” Kenji explained, his voice full of amusement.

"Tell her I love her!"

You grinned when you heard Warner’s drunken voice in the background cutting kenji off. He definitely sounded as if he’d had a bit more to drink than usual.

“And he's a little... clingy and needy, to say the least.” He continued.

“Kishimoto, tell her I love her!” Your boyfriend's voice can be heard in the background.

“He says he lo—” Kenji paused, his phone shuffled loudly and your eyes narrowed at the sound. And then you heard Aaron on Kenji's phone a second later.

“My love, I love you,” Aaron said to the other line.

“I love you too, Aaron.” You replied, smiling.

“You’re the most beautiful person I have laid my eyes upon, angel. My pretty love,” Aaron continued. “You are my face of aphrodite, The human embodiment of all of my desires, my beloved.”

You felt your cheeks heat at the compliment, biting up a smile, “Oh don’t you think that’s an exaggeration—“

“No,” Aaron cut you off firmly. “It is not, it’s the truth, my love. You-you are-“

“Warner, give me back my phone, asshole!”

As you fought back a laughter, you still can hear your boyfriend’s drunk voice in the background.

“Drunk Aaron Warner?” you repeated, trying to wrap your head around the image. “I thought that was a myth.”

“Oh, it's very real,” Kenji assured you. “And I need your help to wrangle him. He won't stop talking about you, and he's insistent on seeing you.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. The thought of a tipsy Aaron Warner being affectionate and flirtatious was too tempting to resist.

“I'll be right there,” you said, already throwing on some clothes and grabbing your keys.

“Okay, we will just try to make him drink water,” Kenji assured you.

“Oh my fucking god—no, Warner, you fucking tell her that! That’s too much information, man. Disgusting.”

You hear kenji rant, not entirely sure you wanted to know what drunk aaron was spewing to kenji.

“Y’all need to leave me alone to y’all’s sex life, for real.” Kenji mumbled as he turned off the call.

When you arrived at the designated meeting spot, you spotted Kenji standing by a black car. Aaron Warner was leaning against the vehicle, his normally impeccable suit rumpled and his tie hanging loose. He looked a little disheveled, but his green eyes sparkled with mischief as he caught sight of you.

“There’s my pretty baby,” Aaron slurred, pushing off the car and stumbling toward you.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his unsteady gait. "Hey, darling. Having a good time?"

Aaron grinned broadly, his trademark stoicism replaced by an endearing warmth. "The best time," he declared. "But it could be even better if you were here with me."

Kenji rolled his eyes as he strutted off to you and Aaron. "Take him home, will you? He's been driving me crazy all night." You only nodded and gave him a smile.

As you led Aaron to the car, he leaned into you, resting his head on your shoulder. "You're so pretty," he slurred.

You couldn't help but blush at his candidness. "I think you're pretty great too, Warner."

With some effort, you managed to get him into the passenger seat. He insisted on holding your hand during the entire drive, peppering your knuckles with sweet, slightly drunken kisses.

"You're amazing," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "I'm lucky to have you."

As the ride goes on, Aaron’s hand had traveled from your hand to your inner thigh, caressing it and making you shiver from his touch.

“Aaron! We’re on the road, hands to yourself!” You told him, pulling out his hand from your thigh.

“‘m sorry, love, can’t help myself.” He mumbled. “You just smell so good, makes me wanna…” after that, you can’t understand the incoherent words he was saying.

“uhuh,” you mused, “keep your hands to yourself for a moment, yeah?” You told him as warner only grunted in response.

When you arrived home, you helped him out of the car. He stumbled a few times, but you were there to catch him each time. Inside, you settled him on the couch, where he promptly draped himself across your lap.

"You're comfy," he mumbled, nuzzling into your thigh.

You chuckled, running your fingers through his tousled hair. "I'm glad you think so."

As you went to the kitchen to grab him some water, you felt him following you.

His hands firmly gripped your hips once more, drawing you close to him in an abrupt, passionate motion. A gasp of surprise escaped your lips as his forehead lowered to meet yours. The faint scent of alcohol lingered on his breath as he nestled his nose against yours.

"I just want to make love to you tonight, angel," he murmured, his words causing your breath to quicken. His intentions were crystal clear, and you felt your resolve waver in response to his desire.

Breathing becoming shallower, you struggled to maintain composure as he continued, his hands descending to firmly grasp your hips, pressing your body against his.

"Not— not tonight," you stammered out, fighting against the powerful pull of his closeness.

"I just want to make you feel good, my sweet girl," he whispered, his voice laced with desire. His hands slid sensuously down to your waist, pulling your hips into a slow, intoxicating dance with his.

"Want to take care of you. Always want to take care of you."

You moistened your lips, trying to regain control, all while Aaron's hips moved against yours, making it increasingly difficult to resist. You exhaled a deep breath, attempting to stay collected.

"Not tonight, baby," you whispered back, your voice trembling.

His lips lowered beside your ear, sending shivers down your spine as they brushed against your skin. "I always take care of my love," he purred, placing a lingering kiss along your neck. "Always take real good care of you, my sweet angel."

"Let me take care of you tonight, please."

"Not when you've drunk so much," you replied, your voice wavering. With great effort, you managed to step back out of his embrace, resisting the urge to grind back into him. "Let's get you to the couch. I'll get you some water."

Aaron sighed deeply, his hands halting their explorations. You guided him down the hallway towards his couch, and he plopped down onto it. You fetched a glass of water from his kitchen and handed it to him. He downed it quickly, and you set the empty cup on the coffee table.

Turning your attention back to him, you noticed his disheveled work clothes. "How about I help you get ready for bed? Does that sound good?"

A sly grin crossed Aaron's face as he replied, "That depends. What are we doing in bed?"

"Sleeping, Aaron," you asserted firmly. Bending over, you took hold of his hands and gently tugged him from the couch. "Come on."

After helping Aaron into his bed, you slipped in beside him. He immediately curled up against you, his arms enveloping your waist.

"You're incredible," he whispered, breaking the silence.

You couldn't help but snort softly and shake your head. "And you're drunk," you replied.

"No, I'm serious," he insisted. "You're so smart, kind-hearted, funny, perfect. You're... you're too good for me. Much too good for me."

A frown creased your brow as he continued, his words spilling forth in a torrent of insecurity. "And I can't help but wonder how a heart like yours could ever love a heart like mine. You deserve someone better."

"Stop that, Aaron," you warned, your voice gentle but firm.

He shook his head vigorously. "Shush. Do not worry, my love," he murmured. "I'm far too selfish to want to give you up now.

"I will keep trying to be better to deserve you, my beloved. Please remember that," he said earnestly, his gaze locked onto yours.

"Aaron..." you began, but he interrupted.

"Please don't ever get tired of me," he pleaded. You looked at him, your heart swelling with affection, and kissed his forehead.

"I won't, love. You have me until the end of the universe," you assured him.

"I love you," he declared, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that held your attention.

For a moment, you were captivated by the depth of emotion in his eyes, as if his "I love you" carried a significance beyond words.

"I love you too," you whispered back, feeling a warmth spread through your heart. His head tilted slightly, a softer expression on his face, his lips parting in a gentle smile.

His gaze remained fixed on you, and you sensed that his love was something profound, something that words could never truly capture.

After a moment of silence, he spoke up.

“Love?” he asked tentatively through the dark.

“Hmm?” you answered.

There was a brief moment of hesitation before he spoke.

“Will you at least kiss me?” he asked.

“Of course, pretty boy,” you replied.

You leaned in, his lips seeking yours. The kiss was passionate and filled with an intensity that made your head spin.

As the night wore on, Aaron's clinginess increased. He refused to let you go, holding your waist tightly and pulling your head into his chest. He rested his head on your hair, and maybe nuzzle your neck affectionately.

his head shifting along the pillow for a moment before you felt him brush his lips against your forehead. Your eyes closed, a smile spreading across your mouth. And then gradually you both fell asleep.

___

Bonus:

The soft glow of dawn crept into the kitchen as you tiptoed in, careful not to make too much noise. You knew Aaron had indulged in one too many drinks last night, and he'd likely be nursing a hangover this morning. Your heart swelled with affection for him as you prepared to make breakfast, wanting to take care of him in the best way you knew how.

As you quietly scrambled eggs and toasted bread, you couldn't help but smile at the thought of how your relationship with Aaron had evolved.

Just as you were about to flip the eggs, you felt a pair of strong arms encircle your waist. Aaron's chin rested on your shoulder, and he hugged you from behind, his body warm against yours.

"Morning, love," he slurred, his voice thick with sleep and the remnants of alcohol.

You chuckled softly and turned off the stove before turning in his embrace. "Morning, Aaron. Head hurts?"

"Mhm," he hummed, nuzzling your neck as if seeking comfort.

You reached up to run your fingers through his disheveled hair, a soothing gesture that seemed to help alleviate his discomfort. "Remember what I said last night?"

He pulled back slightly, his green eyes searching yours with a playful glint. "Y’know something from the kitchen."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out which of his drunken declarations he was referring to. "Which one?"

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, a tender, lingering kiss that left you slightly breathless.

And then it clicked.

"You said you wanted to take care of me and make love, but I said no because you were drunk," you said.

A faint blush crept across your cheeks as you remembered his needy and flirtatious behavior from the night before.

Aaron smirked, a wicked glint in his gaze.

"Well, I’m not drunk now." He said, smirking.

Oh Gods.

Your heart raced as his hands roamed your waist, pulling you closer. "Aaron, your hangover—"

He silenced your protests with another heated kiss.

Authors Note:

Woohoo 🫡 here’s a short fic for y’all since I’m still finishing up

the 12k+ Aaron Warner 7 evil exes fic (only 1 and a half chapter left) 🥸 anyway, enjoy!

English is not my first language and this isn’t beta read! And also my first time writing a fic 😮‍💨

Please let me know what you think :)

#aaron warner #aaron warner x reader #shatter me #shatter me series #aaron warner anderson #x reader #reader insert #aaron warner x you #aaron warner x y/n #Kenji kishimoto #riewrites 🫀#Aaron Warner imagine #shatter me imagine #fem!reader

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vcrooster · 2 years

Text

Cherry Flavored

Smut & Some Angst.

Paring: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw & Reader (call sign: Cherry)

Word count: 4 k

Summary: All that Rooster needed to do was let out some steam.

Authors note: I don’t even know how I came up with this but I hope you like it <3. If you guys have any ideas you would like me to right about I’m all open for some requests.

***

Rooster didn’t even notice his arms were feeling sore until he was in the showers. He could hear the mix of all of the other guys voices, and all of them came to the same conclusion. Maverick had kicked everyone’s ass.

Including him. Twice.

He was so mad at himself. He should’ve taken the damn shot.

And fucking Coyote flirting with you since the call back isn’t really letting him be at his fullest.

You always politely declined him. Politely as in you said no thank you and he took it as a try harder.

And every time it took everything in Rooster not to tell him off.

All of the whistles had made him turn his head towards the door. “If it ain’t Cherry and Phoenix” Hangman said when saw you walk in the room.

The collar of your shirt still had sweat around it and your suit was half way undone.

You were one of the two female pilots that were recalled to Top Gun. Most of the time you got treated as equals, but they were moments like this where the guys were just being stupid.

You lock eyes with Rooster. He doesn’t hold it for more than a couple of seconds. “Don’t worry lady’s, we are out of here”. Hangman says, you are actually grateful that they’ve respected your privacy. “Showers are all yours”.

He seems irritated and upset. You can’t do anything about it right now, not in front of everyone.

You started to fool around with him a couple a years ago. Sneaking around, just letting some steam off was the whole purpose of it.

It wasn’t your intention to grow feelings for him. You both stayed together for the holidays, neither of you had families to go back to, so you kept each other company.

Rooster sure wasn’t expecting to find himself asking for you to give him a chance.

But how couldn’t he. Rooster was crazy over you.

The decision to keep it a secret was mutual. You didn’t want to risk a transfer to a different unit. Truth is you guys were a good team in the air, and you couldn’t trust anybody else to not get you killed up there.

“Come on Rooster, don’t try to get lucky” Harvard patted him on the back before leaving the room, without of course giving you a last glance.

“Are you messing around with Rooster?” Phoenix asked with a smirk on her face once they were alone.

“What?” No, no, no, she doesn’t know. “I’m not messing around with nobody”.

“You don’t sound so sure” she teases.

“Oh shut up”.

You feel somewhat unsteady when you get the sensation that she isn’t joking around. Shit, Phoenix is like a sister to Bradley, of course she’s going to know when something is off about him.

“Coyote and Hangman would be terribly heartbroken” honestly starts feeling like she is trying to get something out of you. “I can’t blame you though”.

Hangman would never admit to it sober, but during a late night drunk conversation with Phoenix it had slipped his mouth how he saw you almost naked in the showers.

It was an accident, genuinely.

He wasn’t a pervert he had just been stupid enough to forget his keys under his spare shirt in his locker.

Now maybe he wasn’t a good team player but he was sure a gentleman, nobody but Phoenix knew about it.

The image of you getting undressed had been the only thing helping him get off for the next week or so. He never made a move on you in a serious type of manner; however, he would occasionally flirt when he got a little too cocky.

“Whatever”. You answer.

You ignore her comments and head to take a shower. The warm water felt delicious over your skin. The training today has been hard— embarrassing you would say. You are supposed to be the best of the best, and here comes this guy that took everyone down with little to no effort.

But the 200 push-ups under the California sun were the worst part of it all. You really don’t want to complain, because Rooster had to do double of that.

You make sure to get done before Phoenix is. You hurry to your small designated room before she asks more questions and you get too annoyed at her.

It’s an hour till midnight when you go to Rooster’s room. You decided it was better to give him some time to cool off before you checked up on him.

“Hey” he doesn’t say anything he just moves aside to make room for you to come in.

You watch him walk back and take a seat at the edge of his bed. His face is painted with exhaustion, he’s still upset for what you could tell.

Your hand drops on his shoulder when you sit next to him, trying to give him some sort of comfort. “It’s alright Rooster, he smoked everyone else out there”.

“He pulled my papers”.

“What? Maverick?” You knew he had a rattle going on with him but he never mentioned why.

“He pulled my application on the naval academy” his voice was a mix of gloom and anger. “Set me back four years”.

“What you did today, you could’ve got yourself kicked out” You know how he lets anger blind him. He’s just a guy that lets his emotions get the best of him.

“Don’t worry about it—“

“I am” You slightly raise your voice, You’re not going to sit there letting him pity himself. Bradley is a great pilot he just needs to loosen up a little. “You can’t leave us flying with Hangman”.

“I’m sorry” he finally looks at you, you feel the palm of his hand gently squeeze your inner thigh.

“I don’t want you to apologize to me, I just want you to prove him wrong”.

He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear before leaning in, pressing his lips sweetly against yours.

They stay still for a second and pulls back, pressing his forehead on your own. You know that no matter how much time goes by, he’ll always be breathtaking to you.

You are the one that decides to make the next move. Wanting to make him feel good, help him relax a little. You move your lips gradually over his without any intention at first.

Slowly as you deepen the kiss you straddle his lap, his fingers immediately dig in the skin of your hips holding you steady, knowing your next move.

He knows it’s a bad idea to fuck you in the dorm rooms, shit, Yale and Coyote were sleeping in the rooms next to his, maybe he wouldn’t mind finally putting and end to Coyote insistence on you, but he knew it wasn’t the place or time.

Your fingers slide into his golden hair when his tongue meets yours. He isn’t trying to get carried away but he can help to get rid of your shirt completely when your hand gets lost inside his boxers.

His hands are roaming from your waist to your breasts. He covers them with his hands, squeezing them softly earning a moan from you.

It’s all it took for him to return to his senses.

“Wait, wait, babe wait” he sounds rushed as he’s trying to catch his breath again. “We can’t, not here”.

“Just relax” You shushed him.

“They’re going to hear us”. He’s doing his best to be the nice guy and stop you, but he’s had a shitty day and the idea of intimacy with his girl, was sounding very good at the moment.

He’s looking at you with expectant eyes, that’s all you need for you to kneel in front of him and tug the waistband of his boxers.

“You just gotta make sure you're very quiet then”.

Once your hand is around his cock he lets out a shaky breath. You work your hand along his shaft and seconds later his hand is on top of your own, guiding the speed. “A little slower”. The breathes out.

You do as he says. Your thumb brushes against his tip a couple of times, gaining a sigh from him. God, you love the sounds he makes.

“Feeling better?” You let out a giggle with a soft smile.

“Fuck yes” he groans.

You wrap your lips on him without warning, he throws back his head, hissing and moaning your name in what sounded like a whisper.

His fingers get tangled in your hair carefully undoing the tie holding your ponytail up. He has always loved you with your hair down. But what he loves the most is when he can just take it in a fistful for himself to guide your movements.

“You always take me so good baby” he grunts.

Rooster looks down on you. His eyes trail to your arched back and those boy shorts that barely covered your ass, all he can think is how good it looks from where he’s at.

That sight alone makes him lose his mind in between gasps and groans. It’s always so difficult for him to maintain eye contact when you always look so perfect. And it’s all just for him.

He moans getting all caught up in the moment, you don’t even pay attention to the tears forming in the corner of your eyes when he hits the back of your throat.

Your tongue swirls around his tip and your hand works on whatever you mouth can’t reach. He hissed pushing the hair off your forehead. “Fuck”.

His eyes meet yours right before he’s about to cum. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth slightly opened. He pulls himself out and next thing you feel is the warm strings covering your cleavage.

It takes a moment for him to compose his breath, meanwhile you clean yourself with the towel sitting on the chair next to his bed.

He tucks himself back in his boxers. He shifts in his twin size bed, lifting his body on his elbows.

He gets lost looking at the cherry tattoo on your shoulder, the reason you earned your call sign. He lets out a smirk remembering the time you were drunk and complaining that you wanted your call sign to be Echo, not the stupid tattoo you got when you’d just turned 18.

“Hey…” he reaches out for you making you fall on his lap.

You know he wants to return the favor when he turns you under him and starts kissing you hard. Fingers start to play on the waistband of your shorts teasing you. But you're not falling for it.

His lips trail off down your neck where he nips on the skin of your collar bones. “Oh no Bradshaw, I have to go”.

He yanks his head up looking a little lost. He completely forgot he was the one trying to stop you all along.

“Come on, just stay for a little bit”.

You smile at his childish actions. You know if you stay in his room you're ending up getting tangled in his sheets and to be honest it hasn’t been long since you guys had sex.

Truth is you ended up fucking him in some random motel after his little preformance in the Hard Deck.

“Unless you want to explain to Cyclone, why was I in your room all night Lieutenant Bradshaw” He smiles playfully kissing your jaw and lastly he leaves a soft kiss on your lips.

“I think I’m good on that one”.

“I thought so too”

You leave before it gets any later than it already is.

You hope that’s enough to get him off his thoughts for a bit– and a better mood.

And it works for what you could tell. It was all going alright but when it was his turn to do the exercise Maverick wasn’t exactly too constructive about it.

The best way to describe today’s training was no other than a shit show.

Maverick and Rooster had put on one hell of a performance in front of everyone. But what tied it all together was Hangman’s comments on Rooster's dad. To be more specific how he passed flying with Maverick.

“Hey!”. You yell at Hangman before he turns the corner.

“Cherry” He sighs “Your pretty little face is becoming more annoying every–“ you slap him across his face, you’d like to say you stopped there but before he could steady himself you push him against the wall. “Ouch”.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” your voice comes out more broken than strong. “His problems aren’t for you to broadcast in front of everyone”.

“Is it getting too personal with Rooster?”. He sounds pretty cynical and that smile painted across his face only made you angrier. “Because I have to say I thought I was more of your type”.

“You’re such a fucking asshole Jake”.

“Lighten up Cherry, Jesus”. He winks not before looking at you up and down. “I’m feeling a little jealous”.

“I swear–“

“Guys just stop” Phoenix interrupted you both before the situation escalated.

As soon as she says that you’re on your way to Bradley’s dorm. Phoenix tries to stop you to try and calm the situación down but it honestly comes out as more annoying than helpful.

You’re only knocking a couple of times on his door before he opens it.

His suit is half way undone, the arms are wrapped around his waist and he’s still clearly mad about the whole situation.

His eyes don’t soften as they usually do when he looks at you. In fact his hand is wrapped around your arm pulling you into his room.

“I’m so fucking over this shit” He tells you before you could say anything. “What does he fucking want me to do?”.

“Rooster…” he lets you reach out for his shoulder. You don’t want to say anything, he can be a real hothead when he’s mad, and honestly he’s had enough for today.

“And Hangman, fuck–“ He’s clearly very frustrated, you get, he’s feeling cornered and embarrassed, damn he almost hit the guy in front of the whole group.

“I slapped him just minute ago” you say and he chuckles slightly, the last reaction you thought you’d get from him right.

You hand finds his squeezing it gently.

He allows himself to relax a little. It’s just you, it’s always alright when he's with you.

He joins your lips with his before he thinks too much about it. He presses your back against the wood of the door, taking you by surprise. It takes you a moment to respond and sync up with his pace.

His lips feel rough over yours– desperate would be a better way to describe it. But he’s hurt, you at least could attempt to try and talk to him.

“Hey, we should –“ His head shakes denying anything you’re trying to say to him. He quickly shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours, harder this time. His tongue finds its way inside your mouth and you can’t help but to moan into his. “Rooster”.

He wants a distraction. And to be honest you could use one too. There was no point in resisting him.

The way you kiss him is almost in unspoken agreement between both of you. Your hands immediately shoot to his hair and down his neck.

“I need you baby”. He whispers on your skin. Shit alright.

Your hands start to untie the arms of his suit pulling it all the way down.

He straightens you up and his lips are on your neck, he nips the skin from that area until he manages to get a whimper out of your mouth. He smiles trying to catch a breath.

You push him off until the back of his knees hits his bed. He falls into the mattress lifting himself with his elbows. He looks at you impatiently for your next move.

You have to say the part you love the most of fucking with Rooster is the constant fight of who’s in charge.

And honestly Bradley can’t get enough of it either. The only thing rolling on his mind is how hot you look trying to handle him.

And shit, you looked even better stripping in front of him right now.

His gaze doesn’t leave you a single time. It follows you undoing your boots but he’s most excited when you slowly start to unzip your suit.

He reaches out to you trying to help you finish the job but he only gets pushed back into the mattress.

“Not yet” there is a small grin forming on his face by watching you step out of your suit. His eyes trail from your legs to your face. You’d stop being shy and nervous around him from the first couple of times sleeping with him. Fuck, you weren’t fully undressed and there he was hard as rock inside of his boxers.

You crawl over him and he still doesn't dare to touch you, his eyes never leave your own. You could still perceive a hint of the scent of musk and vanilla on him. Your knees stop when they reach his lap and you settle right on top of his cock.

“You’re going to have to give me a little more than that sweetheart” You chuckle having fun with him. Your palm pushes his chest down, you slowly start grinding on him, having him hiss right away “There we go”. Rooster groans.

You finally feel his tight grip on your hips making your pace faster. His hands trail up your sides lifting your shirt all the way up your rib cage until it’s off your body. The palm of his hand slides from your bellybutton to your breast squeezing and kneading them.

“Shit” he chokes out. He pulls you down, meeting him in a messy kiss. “I want to fuck you so badly already”.

He quickly puts on one of the condoms in his night stand before his mind drifts anywhere else.

“That eager Bradshaw?” that’s all it takes for him to hook his hands on the back of your thighs. He lifted you without a problem and in a second he had your back against the wall.

“You have no idea” He grinds a couple of more times on you adjusting your thighs around his waist making sure he has you how he wants you. “Hold tight babe”.

He stretched his neck up to keep his lips against yours moaning against them as he slammed into you again.

You are the one that guides him inside you, having you both gasp at the new sensation. Almost right away he is pounding hard into you leaving no time for you to adjust to him.

You have to steady yourself on his shoulders when you feel him go deeper. He bites the skin of your collarbone softly passing the tip of his tongue over it. He's always careful not to leave any sort of marks on you but this time he didn’t even care.

He gripped your thighs tightly when you clenched around him as the tip of his cock kept brushing on your sweet spot.

“Holy fuck–“ you say breathlessly.

He knows that you guys aren’t loud enough for someone else to hear. But he can’t help to like the thought of you moaning his name for everyone to hear that you're his.

Your face hides in the crook of his neck leaving open mouth kisses along it, loving the sensation of his moans vibrating against his throat.

Your eyes glide down taking a look at where your bodies are joined. The pleasure building inside you starts to feel a little overwhelming, your thighs tense up and your forehead ends up resting over his “Rooster”. It comes out more like a plead than you intended and it drives him crazy.

“I know baby”. He whispers.

He jerks you up in a sudden move, his arm on your waist holding you tighter against him. He’s thrusting faster and harder than before. Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulder blades in an attempt to hold on to him as best as you can.

It almost feels as if he is pulling out completely as he slams as deep and hard as he can into you.

You got so lost into him that you almost didn’t realize that you were about to cum. “Are you almost there?” He asks and you can bring yourself to answer so the only response you can give him is a desperate whimper.

He pounds a few more times and it finally explodes on you. He’s kissing you to drown the moans you're making. And he keeps doing it while he’s finally coming. It hits him harder than he thought it would, he feels like he's melting into you.

You take a moment to look at him. You’re sure he’s the most handsome guy you’ve seen in your life. God, you’re so in love with him.

You stay with him until he falls asleep. He usually doesn’t sleep very well but his soft snoring filled the room not too long after.

You leave his room making sure to set his alarm for the morning.

It wasn’t late so seeing Maverick waiting outside your door didn’t surprise you that much.

“Lieutenant Metcalf” You felt he was angry. Part of you was glad he wasn’t disappointed.

You’ve known him for a long time, your grandfather was his instructor when he was in Top Gun. You’d occasionally check on him throughout the years but never were exactly close to him, not like he is– or was– with Rooster.

“Are you here to lecture me?” You weren’t intending to come out as defensive as you did.

“No, but it’s not that hard to put one and two together”. He’s still irritated from training and you can’t blame him. “I should kick one of you off the team” his arms were crossed over his chest.

The thing about Maverick is that you knew no matter how bad his ass was in the line he would always have the back of the people he loved.

“Are you?” He tried to ignore the obvious fact that you look like you just got fucked despite your efforts of trying to clean your self up.

“That’s up to you”. His voice got softer. “Get some rest Cherry”.

“Yes sir”.

Contrary to Rooster, you kept tossing and turning in the bed all night. Your mind just kept on wandering off to what could happen to Bradley and you once Maverick was out of the picture.

You really didn’t want to think of the possibility of not flying with him anymore.

Best thing for now is to keep your hands off each other and hope for the best.

That was until you were headed to the beach the very next day and the hickeys on your tits were very visible with the sports bra you were planning to wear.

You would’ve gotten away with the simple white shirt you used as your cover up if Coyote and Hangman hadn't decided to be funny and pulled you and Phoenix to the water making your shirt very see through.

“Damn Cherry, you should've told me I was being too hard last night”. Jake pointed out sarcastically at the now visible dark marks on your chest. “You know how much I hate putting on a show”.

“I bet you do Hangman” Rooster said, coming up towards you, helping you out of the water and draping his hawaiian shirt on your shoulders and wrapping one of his hands on your waist lifting you to his side.

He didn’t care that all eyes were on you guys, but shit, Cyclone didn’t have to show up right at that moment.

You knew you were fucked when he whispered to Maverick.

“What’s going on with those two?” He pointed out to both of you.

“They must be very competitive sir”.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster #rooster angst #rooster one shot #rooster smut #rooster top gun #top gun #top gun maverick

4K notes · View notes

dilemmaontwolegs · 8 months

Text

Playboy || PG10 {3}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x fem!reader Summary: Pierre proves himself and makes promises. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut WC: 2.2k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four

Wind whipped through the gaping hole in the back of the Ferrari and you shivered from the cold, curling your knees up to your chest as Pierre drove back to the city. You expected him to take you home but he pulled into a far nicer apartment block and spiralled down the ramp to the underground carpark.

Slipping out of the car and into the well-lit carpark you saw the full extent of the damage and shook your head at the new paint job that was needed. “I’m sorry,” you murmured as you ran your fingers over the worst chips and dents.

A pair of hands came to rest on your hips and Pierre rested his chin on your shoulder as he looked at his car. “Don’t worry about it, insurance will cover it.”

“I was apologising to the car,” you said with a smirk but the move only served to split the cut on your cheek and fresh blood welled to the surface as you winced. “Do you have a first aid kit I can borrow?”

Pierre laced his fingers with yours and nodded as he led the way to his apartment. The elevator ride was quiet and you felt the tension rising as you idly played with the thick ring on his thumb. Looking away from the jewellery, you realised it was a mistake as you met his eyes and knew the feeling wasn’t one way, but the elevator was not the place to start what you had in mind.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Pierre all but groaned as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Like what?” you asked innocently, tilting your head to the side and peeking up through your lashes.

“Like I’m a playboy who will fuck you on the first date.” There was a sinkhole in the ocean of his irises and it was stealing all the colour from them the longer that he looked at you. He reached out and hit the button for the 12th floor again as if it would magically make the ride go faster. “I’m trying to prove a point and you’re making it hard.”

“Is there a rooftop here?” you asked as you thought of a solution.

“Yeah, for maintenance I think. Why?”

“Take me there first,” you urged and he frowned as he hit the button for the level above his. The elevator opened to a short hallway and you saw the stairs that led to a metal door so you tugged his hand and made your way outside, sticking a brick in the door to keep it from locking you out. “Lay down.”

“You can be quite bossy,” he chuckled but humoured you as he did as he was told, joining you on the cold concrete roof top. “What are we doing?”

“Stargazing,” you said as you turned to him, propping your head up on your hand. “It seems like a reasonable second date.”

“A second date already, hmm,” he smirked as you sat up and leaned over him with a matching smile.

“I think that officially means you aren’t a playboy.” You dipped your head down and he met you halfway, his large hands grabbing your waist to pull you onto his lap as he sat up and kissed you.

“Very clever,” he murmured against your lips, making you smile more.

“I’ve been known to have a few good ideas on occasion.”

He chuckled as his hands roamed your body, brushing along the hem of your dress and edging it up. “Any others you can think of?”

“One or two,” you breathed as his fingers slipped beneath the material. “But not here.”

There was a new urgency as you rose on unsteady feet and Pierre’s arm curled around your waist as if the distance to walk at your side was too far for his liking. After three quick presses of the elevator button and no instant result, he growled and you looked at the stairwell before kicking off your heels.

His laugh echoed off the concrete walls and he was quick to make chase as you raced ahead of him down the next floor where his keys were already in his hands and rushing to unlock the door. It crashed open as he turned and pulled you with him, your bodies sealing close together while your lips collided with a deep hunger.

He blindly kicked the door shut behind and his large hands splayed across your ass before gripping tightly and using his strength to pick you up. A moan escaped you as your legs wrapped around his hips and you felt just how bad he wanted you.

“Wait.” Your eyebrows lifted at the order he gave as he sat you on his kitchen countertop, his chest rising and falling with quick pants.

“Wait?” you echoed in disbelief, the needy sound making him smirk.

“You’re still hurt,” he reminded softly as he reached under the sink for his first aid kit before nudging your knees apart so he could step into the space. “Let me take care of you first.” He was gentle as he cleaned your cheek, the gauze turning pink with your blood, and he apologised when he opened the antiseptic wipe. ��This might sting a bit.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

Curiosity filled his eyes as he dabbed the skin dry before putting a little butterfly stitch over the cut. “What happened?” he asked as he cradled your jaw in his hand to keep you from looking away.

“That’s something that would need to wait until at least the third date,” you said with a shake of your head. “I thought you were going to take care of me.”

A cocky smile played at his lips as you challenged him and his hands brushed your dress up over your hips as he dropped to his knees. “Oh, I’ll take care of you, Beautiful.”

The first aid kit was scattered across the kitchen floor where you had knocked it off the bench in the throes of your first orgasm. He had enjoyed taking his time with you laid out, writhing under the talent of his lips, his tongue, his teeth.

The next victim was your dress, his impatience and strength breaking the zip in the frenzied need to remove all barriers between your bodies. Your hands had tugged his sweater over his head before pulling his shirt open, little white buttons popping off in all directions.

“Jesus,” you moaned as you ran your fingers down his body, feeling every hard ridge of muscle until you reached his jeans. “I knew you were going to be fit but fuck…”

He grinned proudly at the remark and took over removing him of the denim keeping you from reaching what you wanted. The thin pair of boxers did little to hide the length of him begging for freedom from the constricting material but before you could tug them down he was tugging you back into his arms and leading you to his bedroom.

“I’ll lose all my common sense if you touch me, beautiful, and then we will be in trouble,” he admitted as he laid you on his bed, kissing you before pulling back and rifling through his drawers for a condom.

You weren’t sure you were going to be able to feel your legs again anytime soon. The man was obsessed with making sure you were in a constant state of bliss and you were almost relieved when he couldn’t hold back his own release any longer. He had collapsed beside you with a deeply satisfied sigh before disposing of the condom so he could recover with you in his arms, your head on his chest.

His fingers danced lazily across your hip, tracing invisible letters and shapes on your skin until he noticed the changes in texture, the slight bumps on an otherwise smooth surface. Lifting his head, he pushed the sheet away and spied the scars in the dim light. “What happened?” He had seen the scars that littered your knuckles and palms, victims of the job you did - but these were different.

“It doesn’t matter,” you whispered, pulling the sheet back around your body as you sat up. “I should get going.”

“Stay,” he urged, but you were already leaving the room to find your underwear on the messy kitchen floor. “It was just a question.”

It was a question that there was no easy answer to. It was a question that opened the door for more questions, and they would surely lead to memories that were better off left in the recesses of your mind.

“It was just sex, Pierre,” you said as you felt him following you, “that doesn’t mean I have to bare my soul to you.”

You pulled your dress on but it hung open at the back so you grabbed his shirt and shoved your arms inside before he pulled you back into his arms and his lips pressed to your neck.

“It wasn’t just sex to me.” The quiet admission had your eyes closing and your head tipping back onto his shoulder. “Please, stay.”

“I can’t give you the answers you are after.”

“You already have.” He turned you in his arms and you could see the sadness swimming in the ocean of his eyes. “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Men make promises they can’t keep.”

“Not real men,” he said with a little laugh. “You’re probably thinking of those playboys.”

You rose on your toes and brushed your lips softly over his. “I don’t trust people very easily, but I’m trusting you. Please don't make me regret it.”

His smile made your heart skip a beat and when he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead you knew you weren’t going anywhere. You let his shirt fall back to the floor before brushing your dress straps off your shoulder, taking his hand and leading him right back where you started.

“So sex in your car is out of the question,” you giggled as you watched the playback of the dashcam. The man had a camera on the front, at the back and, more crucially, facing the driver so everyone could see exactly who it was that won the race. They would also see the heated kiss you shared after coming to a halt at the lookout. “A shame really, we look pretty good together.”

“I’m adventurous but not that adventurous,” Pierre admitted with an amused shake of his head. “You ready?”

Your finger hovered over the button to post the video, tagging D as well as the other Street Kings. “Long live the King,” you muttered as you hit it, uploading the file almost instantly. “No going back now.” Closing the laptop, you spun around in his gaming chair and looked up at Pierre. “Now what do we do?”

He glanced at his watch and saw it wasn’t even noon. “I know a place where we can kill a few hours.”

“The bedroom?”

He smirked and caged you in his chair, nudging your legs open with his knee. His oversized shirt you wore rode high up your thighs and his eyes lingered on the bare skin before he dragged them up your body to your face. “You don’t need to convince me, but I was thinking about something outside of the apartment.”

Less than an hour later you were pulling up at a racetrack on the outskirts of Nice, half a dozen cars already there.

“Hey Pretty Boy, how’s your girl running?” you greeted Charles as he stepped out of his Pista.

“Very well, thank you.” He looked between you and Pierre, his smile growing as when he saw the possessive arm curl around your waist. “Now you can finally stop calling me that.”

“Why would I do that? Pierre would have seen your mid-teen-crisis too. Plus, I have a better name for him now.”

“This should be good, let’s hear it,” Charles chuckled until you pressed your forefinger to your lips.

“Sorry, it’s not for innocent ears.”

Charles’ nose wrinkled with an idea of where it was heading and shook his head before leading the group inside. “Whose team are you going to race on?”

“What are we racing?” you asked as you walked past a line of Porsches but continued along to a few garages open.

“Not this time,” Pierre teased as he pointed to a smaller track you hadn’t noticed to the side. At the start line, Joris, Ilies and Arthur were already picking up their race suits and you cocked an eyebrow at the mode of racing chosen.

“Karts?”

“I thought you could race anything?” he challenged playfully. “It has an engine and four wheels.”

You cracked your knuckles and accepted the helmet and race suit he grabbed for you. “I suppose I could do with a warm up before the big race.”

“What race?” Charles asked with concern before looking at his friend. “You’re not getting yourself into trouble are you?”

Pierre couldn’t help sending a wink your way before he clapped Charles on the shoulder. “Relax, mate. I’ve got this.”

Click here for chapter four.

#pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x y/n #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula one fanfiction

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rustedhearts · 10 months

Text

the incident ♡ pt ii (boxer!steve x librarian!fem reader)

summary: in the aftermath of your fight with steve, you appear on the munsons’ doorstep in search of shelter and a friendly face. the munsons get a glimpse of the real you—and the version of steve hiding behind closed doors.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ part i, part iii ✶ the king of the ring ✶ main masterlist

the rockstar eddie setlist by @carolmunson

tags: angst, hurt (practically no comfort), stella and libby being besties, violence, a whole lot of crying, talk of domestic abuse-ish stuff.

malibu california, november 1992. the munson residence.

The Mustang's tires squealed over the slick brick of the Munson driveway with a speed that made even you wince. The gear clunked into park by your not-so-gentle hand, still unsteady and covered in snot. You wiped it on the skirt of your dress: billowy, soft pink cotton now stained with tears.

You flung the door open and stomped your feet to the ground, rushing to make it to the door. You weren't sure why you were so frantic. Maybe somewhere in the back of your mind, you were worried Steve would follow. And you weren't sure you could look at Steve right now. You weren't sure you could stomach the sight of him.

Just as you reached the arched doorway of the Munson's looming mansion, lifting your hand to knock, the wood fell away to reveal a bare-chested and wide-eyed Eddie Munson.

"What the fuck is—Libby?"

You dropped your hand, sniffling. "Oh, hi Eddie."

You suddenly felt silly. Standing there in a disheveled, crumpled mess—hair astray, makeup soiled, dress collecting wet spots and wrinkles. Your shoes were strangling your feet. The brown belt around your waist was squeezing your lungs. And you had nothing. No purse, no house keys, no car of your own. Just Steve's brand new Mustang and a wobbling lip.

For a moment, Eddie just stared. His mouth fell agape, arm dropping from the doorway where he'd been preparing to lunge at some sort of paparazzi or other unwanted creep lurking in his driveway, more than ready to serve a stern scolding for streaking his newly-lain brick. But instead, there was you: swollen-nosed and sticky-cheeked, an unkempt version of the joyful girl he was used to seeing. Even when he knew you'd been fighting with Steve, Eddie had never seen you shed a tear or break a pout. You always kept a sugar-sweet poker face on for the public.

You were damn good at it too—nearly as good as his professionally-media-trained fiancée.

Eddie broke out of his stunned stupor at the sound of the latter's footsteps pattering behind him, slipper-clad and unprepared for what she was about to see.

"Ed, who was it?"

"Uh..." Eddie trailed off, stepping aside when Stella appeared beside him in a satin robe, tying the strings around her waist.

Stella, much like Eddie, paused. It seemed as though her entire body seized, like she'd just seen a splattered raccoon on the side of the road—pity and horror, all at once. You let your eyes fall to the stone steps, wiping your cheeks to freshen up a little. God, you felt so silly.

"Well, for god's sake, Munson, invite her in. Jesus, the poor thing's shaking!"

Stella swooped in, slipping her arm around your shoulders to push past her husband and guide you inside. She smelled delicate and expensive, her hand soft against your arm. She shook her head at Eddie, who flushed red as he swung the door closed and slid the lock.

"I'm sorry for showin' up like this unannounced," you murmured meekly, still avoiding their gazes as Stella gently guided the pair of you down on the cream-colored couch in the first living room. "I meant to call on the car phone, I just..."

Eddie carefully took the seat across from you, glancing at his fiancée over your head.

"Don't worry about it," Stella cooed, rubbing your arm, her own still draped over your back.

You nodded, wiping under your eyes. Your finger came away streaked in charcoal and sticky black. You wiped your hands together with a sigh, freshly manicured nails clacking together.

"Is everything okay?" Eddie offered, head tipping to see your face.

You took your lip between your teeth, scraping them over the plush flesh. You sniffled again, and it was as you dropped your head to your hands in your lap that the Munsons realized you were crying again. Eddie's head snapped toward Stella, who glared at him. Nice going, she mouthed over your head, tightening her hold on your frame against her body.

Eyes blown wide and cheeks flaming hot again, Eddie shuffled toward on the oversized armchair. "Fuck—shit, Libby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No," you chirped, voice strained with another cry. "Don't worry about, I-I'm okay."

You lifted your head halfway and flashed him a weak smile. Eddie's seemed strained in response—more a grimace than a grin. Stella rubbed your arm again, bringing your hair away from your face where it was beginning to cling to your cheeks.

"Do you want to take a bath? You can borrow some of my clothes, or we can have Tiffany go run out and get you some—"

"Oh gosh," you sighed, head shaking. "I don't want to be a bother. I-I'll take whatever you have."

Stella nodded, standing to her feet. "Alright, come on, I'll get you set up."

Eddie watched you walk side by side toward the double staircase: you a small, trudging, hunched figure and his fiancé a mess of poorly-concealed concern. She looked over her shoulder toward him as you ascended the stairs together, shooting him a look of panic. Eddie only ran his hand over his face and nodded in agreement.

The entire way up the stairs, you murmured more apologies and promised to be gone by tonight.

"Oh hush," Stella soothed as she guided you toward the guest wing. "You're staying. We'll make it a girl's night."

She opened the bathroom door, padding across the marble toward the clawfoot tub. You lingered like a child in the doorway and twisted your fingers behind your back.

"Are you sure—"

"Libby. I'm more than sure. I'll go get you something to wear, just get comfortable."

You stepped into the bathroom, aching to undo the straps on your heels and free your feet from their uncomfortable confines. Stella turned the faucet on, releasing a stream of hot water into the pristine white tub. She flashed you a smile as she headed your way toward the door. She came to a stop beside you, squeezing your shoulder.

"And whenever you wanna talk...I'm here, okay?"

You bobbed your head, matching her smile with teary eyes. Her hand slipped away from your arm, and she disappeared through the door. She returned a few moments later with a fluffy robe (light pink, clearly new, clearly purchased for a guest stay) and a silk pajama set: delicately patterned and embroidered with a designer logo.

You thanked her, set the items on the sink, and shed your body of its bearings. You kicked your heels toward the corner, spiteful and wishing to light them on fire. You dipped your feet into the tub and sank into the steaming water, sighing as it lapped at your bare body.

You rested your head back against the lip of the tub, cushioned with a bath pillow, and closed your eyes.

It was so quiet here. And there was no Steve.

♡ ♡

When you were sure you’d scrubbed all the remnants of your blowout with Steve from your body, you pulled the drain and let the water gurgle down. The pajamas Stella gave you were soft and freshly washed, and though there were sizing differences between the pair of you, they were far more comfortable than what you came in. Anything that didn’t smell like Steve was welcome.

You tied the robe into a ribbon around your waist, feet bare and toes curling across the carpet. You hugged your arms tight over your chest as you pattered down the staircase, still wary and uncertain. You didn’t feel unwelcome, but you certainly didn’t feel at home. Not to mention, Eddie was Steve’s friend. You wondered if he’d even believe you if you told him what happened.

But you didn’t want to talk about Steve right now. Right now, you just wanted to stop crying.

So, eyes still aching and stinging with old tears, you wandered into the living room to find Stella perched on Eddie’s lap, his hand running through her hair.

“Oh hey,” she greeted you, sitting up. “Everything okay?”

You bobbed your head, mustering a toothless smile. “Yeah, thank you.”

“You want something to eat?” Eddie asked, head tipping to find you around Stella.

You shrugged. “I’m alr—“

“Eddie’s got the fridge stocked at all times now that he’s beefing up,” Stella giggled, squeezing Eddie’s firm bicep.

Eddie’s mouth slipped into a grin, half-cocked and charming. “What can I say? I’m giving Harrington a run for his money.”

Your giggle was faux and cracked somewhere in the middle. Stella’s smile slipped, rubbing her fiancé’s arm for a moment more before sliding to her feet. Eddie wished he could swallow the mention of his friend’s name. If the way your face crumbled and your eyes welled up held any indication of what happened between you two—Eddie figured it was best not to mention your boyfriend’s name at all.

“Or,” Stella sung excitedly, looping her arm through yours. “We can go have some of that champagne we just opened.”

You nodded, eyes meeting hers briefly. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

The pair of you headed to the kitchen, Eddie’s big, sweeping steps following suit. You took a seat at one of the leather stools flanking the marble island, placing your elbows on the smooth countertop to play with your nails. Stella clinked around the kitchen, pulling the bottle of Dom from its ice bath, locating two champagne flutes in a cupboard nearby. They clinked against the marble when she set them down.

"Let me open it, honey," Eddie cooed, quickly replacing Stella's hands on the chilled bottle of bubbly.

"I had it, babe," Stella huffed, though her tone had a dash of something gooey to it.

You smiled softly when Eddie leaned over and kissed her cheek, loud and quick. "I know."

Eddie popped the cork off with precision, the loud explosion of air quickly disintegrating, replaced by the 'glug, glug' trickle of champagne filling the flutes. When they were even and spritzing sparks, Eddie fished them from the counter and presented one to each of you.

"Ladies."

You cracked another smile, sniffling as you accepted the drink. "Thank you."

Stella shook her head, affection smeared across her face. She pressed another kiss to Eddie's waiting, puckered lips, and rubbed his bare arm again. "Alright, get outta here, Munson. It's a girl's night."

Eddie didn't argue. Instead, he pressed another kiss to Stella's neck, head tipping to fit the nook, and turned to you with gentle eyes.

"Shout if y' need me, 'kay?"

Stella, beaming despite the eye roll, slid to mirror your stance and rest her elbows on the island. "'Kay."

Eddie shuffled out of the room, and in his absence you sipped your champagne with tiny gulps. Stella pressed hers against her cheek, nails gleaming under the bright white glow of the kitchen chandelier. She watched you awhile, silently pondering. You tucked a strand of wet hair behind your ear as you set the glass down.

"Sure you don't want anything to eat?"

You shook your head, nail tracing the grain of the marble. "No, I'm okay."

"Because," Stella said, setting her glass down and twirling toward the double-doored fridge. "I meant it about Eddie keeping stock. I mean...four pounds of bacon? The man is insane."

The shiny steel doors swung open to reveal—just as Stella said—a fully-stocked fridge. An array of milks, juices, power and energy drinks, sodas, produce, dairy products, and all sorts of snacks revealed themselves to you. And though your stomach hollowed with hunger and sat like an owl's nest in a tree trunk, you couldn't fathom the idea of eating. You worried the taste of food on your tongue would trigger the bile that's been resting in your throat.

"I'm okay," you repeated, another small smile gracing your mouth. "Promise."

Stella gently closed the door until they suctioned shut. She returned to the island with a much smaller bout of enthusiasm. You felt horrible for mellowing the mood. You felt horrible for intruding in their home. You felt horrible for bringing them into this mess—a mess that, at the moment, they still knew nothing about. You wondered if Steve's blood was still on the car.

Taking another sip of her champagne, Stella inched closer to you. "Can I braid your hair?"

Your eyes flittered her way with swift surprise. She flashed a sheepish but hopeful grin, shoulders shrugging under silk.

"Oh, um...sure. That'd be nice."

Setting her glass down again, Stella clasped her hands together. "Okay, I'll be right back!"

She returned with a brush and hair ties, and situated herself behind your stool to approach your hair. The brush whooshed through the strands, scraping your back through the soft, terry pink robe. You suddenly felt like a Barbie. You suddenly weren't thinking of Steve.

She sectioned your hair in two, fingers delicately weaving. The hair ties plucked and snapped, and finally wrapped around the ends of two neat braids falling down your back. Stella smoothed them behind your shoulders and stepped back.

"There."

You swept your hands over the braids, damp and ridged before turning over your shoulder with a smile. "Thank you, Stella."

The other girl nodded, hand returning to her glass once more. "'Course. Now come on, we're watching Sixteen Candles in the screening room."

♡ ♡

You barely stayed awake during the movie. Eyes heavy and aching, fluttering closed between scenes only to snap open ten minutes later. By the time the credits rolled, your champagne had been finished and refilled twice, and you were more than half asleep. Stella, wide-awake and still waning with concern, guided you back to the guest room.

It was there that you snapped from slumber. You stirred in the sheets, cool and clean and crisp Egyptian cotton—but not yours. The pillow beside you was empty, perfectly plump and fluffed and missing the shape of someone's head. Steve's head. The room was void of his smell. That sweet, minty musk of nighttime. That soft, gentle warmth of his body winding down. Your heart wept for it.

And so did you, eyes welling and flooding with tears once again. You buried your face in the pillow to soften your cries and force sleep, but you only soaked the silk and clogged your nose.

You just wanted to call him. You just wanted to hear his voice, those whimpered apologies. You knew he was sorry, of course you did. He hadn't meant to do it. But he did. And he couldn't take that back with more teary-eyed apologies and petulant pouts. He couldn't fix it with flowers or kisses. This was different. He'd gone too far this time.

Worst of all, your body seemed to be in a tug-of-war contest between furious and heartbroken. You weren't sure which would win. The confusion of it all elicited a restlessness like no other.

You kicked the covers off and reached for the robe again. Fastening it around your body, you huffed as you headed toward the door. Quietly brewing and going over every moment of the day in your head, you wandered back to the first floor and into the kitchen. Even encased in the blue darkness of well past midnight, the Munson mansion seemed dauntingly massive.

"Couldn't sleep?"

A sharp gasp shot from your mouth, body jolting at the sight of Eddie's shadowed figure at the island.

Hand over your frantic heart, you sighed and stepped into the room. "God, you scared me."

He cracked a lopsided grin, teeth shining in a sliver of moonlight. "Sorry."

You slid into the stool beside him, wooden legs scraping on the tile. "No, been tossing for hours."

Eddie paused a moment. "Want some ice cream?"

You glanced at him. "Sure."

Eddie pushed away from the island, shuffling to the freezer. He pulled the drawer open and fished out a freezer-burnt tub. "Lucky for you, we've got the real shit now that Stella's off set."

A tub of strawberry ice cream found its way between the pair of you, two spoons forming craters in the frozen treat. For a while, the darkness of the kitchen was quiet. You dug in and swallowed it down with no words to pair it with. You knew your eyes were still wet, that dampness still gathered under your nose. But you just couldn't bring yourself to say it.

Swallowing around his spoon, Eddie pulled it away and licked it clean before letting it clink against the marble.

"Alright," he sighed, heavy and dad-like. "Give it to me straight, kid. What'd he do?"

You turned away, watching the smooth pink cream form a rolling ball with the pull of your spoon in the paper carton. You wanted to tell him; just as badly as you wanted to tell Stella. But part of you worried what might happen if you did. Part of you worried they'd doubt you.

"Hey." Eddie reached out, cold fingers tapping your hand. "You okay?"

You nodded once. Head bobbing in slow jerking successions until it dropped into your hand, palm over eyes. God, you were so sick of crying.

"I don't know," you croaked.

Eddie shifted in his stool, leather creaking under his sweats. "You—I mean...did you get in a fight?"

You sniffled, nodding. You still couldn't bring yourself to look at him. "It was so bad. W-we were saying such h-horrible things."

"Ah," Eddie scoffed, shrugging. "Nothin' you can't take back, I'm sure."

You shook your head, lifting it to swipe away more tears and snot. You were trying your best not to soil the robe. You rolled the sleeves to your elbows to avoid it. "N-no, not this t-time. I don't think s-so."

You could barely breathe. Saying it out loud, holding the entire night on the tip of your tongue and knowing how horrible it would sound coming out—it hit you then. What Steve had really done this time.

Eddie paused, and you reached in with your spoon for another bite of ice cream when Eddie's hand touched your arm. Halting its journey toward the dessert, Eddie's fingers looped around your wrist and brought it across the counter. Gentle but determined, Eddie flipped your arm to reveal the back plain of bone.

"What the hell is this?"

You turned away again. "Nothing—"

Eddie dropped your arm, taking quick steps toward the light switch to flick it on. He moved so swiftly that you barely had time to react before he'd taken your arm again and pushed the pink sleeve up to your bicep. In the white glow of the spotlights, more of Steve's handiwork was clear as day.

You sighed, twisting your wrist in Eddie's palm. "Eddie—"

"Guys, it's one in the morning what are we—ooh, ice cream."

Stella trudged into the room, eyes half-lidded with bleary slumber, clearly still teetering in and out of consciousness. She swiped the spoon from Eddie's place and reached for the carton, holding her robe closed with her other hand—but paused at the sight before her.

"What's going...on?" Her mouth hung open, a spoonful of soupy strawberry cream hovering nearby—but she stopped, taken aback by the fresh, vibrant colors on your arm.

Eddie's eyes were hard, teeth clenched tight. You were frozen in your seat.

"He fuckin' hit her."

You pulled your arm away, tugging the robe down. "No, he...he just—he grabs me too hard sometimes. I-it's not—that's not—that wasn't—"

"Libby," Stella's tone took a new smoothness, coaxing and gentle but sharp-edged with panic. "Did Steve hit you?"

"No," you insisted, eyes flicking between the couple. Eddie's hand swept over his face, leg bouncing beneath the counter. "No, I swear."

Please believe me trembled in the cadence of your voice. Your eyes rounded pleadingly, blurring with more tears that pained to shed. Stella dropped the spoon and rounded the island, placing her hand on your shoulder.

"It's okay, I believe you. Come on, let's sit over here."

Arm looped around your shoulders, Stella steered you toward the breakfast nook: white linen cushions, clean wooden table, a vase of fresh lilies. You gazed over your shoulder toward the abandoned rockstar at the island, and you knew he didn't agree with his fiancée.

"Okay, just...tell us what happened. And we will listen," Stella insisted, glancing pointedly Eddie's way where he still sat hunched and clearly itching to say something. "Without interruption. Right?"

Eddie huffed, whirling around in his stool. He eased against the counter and crossed his arms, shrugging. The "right" he parroted was clipped and tight.

You tried to remind yourself that it was Steve he was mad at.

"Okay, so...earlier today...at the gym...I was talking to another man. About nothing, just...stuff, you know? Just making small talk."

Stella nodded attentively. "Okay."

Eddie looked like he already knew where this story was going.

"Steve gets so jealous," you huffed, eyes rolling. You sounded congested and sad. "So, he hit him. Knocked him out cold for a second—all because the guy made me laugh!"

You pulled the sleeves of your robe down again, wiping at your cheeks. You felt bare with your mistakes worn so clearly on your arm.

"So, I let 'im have it. We fought the whole drive home. Just screaming at each other. And we fought when we got home, too. We both say mean things when we're upset. Sometimes it feels like we're competing, seeing who can hurt each other worse."

You'd never said that out loud to anyone before. For the first time, it felt like you were lending a piece of your life—one you usually kept hidden behind closed doors—to someone else for safe keeping. You felt a little lighter already.

"He called me crazy," you said, fiddling with the terry cloth fabric around your fist. "And...I told him he was just like his father."

Stella furrowed her brows, clearly missing pieces of the story. You glanced at her, anticipating this gap. "Like his father?" she pressed.

You pulled a thread loose on the cuff of your sleeve. "Steve's father was...abusive. To him and his mom growing up."

Stella's nod was slow, understanding. She didn't press any further, and you didn't expand. It wasn't your story to tell. Eddie readjusted his stance, sitting up a little straighter. His poker face reminded you of the days he came to the gym when him and Stella were apart. How desperate he was for release, but refused to let the pain of losing her show.

"I pushed him, you know? I...I was egging him on—I-I shouldn't have said that—"

"Libby," Eddie interjected lowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Tell me he didn't put his hands on you."

You deflated with another sigh. "No, no! He just...he had me against the wall and he...punched the wall. But it wasn't—"

“Hon.” Stella’s hand slid across the table to touch yours. “You know that’s not any better, right? You know that’s just one step away.”

You knew what she meant. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’ve told it to yourself. One day, he’s gonna hit you.

“But I shouldn’t ‘ve said that—“

“It doesn’t matter what you said, Libby. Nothing justifies this. Nothing.”

"This guy is fuckin' rich," Eddie scoffed, shaking his head. "Wait until I get ahold of him. Fuckin' prick."

You wanted to protest. You wanted to tell Eddie it wasn't worth it, that you didn't want to make a big deal of something small. But the words died in your throat. It was worth it, and it was a big deal. You couldn't keep excusing Steve anymore.

Sighing, Stella squeezed your hand and shuffled toward the end of the breakfast nook. "How about we all just try to get some sleep, alright? We can talk more in the morning and...figure this all out."

You nodded. Eddie just crossed his arms again. Stella, giving your hand another comforting pat, slipped out of the breakfast nook. The rubber pads of her slippers whooshed over the tile toward Eddie, the kiss she popped on his cheek delicate. He visibly softened a bit at her gentle affections.

"Off to sleep, kids."

♡ ♡

In the morning, your eyes ached, and a dull, incessant pounding nestled in your temples. Stella woke before you and left a change of clothes on the dresser: something comfortable, something clean. The fabrics smelled like laundry soap and eased your aches.

And the house was...quiet. It felt nice to wake up to quiet. It'd been too long since you had a morning of quiet.

You brushed your teeth with the toothbrush in the guest bathroom, fresh from the store packaging. You trailed downstairs, dreading the conversation that awaited with the couple in the kitchen.

Stella perched on the edge of the island, flipping through a magazine, eating berries from a bowl. Eddie stood at the stove, long raven locks knotted messily at the nape of his neck, flipping pancakes with a shiny silver spatula. They sizzled on the over-buttered pan and filled the room with a hint of hot vanilla.

"Oh, good, you found them! You look cute," Stella pipped, hopping off the counter to greet you.

"Yeah, thanks so much," you replied, tugging at the hem of the shirt.

Eddie peeked over his shoulder, sliding a pancake from the stove to a plate waiting on the counter beside him. The pile stacked high. Three plates and appropriate utensils waited at the breakfast nook. Staying at the Munson residence wasn't too shabby. Still, you couldn't help the stiffness to your limbs, your body's uneasy preparation for an uneasy conversation.

"Mornin', bookworm," Eddie called.

You cracked a breezy grin, trailing toward the bowl of berries. "Morning, guys."

Stella trailed to the fridge and filled three glasses with orange juice. You lingered near the fruit but didn't touch—it felt so strange staying with other people. Staying with people who were all you had right now.

"Hope you're ready for the best pancakes you've ever had," Eddie boasted, spinning around with a plate full of wobbling cakes.

Rolling her eyes and balancing the glasses in her hands, Stella drifted toward the breakfast nook. "He's exaggerating. But they are pretty great."

"You wound me, Rink."

You settled beside Stella on the end, across from Eddie. He slapped two cakes on a two plates for you and Stella, four for himself. Stella wasn't kidding about the "bulking up." As you reached for the syrup, you caught shape of the pancakes: hearts. Or...they were clearly supposed to be.

"Thought they might cheer you up," Eddie said, clocking your pause. "I know how the ladies love 'em." His head tipped toward his fiancée.

You glanced between them, grinning. "Thank you, Eddie."

You cut two pats of butter and poured a river of sticky syrup onto your pancakes, reaching for the fork and knife and getting two bites in before the doorbell rang. Heads turning, the three of you paused.

"Probably just a package—"

The doorbell rang again. And again. Soon, the gongs became interrupted by more pressing. Ding, ding, ding, ding. The pounding came soon after, a heavy fist banging into the glass—by then, everyone knew it wasn't a package.

Eddie tossed his fork toward his plate, table wobbling with the swiftness of his stance. Napkin crumpled and tossed aside, he stalked through the kitchen with intimidating purpose. You turned to Stella, and it only took a split second for her to read through the mask.

You were scared.

"Come on, let's go upstairs."

Skittering away from your barely-touched breakfast, the pair of you rushed the staircase arm in arm. Your heart was in your throat, throbbing with every stomp up the steps. You were inches from throwing up, and it took everything in you to swallow it down past the tears stinging your eyes.

Stella took a sharp turn into the master bedroom, tugging you along with her own look of wide-eyed panic. You whipped around as she reached for the door.

“I know she’s here, Munson. Let me the fuck in.”

Steve’s voice trailed the length of the home, menacing and gruff. You took a step back, and Stella shut the door.

You turned the lock.

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