#She shedded the doubts she had of him finally | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

serawritesthings · 4 months

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hi! Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I don't know if you're accepting requests, if you not, just ignore. But I'm wondering how you would write something related to a jealous Arthur Morgan, high honor of course (with smut or without smut sincerely you know what looks best). the way you write is addictive and passionate, i believe anything you write from this would be great.

OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | Oh, jealousy. When the thought of you straying too close to the comfort of Charles, the green monster claws its way into Arthur's head. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, tiny bit of angst, description of violence and wounds, fluffy at times, smut Word Count | 10k A/N | Hi everyone! I just HAD to write this request, hope you like it! Also, thank you dearly anon♡

While many found the biting cold of the climate north of West Grizzlies to be bitter–sharp air seeping into your very bones–you saw it oddly liberating despite the current predicament. The circumstance was dire, indeed, and you pondered many times if this would finally be the end for all of you, thinking of the incredible luck you had managed to have so far. Fate, or an astonishingly fascinating knowledge on how to escape the grappling arms of the law with a suspicious amount of people trashing through the roads in utter, sheer panic.

Glancing around you as you huddled closer to the fire, hands rubbing furiously against the wool of your gloves to gain even the slightest warmth to your biting fingers, you were met with the flushed cheeks of your comrades. The skin that now glistened from the melting snowflakes was caressed by the warm, orange glow from the flames lighting up the small hut you had taken residence in.

The road leading to here had been long, and the time spent in the wagon that did nothing to shield you from the penetrating wind that howled into the night, your thoughts had been entirely focused on the man who now lay dead a few meters away, tucked in some fabric to shield the paling flesh of a corpse. While the thought might not make you uncomfortable, it did its thing on the others who looked weary at the covered man.

You had done your best to tend to him amidst the severe trembling of your fingers and numbness spreading through you the longer you rode in the worrying storm, finding his blood still staining the cotton of your gloves–a reminder that you had done what you could to help the poor fellow. Despite not knowing him well enough to shed a tear, death was still a death, and a slight melancholy set its claw in all of you as you tried to regain some warmth.

“Stupid man.” Glancing beside you, you took notice of the dark-haired woman muttering angrily as she held a sleeping Jack close to her body.

“What’s wrong?” You inquired quietly, curious of her obvious disdain.

“John Marston is what’s wrong.” Blazing heatedly into the fire, you could almost see the depths of hell through her furious eyes. “He didn’t come back with the rest.” Shifting her eyes to yours for a quick moment that, although short, showed the worry hidden beneath her anger.

Nodding slowly as you leaned against her slightly in comfort, you realized you hadn’t taken notice of the man’s absence until now. Returning with empty hands and another mouth to feed had instead been the case, no Marston as far as the eyes could see as he probably whirred around in the blizzard somewhere.

“Do you think he…” As you spoke, you trailed off, growing unsure of your words while realizing your comments might be prodded into a sensitive subject.

“No.” Firmly, she sniveled harshly, shaking her head in protest. “No, he wouldn’t leave again.” Although her words were sure, you still felt a lingering doubt cloud your mind, remembering being told of his earlier departure from the gang that caused more scars in their relationships than good–not that it wasn’t faulty from the very start.

As you were about to let your prying win against your common sense, you were interrupted by the door being audibly slammed open, the noisy winds from outside growing louder as snowflakes whirled inside. Walking inside was the prominent figure of Charles, nodding respectfully to its residents as the door shut behind him, once more letting the warmth settle.

“Folks.” He mumbled quietly, treading through everyone huddling by the fire as he glanced curiously at the new woman before settling beside you. You glanced up at him, taking in his snow-covered self before lingering on his hand that rested motionless on his legs, bandages visible under his gloves.

“It’s not too bad; the cold seems to numb the pain.” A slight smile graced your lips at his observance, finding it unique to the man to be so tentative to everyone around him. Letting out a small laugh, you reach to remove your gloves before taking his hand in yours so you could lay it in your lap, unwrapping the bandages to examine the burns covering his skin.

You had given it a quick look-over before you had to tend to Davey, doing the best you could to ease his pain you were sure would be unavoidable. Although the sight was quite gruesome, it didn’t look as bad as you had expected.

“You’re stronger than me, that’s for sure. I would be a crying mess if I burned my hand like that.” Your voice was gentle as you started to rewrap the fabric around his hand, finding it increasingly irritating you didn’t have the tools you usually did that would indeed do a fine job at lessening his pain.

You had managed to gain a slight smile from the otherwise aloof man, probably finding your words humorous. “Let’s hope it’ll never come to that.”

Sharing a look, you heard the door open once again, the irritated voice of Uncle damning whoever was letting in the cold for the second time. Both you and Charles laughed slightly, and as you looked up, you were faced with a pair of squinting, blue eyes, the icy cold from the outside seemingly enhancing their sharpness although making a welcomed warmth spread through you as they gazed over you in a quick motion–departing to look at the hand that rested in your lap.

“A sad loss, folks,” Hosea stated as he stepped onto the wooden planks, speaking out loudly in the otherwise calm hut, groaning as he helped Arthur lift Davey’s lifeless body, limp like a ragdoll.

Glancing subtly, you observed him as Arthur’s bulky form lifted easily, unlike Hosea, admiring how he made it seem so effortless. The others called him the camps workhorse, and you didn’t fail to see why, keeping your eyes firm on the man as he carried him towards the door.

He shrouded you in uncertainty; he did, and you weren’t sure how to behave in his bold presence. You often felt like a goody two shoes, and even though you weren’t the perfect picture of a law-abiding citizen, you could honestly say you were a wimp compared to Arthur.

You should be embarrassed, you really should, but there was something in his eyes– something that made your heart race. Utterly shameless, yet desperate to lock gazes again despite contradicting yourself and avoiding them every chance you could. Before you could get caught this time, you directed your eyes, focusing on tightening the bandages so they wouldn’t come loose.

“Try to be careful, will you, Charles?” You spoke quietly while patting his hand, motioning that he was all set to go, but his hand stayed, giving you a grateful look.

“Thank you.” His soothing voice was hushed as the loud bang of the door slammed shut not long after, ridding you of the tumult after their departure.

–

Oh, it burned. It burned so deep in his loins that it felt like he would erupt into flames any second. Despite the cold surrounding him, he was sure it could be possible the more he was left with his thoughts. The hushed whispers, the soft touches, and the ever-so-gentle look in your eyes made him want to empty the little food in his stomach.

“Sneaky little rat,” Arthur grumbled to himself as he shoveled his way through the deep layers of snow. Here he was, out in the cold, tortured by the howling winds of the snowstorm, while Charles remained inside the warmth of the hut, seated next to you, all because of a slight burn.

He knew what he was up to–what any man would do if it meant getting your attention–and he wasn’t humored. Taking advantage of your good nature was downright uncalled for, bordering on immoral, which Arthur would probably realize wasn’t Charles’s character if his mind didn’t seek to find faults with the man the more his blood boiled.

He scoffed to himself, stabbing the ground maliciously, imagining your warm hands around his instead, the nimble fingers of yours tending to him as you moved in closer, your sweet smell reaching his nose as you gazed up at him, face blushed from the cold with lips begging him to warm them up with his. The thought did nothing more than cover his whole body in shivers, only to be reminded that it wasn’t him that received that attention from you.

“What are you huffing about over there, Arthur?!” Hosea’s strained voice attempted to shout over the loud winds, standing up to rest momentarily.

“Why don’t we just bury him when the storm has settled?!” Annoyance was apparent in his voice, the green jealous monster still wreaking havoc in his mind.

“I told you, the snow will be too heavy tomorrow, so we need to finish it while we still can!” He groaned, starting to shovel once more. “And I’ll be damned, we are going to give Davey a proper burial. He deserves that much!”

As Hosea blabbered on about justice and other forms of respect Arthur had no intent on listening to, he zoned out, feeling sorry for himself as he imagined you might be keeping close to Charles right this moment, warming yourself to his body in a desperate search of bodily heat. Rubbing the melted snow off his face, Arthur damned the heavens above for making him the unluckiest bastard in the West.

Despite Arthur seeming dead set on you being lovey-dovey with a man you barely knew, Charles had left you after making some small talk, mentioning that he would try and get some well-deserved rest after the tumultuous past few days. Many others did as well, attempting to ease their minds from the constant threat against their back amidst the terrible cold.

Although, as days passed and John being back rid you of Abigail’s constant muttering, the cold only seemed to take its toll on you, unlike the others who quickly got used to the environment. Furthermore, the days only seem to get longer up in the mountains, and you wondered obsessively when you would get the chance to leave–damning everyone who thought seeking out Colm O’Driscoll in your compromised state a good idea instead of moving forwards.

Despite your dismay, you put yourself to use like the others, preparing to help Pearson in the grim act of cutting through the poor deer that had been brought back. While the sight gladdened you, knowing you would finally get a meal in your stomach, the brooding aura of a chestnut-haired, blue-coated man seemed to rain over you endlessly.

What could you have done to gain his stinging glare? It was almost cutting through you entirely from the burning that resided deep in his eyes, watching you ferociously, making your hair stand on edge. When he had returned with Charles, it had been nothing short of unpleasant ever since, although thankfully–despite his glare–his harsh words were directed towards Pearson instead of you, which you were glad for.

“How’s the cold treating you?” Glancing away from the two men bickering, you laughed slightly at Charles’s innuendo, dressed worse for wear as you pulled the thick, woolen scarf tighter around your neck, hugging yourself to keep warm.

“Could be worse, I guess,” you said, clouds like smoke surrounding you as you talked.

“I suppose. Still, I don’t want you freezing your fingers off.”

“Mhh,” you nodded thoughtfully, speaking up after silence. “Who would look after your hand if that happened?”

He chuckled heartily at your unsuspected joke, and you glanced up at him bashfully, a light smile covering your face at his apparent amusement. While your embarrassment of being so easily swayed by the cold, it felt nice having someone take notice of your obvious discomfort, even though you would say you were pretty good at keeping it to yourself. You couldn’t be surprised, though, well aware you and Charles were both tentative to your surroundings, always knowing but rarely telling.

“Here.” Taking off the large gloves covering his hand, no doubt doing an excellent job keeping him warm, he grabbed your trembling hands in his, rubbing them between his pleasant temperature hand and bandage-covered skin before gliding the fabric over yours.

“No, Charl-” you protested, trying to stop him from continuing.

“They’ll do you more good than me, I promise. They’re just in the way.” Stubbornly, he planted your hands back into your lap, petting them like you had done to him some nights ago before raising with a huff.

“Thanks for the help, Arthur.” Charles nodded at the now grumpy man observing him as he rested against the wood of the wooden wall with arms crossed, seemingly ignoring Mr. Pearson’s lecture about the navy he felt so strongly about, only providing a quick tilt of his hat before heated eyes were set on you.

Your gaze faltered, the blush on your face from the cold only intensifying the spread of warmth you felt from gaining his profound stare–something you rarely took notice of. It wasn’t that he didn’t look at you; he probably looked too much at times, but he was never so ardent with it, scrutinizing you under their heavy weight–making you feel ten times smaller under his towering height.

“Well, why don’t you skin the deer, Arthur? I’ll help you cut them up in a while, miss.” Mr. Pearson’s words were hasty, and you didn’t miss the bottle glistening under the sunlight as he tried hiding it behind his coat, scurrying away. He would, in fact, not be back; you were sure of that much.

It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with Arthur, and you never strayed too close, finding his presence somewhat daunting. Not that you’ve had many chances to speak amidst all the chaos surrounding you, and being relatively new to the gang meant the trust lacked significantly from both sides. But, the intrigue was always present in every glance and movement.

You felt his gaze fixed on you a moment longer as you stared heedlessly at your hands, rubbing them together anxiously, having no clue what to do with yourself. While you weren’t one to speak the ears of others, you never had any problem socializing with those around you–but Arthur, he was something else entirely. Finally, though, he moved, approaching the hanging carcass.

“How are ya?” His sudden words surprised you, hanging awkwardly in the air.

“Oh, um. Good?” You cringed at yourself, finding the words stuck in your throat as his voice rumbling was loud and confident.

“Cold?”

“A bit,” you said softly, staring at his back as he heaved the skin away from the animal, movements rigid and harsh. “Charles gave me his gloves, so it’s a little less chilly now.” You stumbled over your words, admiring his strength unabashedly as he hauled the skinned deer over his shoulder, slamming it down the table with a loud bang. He gave you no answer, instead bringing out the knife in his belt to do the job you were assigned to.

“Oh, let me!” Standing abruptly from your seat, you stepped towards him hurriedly in shame, feeling like you were just lazying around while Arthur was doing all the hard work.

Grabbing his thick coat to let you take his position, you found him staying right where he was, looking down at you when your hand rested on his bicep. It was unusual for him to be so close, and a blush warmed your cheeks as his towering frame became more apparent when standing a short distance from one another.

“S’alright.” He spoke lowly. “I’ve got it.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as he gazed wholly at you, letting you know he had no problem with helping you. It warmed you, finding his action kind–just like the small acts of kindness he reserved for the other girls. You would sometimes glare after them, intensely jealous that Arthur seemed to have a soft spot for them, yet acting like you didn’t exist.

“Anything else I can do to help since you just did my job for me?” A shy smile found you, peering up at him as he sniveled, glancing at you while you sat on the bench again.

“Well, you’ve already done your charity work for the day, so you’re fine.”

“Charity work?” You wondered, staring at him curiously as he cut through the meat. “What do you mean?”

He only sighed heavily, like you should be able to understand his cryptic words.

“He won’t die from a small burn; it ain’t enough reason to coddle the man like a child,” he grumbled.

It took you a while to get the gears turning, but when you did, you felt yourself grow shy from his statement. “Charles? His hand isn’t looking too good…”

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be so forward. You’ll give the poor man false hope.” He scoffed, stabbing the poor carcass harshly.

Staring at his back in disbelief at the sudden hatred, you had trouble understanding where it came from and why he suddenly grew so invested in whom you diverted your attention. You and Arthur rarely spoke, only changing quick words occasionally ever since you found yourself staying with the gang, and for that reason, you had failed to understand the reason for his hatred.

It seems all you ever did was look after everyone else, paying attention to their various troubles and tribulations regarding bodily harm. It wasn’t strange to you, and by no means did you give anyone false hope, merely trying to find your place with these people, an attempt to prove your usefulness.

“False hope?” You questioned, baffled. “I’m trying to help; I fail to understand how that is a problem.”

“It ain’t a problem!” He grumbled, voice roaring hotly in his chest as he resheathed his knife and began to make his way out, repositioning his hat without glancing at you. You followed him, stopping short by the table as you didn’t want to stray too close to the fuming man.

“Well, it is since you are so angry about it?!” If this was how he carried out every conversation, you were glad the exchange of words wasn’t typical between you, more so the simple fact that your company had never seemed to bring him any enjoyment. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Wha-” He stops short, suddenly turning around and stalking towards you in significant strides. Gasping at suddenly having him so close, you backed away; his sharp eyes penetrated you as the warm blue of his orbs turned ice cold, glaring daggers into your own.

“What’s wrong with me?” He spoke dangerously low as his brows raised, grabbing your upper arms as he hoisted you up the table without an ounce of struggle. “I’m not the one taking every small, insignificant chance to take advantage of your good nature.”

“Charles’s not like that. He’s very kind.” You spoke in his defense, leaning back from his prolonged stare that seemed to cut through you deeper the more he stared. You had always pitied the people who got on Arthur’s lousy side, finding his presence at those times unnerving.

Now, it seemed you were at the receiving end of it, and while it chilled you to the bones, you weren’t sure if your beating heart were because of fear or the thought of him being the closest to you he’d ever have.

You had never quite got to admire his eyes, always hidden under his furrowed brows and squinting eyes. Now that it wasn’t because of the blazing sun down west, it was from the blaring whiteness of the snow surrounding you as you found his eyes glaring at the current climate more often than not–displeased.

His eyes being dead set on you didn’t help as you could hear his breathing grow heavier, the warmth of his breath hitting your cold cheeks as his broad frame blocked the chilly winds from reaching you.

“Kind, huh?” Although momentarily distracted, you recovered as you heard him speak in a low voice, still finding his assumptions wildly out of reach while insulting you and Charles. Times were hard, and if you couldn’t look after one another, it would surely lead to your doom–Arthur, if anyone, should know that.

“Yes, kind.”

Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he backed away from you, shrugging his shoulders while walking away–like your conversation hadn’t happened in the first place.

“Sure.”

–

It wasn’t like Arthur didn’t know how to restrain himself, for he applauded himself for avoiding his apparent anger when Charles had, yet again, stolen away your attention–not that Arthur had any plans on striking up a conversation with you anyway.

It became clear to him that when you two were left alone, you almost turned into a living statue, barely responding to him. It was unlike you, for the time he had spent observing you, you had no problem talking to anyone else–and although it was usually calm, it never deterred you from gaining the likes of the others and liking them in return.

Why did you cringe away from him and not Charles, he pondered, glaring at the picture that plagued his mind. The reason he knew, deep down, but his stubbornness didn’t let him justify your actions. In all honesty, Charles was a more reliable man than himself, intentions often apparent with a slight sense of, well, goodness perhaps—something Arthur didn’t possess in the slightest.

Goodness, in all honesty, wasn’t something he was too familiar with, and he didn’t doubt one second that you found his character to be callous, seeing as the dirty work no one wanted to do fell upon him; work everyone else found to be too cruel to do themselves. He could almost feel your disapproving gaze when he picked up his slack from Mr. Strauss’s poor victims that he always tried to prolong, and while it wasn’t his most favorable way of lending a hand, sometimes he did it out of spite.

If that’s what you thought about him, then he couldn’t do much to sway your opinion, finding it much easier to continue with his ways than realize that your sudden carefulness off him wounded him more profoundly than he let on.

And, he was indeed a harsh man in your eyes, and although his company wasn’t entirely unwished for, he was still grim–ignoring your presence like you weren’t there most of the time. It made you wildly unsure of him, but the allure he had kept bringing you back, always wondering when you would see a glimpse of him again. You chastised yourself for it, more so now that you got a taste of his famously sullen mood that pestered everyone around him, but your eyes were still drawn to him when he was nearby.

Maybe it wasn’t what everyone else would describe him as, but you thought of him as mysterious. Gods, you have stayed with this group for quite some time now. Not once had he spoken to you more than the standard greeting, and you didn’t know much about him besides the sharp-shooting, brutal force of a man who had no problem letting his thoughts be voiced, even though the listeners might be less inclined to its harsh deliverance.

He had been cruel, sure, but you couldn’t help but remember how close you had been before when he spewed words that clung so viciously from his tongue. Faintly, you remembered the deep scent of gunpowder and smoke, something you were certain probably penetrated his skin by now, but also the slightly musky scent hidden underneath. Your head raced in curiosity, wondering how his hands would grab you if it wasn’t in anger. Was he even capable of that, you pondered.

It’s ridiculous you knew those thoughts were born from misconceptions and assumptions. You had heard how he behaved amongst the camp women, forever gentle and careful, and you had sharpened your ear when you’d been told timidly about his earlier flings. He could be more heartfelt than your head let you acknowledge, and the thought made your head spin even more with your endless imagination.

Despite the inner turmoil that filled you from your earlier argument, you had avoided him for some days now, and it seemed to grow easier the colder you got, huddling close to the fire with every chance. It was the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied, wondering when you would get to leave this desolated mining town that grew more covered in snow the longer you chose to stay.

“Do you need help, Hosea?” Just after you spoke, heavy blankets were handed to you, the fabric made from a thick wool that looked heavenly. “Yes, thank you. I take one step outside; I fear that it will be the end of me.” You only stared warmly at Hosea, who patted you on the back. “Don’t you worry, miss. We found more blankets we thought had been lost in that dreadful storm, so we all will sleep warmer tonight.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll help-” Despite the whistling winds that had picked up as the sun shone its last tendrils, you didn’t oppose the idea, but you were interrupted by a mischievous look handed to you by the older man.

“Make sure Arthur grabs one, too; you know how he gets.” Before you could question his meaning, he slunk away, pulling the warm fabric tighter around his shoulders without a glance at you, chuckling merrily. You chose not to ponder too hard on his strange ways, instead making your way to the door, shivering badly as you stepped outside.

Smiles were all you were greeted with as you handed them off, and it was no surprise as it was a welcome sight to everyone to gain some extra warmth to wrap around themselves. Although feeling content by being of help, you couldn’t help but wonder where Arthur could be, a single blanket now left in your hands.

Grumbling to yourself, you stepped out from the hut Dutch and Molly resided in, glancing at a smaller building some paces away, finding the orange glow of a candle lighting up the smaller barn where the horses were kept. A small smile found you, finding it very fitting for him to be where there were fewer people.

Although slightly fearing what could come to be an awkward encounter, you found yourself being too forgiving many times, and you damned yourself for it. What he said hurt you deeply, making you ponder if you had given Charles other signals than intended. It could be a possibility, yet you had never had too many romantic dealings with men to presume that that was the case, but his eyes held something tender the last few times you spoke as you recalled it.

“Arthur…” As you stepped inside after pulsing through the thick snow, you searched for the blue coat you had grown familiar with in this weather. “Are you here?” You asked quietly, wondering if he could hear you.

You cautiously stepped further into the barn, placing your feet steadily on the ground before you so you didn’t slip and embarrass yourself. It was friendly out here, you could admit, the snow muting every sound and almost making every slight sound caress your ears.

As you stepped further inside, it turned out he was here, and he took no notice of you as you rounded the corner to gaze at his seated form, seemingly writing something in his journal. It was an unusual sight. Sometimes, you observed him as he wrote in his journal back at camp, yet you didn’t make a habit of it, too shy to question him at the time.

How he didn’t freeze to death in this climate was beyond you, his fingers bare as he scribbled, fingertips red from the cold and dirty from the chalk. You made a motion to speak up once again but found yourself tongue-tied as you took him in, and as you did, the thought struck you that he wasn’t writing but drawing.

How unlike him, you thought, watching his brows furrowed from time to time, fingers moving expertly while the soft glow of the candle beside him almost softened his features. Your presumptions might be harsh, but you had never found him to be a man well-versed in the creative aspect of life, and while the brutal ways of his life spoke for him, you found it to make him slightly more approachable.

“I didn’t know you draw.” You stated fondly, his eyes fitting into yours the moment the first word left your mouth, growing visibly stressed as the journal was planted into his coat pocket. A rough cough left him as he did, eyes faltering when he saw your observant gaze linger on him unabashedly.

“I don’t.” A small laugh left you at his abrupt words, not teasingly but perhaps warmly, choosing not to bug him since he grew uncomfortable before your questioning eyes.

You were given an expectant look that reminded you of your actual business here as you stepped inside the building, closing the barn door behind you to shut out the wind that somehow managed to find its way through the cracks in the walls.

“Here, we found some more blankets. Hosea asked me to bring you one.” You met his eyes briefly as you stretched out your arms for him to take the blanket, eyes faltering to it at his piercing gaze.

“Hosea, huh?” A scoff left him, resuming his arms to cross over his chest, shaking his head slightly. “You keep it.”

“No, I-”

“Nah, you chattering your teeth keeps us up at night. Take it.”

His words should have taken you back since his voice was stinging, but a light laugh left you, knowing he was right. Wrapping yourself in the soft, warm blanket, you surprised Arthur by sitting beside him, heavily clad shoulders touching each other as you did.

“I don’t understand.” You stated, staring at the large shadows that flickered on the wooden wall before you. “How can you not be cold? I feel like if I spend one more day out here, I’ll freeze to death.”

You turned your head towards him, caught off guard when you felt his gaze already set intensely on you. Your eyes faltered to his chest, growing shy as you always did when you had his attention on you. It wasn’t unwanted, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself in moments like that, unused to the fire that always burned so deep in his eyes.

“Used to it, I guess.” His voice rumbled hotly in his chest, fingers flexing against his will as he took the chance to observe you. He had never had the opportunity to see your face this close. Your wet lashes clung together as you blinked, undoubtedly from the heavy snowfall outside, framing your eyes that Arthur always noticed were so very easy to read, yet at many moments also locked away.

“I don’t believe you.” How could anyone possibly get used to this? It was raw, pure torture.

You didn’t get an answer, and as you returned your gaze towards the wall, Arthur’s eyes found your features again. He had indeed been cold before you came, but it was his only chance to find a moment of peace; the thought of spending another night in that god-forsaken hut with his dear friend and his lover giggling the night away grew incredibly distasteful.

Here, he could finally hear his thoughts, the solitude of the snow muting every sound heavenly; the only noise was the familiar scribbling in his journal as he wrote about the past few days. Though his head was calmer than before, he still dreamt of your fingers encasing his like they had done Charles, the small, elegant touches rising his arms slowly, making him shiver wildly as the scene flashed before his eyes.

He knew he shouldn’t think of you like that, and he certainly had no right to be angry at Charles since he felt so unabashedly filthy things about you, but he couldn’t help it. Your every scent, every motion set his blood afire; small deeds of good you always found yourself doing so harshly contrasted his actions he couldn’t help the fact that you intrigued his whole being.

So good, so… soft and warm. As he stared at you, all he wanted was to reach out and pull you closer to him so he could feel your shivering body close to him, knowing many ways to warm you up. Sighing, he removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair as the thoughts took a turn he always hated himself for.

“Hey, I uh…” Arthur trailed off, finding the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, like I did back then.” He stared before him, yet he felt your eyes heavy on his.

He did feel bad, and it had been the reason for his brooding temper since then, not coming to terms with his wrongdoings until now. He had probably scared you, he concluded, and could only assume he was right as you had done your utmost to avoid him as of late.

“Don’t be,” you said with a light smile, not expecting his apology, even though he didn’t say sorry directly. “It’s a lot right now, I understand. But I still don’t understand why you’re so angry at Charles.” You were briefly met with a light sigh, eyes flickering to yours before diverting the flickering candle.

“Nah, forget it. Just me being stupid is all.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe you’re mean sometimes and grumpy,” you said, giving him a teasing glance. “But not stupid.”

A scoff left him at your words, yet you could see the corners of his mouth chirp up lightly. “You’d be surprised.”

As your snickering died down, you rested your head on the wall behind you, not wanting to leave the quiet comfort you found yourself in nor the conversation that panned on longer than you had anticipated, much to your surprise.

“Why are you out here if you are so cold, girl?” He questioned you, catching a glimpse of your almost blue lips. “Go on inside; you’ll freeze to death if you stay here.” It would be best for you to return because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his thoughts progressed like they did before in your presence. As he placed the hat on his head again, he glanced down quickly, doing a double take as he found you staring at him.

Was the cold finally getting to your head, or was it simply being in the presence of the man you were so unsure of but wildly intrigued by? You couldn’t tell, but the warmth spreading in your stomach as he glanced down at you spread ferociously through your stomach, almost warming you to your fingertips.

Suddenly, Arthur moved his arm slightly, and the motion made you jump, leaning away from him as you unconsciously drew closer to him. You couldn’t tell, but it almost felt like your body sometimes contradicted your mind, defying your sense of morality.

“Are you afraid of me?” He questioned, gazing at you unexplainably. Both of your breaths were audible in the quiet night, blowing like smoke out your mouths as the world around you blurred. It wasn’t like Arthur couldn’t contain himself around women, but you were something else entirely. Only in his wildest dreams did you stare at him like that, like you were expecting–waiting– for him to do something.

Yet, you looked guarded, like a cornered lam, waiting for the right moment to sprint away. You pulled away, only to lean in further, the cogs in your head turning something so awful in your mind, observing his every move yet not registering your own that reached out to him.

And gods, did he want to do the same; his internal battle proved to be more difficult as your hand gripped his coat tightly, only wanting to warm your blue lips with his own and show you how he could warm you up better than Charles’s damned gloves ever could.

“Sometimes.” You let on, voice shaking from both anticipation and uncertainty.

Leaning down towards you hesitantly, he felt hot all over when he realized you didn’t shy away from him like expected, mouth only parting further as he drew closer. As you did, you felt your breath hitch when a hand was placed on your upper back, Arthur’s weight only making you glide further down the wall until your head was resting in the crook of his elbow.

“Arthur…” He was so close now you could almost feel his heartbeat through the vast amount of clothing, breath hitting your cold, blushing cheeks as he leaned closer, the calling of his name only drawing him in. He was sure you had bewitched him, for not a single thought in his mind was about anything but the woman in front of him, entirely and utterly overtaken by what was solely you.

And through those few moments between frustration and desperation, all senses of logic disappeared as the skin of your lips conjoined, drawn together like magnets that snapped together like they never wanted to be apart again. Eyes grew shut, the only sound now the deep humming in Arthur’s chest as your hands found his cheeks, caressing the chilly skin under your palm with your thumbs.

It was ragged and scarred, a deep contrast to your own that had never tasted the metal of a gun and the blood of a foe, and the thought made a gasp rise in your throat as his weight fell heavier onto yours, pressing you into the hay-filled, snowy ground.

“Tell me to stop.” He grunted against your now wet lips, only taking a second before joining them again. He was covering your entire body as he lay above you, resting his weight on his elbows as your head rested on his arm.

“No…” You mumbled, words almost not audible against his desperate mouth, feeling just as affected by the desire as he did. You felt his face scrunch up almost painfully before he took the hand that rested on your back to glide under your coat, resting it on the side of your waist as he stroked gently, feeling the curves that hid underneath the damned fabric.

It was torture. It was an unexplainable torture that you would freeze to death if he removed the clothes that covered you, and he would surely go insane if he couldn’t feel the skin he imagined would be so very soft under his rough fingers. Just a taste, he thought sinfully to himself, slowly lifting the fabric of your shirt from under your skirt’s waistband, worming a freezing hand inside to feel the warmth that hid underneath.

You gasped at the sudden sensation but were quickly silenced as his tongue massaged your own, and the slight moan that left you only made a groan rumble loudly in his chest. The feeling of his cold hand rose your skin, stroking every bit it came across as if memorizing it to his brain, mapping out every single inch.

It was too much for you, the sheer desperation and want, not knowing what to do with yourself or how to dampen the intense feelings that nailed your firm to the ground. Every bit of you grew into static, and every touch from Arthur sent shockwaves through your body as his fingers caressed you.

“Come here.” Opening your eyes, you found his, although lidded with desire, gentle eyes gazing into yours, pulling his hand reluctantly from your waist to help you sit up. “I won’t let you lay on the ground.”

You only stared at him as he seated you on his lap, chest flush against his as his hands stroked along your arms as if to warm you up, tightening the blanket around your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat pick up at his actions, your stomach fluttering fiercely as he ensured you stayed warm.

You could tell he grew wildly unsure as you remained silent, clearing his throat as if he had been in a daze before speaking.

“If you’ll have me, that is.” You didn’t give him a chance to say more, hands finding sanction in his hair as the motion knocked off his hat, exposing the sandy locks he always kept hidden underneath it.

“Stupid question.” You mumbled softly against his mouth, pressing yourself closer to him as your fingers started fiddling with the buttons on his coat. You could already feel the heat emitting, and your fingers grew hasty as you tried to move faster, the motion of your lips faltering against his eager ones.

You would have been ashamed if it weren’t for Arthur being just as stressed about getting the buttons of your coat loose, hands wounding their way around your waist and pressing you closer to him the moment they became undone. Likewise, you wormed your arms under his shoulder, gasping as you felt the heat buried underneath the fabric, hugging him close as you placed your face into the crook of his neck.

Breathing in your scent, Arthur revealed in the way you nuzzled against him, feeling a warmth spread in his groin when the thick coat didn’t keep the pressure of your middle away from him any longer. It was heaven, he concluded, trailing his hands down to your backside as he caressed the curves, pushing you flush against his.

Oh, how he reveled in it. He was selfish; there was no denying it any longer, but he craved you so profoundly it would eat him up bit by bit if he couldn’t have you. It wasn’t about Charles any longer; it was about the fact that you had never spared him a glance, almost bordering on fearing him, deciding that everyone else company had been much safer than his own.

He knew it and had seen it in your eyes countless times. Arthur wasn’t unfamiliar with the look of utter horror plastered on people’s faces, for he faced it every day, and he wanted nothing more than to show you that you had no reason to feel that way with him, for he would never put a single finger that was unwished for on you.

And he couldn’t possibly hold it against you, for he wasn’t a good man, quite the opposite actually, and every lingering touch made him hate himself even more, wishing you would find it in you to push away from him–let him know that if he ever touched you again, you would kill him.

But, he would find that you didn’t, instead only pressing yourself even harder against him in the cold of the night, breath shaking something so terribly as he moved your lower region against his in a gentle movement. It only fueled his want for you, hands struggling their way up your skirt, caressing your stocking-clad legs as he did, reaching your undergarments with a content sigh.

His touch lighted a path up your legs, the cold nothing but a memory now even though the brisk air found its way underneath your skirt, following his hands that caressed your inner thighs in soft motions.

It was suspenseful, waiting for the skin to touch the skin, for his strong hands to wound around you as he had already wormed himself around your heart. And as he did, the coil in your stomach grew so incredibly tight you felt like it was too much like his touch alone wounded your every fiber, but instead of hurt, it was an undeniable pleasure that hit you tenfold.

The hand that had crawled its way inside your undergarments stroked alongside your tender parts, never touching you where you wanted him the most–the place that longed for his touch. He had to be teasing you; there was no other explanation as he smiled softly at your expression, gasping for air as you gripped the sides of his arms, trying to push against his fingers.

“Ah, sweetheart.” He only cooed at you, gripping your wrists with one hand as his other finally glided over the wetness of your heat, gazing directly into your eyes with his sharp gaze, admiring your pleasure-filled face that begged him to give you more, to provide you with his all. And, as he spread your folds with his fingers, the filthiest whimper of pleasure left you, laying its noise into the quiet night with no worry about anyone hearing, only fools deciding to stray outside in this bleak, frigid night.

Falling into his arms yet again, you let him enter a finger into your warm cavern, gasping desperately for air as the unfamiliar stretch widened you, dragging wonderfully against your clenching walls. It was vile, the way Arthur reveled in how tight you felt against his finger, and as he pondered on how you would feel when he pushed it you. The thought made a striking, white pleasure shoot through him, making him grunt out against your neck.

“That good?” He spoke out, adding another finger into you while placing wet, hot kisses against your blazing neck, wanting nothing more than to hear your heavenly sound of approval.

You attempted to nod, but the motion was interrupted by the increasingly more extensive stretch from both of his fingers; gasping like a madwoman as you moved against his hands, wishing to pull his fingers even deeper into you, dissatisfied when you realized it didn’t do the job.

He could only groan when he realized your intention, slipping his coated finger from your warm heat, bringing them to his mouth quickly while his other hand found the zipper of his jeans, fumbling in a stressed fashion to get rid of the constraint.

A dissatisfied moan left you as he did, wishing for nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch yet again carry alongside your walls. But, as he fumbled with his zipper, you quickly got your senses together. You helped him undo his suspenders, then slipped underneath the fabric to trail your hand alongside the apparent bulge that stretched underneath, finding his groans to fuel your actions.

For a short while, your eyes met amidst the hurry your bodies experienced, and the moment slowed down to a halt as your lips found each other once more, moving against one another like starved men. You couldn’t be closer to him, and he couldn’t possibly be closer to you, and while you earlier had pondered that this was a good idea, you couldn’t imagine anything else at this moment.

And, as your hand wrapped around him momentarily, Arthur could feel his brain’s short circuit, like he had never been able to hold a single thought in his mind his entire life. You had to have bewitched him, for he complied to your every touch, body moving against your every move like your hand was glued to his body.

“God,” he mumbled against your lips that massaged his own, thrusting against your hand as you stroked him tenderly, gasping against him quietly. It wasn’t hurried but warm and slow, basking in each other’s presence like you had never before discovered the feeling of another’s touch against your own.

“That good?” You replied teasingly, mimicking his earlier words as you smiled a toothy smile, feeling him chuckle lowly at your apparent teasing, giving you a playful slap on your behind as his breathing picked up.

Suddenly, you felt a hand encase your own. As he removed it from his throbbing member, he only grabbed you closer, wounding his arms around your back as he pulled you into a hug, the feeling of him underneath you wonderful as you glided along it–moaning wantonly as the friction shot sharp streaks of pleasure up your body.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.” As he spoke, he could feel himself shudder as your wet lips encased his tip, groaning audibly as he thought you rubbing against him. You were illegal, he concluded, for nothing could ever be allowed to feel this good–it wasn’t possible.

“Please,” you gasped against his lips, moving your hips slightly as you felt his hands circle your waist. “Please, Arthur.”

He hushed you quietly, finally feeling you wrap your lips around him as he slowly entered your warm cavern, the walls fitting him snugly as a grunt left him unexpectedly, lost in the pleasure you brought him.

While it felt too good to imagine, you could only keep your mouth open at the sensation, wondering how something could ever fill you up quite as good as this. Without a single thought, you sat down entirely, feeling him stretch you wonderfully as you wrapped around all of him, wounding your hands around his neck.

You didn’t need to move much, for he thrust up into you when you had gotten used to his size, feeling yourself being hitched up to his body as the motion made your whole body rise to then fall back down on him, once more filled to the brim. His grunting in your ears filled your senses, and while the slight consciousness entered your mind, wondering what you were doing, you pushed it far back, relishing in how your body responded to his.

Despite the cold that was surely creeping into your bones the more you stayed out here, the sound of skin against skin filling the empty spaces around you made you feel more connected to each other than you had ever felt with anyone else.

You started to move with him, bringing down your hips to meet his while he thrusts into you, growing more desperate by the minute. You found the hands hugging your waist, circling their arms around it, pushing you even further against him as you rested your hands on his cheeks, having no choice but to stare into his lidded eyes as he grunted roughly underneath you.

God, how he wanted to push you down onto the ground and drive into you, damning the snow that covered the ground. Instead, he glided down further from the wall, feeling your weight press against him more as your head found sanction in his neck, feeling his thrusts grow more in power as he pistoned into you harder from the new position.

“Arthur.” You breathed out, feeling the stretch of him grow as the position made him reach even deeper inside you, one arm reaching down to grab your bottom so he could hold you firmer against him.

“I know, honey.” He murmured, head growing dizzy as you clenched around him so wonderfully, mewling sweetly into his ears as you let him take control.

Did it make him an evil man for reveling in what he knew Charles would never gain from you? Maybe it did, but those thoughts were placed far back in his mind as your lips found his, small moans now muted as you grew desperate for his affection, growing insatiable to once more feel the fondness that laid in his every touch.

He had been so angry that someone else had gained the courage to do what he couldn’t, realizing he had been too late. Yet now, as you remain unknowing above him, it only made his lips plant themself firmer against yours, determined to make you understand that nobody could make you feel this way except him.

Grabbing the blanket off your shoulders, he threw it down towards the ground as you gasped, stroking your waist tenderly before slowing his movements.

Your breath heaved something so terrible, your voice shaking as you spoke. “Don’t stop, Arthur. Please.” He felt his stomach coil at your words, throbbing inside you as he moved to a seated position.

“I ain’t stopping, sweetheart,” he let on, leaning you backwards lightly. “Lay back for me, okay?” You did as he said without a protest, the cold now gone as your legs spread from him.

He almost groaned from the sight, taking a moment to observe you as you stared at him through lidded eyes, blushed cheeks so wonderfully red against the whiteness of the snow you almost looked like an angel–your hair spread like a halo around your head where you laid on the blanket.

Crawling over you quickly, he grunted as he felt your hand encasing itself around him, stroking slowly as you guided it to your clenching hole. For a moment, he felt a relief spread through him at the feeling of your walls surrounding him before the sheer and utter desperation set in, beginning to move into you at a faster pace than before.

Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, yet you gripped his arms to keep him there, not baring the thought of him stopping again. Being over you gave him more control, and his primal instincts set in as the coil in his stomach shot burning flashes throughout his body, wanting nothing more than to feel your warm walls around him forever. Maybe it was the desire talking, but he swore that the thought of you being like this with any other man than him would make him heave.

Encasing his arms around you as your hands found his hair, he felt your legs wrap around his waist, now so close he was grounding into you relentlessly. Rough yet tender, he moved into you with care, but you could feel that he was holding back as he panted above you.

“Don’t stop!” You begged him once more amidst his thrusts, pulling on his strands as his lips found the softness of your neck. Why you were begging, you couldn’t say, oblivious to the words leaving your mouth in utter bliss.

“Hm?” He mumbled, smiling lightly from hearing your ruined voice beg him. He felt like a sick man gaining pleasure from it, but his mind was too hazy to take notice, longing to hear those words leave your sweet mouth once more. “What was that?”

“Don’t stop,” you voiced breathlessly as his hand found your breast, rolling the nub softly between his rough fingers. Despite your begging, for his own sickly twisted pleasure his hips ceased their movements, moving torturously slow as he raised his elbows to stare at your tear-filled eyes.

They shot open as he slowed his pace, displeased he didn’t listen as you already felt shameful for sounding so desperate. You couldn’t help it, for it felt too good, and now that he had stopped, you wished he never had. Was he teasing you? The thought made you blush from embarrassment and annoyance, pleading with your eyes.

“No…” You mumbled, trying to move against him, yet his hands held you firm against the ground.

“Say it.” Arthur’s voice was coarse as he spoke, grabbing your hand to place tender kisses on it as your displeased sounds reached his ears. He only got a confused look, smirking slightly at the longing and apparent dissatisfaction plastered on your face. A biting shadowed lust replaced his usually sharp eyes as he watched you, carnal written deeply in his eyes.

“My name, sweetheart. Let me hear you say it.” Suddenly, he pistoned his hips against you, driving up your wet walls as a mewl left you from the sudden force. You felt his intense eyes on you as your eyes shut momentarily, and through your blurred vision, they didn’t stay open for long.

“Arthur,” you moaned, eye-rolling into the back of your head as your back arched, a wave of pleasure shooting through you at his demands. He held the same controlled yet sensual pace, knowing he’d slip out of you if he went any harder. Still, his accuracy was wicked–hitting the right spot with every move.

“That’s it,” he praised you, placing another kiss on your palm as his thrusts increased, grunting roughly as your walls squeezed him tightly. You break into sobs as you reach out to grasp his arms, tilting his head up just enough to let you know he’s watching you, his hazy gaze roving over the devastation on your face.

The snow around you mutes the sound of skin hitting skin as he sets a brutal pace. “I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart.” The deep rumble in his chest as he spoke the words laced with possessiveness made your heartbeat pick up faster than it already was, the light ringing in your ears increasing as your body was hoisted up with each of his thrusts.

You call his name like a prayer amidst the pleasure, and satisfaction at hearing his name come so sinfully from your mouth made his eyes roll back, knuckles turning white from gripping the ground so harshly. Oh, you had no idea that every noise you let out from his advances made his heart soar with pride, feeling the softness of your skin under the palm of his hands.

Arthur feels the abrupt stop of movements from your hand, gripping tightly on his arms as you spasm around his cock, clenching tightly as the pads of his fingers come down to rub at your swollen nub as your orgasmed, a loud whine leaving you at the contact. It’s too much for you, the sensation too unfamiliar yet devastatingly addictive–not knowing if you wanted to drive your hips away from his brutal assault or enjoy him even more profoundly.

Even if you had decided on the prior, he didn’t let you, pushing you firm against the ground as he twitched inside you at the noises you let out, groaning lowly as he came inside your warm walls, planting himself deep inside you.

“Christ-” He grunts out, teeth clenched as you feel his cock throb inside you, cum gathering at the base of him as his hips slow to deep thrusts, grinding into you in sheer pleasure as the knot in his stomach unleashed, feeling you placing small kissed on his neck.

The slight motion made him smile amidst his pleasure-filled mind, caressing the curves of your waist as he nestled his head into your neck, still panting heavily. As you both calmed down, it didn’t take long for your hand to find his, fingers wounding themselves around the others in the blissful aftermath.

As you opened your eyes after catching your breath, you found a pair of blue ones already gazing at you. You didn’t speak for a while, both of you trying to digest the situation as tiny snowflakes could be seen falling from the sky through the cracks in the walls. It reminded you of how cold you should have been, but with Arthurs’s broad chest covering you, it felt like you were clinging to a furnace.

“Shit, you must be freezing.” He suddenly let out, shaking his head slightly as if in a daze before rising to pull you with him. As he pulled your skirt down your legs, rubbing them between his hands to warm you up, you could only stare at him in quiet wonder.

“What?” He grumbled out, sniveling lightly as he glanced at you. Had you not wanted this, he wondered, doubt starting to fill his mind. You were too quiet for his liking, only staring at him as he tried to prolong touching your soft skin, fearful of the hurtful words that were sure to come.

“Are you jealous of Charles?”

If crickets had been this far north, they would surely be the only thing audible as Arthur stopped. Bear of a man, hardy and stubborn to many, yet a faint blush could be seen rising to his cheeks as his face lowered–wishing so dearly he could find his hat that had seemingly disappeared so he could hide.

If he had been looking at you, he would have seen the toothy smile covering your face, a tender laugh leaving you as your assumptions became reality. You had to give him credit, though, for he had you completely and utterly fooled.

“No.” He stated firmly, rising on his legs to pull up his pants. He found himself unable to, though, your hand grabbing his suspenders to pull him back down. The same heat that had lessened in his stomach came back as he felt your nimble touch caress him through his pants, gaining a mischievous look from you as you widened your legs.

“Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll give Charles his gloves back if you stay here and keep me warm.”

Oh dear, that would do it. Whatever thoughts that filled his mind flew out the window, wholly consumed by you as your hands caressed his back, staring expectantly up at him.

“Only me, right?”

“Only you, stupid.”

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption smut #red dead smut

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xo-cod · 5 months

Text

forgive the inaccuracies, idk much about babies <3 ooc/rushed :)

simon w his baby but she has a preference for one parent and it's not him

simon finally coming back to his safe place, his sanctuary, his home, all but eager to spend some needed time with his family. be had been off to a mission, the last one for a while to make sure that everything was okay. he had already been incredibly reluctant to leave you but now that you both had a baby, it was hard. not a second was spent on the field where images of the pair of you blazed through his mind, almost nearly costing his arm and leg in the process of being too distracted. it had been hell to say the least

but the day finally came, there he was finally on his way back after an intense gruelling month. simon saw you first, bundling you up close in his built arms enjoying your little chuckles that fell from your lips. removing his balaclava as he peppers tender kisses across your cheeks before your lips, his soft smile growing at how happy he was to be back. before he set you back down, eyes scouring about for his bundle of pure joy

"where is she, lovie?? i missed her so much, i got her a little trinket from the place we were deployed in, hope she likes it" he chuckled softly, opening one of his pockets to reveal the gift as he catches his baby on the carpet playing with toys babbling away. his heart was practically bursting at its seams, shedding away his utility vest and his gear to make sure nothing could hurt her before he gently padded his way over. he had different ways the evening would pan out but he hadn't expected this.

he didn't ever expect to be met with a blank stare in return

his heart dropped when he picked his little girl up, she was too busy playing with her favourite toys to even react to him. he hadn't anticipated her looking at him like a stranger. he could've cried with the way she wriggled out of his grasp and wanting to be let down as if he was some enemy. as if instead of being the protector he was now the very thing he swore to keep away from his child, a stranger.

his face like a kicked puppy when he looked at you with pure shock and pain, looking back at the baby who was eagerly crawling back to you having wanting nothing to do with him despite him trying to come closer. you could see all the happiness he previously had practically disappeared from his body, his shoulders deflating with sadness and pain

she couldn't recognise him, she was no longer a daddy's girl

"honey.... sweetheart, it's me, dad. daddy's here. c'mon, c'mere munchkin" he tried to chuckle, kneeling down opening his muscular arms only for her to blink at him and then look back at her toys again

"lovie.... what's going on?" his voice is so soft with hurt and shock looking back to you with huge shining eyes as if he had encountered the worst loss till date. suddenly the mission he had just been on was nothing, the weight of his child preferring you over him was crushing his heart into pieces he didn't think he would come back from. how he'd do any mission 10x over if it meant his child, his treasure would love him again

•••

and it remained that way for the next week, he tried his utmost best but it never seemed to be good enough for her. you tried to console him but he remained dejected, she was always wanting to run back to you. to be comforted by you and to be held by you. every time he tried to tuck her in, his efforts simply proved fruitless. she would cry and cry until you came back in and he watched from the side never feeling like he had failed so hard before in his life.

it hurt more than any of the superficial wounds he ever managed to get in battle, it hurt more than him being on his literal deathbed all those times he was caught in the cross fire. and it only propelled him further into despair when he made the mistake of googling it and realising that this phase may very well last years.

you could see him break with everyday, doubting himself as a father and as a husband. blaming himself and letting the doubt plague his heart and mind. it seemed nothing could comfort him apart from his baby that wanted nothing to do with him. he hadn't managed to hug her at all, he missed being able to snuggle her soft skin for hours. lounging around the home with her cuddled up in one arm as the other gently rubbed on the back of her head soothingly holding her close to his heart. and the thought of never being able to cuddle her without the cries that accompanied it was more than he could bear, it hurt more than anything he had gone through

that was until one night, he was tiredly going to the bathroom and pausing over the nursery. he hadn't meant to but he peeked in and saw her laying in her crib half asleep. her eyes big and brown exactly like his, blinking up slowly at the lieutenant. she was quiet apart from the small sounds she made sucking on the pacifier, a soft bunny in her hand as she peeked back at her father.

"hey baby...." he whispered so softly, he didn't even think she had heard. but her head tilted in curiosity and he chuckled, his hands coming to rest on the walls of the crib. desperately aching to feel her soft skin but too nervous to agitate her

"it's me honey, your dad. i really.... really miss you" he broke off, his heart feeling so heavy as the guilt came barreling in once more. it was his fault that he left her for a month, he shouldn't have been so surprised when he came back and preferred you. you had been there when he couldn't, she developed an attachment with you, not with him

"i'm so sorry to have left you for a month, honey. if i had known- if i thought for a second you'd hate me-" he didn't have the heart to finish the words, the guilt overriding his senses. with a soft sigh, his forehead leaned against his palm for a moment. his own baby didn't like him, he hadn't felt this low in a long time.

he promised he would never raise her in a volatile environment like he had grown up but already he hadn't been any better. he left her knowing for a month, coming back to see her favouring you. and it wasn't easy on both of you, he knew that. he knew he was being irrational but it stung more than any cut, the fact that if he hadn't made the choice to go on the mission that his baby wouldn't be acting so strangely around him.

simon didn't expect anything more tonight, too scared to touch her in case she started crying so he settled for placing the blanket back over her and heading off to bed with a heavy heart. what he didn't expect was the small coo coming from her lips, her tiny fist wrapping up over his index finger. his heart was in his throat, eyes wide at the sight as he looked back to her sweet innocent face again

"me?? you want me?" his voice was so gentle, too scared to speak loud as if this was all a beautiful dream he would wake up from. hesitantly he had reached down, his breath held as his large hands wrapped around his baby so delicately as if she'd shatter beneath his fingertips. slowly sitting down on the rocking chair, the moonlight pouting through the window illuminating her features.

how everyone around claimed she was a carbon copy, how proud he was to call her his daughter. all the moments that they shared running through his mind like a montage and she tilted her small head up at him, a gentle giggle falling from her lips before she rested her weary head against his warm chest. he could've cried and he did, gently but firmly holding her body between his hands. thanking whatever goodness he had done in his life that she was back, his baby was back. and she loved him just like before. she recognised him, she wanted him willingly. it was enough to break him out of whatever funk he had been in, trying desperately not to sob happy tears after a long gruelling two weeks.

you woke up the next morning to see simon laying on the rocking chair, one hand protectively over her small back while the other locked around her little legs as they both slept peacefully. his cheek leaning against her forehead as they cuddled up close on the rocking chair, both making the exact same sleeping face causing you to hide your growing smile and snap a little picture of the tender moment.

she truly was his little mini.

#simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #dad!simon riley #dad!ghost #dad!simon riley x reader

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lilywastaken · 1 year

Text

⇝ midnight .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART ONE OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: Simon makes the mistake of spending the night before one of the longest missions of his career in the arms of a woman he met at a pub, unaware of the consequences it would have on his life moving forward.

WARNINGS: AFAB!Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N!) NSFW [ Oral (F receiving), Degradation, Praising, size difference/kink, dacryphilia, dumbification, slight bondage, frottage, unprotected P in V, overstimulation, various orgasms, creampie.], Angst, Pregnancy, mentions of abortion, kind of OOC Simon? He’s just soft when he’s not Ghost, Canon typical violence.

A/N: My first COD fic! It also happens to be the longest piece of writing I've ever done 😵! This is the first part of a series I've been planning on writing for a while, so I'll hopefully get the second part out soon! Please don't forget to reblog/comment if you enjoy the fic, it helps a lot!!! Thanks for all the support!! <3

WORD COUNT: 10.1k.

MASTERLIST.

Also on Ao3!

Going out wasn't one of Ghost's favourite things to do.

Even after getting back to his tiny flat in Manchester following a horribly long mission and shedding his mask, going back to the burly man his neighbours knew as Simon, some random guy who had moved in a few years ago and seldom stepped outside except for the random smoking session some of them would see him having on his balcony; he didn't enjoy going out.

So when he finally was able to relax onto his shitty leather sofa and catch up with some of the footy games he had missed while away, all he wanted more than anything was a good whiskey in his favourite (cleanest) glass.

And almost like a cartoon character staring at their empty wallet, Simon stared ahead at his liquor cabinet, jaw clenched as he spied at the remaining drops of alcohol that were left in the bottle, remembering the mental note he had made before leaving his flat the last time to get himself the alcohol he had chugged down during one of his depressive episodes.

So, in a fit of anger, he shoved on whatever clean clothes he could find in his duffle bag, skull balaclava pulled over his messy hair, and stomped down the stairs to the nearest Tesco…

…only to find it closed.

And fuck him if he was going to walk the extra hour to the nearest Morrison's just to get some shitty whiskey bottle to drown his sorrows in. At this point, he'd just go and sit in a corner of a pub, nursing what he would hope would be an acceptable liquor.

He was absolutely pissed by the time he made it into the homey bar, the universe having decided to make it it's personal mission to fuck him up today and making the worst storm possible start to rain upon Manchester.

Oh, and of course, the pub's tables were all full of teenagers (who definitely had fake IDs, no way they were all 18), and some old geezers who were shouting at the football game on TV (great, Manchester was loosing, another thing to worsen his night), leaving the only available seat one in the middle of the bar next to some woman chatting amicably to the waiter, who seemed a bit more interested in her cleavage than in what she had to say.

He slipped into the seat silently, his clear eyes death-staring into the bartender's, immediately scaring him shitless ("Yer about ta kill me with that look, Lt." Johnny had once joked about his murderous gaze, and to be fair, Simon was slightly hoping the scot would combust and die right there.), no doubt believing that he was with the woman and was about to punch his teeth in for staring longer than he should have.

As he scurried off into the back, you turned to him, taken aback at first as you made eye contact with the towering, wet, balaclava-clad man who was staring back at you, but you were brave enough to smile kindly at him, going back to running your finger over the rim of your drink, which Simon noticed was still and hardly drank out of, despite the lipstick smudges around the top. You'd been here a while, and by the way your leg was nervously jumping up and down as time passed by, he could only assume you'd been stood up.

Now, Simon wasn't dumb, far from it; and Simon was smart enough to recognize when someone was attractive, and he was pretty sure that the woman in front of him was drop-dead gorgeous despite the sad look that adorned your features. So, if he was correct, he couldn't even begin to fathom how someone could even start to think of standing up a woman like you, especially after inviting her to this shitty pub, where the food had definitely given him food poisoning before.

He hadn't realised how deep in thought he must have been while staring at your glass until a soft hand rested against his bicep, eyes instantly flashing back towards yours, instincts haywire from having been pulled out from his thoughts so suddenly.

"Sorry!" You immediately retracted your hand from his arm, smiling apologetically up at him before turning your gaze back to the golden liquid. "I asked if you were okay. I can't imagine walking around in a storm with just that on." You gestured towards his shirt, allowing Simon to look down and stare at the tight T-shirt he had chosen to wear, a few dirt stains decorating it in the worst way possible, having dressed for the occasion that was a 10pm trip to Tesco and not meeting up with a pretty woman at a pub.

"Wasn't planning on walking 'round." He grumbled out, his voice deeper than what you had expected, the thick accent and scratchy sound of it making shivers run down your spine and heat pool into your stomach, becoming horrified with yourself that you allowed such a minimal thing like a masked man's voice get you all hot and flustered like this.

"'Nd you? Doesn't seem like you're dressed for a night out at the Crown's." His eyes moved towards your dress, surprised with himself that he had actively been the one to continue the conversation; his thick hand reaching over to grab his drink from the bartender's hand (which he must have ordered during the haze he had been in before.) as he awaited your answer.

"Oh." He watched you smooth down your hair out from the corner of his eye, your hands shaky as they found comfort around the fancy glass of your whiskey. Or was it bourbon? Maybe rum? You seemed like the type of woman to appreciate a good glass of liquor. "Yeah, 'm waiting for someone."

He watched your eyes dart over to the clock hanging on the wall opposite you both, the little hand nearing the number 11.

"Could've taken you somewhere nicer." He commented, taking a jab at both the pub and your missing date, the small breathless chuckle that left your lips catching his attention.

"Yeah. Not like I expected a reservation at the Ritz, but somewhere that doesn't look like my grandad's favourite pub would be nice." You joked over the sound of some of the old men cheering in the background over some team scoring a goal, and while Simon would've normally turned around to make sure it had been Manchester, he was too focused on the mesmerising way your eyes looked in the dim light, your eyelashes fluttering innocently as you continued what had started as small talk, that evolved into friendly conversation and him buying you another drink, and that ended with him waiting for you outside the bathrooms, holding onto your tiny umbrella.

Simon wasn't one to frequent in hook-ups, but how enticing you had been when talking to him, the way your body looked in that dress and how you'd brushed your soft hand against his bicep (this time with another intent other than to snap him out of his stupor), had left him wanting, nay, craving more from you.

So when you looked out the window behind him before gesturing to the small umbrella hanging from your bag and asked if he wanted to take you home, he would have been demented to deny you.

His screen's brightness lit up his face as he scrolled over the scarce messages he had received across the almost 10 years he had had this crappy phone, about to delete Soap's number before you came out, a smile on your face and makeup freshly applied.

"Some girls helped me with my makeup in there." You commented happily, fingertips brushing over the blush that had been applied to the apples of your cheeks, which made you somehow look even more enticing than before. "I didn't have time to look in the mirror, but I hope it looks okay."

"Looks nice on you." He let out after processing your new look, his chest tightening as your smile somehow widened and your eyes brightened, having learned across the few hours you had spent together that Simon wasn't really one to show his emotions towards anyone, so a short compliment like that was a big step.

"You think?" You didn't wait for an answer, your hand finding his and starting to lead him out of the shadowy corner he had taken refuge in while your time in the bathroom, letting him push open the exit door so he could open up the umbrella, not caring about the raindrops falling onto him and darkening his clothes, the rain getting caught onto his eyelashes like morning dew on a spiders web, the beautiful orbs drawing you in like a butterfly happily flying into a spider's nest.

The umbrella was open and poised on top of you before you could even step out of the pub, Simon doing his best so you wouldn't be touched by the rain, aware of how uncomfortable some people got when it came to water running down your back or touching your face (especially when you looked so so pretty with your make-up.). Along with his massive frame walking next to you, you were pretty sure there was no way a single drop of water would touch your skin the whole way back home.

Which ended up being almost silent, you leading the way and commenting on random stores or things you passed, brightening up every time you got a chuckle out of him and melting whenever his hand would wrap around your waist as you passed some creepy man or a suspicious-looking group of teens, pulling you into his side so no one would even think of messing with you.

You were highly aware of how dangerous it was in hindsight to take some random man home (whose face you hadn't even seen yet!), but Simon made you feel safe, special, in some weird way… like as long as you were in his vicinity, nothing could happen to you, nothing could harm you. And you wanted to cling onto that feeling, onto the feeling of protection and warmth that Simon extruded.

So you didn't think twice about it, even as you slipped the key into the front door to your apartment complex and stood next to him the whole elevator ride up to your floor, his hand curled around yours with his thumb rubbing over your knuckles, the soft action enough to make heat pool into your tummy and your panties, getting worked up over casual affection from the breathtaking man.

"Y'sure about this, lovie?" His raspy voice made you fumble with your keys as he came up behind you, watching you struggle to unlock your flat as his breath hit your ear. "Tell me to leave and I will. Last chance."

Your breathing grew shaky as his own warmed your cheek, the way he worded it making it seem like the act you were both about to perform was something akin to letting a beast free, and even if it was, as long as Simon was the one to do it, you would have let him do anything.

"Yes." You managed to get out as your door finally opened, not even getting the time to take a step in before his hands were all over you, pushing you into the apartment and slamming the door closed behind him with his foot, his balaclava somehow being pulled up to his nose, high enough so you could gaze upon his soft pink lips and the blond stubble that adorned his chin and slightly crooked nose, aware that you would have spent hours tracing his features with your eyes, engraving them to memory, but he took away any thoughts away from you as he slotted his lips with yours.

You learned immediately that Simon's kisses were desperate, sloppy, needy. The way his hands gripped at your hips and his teeth nibbled onto your bottom lip, tongue running over yours as he trailed his palms down your thighs onto your feet, wrenching off your heels and ripping apart your tights, ignoring the angered whine that left your lips.

"Easier access, lovie." He murmured against your lips, finally pulling back with a sleazy grin on his lips, a string of spit connecting you both before breaking, allowing you a bit of time to catch your breath while he took in your living room, staring at the doors. "Bedroom?"

"Th- That one-" You hazardly pointed towards one of the doors behind you, squealing out loud as he grabbed you effortlessly and started to carry you towards your room, thighs pressed to his sides and ankles crossed behind his back, making sure to cling onto him so he wouldn't randomly drop you (Although by the way his muscles barely tensed when he had picked you up, and how easily he seemed to navigate around while carrying you made you think that there was no way he'd let you fall.)

Your back finally hit your familiar soft mattress, hands clenching onto your silk sheets as he watched you like a hawk, hands resting on the space of your thighs near your now-dripping cunt, thumbs rubbing into the soft pudge.

"Fuck… Just look t'you." He rumbled out, your cheeks growing warm as he continued to stare without moving, enjoying the way you started to squirm beneath his touch. "Calm, lovie, jus' taking my time wiv' you."

You mewled out at the deep tone his voice took, thighs threatening to close as one of his hands made his way towards your clothed cunt, which had been made accessible thanks to your now-ripped tights that had been left behind in the living room.

Simon forced your thighs back open with a grunt, glassy eyes darkening as he watched your own hands come up to cover your face out of embarrassment, letting himself soak in it for a moment before finally starting to act.

"Lean up f'me." You obeyed immediately, trembling under his touch as he slowly pulled your dress off, letting it pool onto the floor along with his shirt, which he had quickly gotten rid of as soon as you were in your lingerie. His eyes roamed the lace for a moment before letting out a dry chuckle, looking up at you to find you ogling at his scarred chest, almost drooling at the sight of his well built pecs and stomach. "Tryin' to get lucky tonight?" He spoke, fingers snapping your bra strap, thinking back to why you were originally at that pub in the first place.

"Shut up." You grumbled, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him up the bed so you could continue kissing him, having been left craving more ever since that breathtaking one in the foyer.

He didn't complain, quickly indulging you as he slotted his lips with yours once again, his kiss as sloppy as needy as before, openly moaning against them as your hands run under his balaclava to pull at the short strands of his coarse hair, his own hands wrapping your thighs around his waist so your clothed pussy could grind against the hard material of his trousers over his hardened cock, rejoicing in the way your moans and whines sounded as he drank them up.

"S'needy." He chastised softly as he pulled away, moving you both towards the top of the bed so you could rest your head on your pillows, catching your breath while he started slipping off his belt and trousers (the belt being placed on the bed, just in case), and letting you gaze upon the tent in his boxers, shivering at the monstrous sight of his cock, trying to imagine how in the living fuck would he fit inside you if he couldn't even fit properly in his boxers, pulling out a moan from your lipstick smudged lips at the simple thought of being fucked by such a tool.

"Like it?" He chuckled, slowly starting to lean down with his hands on your thighs, pulling one of them over his shoulder so he was face to face with your covered cunt, his breath warm as it hit your clit, making you whine. "Gunna let me have a taste?"

"Y-Yes, god, yes, Simon, please-" You breathed out all at once, desperate for his touch after the slow teasing, watching what was visible of his face scrunch up in mock laughter as he revelled in your whines.

"As you wish, lovie."

He didn't even bother pushing your panties aside before taking a lick of your cunt from bottom to top, pressing soft kisses to your clit to hear your desperate whines and feel your thighs shake beneath his touch, continuing to slowly make out with your clothed pussy, purposefully driving you insane with his limited touches.

"Off, off, pl-please, Si, please -" You whined, pushing his head away in an attempt to start to pull your panties down, crying out in frustration as he didn't budge, a growl leaving his lips and sending vibrations up your cunt.

"Don't touch. I'm taking my fucking time, pretty. Or would you rather me stick my cock into you without any prep?" You moaned out loudly at the thought, back threatening to arch as he slowly grasped at your panties, a humourless chuckle leaving his pretty lips. "Yeah, I bet your slutty pussy'd love that, wouldn't it, lovie?" He purred before finally sliding down your pants, taking a moment to stare at your cunt and let you squirm before slowly spreading your thighs again, immediately shoving his face into his prize and repeating his movements from before, but faster and rougher, letting you feel every inch of his tongue as it ran over your lips and slowly inched inside of your hole, your moans and silent screams only edging him further on until he took your engorged clit into his mouth and started sucking, placing a hand on your stomach and pushing your arching back down onto the mattress.

He was surprised, to say the least. Yes, he'd realised you were sensitive as soon as he had kissed you for the first time, but he hadn't expected you to almost burst into tears from being eaten out (He wasn't even /trying/ to make you cry, he wondered what would happen if he did.), so he wondered if all the men you'd been with before had gone down on you, but by the way you were reacting to such simple touches, he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

"So fuckin' sweet, baby." He murmured into your pussy as he let go of your swollen clit, giving your hole some attention as the hand that was on your tummy ran down to circle your clit, overstimulating you in the best way possible. "Taste like fuckin' heaven."

"Si- Simon-" you whined his name out so so sweetly, music to the normally cold lieutenant's ears. "Gonn- Fuuuck! 'Na cum! Please, please, Si, need to-"

"S'okay, let go for me, lovie." He basically purred into you as he continued licking contently at your gushing hole, fingers tactically rubbing on your clit, before changing spots, taking your clit back into his mouth and letting his fingers slip in to you, preening at the sweet gasp that left your lips at the sudden intrusion, his coarse fingers moving in and out and immediately finding that one spot that made your back arch and toes curl, and just as he was taught in the military, he took advantage of the weak spot (in this case, your sweet spot.) and didn't stop brushing his fingers against it, the increasing sound of his name alerting him of your upcoming orgasm.

And once the coil within your stomach snapped and Simon finally let your back arch of the bed, your release gushing out of you and coating his hand and wrist, you let out the loudest moan of his name, the sound immediately going to his painfully hard cock, but he didn't stop, tongue not ceasing its assault on your clit and fingers continuing to rub against your g-spot until you finally came down from your high, brain mushy and eyes glassy as you stared up at the cream ceiling.

"Such a good girl." He purred out as he finally stopped, retracting his wet fingers and taking them into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and cleaning off all of the slick you had left from your orgasm, savouring it like he would with a lollipop. "Fuckin' taste amazing."

You whined in response, the embarrassment from having cummed so fast and having to watch him lick up all your release finally catching up to you, shaky hands moving to cover your sweaty face.

He clicked his tongue, grabbing them before they could cover your pretty features and holding them together in one hand.

"No, baby. Don't want you fuckin' hiding f'me." He snapped, slowly pulling them upwards so that they were pinned against the headboard, his other hand moving to gather the belt he had discarded not so long ago, quickly taking advantage of your cum-lax state to wrap it around your wrists, making sure it was tight enough to constrict you, but not tight enough to hurt, and letting you lie there while he started on getting rid of his boxers. "Wanna see that pretty face while you come undone on my cock. Isn't that what y'want too?"

You tried moving your head to nod, but it felt so so heavy that even the slightest movement felt like a chore, feeling grateful that Simon was a man able to move you around and dominate you without even breaking sweat, that all you needed to do was lie back and enjoy everything he gave you.

"Fuckin' hell. Not even fucked ya yet and you're 'lready gone?" He sneered, coming to hover over you so he could press wet kisses to your cheeks and neck, purposefully avoiding your lips. "Pretty girl gets her pussy played wiv and turns into a right proper slut, don' she?" He purred against your neck, his words making you shiver and squirm as your body instinctively tried to move away from the stimulus, only for him to pull you back towards him with grubby hands, a loud gasp leaving your lips as he pressed your crotches together, having expected the soft cotton of his boxers and not the hard, hot feeling of his cock flush against your dripping pussy.

"Oh- Oh my god, Simon, th-"

"Mm." He cut you off with a soft purr and a nip to your jugular, no doubt making sure that you'd wake up in purple marks the next morning as he did the same all over your neck. "'S me. All me, lovie. F'you."

You moaned at the implication, slowly starting to grind yourself against him as he made it his personal mission to cover your upper body in kisses, stopping at your clavicle and staring down at your bra, that was still to be taken off.

"Fuck, forgot all 'bout these." His hand came up to squeeze one of them softly, a small sound of pleasure leaving your lips at the added stimulation as you continued to rub your cunt against his hardened cock. "Pretty little things."

He started grinding his own hips against yours, watching with amazement at how quickly you reacted to his touch, your back arching enough for him to slip his hands behind and unclasping your bra suspiciously easy, pulling it off and throwing it behind him and landing god knows where, and leaving you finally completely bare beneath him.

"Look t'you." His warm hands immediately cupped your tits, thumb and pointer rubbing your nipples between them, pinching and pulling until they were hard, an amazed chuckle leaving his lips as he listened to your moans increase in sound, his grinding against you not ceasing either.

"Oh fuck- fuck fuck!" It was embarrassing, how quickly he had you whining and mewling beneath him, when you had found yourself struggling before to even feel something with men before him doing the same. It was just something about him, something about the way he sounded and touched, the precise movements against you, almost like he had been trained for your pleasure, to get you over the edge as many times as he could muster before even getting his dick wet.

Because the instant you felt his warm breath hit one of your perky breasts, you knew you were fucked, headed towards your second orgasm of the night. His warm mouth enveloped your hard nipple, pulling and tugging with his teeth and soothing the slight pain he left with his talented tongue, his grinding becoming quicker and rougher as he felt your thighs tremble around his waist, your eyes watering as you neared the release you oh so craved, gasping out loud as one of his hands came up to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing over your flushed skin.

"You gunna cry, baby? S'okay, let it out. Let it out f'me." He growled as he let go of your now throbbing nipple, moving to give your other neglected breast the same attention, hand leaving your face to run down to your core and slowly run over your clit, a huge contrast to the rough movements of his cock against you and his warm mouth on your nipple, all the different stimulations and feelings enough to push you over the edge and let the tears that had been collecting in your waterline finally fall, gasping moans and screams leaving your lips as you soaked his cock, body trembling beneath his ministrations as he chuckled against your nipple, enjoying the way you were slowly falling apart and he hadn't even pushed into you yet.

He didn't stop for a few moments, waiting until the moment where you would inevitably start whining and pushing him off with weak arms to cease, leaning back up with a shit eating grin as he waited for you to come down from your high.

"Oi, look at me." He taps one of his fingers on your face, moving your gaze towards his, a small, patronising pout tugging at his lips as he watches the tears roll down your cheeks. "Poor thing. You all fucked out yet? D'you think y'could still take my cock? Or are you too dumb f'that right now?"

"Y-yes, yes, please, please, need it so bad, Si! So so bad!" You stuttered out between laboured breaths, hands struggling against their binding, itching to be let free and feel his cock in your hands, which you could see between you, almost as girthy as a coke can and with a few prominent veins leading up to his flushed red tip, that was leaking pre spend you would gladly pay money to clean up with your tongue. "O-oh fuck, Simon, please -"

"Sh, shh. Calm down, y'little crybaby." He chastised, leaning down to softly press kisses over the tears that had gathered on your flushed cheeks, chuckling at how desperate you looked under him. "I'll give you what you want. Gon' fuck you so well, yeah? You'll feel me f'weeks, lovie."

"Fuck, yes, please! Want your cock so badly, please!" You cried, legs immediately spreading for him as soon as his calloused hands landed on the pudge of your thighs, slightly digging his fingers into them as he took in the beautiful sight of your soaking wet pussy, having half the mind to shove his cock in you without a second thought. But no.

"Calm." He snapped, one of his hands dropping your thighs and slapping your face softly to get your attention. "Protection, baby. You got a condom?"

He frowned as you shook your head, gasping for breath as you pointed over to your nightstand, where he could faintly see the glint of a packet of tablets in the dark. "Pill. 'M on the pill, Si. Clean. I'm clean."

He couldn't help the smile that crept onto his lips at the thought of being able to cum inside, and how eager you were acting to get him to finally stick his cock inside, whines and whimpers pulling him from his thoughts as he stared down at you.

"You going to let me cum inside then, lovie?" He teased, pulling your other thigh back up so the underside of both of them were resting flush against his bare chest, twitching cock resting on your overstimulated core. "Don' think I'm gonna be able to pull out."

"Don't want you to, fuck! Please, Simon, please!! Inside, want you to cum inside!"

A shiver racked through his body at your words, carefully letting one of your legs go and making sure it would stay there, wrapping around it to grab his cock, slowly sliding the head around your puffy lips to collect the slick, wanting the intrusion to be as painless as possible.

"Fuck… Alright, baby, alright. Breathe f'me." He whispered, letting the head of his cock press against your hole, telling himself to go slow and calm down, but by the way you were pulsing and clenching around the head, almost like you were pulling him in, made it hard to stay sane. "God, slutty lil' cunt's just swallowing me in, huh? Want this cock that bad?"

Your hands shook against their restraint as he started to push himself into your sopping hole, wanting nothing more than to grab onto something for stability, but you didn't want to risk him getting annoyed at you for trying to.

"S'okay, almost there." He mumbled, lying straight through his teeth because with one look down to where he was connected to it would prove that he wasn't even halfway in, and it was already proving difficult for your hole to accommodate to his massive size.

"S'big, Si, you're so biiig." You whined, spreading your legs slightly and pushing your body onto him to help, shivering as you could feel him start throbbing inside of you, no doubt needing his own climax after having spent so much time focusing on you.

You could feel your eyes start to flutter close, mouth dropping open as he finally bottomed out, his heavy balls flush against your ass and cock throbbing inside of you, taking a breather and letting you adjust to his size before he would start on his ruthless pace.

"Fuck, lovie, you droolin'?" He panted, a hand coming up to rest against your face and pull you out of your sex-drunk haze (Despite only getting his cock inside you now.), your eyes drowning in his crystal ones, hypnotised by his gaze as he used his thumb to rub away some of the drool that had dribbled down your chin. "Pretty girl finally gets some cock and turns into a drooling slut, huh?"

You let out a noise of complaint as your hands continued to struggle, the few coarse hairs that were peeking out from under his mask enough to make you want to bury your fingers in them, pull at his strands and dig your nails into his scalp as he rocked your world.

He seemed to to understand what you wanted, a chuckle leaving his swollen lips as he leaned over you, legs folding along with him and allowing him to reach a deeper point in your cunt you didn't know that existed, a loud moan escaping you as his calloused hands start undoing the belt, finally letting your wrists free and throwing the piece of leather away, his hands going back to holding onto one of your thighs and another gripping your waist.

"All yours, baby. All fuckin' yours."

He gave you a moment to react as he bottomed out, leaving you empty for a split moment before he slammed back in, cock head almost instantly hitting that sweet spot deep inside you, your hands immediately finding refuge on his shoulders, nails digging into the scarred skin as he repeated his ruthless thrusts, your body shaking beneath his as he pushed down onto your body, forcing you both into a mating press, your cunt tightening around his cock at the sight of his eyes rolling into the back of his head, tummy fluttering at the thought that he was enjoying this as much as you were.

"Fuck, so good, Simon! So fucking good!" Your hands trailed up to the nape of his neck and pulled at the few short hairs there, urging a growl out of him and causing him to slightly speed up, the head of his cock at this point abusing your g-spot, urging you to near your third orgasm. "Wan- Wanna cum, fuck, gonna cum, Simon!"

"Already, baby?" He spoke through bated breath, his stamina allowing him to keep a good and consistent pace, enough to please both of you and almost bring you to tears again. "That's okay, cum for me, lovie. Cum on my fucking cock, show me how much of a fucking whore you are f'me."

Your back arched, pressing your breasts to his sweaty chest, the extra stimulation from your nipples rubbing against his coarse skin finally pushing you over the edge, your cunt clamping down on his cock and making it near impossible for him to continue thrusting, but as the good soldier Simon was, he persisted, rutting into you with bared teeth and a clenched jaw, fucking you through your orgasm until your slick covered his balls and upper thighs.

"Good girl, good fucking girl." He rasped, hand moving from your waist up to your neck, giving an experimental squeeze and moaning as you clenched around him, a breathless chuckle leaving him. "Fuck, you're still clenchin' around me so nicely, love. Feel so fuckin' good, perfect lil' pussy all f'me..."

Simon was saying nonsense at this point, becoming near pussy drunk as his cock hammered into your puffy cunt, nearing his own peak after all the foreplay.

"Si- Simon-!" You keened, hands running under his mask to grasp at his hair properly, pulling at it to coax another guttural moan from him and leading him back down to engage in a messy kiss, teeth clanking together and spit being shared, feeling the desperation he was in as he continued to batter your pussy searching for his own orgasm. "Cum, please, please, cum inside!"

Simon's eyes rolled into the back of his head at your begging, eyelashes fluttering as his pace stuttered inside of you, cockhead pressing against the entrance to your cervix and finally going over the edge, his spend gushing into you and almost immediately filling you, his cock acting like a plug inside you.

"O-oh, fuuck…" He moaned out, voice going slightly high pitched as he relished in the euphoria of finishing inside of you, his nails leaving ten moon shaped indents on your hips, the pain nothing compared to the feeling of him finally fucking his spend into you, you'd have to worry about the inevitable bruises and marks in the morning before work. "Fuck, you're… fuck."

Simon lowered himself down, resting his sweaty balaclava-clad face on your shoulder as you both caught your breaths, his cock twitching inside of you as he rode the waves of his orgasm.

Your eyes were blown out, staring up at the ceiling as you were hit with a sudden wave of realisation, your brain finally catching up with your body and taking in everything that had just happened, especially the fact that you had allowed some masked man you'd met at a pub on a tinder date to ravage you like a starved animal.

"Oh my god." You said, voice wavering as you shivered beneath the mountain of a man, who's sweaty body was pressed flush to yours, his cock softening inside of you as you both started to sober up. "O-Oh my god, Simon."

He let out a moan against your skin, languidly thrusting one final time into you before slowly pulling out, peeling himself off of you and letting the cold air envelop your now-shivering body, the feeling of his warm cum dripping down your puffy cunt pulling out another broken whine from your lips.

"Look at that…" You tried moving away as Simon ran a finger down your spent hole, gathering his cum best he could before slowly shoving it back into you, clicking his tongue at your reaction before leaning down and pressing a final kiss to your clit, the loud cry that left you making him smile almost predatorily. "So, so pretty, baby."

Your eyelids fluttered closed as you felt the bed shift beneath Simon's moving weight, allowing you time to set your head on straight and think about the next words that were going to come out of your mouth (That weren't strangled moans of the blond's name and jumbled cries about how good he felt.) while he moved around, no doubt getting his discarded clothes so he could slip away into the night.

"...leavin'?" You finally mustered out, letting your head fall to a side so you could watch him pick up his boxers and slip them on, his balaclava fixed into place like it had been when you met him, leaving you to stare into his mysterious blue eyes, the only gateway into the man who had just finished ravishing you.

"..." He turned to look at you over his shoulder, eyes trailing over your shivering frame as he fought internally over your words.

Ghost knew that it would be dangerous to stay, to indulge in your touch and show himself to you in one of his most vulnerable states. He didn't know you outside of the few hours he had spent with you, and even with that, it wasn't enough for Ghost to let his guard down around you.

Simon wanted to stay, he wanted to climb back into bed and let you curl into his side, let his warm hands run up and down your warm skin like he had done while pleasuring you, listen to your snores and even breathing. And despite probably not being able to fall asleep himself, Simon knew that it would be one of the few tranquil nights of his life.

So despite Ghost's alarming protests ringing in his head, Simon slowly made his way into the empty spot of your bed next to you, the covers soft and cool against his heated skin, soothing the raging fire that seemed to boil inside of him at the mere sight of you, his large arms wrapping around you and pulling you towards his side of the bed.

As soon as your bare body made contact with his, you melted like ice cream on a hot day, curling into his side and allowing him to wrap his tattooed arm around you, calloused hands running up and down your sides, taking his sweet time memorising every curve and dip of your body as you rested your head onto his chest, ear pressed right above his rapidly beating heart.

Not one word was exchanged between you both the whole time you lied together, his fingers tracing every little nook and cranny of your skin he could find, stopping every once in a while to rub on a tense muscle or over a scar, the soft ministrations swiftly lulling you to sleep.

The hand that you had splayed on his chest was mimicking his movements, fingers running over the blond hair that adorned his chest, playing with the small cross that dangled from the small chain necklace around his neck. Every time his hand would come up to rub at your shoulders, you caught a peak at the many tattoos that sleeved his arm, and as much as you wanted to turn around and commit all of them to memory, every time you tried to move, he'd press you closer, as if he knew that if he did allow you to, you'd only put off sleeping for longer.

As your eyelids started drooping, you felt his other hand come up to rest over your smaller one, toughened fingers intertwining with your own softer ones, a tired smile forming at your lips before finally clocking out, his heartbeat a firm rhythm that pulled you further and further into the soft grasp of Hypnos.

As expected, Simon didn't sleep a wink.

He had tried to close his eyes and enjoy the warmth you radiated, trying his best to let your soft snores and murmurs lull him to sleep, but it was impossible.

Despite not having slept for more than two days, he was unable to fall asleep, on edge after the catastrophe that was his last mission.

That was one of the reasons he had decided to step out of his comfort zone and allow himself a night of indulgence with you, a night of letting himself go and take out all his anger on you, but he had been impuissant to hurt you or even come close to actually wound you, instead taking it as slow as he knew how to and muttering soft praises and sweet nicknames into your ear along with the degradation that he'd mixed in.

And even after tiring himself out, he still couldn't let himself fully relax.

But as he turned his head to look down at your sleeping face, he thought that maybe this wasn't so bad. He felt… at ease, for the first time in a while. No strident alarms to wake him up at the crack of dawn, no ringing in his ears as a grenade went off near him, no desperately patching up a wound and drenching his hands in blood, no screams and pleas of mercy reverberating around his head as he disposed of the enemy.

None of that. It was just you. With your body curled into his side and your soft skin beneath a killer's hands.

Which is why he wished he could stay there forever. Lock the door and have you in his arms for the rest of his life, without the paranoia and the horrors that followed him everywhere he went, only focus on you and how mushy you made him feel with only a few hours of knowing him.

Which is why he wished he could have just fallen asleep and ignored the vibrations that came from beneath his discarded clothes, that he didn't leave your side and pick up the phone, that he hadn't followed orders like he always did and hadn't left you alone.

He carefully tucked you in, making his side of the bed before hesitantly brushing his scarred knuckles against your flushed cheeks, an alternative to the kiss he oh-so wanted to press down onto you until you woke up, until you asked him to stay, until he caved in and left the 141 to fend for themselves.

But he didn't.

He closed the door to your bedroom, slipped his phone and keys back into his pockets and headed towards the front door, ready to leave you behind and go back to being Ghost.

But as his hand reached for the doorknob, his eyes caught onto a stack of fluorescent yellow sticky notes on the kitchen counter, and in a stroke of not so genius, he grabbed the nearest pen and scribbled down his number onto the piece of paper, signing it with a simple "S .", hoping that you'd deduce it was from him, and not from some random person whose name started with the letter S that had broken into your apartment just to give you their number.

He stuck it a bit too aggressively to the almost bare fridge, making sure it was in a visible spot that you wouldn't be able to miss before finally stepping out of your flat, adjusting his mask in the elevator's mirror and going back to the cold hearted killer his fellow soldiers knew as Ghost.

He'd expected it to be a short mission.

One that they'd be able to finish within two weeks at best so he could go back to his cramped flat in Manchester and hopefully get back to you.

He'd spent almost every day of the first week of his departure wondering if you'd found the note, if when he'd retrieve his phone back from his locker back at base, he'd find a few messages from an unknown number he hoped was yours, asking him how he was, asking him to meet up again, wondering if he was okay…

That's what mostly kept him going for the first few days.

Until it all went haywire.

The mission escalated quickly into a mess of soldiers and betrayals, flying from place to place and taking more lives with his bare hands than he had ever before.

Blood soaked his hands in a way it never had, the toll of deaths on his name increasing with every passing day, week, month, year.

When the mission that had started off as something simple, something Ghost couldn't even remember, ended after a year, the 141 couldn't be more relieved. And exhausted.

They'd fought for many months straight, barely finding places to get a wink of sleep, and sometimes even running out of food while they camped out in one of the dingy safe houses of whatever city they were currently stranded in.

But it was finally over. Their target had been disposed of and any enemy that remained had either been eliminated or had scurried off.

As the chopper brought them back to base, none of them said a word, even Johnny refrained from making any jokes, knowing that it would only piss off both of his superiors and maybe get a tired chuckle out of Gaz.

Price uttered a "Good job." to all of them before patting them on the shoulder and going to his office, no doubt ready to go back home and have the sleep of his life.

The two sergeants withheld from talking too much to their lieutenant, murmuring a goodbye to him before going their own way, Ghost not even bothering to answer, too mentally and physically exhausted to even open his mouth to speak.

The first thing he did once he reached his locker was throw the goddamn mask off, letting the plastic skull clatter against the tiles as he rummaged through his belongings, wanting nothing more than to get into some clean clothes and go back home, where he would drink away the horrors that would no doubt follow him and probably pass out watching reruns of football games he had missed.

The clothes he had worn the day before the mission were tighter, accentuating the change in his physique after putting his muscles to work for a whole year, the seams of his trousers digging uncomfortably into his legs, his pockets full of random junk he had left in there.

He fished for whatever was currently pressing against his backside, pulling out his small phone from the pocket, frowning down at the gadget, which was no doubt out of battery after being left for so long.

Simon was pleasantly surprised when the screen brightened, showing his black lock screen and the time, the battery hanging onto dear life with a 1%. He moved to grab his charger, his eyes still trained on the incoming notifications that would soon flood his home screen, not really expecting much aside from the emails entailing rubbish deals or the occasional spam from a porn site he'd signed up to as a teen and hadn't been able to delete.

Instead, he was bombarded with over a thousand notifications at once, all from the same unknown number, the messages going too quickly for his tired eyes, focusing on the random words he was able to take from the rapidly passing texts.

‍

Answer.

Ignoring.

Asshole.

Appointment.

Doctor.

Pub.

Baby.

Pregnancy.

‍‍

His mind blocked itself off as he processed the last word, trying to make sense of all the confusing messages that had been sent to his phone.

Had it been by accident? Was he the recipient of some prank? Had he unknowingly given out his number to someo-

You.

Simon's throat went dry as the realisation dawned on him. Without sparing another second, he unlocked his phone, clicking onto the notifications and scrolling down as fast he could while still intaking information, afraid that his phone would die out at any point in time and render him utterly confused and terrified.

His body went on autopilot the more he read, brain fuzzy as if he had just drank a whole bottle of hard-hitting liquor, his eyes fixed on the bright screen of his phone in terror.

He was in shock. His mind wasn't in the right state to process any of this, he wasn't able to properly begin to fathom the meaning behind your words, as simple as they were.

‍

— I'm pregnant.

— I'm fucking pregnant, Simon.

— I don't know how it happened, the chances of the pill failing are so fucking low, and of course it happened to us.

‍

— Please pick up.

— I know you're getting the messages.

‍

— The doctor told me it's too dangerous to perform the abortion.

— I have to keep it or risk my life.

‍

— I need you to answer, Simon. Please, I just need to know that you're there.

— I'm scared.

‍

— You're such an asshole, you know that, right?! Fucking gave me your number only to disappear? Left me pregnant with your bloody kid!? And you can't even bother to pick up the goddamn phone.

‍

— Fuck you.

‍

— …

— It's a boy. Thought you'd want to know.

‍

— My due date is in a month. Please… call me, if you're even reading these. I don't want to be alone.

‍

The phone flashed the low power message in hopes that Simon would take mercy on it and finally plug it in, but Simon paid it no mind, clear eyes staring down at the picture you'd attached during one of the first months of your pregnancy.

The blurry picture of an ecography staring back at him disproved any doubts that might have formed in his mind, your full name displayed at the bottom along with the date it was taken, solidifying the fact even more.

It was real. This was real. You'd been carrying his son for 9 months, sending him frantic and terrified messages all throughout the three trimesters in hopes that he'd answer, all the while he had forgotten all about you in the midst of his mission, while you probably didn't spend a single day of that year not thinking about him.

His phone went dark once it finally had enough, leaving him standing there with a dry throat and shaky hands.

It was rare for Ghost to feel fear, but not for Simon. His throat would contract with every breath, his nose would sting as tears threatened to form on his waterline, his hands would get shaky until he balled them up and threw a punch into whatever item was closest.

This time wasn't any different. He punched his locker door, denting the metal effortlessly as he tried to wash away the fear and guilt creeping up to him with the pain that bloomed at his knuckles, that ran up his arms like electric shocks until they went numb.

He was an asshole.

Simon knew that it wasn't his fault that the mission had been extended for way too long, but he kept thinking back to the moment he'd placed his number on your fridge, wondering what would have happened if he'd done the smart thing and added that he'd be unavailable for a while, but that he'd get back to you. Maybe you would have been less scared while going through the pregnancy, comforted by the thought that he hadn't been ignoring you, but he knew that even then, you would have gone through it alone and terrified.

"I'm an asshole."

He rested his head against the dented locker, the cool metal soothing the headache that had quickly formed after all the conflicting feelings that had rushed through him in the matter of a minute.

All he had wanted was to go back home and rest, but fuck him if he was going to be able to even close his eyes after learning he was a father.

He packed everything up as quickly as he could, not bothering to say goodbye or join the other three for a drink at a pub, heading to his car so he could get the fuck out of London and back to Manchester, where he prayed you still lived, in that tiny flat near that dingy pub where he had first laid eyes on you in.

As his gloved hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white, a terrifying thought struck him.

Who's to say you had even kept the baby?

Who's to say you couldn't bear to look at the baby, that you'd given him away to a way more functional family?

The thought inflicted fear in him, a type of fear he didn't know if he should be feeling or not, confused with all the unpleasant emotions swirling inside of him.

"God, fuck!" He slammed his hands onto the steering wheel, the roar he had let out no doubt scaring any civilian that had been walking near his car at the time, but he couldn't care less.

All that was important now was getting back to you, to what he hoped was still the mother of his son.

Happy giggles and gurgles filled the living room, your tiny baby outstretching his arms out as you cycled his legs slowly, making silly faces down at him to keep him distracted.

Your doctor had recommended small exercises like these, some that would help develop his future motor skills, but you'd found that Tommy was a curious baby, one that couldn't stay still for longer than five minutes before he was whining and huffing in a futile attempt to get your attention and hopefully release him from his tiny prison; and so, in order to keep him focused, you resorted to having leisured conversations with him, your small son hanging onto your every word with wide blue eyes and a gaping mouth, as if he could understand your frustrations with the man who had blocked your car off and the girl from the bakery that had gotten your order wrong, or making silly faces at him to hear him giggle with glee.

You placed his small feet down and went back to your resting face, his eyes instantly going from your face to the closest toy, small chubby arm reaching out to grab it, your fingers running over his tummy and getting out a few giggles out of him before he finally grasped the toy, pressing it into his side.

As he distracted himself, you let yourself sit down properly, back hitting the edge of the sofa as you watched your son roll around on the blanket you'd laid down, letting yourself look up at the TV for a moment to have a small break, the news reporter standing in front of Big Ben ranting about some resolved political dispute or something.

Your eyes trailed back down to your son, who was wriggling around with a new toy in his grasp, cooing and drooling as he stared up at the ceiling, blue eyes fixed on one of the many cracks in the ceiling.

You winced at the not so friendly reminder of the state your flat was in. Going through a pregnancy on your own without any help and barely any money to take care of yourself left your home in a condition you were not proud of. You'd tried your best to clean and make the nursery as cosy as possible, but at the end of your third trimester you could barely lean down to pick up the hoover. Once you had been allowed back home, you'd cleaned up, but you couldn't really do much to fix the poor way your building had been constructed.

A sigh left your lips, leaning down to rest your head against your knees with closed eyes, giving yourself a few moments of sacred rest, something you seldom got anymore those days.

Sometimes, you thought as you wrapped your arms around your legs, you wished you weren't alone. As much hate you had harboured for your son's father across the year, you couldn't help the longing that still filled you every time you thought about him, wondering if you'd ever see him again, if he'd ever hold his son in his arms.

Frustrated tears filled the corners of your eyes, wiping them away with your sleeves before turning your attention back to your son, who was now squirming in his spot making grabby hands at you.

"I've got you, duck, don't worry." You cooed, picking him up and pressing a few kisses to his chubby cheeks, cradling him to your chest as you got up from the floor, careful to not drop him or bump him into anything.

As you took him back to his room, routinely changing his diaper and clothes, you thought back to the small breakdown you almost had had a few minutes ago, letting out an exhausted sigh. There was no use in imagining a future where Simon fit in, you'd given him enough time to answer, to show any signs of life at all. You were alone.

You were on the verge of tears as you placed Tommy in his tiny crib, handing him the small duck plushie your grandma had knitted a few months back when she had come to visit, watching him cling onto it in his sleep for a few moments, his soft breaths and coos tranquillising the waves of anxiety threatening to drown you.

"Good night, Tom." You whispered, pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek before flicking on the night light, carefully closing the door and resting your body against it, a shaky sigh leaving your chapped lips.

God, you were pathetic. Hung up over a man who you'd only known for a few hours, who'd left you with a baby (unknowingly or not, didn't matter), who still haunted your dreams every time you tried to get some rest. Why couldn't he have just picked up the phone? Why had he just given you his fucking number if he wasn't bothering on answering? Why had he gotten into your head so easily, with his sweet nicknames and soft kisses? Why couldn't you just fucking mov-

Your whole body jumped as the shrill doorbell rang, the sound reverberating around the flat and no doubt reaching Tommy's sensitive ears.

"God, yeah, I hear it!" You cried out as the sound didn't stop, starting to get worried that it would wake your baby up and then you'd have to deal with putting him to sleep all over again. "Fuck! I know, I'm coming!"

You looked through the peephole, eyebrows furrowing as you gazed upon a man's tacky army jacket instead of the normal face, so either this guy was incredibly fucking tall or he was standing on a stool.

Knowing that the area you lived in wasn't the safest, you unlocked the door but kept the chain latch on, a gap big enough so you could see the guy outside but not big enough for him to attack you.

"What?" You snapped, a bit harsher than how you'd normally answer the door, but this guy didn't really deserve any respect after how he'd basically abused your doorbell to the point of the sound still ringing in your ears. "What do you-"

Your gaze had been fixed onto his chest, scanning the army jacket you had spied through the peephole, cringing internally at the Union Jack plastered on his left bicep, hoping to God that he wasn't some type of Tory propagandist going door to door. But as your eyes trailed up to meet his, your mouth went dry.

Crystal blue eyes framed by pretty blonde eyelashes (identical to the blue eyes your son had been staring up at you with for the past three months), contrasting with the black face paint that was smeared around his eyes, the rest of his face obscured by that damn skull balaclava that haunted you.

It was him. It was fucking him.

"Simon." You said his name breathlessly, not missing the way his body stiffened at your shaky tone.

"Yeah. It's me."

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #ghost x female reader #cod mwii #call of duty #ghost x you #ghost fanfiction #ghost x fem!reader #ghost fic #cod mwii x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #cw pregnancy #— ménage

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spamgyu · 27 days

Text

Biggest Regret // Mingyu Oneshot

DESCRIPTION: Mingyu had many regrets in life, he had made many mistakes... ruining the best thing to happen to him, since joining Seventeen, was his biggest one. PARING: Mingyu x Reader GENRE: Angst WARNING: Cheating

You knew there was someone else.

You could feel it.

He had pulled away – no longer swooping down to capture your lips in the middle of a sentence, he no longer texted you sweet words through out the day while he was overseas, his free time was no longer spent with you.

You could see it.

You watched as the eyes that once held the stars grow dim; he looked at you as if you were nothing but a stranger. He no longer looked at you with those soft eyes as you pretended to not feel his gaze; hell, he rarely looked over at you.

He was always far too preoccupied with his phone. Preoccupied with her.

You could smell it.

Her lingering scent of sweet vanilla hanging on to his clothes as he strolled into your apartment – it had completely masked your once favorite cologne of his. There hadn't been a day in the past four months that she didn't linger, and he didn't even bother hiding it.

As if you were too stupid to notice.

More importantly, you heard it.

The soft hum of his voice had gone; speaking to you as if you weren't the girl he had promised forever with. He no longer told you he loved you throughout the day unless you were the first one to utter those three words – and even then, he never did say all three of the words.

"You too."

He was stupid to think you didn't know but you were even stupider for sticking around this long.

You thought it was just a minor bump in the road, being blinded by the love you have for him. You chose to turn an eye on the infidelity you had caught on to immediately; wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt.

But as one month turned into four, your lack of reaction had given your boyfriend the confidence to keep the deceitful act going – almost as if he wanted to get caught.

Her presence was once something you only knew through his actions, but she had become quite bold just as him.

It was one of the quite rare occasions where he decided to spend his days off with you, inviting you over to his shared living space for dinner and a movie. You didn't know what it was, maybe it was the universe or your gut feeling, but something told you to go into his room while he was busy in the kitchen – using an excuse of wanting to borrow one of his hoodies.

That feeling was right.

You didn't need to go digging for any clues, it was right there in plain sight.

Sitting atop his desk was a stack of dainty gold bracelets.

You wore silver jewelry and haven't been at his place in nearly a month.

All sorts of scenarios played in your head as to how this had come to be, but one specific one fought its way to the top – the one where it required her to not only shed the jewelry she wore for the day, but her clothes as well.

You felt sick to your stomach at the thought of her taking space on the side of your bed; marking her territory.

You knew he was being unfaithful to you, but seeing the evidence of it was different – bringing a new sense of pain. This one was crippling, feeling your knees wanting to give out from under you as you tried to process the grief that you had been trying your best to push back over the past few months.

You had always told yourself that the second you physically saw evidence of her, you would walk away – the time had finally come. She had set up camp in the heart that you once resided in and by the looks of it, she wasn't planning on leaving.

Taking your bottom lip in-between your teeth to stop it from quivering, you reached for the clasp of the beaded Tiffany bracelet around your wrist – the one he had purchased for you when he had asked you to be officially his.

"The day these beads fall off, is the day I stop loving you." Mingyu laughed softly as he helped you put the silver jewelry on.

Both the beads and double linked chain it had been threaded through were sterling silver, there was no way they were coming off.

There hadn't been a day since receiving it that you did not wear it, and it still stayed intact; a stark contrast to the love he said he would have for you.

You walked over to the desk and placed the item he had used to profess his loyalty to you right next to hers; taking in a deep breathe to regain your composure before walking right back out to finally meet your inevitable fate.

You watched him silently one last time, taking in how beautifully he had grown in the four years you two had been together – right before you pulled the plug he had been too much of a coward to do himself.

"I'm tired." Your cold voice took not only him by surprise, but you as well.

Maybe you were an even better actor than you thought yourself to be.

Looking up from the meal he had just finished plating, Mingyu sent over a pout. "Dinner is ready, though."

You shook your head.

He thought you meant physically.

"No, Mingyu– I'm tired." You repeated. "I– let's end this. I thought I can handle dating you but– I can't take the busy schedule anymore. I need someone who I can see more than once every two weeks."

It was a shitty excuse, you both knew you could handle it perfectly well – you two have been separated for far longer when he would do his overseas tour.

But you couldn't bring yourself to confront him of the sin he had committed; not when you can't even bring yourself to accept it in the first place.

"He- hey." He rushed over to you, brows furrowed in confusion. "What– where is this coming from?"

In his defense, this did seem as if it was being sprung out of nowhere – there had been no signs of your uncertainty.

Not a single one.

Just before you had walked into his room, you two had been discussing the upcoming weekend trip you would be joining with his family. Going as far as discussing the plans you had made with his sister and mother while he and his father were golfing.

"I was going to do it after the trip." Another lie. "But– I can't do that to your family."

"Y/n." He scanned your face, trying to show any hints of a possible prank. "Come on."

But your eyes remained staring off behind him; focusing on the silver knob of the white cabinets. You couldn't look him in the eye as you began to tear down the only world you have known in the past four years.

Not when he should have been the one to end it months ago.

"I loved you." You continued.

"Loved?"

"Thank you for everything, Mingyu– I really did cherish my time with you."

"Baby," He tried to reach for your wrist but something else had caught his eye – or at least, the lack of it. "Where's–"

Bringing your arm back, behind yourself, you took a step back from him. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

"How can I when– when I don't even know where this is coming from?" Mingyu exasperated, hesitantly taking a step towards you.

"Goodbye, Mingyu."

"Stop calling me that!" He cried, closing his eyes – as if things would be any better if he did.

Swallowing the pain that had grown to the size of a golfball in your throat, you turned your back from him – heading to the couch where you had placed your purse.

"So that's just it?" He called out as you continued to prepare yourself from walking out of the love you could have sworn that would have lasted forever.

You remained silent until you reached the front door; ignoring his eyes that were practically burning a hole into your skin.

"Don't do this." You could hear the tears in his voice as you twisted the handle.

"I'm sorry." You whispered before quickly exiting the apartment – the tears you had done so well keeping in had now came rushing down.

By the time you had stepped foot in the elevator, your knees had giving out on you – using the railing to stop you from collapsing on to the floor as the sobs echoed throughout the walls of the confined space.

The end had come and it was far more painful than you had thought it would be.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

When you had walked out on him that spring night a year and a half ago, Mingyu felt nothing but lost – unable to fully comprehend as to why the relationship he had been in for the past four years had suddenly come to an end.

You had not once complained about his schedule since being together, it didn't make sense as to why it had been the reason you had used to walk away from him.

It wasn't until he had walked into his bedroom when it clicked – the silver bracelet he had asked about sitting right next to the the evidence of his crimes.

The crimes he had finally put an end to after being caught by his best friend just days ago – talking, yelling, some senses into him.

But it was far too late, and he knew what he had done was unforgivable; there was no use in running after you. Not when you knew about all that he had done.

He knew there were no words, no actions, no grand gesture he would have done that could win you back. And you deserved to walk away from the pain he had brought you, you deserved better.

You deserved someone who respected you.

There wasn't a single day he didn't beat himself up for what he had done to you, allowing for the constant nightmare to haunt his every actions.

Mingyu didn't care how much he was breaking as each day passed, he knew he deserved it – long as he knew you were okay. You deserved the happiness you were experiencing now; at least, the happiness he had seen through your social media posts.

He didn't dare to move on from you, subjecting himself to the sentencing that could have been avoided if he hadn't given in to his selfish needs. It was all his fault and he had no issues owning up to it; his contributions to all their new songs seemingly relating back to you.

His words that were once empty, relating to not a single pain his friend's experience, now carried the weight of his past. Mingyu didn't try to hide it either, being quite vocal of, his mistakes when asked about their songs – which he seemed to have been credited quite often than before.

Fiddling with the silver beads around his wrist as he focused on the journalist in front of him. Mingyu tried his best to gather the words in his head to answer the question asked.

"What's your biggest regret?"

Unlike other magazine spreads he had been featured in before, this one didn't purely focus on looks or a brand deal – no, this was was feature was in the intention of stripping away mask artists put on. It was the magazine's way of showing the people idolized by the public were human as well.

"We can skip the question." The young man chuckled nervously.

"No- no it's okay." Mingyu shook his head, shaking away the image of you in his head. "I– Hm... I think I've been in the industry long enough to talk about relationships, right? I– I was with this person for some quite some time, and I– I let my weaknesses get to me. I let it ruin the one thing, no– I let it ruin the person that loved me like I was their whole world. I took their trust and their love for me for granted. I think–"

He let out a pitiful laugh as he felt the tears well up – he shouldn't be the one crying. Not when he was the one that put himself in the situation he was in.

"I think," Mingyu's fingers reaching for the jewelry he had not taken off since that night he had discovered it sitting on his wooden desk – a habit he seemed to have developed when he felt that he needed to ground himself back on to earth. "I think I will forever have my regrets about this one mistake."

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@thegirlwhoimagined @forcheol @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @f4iryjjosh @akeminy @yonabutnotyuna @tacosandbitch @aaniag @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter @xbaekcult @alwaysalmostthere @ashkuuuu @morkswatermelonnnn @isabellah29 @lottogyu @bubbly-moon @lllucere @bo-fairykim @pluviophile-xxx @daegutowns @niktwazny303 @fragmentof-indifference @leah-rose03 @haolistic @eclliipsed @joshuahongnumbers @gyuguys @yaaaridk @christinewithluv @yoonzinoooo @livelikejinki @watercolureyes @whoa-jo @primoisellerose @wonwoobestboyy @rakshithanotrao @mingcouper @aksweet7 @nikkell @raginghellfire @kriizztin @doubleshoticedshakenespresso

(for some reason it's not allowing me to tag some who wanted to be added to the perm tag list ... cries... pls check ur settings so i can for future posts)

#......... heyyy..... how yall doing.... haha #dont hate me #tbh this is mid compared to the cheol fic #so YALL BETTER NOT ATTACK ME #anyways #mingyu angst #mingyu x you #mingyu fic #mingyu x reader #mingyu scenarios #seventeen fic #mingyu x oc

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doll3tt33 · 1 month

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Everybody knows I’m a good girl, officer ♡

(colin zabel x under arrest!reader)

Summary: once again, you find yourself being arrested by Colin, adding to his piling stress from an unsolved case. However, you discover that a tiny favor for the detective might bring him some much needed cheer…

Wordcount: 5.7k

Warnings: oral sex (m receiving), car sex, coaxing, reader is under the influence of alcohol, brief mention of a bar fight, aggressive and rude reader, rly vague implied age gap, technically abuse of authority (it’s obvious, but I’m still putting it out there. I advise not to read if any of this makes you uncomfortable)

A/N: sorry for the major inactivity guys, I’ve been busy! And this fic ended up being longer than I expected, but I hope it’s good enough quality. My first ever smut, so hope u guys enjoy <3 (also sorry if any typos btw T^T)

You stood motionless, reeling from the adrenaline coursing through your veins as the alcohol's effects faded. The rush of emotion receded to an eerie calm. As your vision adjusted in the dim light, the scene came into focus - onlookers surrounded you and a woman now being helped from the floor. Through the buzz still clouding your mind, one detail emerged with painful clarity: her bruised and bloodied face, a stark reminder of the harm just caused in a moment of impaired impulse and from your god awful temper.

Now the woman who you beaten black and blue, almost to the point of passing out, wasn't the focal point for dispelling the haze of your impulsive rage. Nah, this lady had it coming when she slut shamed you for being oh-so-bold enough to wear a tank top tonight. No, it was the bright flashing hues of blue and red seeping through the windows that acted as your wakeup call.

Just like that, a realization hit with sobering clarity - “Shit. Cops.” Without pause, you shoved through the crowd, desperation driving every move. Bursting through the door, the frigid night air raised goosebumps across your skin. Damnit, maybe the tank top wasn’t the best choice after all. Intoxicated or not, you were in no shape for an arrest. Stumbling at first, you found your footing and picked up speed, putting distance between yourself and the scene of the incident you started. You were gonna make it through! You were gonna outrun those pigs and they would never get their grubby hands onto you!

…That was until, a loathsome voice sounded from behind.

“Hey- hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

Before you knew it, you felt hands locked around your arms, yanking you to a halt. The telltale jingle of metal broke through your panic and with a sharp click, cold steel encircled your wrists. A glance back confirmed your dread. You weren’t being handcuffed by just any stinking cop - it was that good for nothing detective Colin Zabel arresting you once more, and for what, the third time this week? That’s one hell of a streak.

You sighed inwardly, the fight draining from your limbs, knowing any attempt in resisting would be in vain. “Goddammit Zabel, can’t you give it a rest?…” you muttered under your breath, as he hauled you back to the police car.

"I know, I know - save your excuses," Colin cut you off wearily, the smile not reaching his eyes. “Jus’… don’t start, ‘Kay? Do me a solid and quietly get in the car.” He opened the car door to the backseat, gesturing for you to step inside. Despite his perpetual mask of affability, you detected an edge of irritation - his good humor and patience clearly worn down by your repeated encounters.

“Whatever man…” you sighed as the door clamped shut with finality. Through the window you watched Colin slip into the driver's seat, releasing a long exhale as if to shed the stress of your latest encounter. At least you provided some diversion from his endless paperwork, though you doubted he'd admit as much.

True to his by-the-book nature, he slinked the seatbelt over himself, securing it with an assured click. Out of habit, he craned his neck over his shoulder, asking out of the goodwill of his heart. “Oh! Almost forgot. Do ya need a lil’ hand with fastening your seatbelt too?“ he offered warmly, “Don’t want any extra accidents happening tonight, am I right or am I right?” A hearty chuckle followed, dying abruptly once he took in your expression - eyes hooded and mouth set in a grim line.

“Fuck off Zabel.” you growled in response, fixing your stare out the window. He felt tension coil in his gut but forced it down with a hard gulp. As a veteran officer, he had faced far worse than you, yet something about your unpredictable defiance unsettled him. For a moment, under your glare, an angry retort rose to his lips but he bit it back, sensing it would only stoke the flames. Best to let the dust settle, he decided. Starting the car, he pointedly kept his eyes forward and drove in loaded silence.

“Alriiiighty then, no seatbelt it is. I’m just gonna… ah- y’know….” He cleared his throat, voice petering off into a nonsensical mumble as he shifted gears.

An uncomfortable hush fell over the car, only the revving of the engine permeating the stillness. Colin tapped the wheel, wishing for a distraction from the tension. His mind raced through possible conversation starters but came up blank. A stolen glance in the mirror found your stony profile unchanged. With a sigh, he focused back to the road, flicking on the radio more for the static noise than any musical preference.

Colin hummed softly to fill the silence, earning another kick from the backseat - your fourth such outburst. He was the pinnacle of what it meant to be a pushover, but he still stood his ground when needed to… in his own unique way. “H-Hey, Cut it out kid! And be nice,” he let out a weary sigh, peeking up at your vexed form through the rearview mirror “You know, I’m not a fan of this attitude you’ve got going on. Haven’t been for the past week.”

You sank lower into the seat, glowering. “First of all, old man, lay off the ‘kid’ crap. I’m not a child.” You rolled your eyes at his feeble attempt at reprimand.

Colin bit back another retort, clenching his jaw. Pride demanded he have the last word, if only to reclaim a shred of dignity in his own vehicle. “Hm no, I think I’ll call you a kid. ‘Cause you know why? You’re acting like one, like right now.” he replied evenly, bubbling frustration leaking through his amicable veneer, yet he still maintained some semblance of civility between him and your not-so-good of a temper.

As you drew your breath to speak, Colin beat you to it. “Look- all I’m sayin’ is, this isn’t good for you. This is the third time this week I’m haulin’ you in here. The third time!” Weariness tinged his laughter as he splayed his fingers out in front of him, only to reclaim the steering wheel in a swift motion. “Not only is this not doing you any favors kid—-“

“I said don’t call me kid.” You interjected sharply, cutting him off this time.

Colin continued on autopilot, fatigue chipping away at his usual cheer. “It's also not doing me any favors either. I've got a case to crack, but Mare - my partner - thought it’d be best if I dealt with you while she took charge of the investigation for the night…”

His shoulders slumped, eyes downcast as a cloud of disappointment settled in. As a county detective, he longed to prove himself with this investigation, not play referee to petty disputes. But saying no had never come easy, especially when others mistook his calm demeanor as weakness.

Silently, your eyes veered away from the passing scenery outside the car window, finally taking notice of his careworn features in the mirror. Attuned to the new lines of fatigue etched upon his face, you perhaps began to understand that this was wearing him too.

“Must suck being everyone’s errand boy.” You observed, tone lacking its usual bite.

Colin offered a tired nod. “Comes with the job, I guess…” his words trailed off, accompanied by a somber tone as his gaze returned to the road. “But y’know what they say- it is what it is.” he added softly, punctuating the statement with a self deprecating laugh.

Surprisingly, a twinge of sympathy tugged at your heart - a rare reaction to the shithead county detective. For all his attempts at camaraderie, which admittedly grated, you had to respect his resilience in the face of your unrelenting hostility. Hell, that time you clocked him during arrest, most would've thrown the book - but not Colin. His patience and optimism seemed a superpower, weathering your worst without breaking stride.

A strange blend of sympathy and guilt surged through you, as the realization struck you hard like a freight train - you had subjected the poor detective to a relentless barrage of undeserved hardship, oblivious to the weight of his personal burdens. Your chest tightened, and a foreign sensation stirred deep within as the reflection in the rearview mirror held your gaze captive.

The need for redemption gnawed at your conscience, but how could you possibly make things right? You've been a real pain in the ass to him for a good while now. Within the depths of your alcohol-induced haze, a daring idea began to take shape - could you perhaps make amends through a little bit of... shared pleasure?

It was pure insanity. Drunken impulses (and drunken you) are the epitome of idiocy. Vivid images flooded your thoughts, projecting the sheer horror that would contort his face if you dared to make a move now. It was likely that he hadn't experienced the touch of a woman in quite some time. And yet, that was precisely the point. The poor guy may have been deprived of any intimate encounters since his fiancée abruptly left him, and the growing urge within compelled you to do something about it.

Undeterred, an unwavering determination fueled your decision to make a bold move and test the waters. Shattering the silence, you adopted an uncharacteristically sweet tone to conceal your true intentions. "Hey Colin, think I could sit up front? It's kinda cramped back here."

Colin glanced over, clearly skeptical of your politeness given past rides. "Not sure that's protocol..." he began, ever the rule-follower.

Your lips formed a slight pout, an innocent plea. "Aw c’mon, I'm starting to feel queasy. Just to the station, what's the harm?"

“Uhh….”

Colin's head snapped in your direction, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized your expression. Despite his suspicion, a flicker of genuine concern crossed his face. The thought of you unleashing your 'gastric distress' all over his car seemed to be a genuine fear he really wanted to avoid. He did not need an extra pukefest tonight.

Reluctantly, he caved in to your request, his voice colored with a mix of resignation and caution. "Ah, jeez... Look, you're not supposed to sit in the front, but fine, I'll make an exception this time." He maneuvered the car to the side of the road, stepping out to open the door for you. As you settled into the passenger seat, he retook his place beside you.

"Jus' promise me you won't end up throwing up in the car, 'cause I'm not looking forward to cleaning up that mess." With a playful smirk, he wagged his finger at you, but there was an underlying seriousness to his words.

"Chillaaaax, Colin. Don’t even worry, you won't see me hurling tonight. I've got it all under control," you declared, gracing him with a reassuring smile. The unexpected warmth of your expression caught him off guard, contrasting sharply with your usual snarky demeanor and the piercing death stares he had grown accustomed to.

However, Colin’s initial reservations melted away, reciprocating the gesture as a warm smile played across his face. He resumed his position behind the wheel, ready to continue the drive. But just as he was about to press the gas pedal, you captured the moment and took action. It was officially reckless business o’ clock. You sank down from the car seat, your knees grazing along the surface as you shifted toward the detective.

Colin's eyes widened comically, his mouth agape, utterly taken aback by this unexpected turn of events. "K-Kid, what on earth are you—"

Cutting him off, your slurred words emerged with a hushed urgency. "Shush. And I told you not to call me kid. Just wait, let me..."

Your words trailed off as you grappled with the cramped space of the car. Hindered by the handcuffs that still restricted your movement, you struggled to find a way to support yourself without the use of your arms. Nonetheless, you persevered, inching your way beneath the steering wheel and between Colin's legs.

You released a sigh of relief as you settled comfortably onto your knees. “Phew! Crawling around is no walk in the park without some arms. Anyways...”

“Hi.” An impish grin spread across your face, your eyes flickering upwards, locking with his apprehensive gaze.

“Wow hi, haha!“ his smile, already awkward, stiffened further as he involuntarily sunk deeper into the car seat, attempting to create as much distance as possible between the two of you. “So um… is everything okay? I mean, what’s happening right now? What are you… doin’ down there, specifically?” His words tumbled out, laden with confusion and a touch of concern.

“What do you think I’m doing?” you giggled, thoroughly amused by the sight of the detective squirming uneasily in his seat. A delicate flush of pink tinted his cheeks, a detail that didn't escape your notice. Your voice dropped into a low purr as you continued, relishing in the tension that swirled between you. “Weeeell... I had this little thought, you see. I wanted to make amends. You know, for being such a pain to you over the past few weeks."

A coy little shrug followed your words, as if you were merely toying with the idea. “And I figured, what better way than to help my favorite detective relieve summa his stress off his shoulders.”

You awaited his response with a wide grin, but all that greeted you was a dumbfounded Colin, his face now aflame with a deep shade of crimson blush, eyes wide and unblinking. The sound of his breathing, short and heavy, filled the tense silence, leaving you to wonder if perhaps you had made him uncomfortable. Although a certain part of his body seemed to betray a different sentiment, stiffened and undeniable.

As both of your gazes inadvertently dropped, your eyes locked onto a conspicuous tent forming beneath Colin's slacks. A mix of surprise and amusement flickered across your face, mirrored by the silent murmuring of the word 'crap' that escaped his lips. “Hah… that’s uh- real strange. Don’t know why that’s happening,” He gulped. “Good ol’ keys in the pocket, huh? They’re a pain, especially when they decide to stick out in weird angles. It's like, whoa, things can get a little… funny, you know? Awkward, even.” He added, his voice revealing a hint of panic as he desperately attempted to maintain his composure, all while his raging boner was in plain sight.

“Oh for god’s sake,” you groaned, impatience tracing a light furrow on your brow as the restraint of the handcuffs exacerbated your frustration. "You're not seriously trying to play dumb with me, are you?" You said, annoyance and amusement bleeding through your words. The power dynamics had shifted, leaving you unable to take the lead, and instead relying on the nervous wreck of a detective before you.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, taking in a deep breath to steady fraying nerves. Determined to take a gentler approach, you decided to navigate this delicate situation with care.

"Come on, Col..." you cooed, leaning forward as far as you could, resting your head gently on his thigh. Your voice took on a soft, persuasive tone. "Let me do this for you." With a subtle flutter of your lashes, you batted your eyes, mimicking the innocent charm of a puppy seeking its owner's attention. Colin flinched, his knees threatening to buckle under the weight of your sudden touch. Yet, he remained motionless, his eyes fixed upon you in mounting suspense.

A smile curled upon your lips as you sensed his lack of immediate resistance, emboldening you to press forward with your gentle coercion. "Just once," you whispered, your voice filled with earnestness. "Let me do this once, and I promise you'll feel so much better afterward."

“..Jesus, I don’t know ‘bout this… I….” Colin mumbled, trailing off with a heavy uncertainty.

He sat frozen in place, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. His bottom lip bore the marks of his nervous chewing, while his brows knitted together in a hesitant frown as he weighed his options.

He knew he shouldn't, he reaaaally should not. It was morally wrong, a breach of professionalism, and could jeopardize his career if discovered. His eyes darted frantically outside the car's windows, scanning the desolate darkness that enveloped the streets in secrecy. But technically, no one would find out, would they?

And god, it had been a long while since he had been with a woman, especially since the bitter end of his engagement. And there you were right now, on your knees, your eagerness to please him palpable. Just the sight of you pouting sent his stomach into a frenzy of uncontrollable flutters, a reaction unexpected even from someone with a volatile temper like yours.

Bewitched by your feminine wiles, he barely registered how his hand had crept onto the top of your head, his thumb caressing your scalp with a tender touch. The throbbing heat in his pants intensified, overpowering any remaining restraint. With cautious swiftness, he glanced around, scanning the surroundings for any prying eyes, before his gaze settled back on your face - your smile, a comforting anchor in the sea of his conflicting emotions.

He sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth, his voice barely rising above a whisper. "F-Fine... Jus’ promise me you won't breathe a word of this to anyone, alright?" His hands returned to himself, fingers trembling as he loosened the clasp of his belt. The once ironclad resolve that had held him together began to crumble like fragile dust, succumbing to the pull of the moment.

“You have my word Col.” you reassured, your voice a soft murmur teeming with exhilaration.

Colin proceeded to undo his pants, the sound of the zipper echoing through the confined space. As he shoved them down, the dim glow of a distant streetlight seeped through the car window, casting a faint illumination on the scene. You couldn’t see all that clearly in the dark, but you did catch a glimpse of the outline of his cock protruding beneath his boxers, the fabric adorned with a telltale wet spot. Needless to say, he was far more excited than he was letting on.

Your mouth watered in anticipation, your core aching with need. Your senses heightened, thighs instinctively clenching as you awaited his next move. But just as Colin's thumb looped under his waistband, he hesitated, uncertainty settling over him like an icy veil. Restraints confined your hands, the itch of frustration crawling beneath your skin. In this moment, the immobility of your arms felt like a punishment far worse than being thrown into a holding cell later that night.

Unable to physically intervene, you relied on the power of your voice to guide the hesitant detective. "It's alright," you coaxed, tone laced with soothing encouragement. "Shake those nerves off, just this once. No one will ever find out..."

Colin's response came in the form of a hesitant nod - quick, uncertain, but nevertheless a nod. With painstaking slowness, he mustered the courage to give his boxers a small tug, gradually lowering them at an agonizingly slow pace. The measured movements seemed almost teasing, as if he were intentionally prolonging the moment. However, the truth was he basically personified a bundle of nerves, as though he was a schoolboy experiencing the thrill of his first make out session, unsure and skittish in his actions.

"How about we ditch these stupid handcuffs and let me take charge?" you suggested, your tone cutting through the air with an assertiveness that bordered on demand. Colin's head snapped up, surprise briefly shadowing his features as he registered the sudden shift in your demeanor and the scowl that tugged your lips. He couldn't entirely fault you for your impatience - he had been taking his sweet time with dropping his boxers. However, a part of him harbored a lack of trust, as dubious as it may sound. The restraints provided a sense of comfort and security, keeping you in check.

Colin's throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Ehh... sorry, but that's a no-can-do," he deflected your proposal with his trademark easy smile. "You understand, right? It's nothing personal. Jus’ think it's... better this way."

“Ugh…” you grunted, eyes rolling in annoyance. You relinquished your desires, holding back any further comments or demands.

After what felt like an eternity, Colin steeled his nerves enough to continue, no longer willing to delay the inevitable. In a swift motion, he grasped the waistband, sliding it down until his cock sprang free, bobbing slightly in the air. Your gaze, once fixated on the crop of brown pubic hair adorning the base, now traced the veiny pathways that ran along his thick length, leading to the swollen tip—flushed red and leaking. For a seemingly meek police detective, he sure had a nice looking dick.

You smiled as you leaned in, tilting your head closer. Your eyes, brimming with excitement, darted back and forth between his face and his erection, gauging his reaction as you tested the boundaries. Despite his initial apprehension, there was a glimmer of delight in his gaze. Encouraged by his response, you inched closer, your lips ghosting the underside of his shaft, your warm breath teasing his sensitive skin, coaxing it to twitch in response.

Colin squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the moment. “Crap, look- in case it wasn’t obvious enough, it’s been a while for me,” he blurted out shakily, already roused by the sight of your pretty lips caressing the heat emanating from his dick, sending a wave of warmth sweeping over him. His legs parted further, an unspoken invitation for you to draw nearer. “So sorry if I…. Y’know.. too early.” He stammered with urgency.

“I mean, you already look like you’re ready to burst before I even touched you,” you shrugged with a light chuckle. “But I kinda like that.” You flashed him a playful smirk.

He remained speechless, his face flustered and turned away, a deep red painting his features in the stillness of the moment.

Regardless, you took the plunge, gently pressing your lips against the sensitive underside of his cock. A soft, almost inaudible moan escaped his lips, a clear sign for you to continue. From top to bottom, you peppered his length with tender, soothing kisses. His hand immediately reached for your hair, his fingers finding solace in the roots to distract himself from cumming too fast, careful not to exert too much force and risk hurting you.

"And sorry about the whole hair-holding thing. I, uh... need something to hold onto when I'm really focused," he confessed, his bashful laughter intertwining with his words. His face still burning a deep scarlet hue, the admission both vulnerable and endearing. "Habit," he added, his lips twitching with shy sincerity.

“You can grip my hair as hard as you want. I don’t mind a little rough treatment.” you shot a wink, a giggle escaping your lips. Lowering your head, you tilted it to the side, your tongue tracing a stripe against his sensitive balls. Eagerly, you pressed your face forward, your lips latching onto one of them, suckling on it with a gentle yet insistent rhythm, each release elicited a small pop.

“Mmff!— fuck..” Colin‘s jaw went slack, a deep groan rolling off his tongue the moment your mouth made contact, his resistance melting away under the spell of your touch. His dark brown eyes dilated, glazing over your form below him. “Yeah, jus’ like that… jus’ like that…” he managed to utter out, his heaving breaths punctuated by muttered words of approval. His fingers entwined with your hair, massaging the crown of your head in a visceral gesture of pleasure.

“Ooh, you like that don’t you?” you remarked, a playful lilt in your voice as you pulled back slightly, savoring the sight of the detective's face contorting with undeniable bliss. “I wanna hear it baby, tell me how much you needed this.” You crooned, face colored with a teasing grin.

“Okay-okay fine, I won’t lie…” Colin huffed, admittance causing eyes to flutter away. Amused, you chuckled, flattening your tongue against his length, gliding it along a long and deliberate path, coaxing the rest of his words to spill out. A delicious shiver of electricity ran down his spine, sending a cascade of goosebumps rippling down his skin from his erection being teased. “Agh!- y-yes I needed this, I really… really needed this.” he babbled out, his breath hitching with the weight of his confession.

Satisfied, you continued. Your kisses swept from the base and drifted all the way up to the tip of his cock, tongue salty with precum as it expertly caressed the ridges. Colin's body quivered, responding with an urgent jerk of his hips, a wordless plea for you to take his cock into the warm and wet comfort of your mouth. You could feel the urgency in his veins buzz with an electric fervor, beckoning you to go further. For the sake of soothing him, you pressed your lips right onto the swollen head, treating him to small kitten licks on his sensitive slit.

“You’re so goddamn gorgeous...” Colin moaned, teetering on the edge of a whimper. His hips bucked forward once more, ramming his tip deeper into your mouth. Each squirm of his body against the supple leather of the car seat produced a small squeak, almost serving as a subtle backdrop to the moment. “God, you scare the living crap outta me... but f-fuck, you’re sososo p-pretty!” He choked, another whimper caught in his throat.

“Mhm… that’s what I do best detective…” you mumbled with a full mouth, the warmth of his fluids clinging to your breath.

The evidence of your arousal was just as indisputable as his, your panties most definitely soaked from the act of using your mouth on the detective alone, cunt weeping from the lewd noises leaving him with each stroke. Your lips glided further down along him, accommodating his warm slickness as you relaxed your jaw. “Ohmygod- holy shit you feel so good...” he groaned. He slumped back against the backrest, head lolling over his shoulder as he fought to stifle a moan. “Ngh- so good f-for me…”

Despite the discomfort that knotted your knees and the soreness that gnawed at your back from kneeling on the unforgiving car floor longer than you should’ve (all while handcuffed too!), that fiery bundle of elation simmering in your belly powered you through it. After all, Colin was all you could focus on, eclipsing everything else. His raw groans, the incoherent praises that spilled from his mouth, and the way your name danced off his tongue like silk - it was all you needed in the moment, utterly invading every fiber of your being.

However, it wasn't just you who was losing yourself in the moment. Colin's mind short-circuited completely, overwhelmed by the mounting pleasure that had him seeing dazzling stars. Your heavenly skills had transformed his body into a molten state of arousal, practically dissolving into a puddle of liquid. In this state, his thoughts scrambled like a glitching, outdated computer, and your lack-of-hands situation compelled him to take the reins in a mindless frenzy.

"Hope ya’ don't mind if I jus’..." he mumbled hoarsely, his words stumbling out spontaneously. His hands cradled the sides of your head, anchoring you in place, hovering inches above his seat to steady his rhythm. His cock delved deeper into the confines of your throat as his hips undulated to the flow of his ragged panting. His heart galloped like a wild stallion, synchronizing with the rhythm you created, while he sunk himself further into the depths of your wet heat.

“Mmh!- ‘m almost there! Need a lil’ l-longer.” Colin sputtered out, throat straining to keep as quiet as possible. He could see the glistening of tears stinging your eyes, whimpers muffled out around him. He truly never intended to subject your poor mouth to such rough treatment, his tip bullying the back of your throat with each jerky thrust until it was sore, pushing so deep that your nose buried itself in the tufts of hair on his pelvis. Despite the guilt welling up in him, he couldn’t help himself at this point. His body was now like a machine, moving on its own accord to milk every ounce of pleasure he could get.

Even then, you didn’t even break eye contact, not even once. Not when this police detective who nursed a hidden disdain for your tempestuous presence behind faux smiles, was now coming undone right before you - His once neatly styled chestnut brown hair now clung to his sweat-drenched forehead, strands falling over his flushed, pale features. His lips, now parted and glistening, revealed a glimpse of vulnerability, while his doe eyes sparkled with a feverish glimmer. Everything about him in this moment was enthralling, leaving you no choice but to be mesmerized.

The rippling tremors jolting through Colin's frame reminded him that he was nearing his climax, fire pooling low in his abdomen ready to erupt. Between heavy panting, he plucked up the courage to voice his request, his fretful eyes scanning the confined space of the car. “Hey sooo uh- you um… y-you don’t mind if I don’t pull out… right?” he asked, vulnerability threaded through his tone. He definitely wasn’t eager to see his load spray onto anything inside his police car.

Your nose scrunched up in clear disapproval, a glare shooting daggers at him, clearly not a fan of swallowing. He clicked his tongue in disheartenment, head tilted to the side “C’mon, do me a favor will ya?… Not really lookin’ forward to making a mess in the car.” He pleaded breathlessly. To his relief, no signs of protest emerged, though a sullen mask adorned your face.

As he noticed your lack of resistance, he seized the opportunity to follow through with his words. “‘m sorry!- So sorry. I-I’ll make it up to you later. Really!” Colin bleated, tone brewing with guilt and that familiar undercurrent of pleasure.

Squeezing his eyes back shut, he rubbed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to quell the tightly coiled spring in his belly, yearning for release. His balls tightened, cock pulsing as his thrusts into your mouth turned sloppy. Consumed by a blinding, searing white that engulfed his senses, his mind completely blanked. With one final forceful pump, he held your head close, ropes of cum painting your mouth white. Trapped in his surprisingly strong grip, you gulped down the bitter torrent, suppressing the almighty urge to gag as your tongue battled with the assault.

Once you swallowed every last drop of his cum, Colin released his firm grip, withdrawing his now softened cock from your mouth. His hands fell limply to his sides, the air in the cramped car heavy with sweltering breaths, as though the two of you had just completed a grueling marathon on a hot summer’s day.

Gradually regaining his composure, Colin peeled his eyes open, his gaze fixed upon your chest rising and falling, your lips swollen and glistening with wetness. “Jeez uhh, are you okay?- I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Post orgasm clarity rushed over him like a gust of fresh air, his lips downturned with genuine concern. He hastily reached into his coat pocket, digging out and opening a tissue packet, gingerly dabbing away the saliva and residue from your chin and mouth.

You blinked in confusion, caught off guard by the unexpected act of care from the detective. Well, that was a first - no one had ever wiped your mouth for you after a blowjob, but then again, your hands were bound, rendering you immobile. “Yeah I’m fine, you didn’t really have to do that, but I appreciate the gesture.” you replied in a hoarse voice, head shying away from him.

Colin's face brightened with a smile, a wave of relief washing over him. You were right - the weight of his once overwhelming stress seemed to dissipate. In fact, he felt like a brand new man! It had been a long time since he had been intimate with a woman, so this encounter meant more to him than you could ever know.

In an unexpected twist, he scooped you up from the car floor, strong arms cradling your waist as he pulled you into a tight embrace, cocooning you on his lap. In that moment, the softie within him had taken over, aching to shower you with affection and gratitude for the pleasure you had shared.

Your shoulders tensed in his firm grasp, your wide eyes betraying a mix of surprise and alarm. You couldn't help but wonder if he always got this sentimental after engaging in intimacy, and you couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Woooow okay, so we're hugging now huh? Someone's feeling affectionate tonight," you noted with a touch of sarcasm. Yet, despite your initial resistance, you allowed him to hold you, gradually surrendering to the warmth of his arms. Deep down, buried beneath layers and layers of pride, a part of you secretly enjoyed this, even if you'd rather be drawn and quartered than admit it.

“Yeah, hope you don’t mind. It’s jus’ that… you did such a good job.” Colin chuckled, his hand gently caressing the small of your back. “And hey, would ya’ look at that! I really do feel so much better now. So, genuinely, thank you.” His words resonated softly against the crook of your neck as he rested his chin there, his arms remaining securely wrapped around you.

You allowed the weight of the moment to sink in, basking in the warmth and tenderness enfolding you. Then, an idea suddenly sprang to mind, and you couldn't resist voicing it. “Say… since I did one hell of a job, does that maybe mean I’m off the hook now?” You pulled back, a sly brow raised as you awaited his response.

Colin let out an exaggerated huff, his smile filled with amusement as he ruffled your hair into a delightful mess. “Nope,” he replied teasingly. “You’re still getting your butt thrown into the station for the night.“

Your expectant smile swiftly dropped into a deep frown, prompting a hearty pat on the back from the detective as he erupted into a fit of laughter. “Sorry kid,” He said between chuckles. “Now chop-chop, time for you to get in the back!”

-------☆-------

I’m aware I made Colin more pathetic than he actually is and I apologize- Idk I just could resist 😭😭 Hope the aftercare made up for it tho??

🤍 only tagging one person cuz idk who else wants to be tagged:

@lacucarachapisser

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spaloonbabooguuscooties · 8 months

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You could drink your whole life away and still never get that taste out of your mouth.

half commission for @salempie half completely self indulgent dreck pieced together from our insane conversations abt franke and elka. told myself id finally write a big explanation for all of the dum shit between these two for context so Thats Under The Cut.

so I already wrote some stuff about elka and franke's relationship back in whispering rock so feel free to look at that too . it goes over elkas blindness/‘seeing’ with clairvoyance and how her and franke started talking & all that good stuff

SO FOR STARTERS. a lot of thsi wont make sense without a big breakdown of elka herself. because elkas potential as a character is like insane to me. like just the idea of her in the long run of her life reads as something so potentially tragic; a young girl whos plagued with visions of doom and destined to be an outcast even in her own home for things she cant control and clings to the One vision of her wedding that she thinks is 'happy' even despite the fact she doesnt really love the person in it. im choosing to take the li-po doc as canon here because its funny shes the only one with backstory-

but my fucking god even the smallest look into what her parents are like is soo fucked up to me. and i do think elka especially gets a lot of influence from her mother; its funny how easily you can fit mabel doom into a box just from what elka says about her. knees deep in an avon-esque pyramid scheme and leaning into her daughters depressing ass visions & taking her to therapy at age 11 (which would be good if not for the kind of person you can already assume she is & so i doubt the therapist she has really does her any good. i think they share one). she reads as a very I Am My Daughters Best Friend type of mom to me and i can see elka being a centerpiece of the conversation when she has her Amway Girls over for drinks. wine-mom that lets her kid sip from the glass so she can feel like a big girl type deal.

and you can tell that elka is trying to hard to be too mature for her age even in her campster posts. how she writes letters to nils' mom and exchanges baking recipes with her and that feels like she really only interacts with middle aged women and not really many people her own age outside of camp (like her moms friends). which makes sense shed feel the need to ‘grow up’ early when shes probably had to process so many hard things at a young age bc of her visions.

theres a lot of filling the blanks here of course.

elka obsesses over nils to an overbearing degree even despite the fact he treats her like shit ('you promised no talking' and so on) and she treats him bad right back. she leans onto stereotypical heterosexual ideals like taking care of him and overblowing how Manly and Protective JT is and she admires romance stories like pride and prejudice and it feels like she Projects Soooooooo much of what she wants onto boys she barely feels anything for without knowing what its actually supposed to feel like. and clearly she WANTS that ideal future, a happy marriage, an actual romance- but according to nils even when they were dating she ignored him most of the time, which just seems Very Telling

like shes filling a role, overcompensating for emotions and lacktherof she cant digest quite yet, and it only makes more sense when you know shes had visions of their future together. how could that be bad for her? shouldnt it be like the books and movies? but she doesnt really connect the fact that her visions are only for Doomed futures, and if she does she certainly doesnt show it. Doomed relationships. it's been a part of her family for generations and she isn't turning out much different, is she? i dont think she even realizes thats all she ever sees yet, just that its Going to happen. that it's Her future, and it always will be

and like, her only reference for a real marriage so far has been her own parents, and she already Knows they have an affair, and theyre doomed to split, (and i actually like to think they were in rough waters anyway and elka was a child meant to mend a crumbling marriage but thats a whole other thing) and so without a framework for what an actual healthy relationship is supposed to be like she cant really grasp that her relationship with nils Isnt that and isnt ever going to be. she can only cling to this one happy idea of the future, and thats why she keeps chasing him, self fulfilling the actuality of her situation and creating and fostering the unhappy life they will inevitably live together.

and that bleeds into everything else in her life, of course, because as the years go on, as the visions grow in number it just makes sense for her to fall into the predictability of her life. she always knows whats going to happen, her visions are Never wrong- so why try to change things? shes had time to process tragedies days, weeks, months, years before they happen, shes had time to settle into every crack of her life. her parents divorce, her various break ups, her future with the psychonauts.

“and she's already seen so much of a future with [nils] she feels trapped almost. Like she has to be happy in it or else it just means her life is miserable. And it's a mixture of pride and fear of the unknown that keeps her clinging to the One thing she knows. BUT LIKE!!! She knows what's gonna happen! It's easier to grieve when she's been grieving for years... She wants so badly to be happy, But to do that she has to step into the unfamiliar. And that's more terrifying than staying the same miserable person she's always been.”

and thats where franke comes in— and yeah you Do have to take a lot of liberties for frankes character since it’s basically, like, all the info for her is just that shes a Supreme Baby Dyke but thats enough for me. i think she has protective butch itch in her . on campster shes defensive over other women evidenced in the way she keeps watch over the girls cabins for lili when elton is pursuing her . but shes also eager to please and constantly trying to make kitty laugh and also Very naive. but she tries! and i think it only solidifies more as she gets Older and really gets a hold of her feelings & her powers. this is incredibly franke to me

and i think as they grow older together— because i think franke and elka Do stay friends, both because elka is just pathetic and needs that positive connection even if she doesnt realize it and because i think franke is a very Loyal person & annoyingly persistent if you let her be . and i am also a kitty/franke truther. because kittys also important in this web we weave

because i think franke and kitty stay together after camp, to a point— theres a falling out facilitated on kittys end and they break up, but reconnect, and franke kind of... saves kitty from herself a little, from her strict military father whos love only extends thru finances , from her own stifling future , she drives all the way to bakersville in her shitty van handmedowned from her dad and they move in together eventually . they get jobs at the motherlobe , because it’s a pipeline to a decent job, because it’s whats easy, because franke doesn’t really have a future, because she’s never really been good at much, because shes never had much sense, because franke doesnt really care as long as she can live and help, sometimes, if she can, and because kitty’s there, and because elka’s there, and shes so used to being elkas eyes now and shes good at it. shes good at being the muscle of the missions when her colleagues lack it, when hypnosis and predictions arent enough. she likes it that way.

and elka appreciates frankes company. she listens, shes sweet, she does little things for her that no ones ever really put the effort for before; she likes her. franke is strong and bold and makes her laugh and shes always there but god elka cant let go of that future, of that box shes put herself in, that her mothers put her in, of being a Good Wife to a Loving Husband, of getting married normally and falling into unfailing familiarity. thats all shes ever wanted and shes not going to jeopardize that . not for franke, who may not be a boy but is handsome like one, whos always held her after every break up with nils and the men that filled empty days inbetween.

and elka is too stubborn to recognize those feelings anyway. too prideful to accept a way out. too set in her cycle no matter how much she hates it, her little self fulfilling tragedy of her own making, wallowing in her own doom. she struggles for control of her own life when she feels like every choice has been made for her anyway, she puts up her walls and carefully constructs what people see. but franke was always harder to trick, because while empathy isnt a particularly useful psychic power it’s certainly an inconvenient one. all franke has to do is get too close and all those carefully crafted walls fall apart, and elkas control is gone, and thats all she really has. and she tries to distance herself, really she does, but franke is also too persistent. and elka wears gloves, keeps contact that would make her walls crumble from happening as best as she can, but she cant really keep herself from the brief moments where she feels like someone actually fucking cares about her.

and that slightest lack of control, the need to wrestle it back is why she proposes to nils the next time theres a falling out— she knows how it happens, she plans every detail. and he accepts, despite everything. gets her a cheap ring and it feels like lead on her finger and its nothing at all like how shed thought it to be when she was a kid, theres no feather light feeling in her chest, only that dreadful reality that she cant turn this back. BUT WHAT CAN U DO LMAO

elka doesnt tell franke about this engagement until later, on their way back from a mission. late at night when neither of them can sleep, and franke invites elka to smoke in her van, because its been so long since theyve been alone like that, because elkas been so strangely absent lately. and because of everything, because frankes always so damn nice, because elka hates the feel of the ring on her finger, because she let herself get high alone with franke fucking athens whos always been so good at pulling her apart— the truth of it all spills out and its messy and emotional and she hates it, she hates the life shes made for herself, but franke makes it easier to bare and now shes here and shes so close and god she wishes she could see her smile again, she wishes she could see franke, thats all she needs right now and she cant but she can touch her and she can hold her and for tonight, she can be known, she can let those walls crumble, she can be something else just for once here with franke . she can kiss her here in this van, touch that happiness for just a moment, and forget the future that waits for her outside of it. franke begs her to forget the wedding, to just let herself be happy— and god, she wants to, but it means turning her back on everything shes known and everything shes saw to be inevitable, and franke has never been in her future, so if it were supposed to work out why hadnt she seen it and she cant, she cant take that risk but she can have this, even if its temporary, she can have it.

and just as soon as she gets a taste of it, its gone. after that night, after the missions over and theyre back at the motherlobe and have to pretend like nothing happened (franke doesnt, of course she tells kitty about it, she tells kitty about everything.) but that brief moment together haunts elka every time she sees franke, sees herself through frankes eyes, sees herself in her wedding dress because god its all franke can think about! of course it is! she knows how much elkas destroying herself she knows how much misery shes wallowing in that kiss in the van felt like an emotional punch to the teeth and she hasnt ever forgotten it and all she can do is sit and watch while elka throws herself into a loveless marriage. she can come to her wedding and see the way the bride and groom kiss with the emotional weight of a wet towel no matter how hard elka tries to hide it under a pretty dress and bouquets of flowers and meticulous planning.

and elka resents nils but she cant really hate him, its not his fault, not really. he feels trapped just like she does and his feelings of misery only cycle back into hers . they fight and gnash and wear away at each other and its a relationship thats crashed and burned a million times before elka even said i do. and its inevitable that she falls into her mothers habits, a sip of wine here and there to loosen up, until it turns to a glass, until it falls into a bottle on nights when whatever work nils does runs late.

but franke’s still there. shes always been there, hasn’t she? always trying to play knight, always trying to save her, dragging her home when shes stumbling over herself because god who else is going to do it but her? who else is left to care? certainly not nils. never nils. because franke knows her. because franke pities her. shes always pitied her. shes always known. and elka hates it, she resents it, but god in the same breath she’s desperate for it, she envies it to her very bones. elka is a mess but after frankes done with her she has someone to go back to that loves her. and god what elka wouldnt do to have that. to take it and keep it for herself because shes never ever got to have that movie romance shes always wanted.

so now comes this.

because elkas particularly miserable and particularly spiteful and she needs to get franke to understand, just for a moment, drink with her and get on her level and she needs her there with her no matter how her pity makes her feel. no matter how much it makes her shake with anger and envy and desperation, but god the way franke looks at her, the way she still tries to salvage what they have, the soft, slurred way she tells her that it’s okay but its not okay, none of this is okay, it never has been and she just wants franke to shut up and see that, and if she cant then she’ll show her, she’ll show her all the raw angry desperation, with too much teeth and hands that claw and grab and she’ll know why everyones always said she’s too much.

and she knows this puts her on nils’ level too. that this makes her a cheater, that shes no better than he is now. no better than her father and his affair. but god, she wants to be selfish. she wants to be in control. just for once. she wants to feel right and she wants to feel happy and she wants to feel loved. thats all shes ever wanted. and franke will let her have that, just for a little while, at the very least.

anyway. sorry. sorry for being crazy . this isnt even getting into the shit after the comic takes place . elkas stupid brainworld thag she has to overcome in order to finally be allowed in the polycule and live happily ever as worlds first lesbian divorceman

sorry for all the shit i make up instead of caring about actual characters with screentime . bye !

#ive spent months on thsi stupid lesbian toxic yuri slow burn relationship so you all better clap or im blowing this building up #psychonauts #elka doom #franke athens #ill paint the town red

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milswrites · 2 months

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Out of the Mountain

Rhysand X Reader

Summary: It has been 50 long years since you last saw the man you love. With Amarantha's tyrannous rule finally at an end, Rhysand returns to Velaris. Only he's not the same male as he was when he left and with the discovery of his newfound bond with Prythian's saviour, it's time to learn the true meaning of letting someone you love go free.

Warnings: Angst and sadness :(

You were the last to hear the good news. Amarantha was dead. Prythian had been freed by a woman from the mortal lands. Rhysand had been freed.

It had been fifty torturously long years since you last looked into your love's violet eyes. Fifty years since you last felt his comforting embrace, since the promise of seeing you soon left his tender lips before he winnowed away, never to be seen again. Until now.

It had been agony. Trapped in the hidden paradise of Velaris, unable to go and help your love, never knowing how he was faring in the depths of that wretched mountain. Spending each tedious day wondering if the male was thinking about you just as much as you were him.

You were convinced you were dreaming when Mor showed up at your door. A crooked smile on her face as she told you it was over, that her cousin had finally returned, that he was safe in the proximity of his court once more. But her dark eyes told a different story, one of bleak suffering and heart-wrenching sorrows. That Rhysand had returned, but he was not the same man who had left.

This you had anticipated. You had always suspected that if Rhysand was fortunate enough to return, to leave the mountain with his life intact, that he would no doubt be baring the scars, both mental and physical, of his years entrapped in the soul-sucking caverns.

It took you an hour to compose yourself, to allow the tears you didn't want the male to see run dry. Tears born from both the joy of his return home and the fear of what you were about to witness. The thought alone of someone you love being in pain felt like a treacherous stab to the gut.

Once you were ready, with watery eyes and a sniffling nose, you made your way towards his room, to where Mor said he had escaped to. To where he was waiting for you.

You inhale deeply, attempting to quell your tears at the sight of his door. At what was once your door too before you found yourself unable to sleep in the room without him during his absence. The haunting smell of citrus and night-blooming jasmine was enough to make you feel nauseated, the thought of you being safe in his bed while he laid trapped in another was too overwhelming.

And so, for the first time in fifty years you found yourself pushing open the heavy wooden doors, eyes scanning the inside of the room for the familiar sight of your love.

"Rhys?" you called tentatively, stepping inside and drawing the doors to behind you. Moving further into his room before noticing the shadowy figure standing on the balcony outside.

"Rhysand?" you repeated his name, fearful of startling him, not knowing just how deep trauma’s grip on him was.

The male turned to face you as you glided through the glass doors to join him outside. The cooling, fresh breeze of night kissing your cheeks, helping some in quelling the rising wave of anxiety inside you that began to swell after Mor's appearance.

"Hello love" Rhys cracked a small smile as you cautiously walked until you were next to him, standing on the edge of the balcony as you overlooked the glistening city below.

You made to hug him, but stopped yourself, afraid to be the one to initiate contact, just in case the action was too much for him for handle.

The male sealed the distance for you, pulling you into a warm embrace as you wrapped you arms around him in turn. Nose pressed deeply into his chest as you absorbed his smell, exactly half a century and that hadn't changed at all.

You must have stayed in his hold for almost ten minutes. A few pearlescent tears being shed between the pair of you, but otherwise you stood in silence. Senses consuming every bit of him they possibly could.

It was Rhysand who pulled away first, arms falling from you as he instead moved to rest them on the edge of the balcony, you following suit as you placed yours beside his on the stone.

"I suppose we better talk" he said with a melancholic sadness, violet eyes unmoving from the city below.

A simple yes was all you could respond.

A few somber minutes passed before Rhys spoke again, his eyes now moving from the scene below to watch you next to him. "I missed you" he said the words you had longed to hear. The three words that told you he had thought of you just as you had him. But instead of the yearning in his voice that you had dreamt of hearing, there was only sadness.

"I missed you to Rhysand" you confessed, "I was so mad at you. For the wards you placed. I would have come running right after you if they didn't stop me from leaving."

"I know...I know" he flashed you a pitiful attempt of an appreciative smile, "That's one of the reasons I had to do it."

"It's really over?" you asked seeking reassurance, needing to hear that he was really here to stay.

"It's over" he confirmed, moving his supportive hand over yours on the cold stone of the balcony, "I'm not going anywhere."

Releasing a sigh of relief, you allowed your tense body to relax slightly. Hearing the words from his own lips were the only confirmation you needed. "Your back" you allowed the slither of a smile to cross you face as you said this, allowing yourself to momentarily celebrate the return of the man you love. The one you're hoping still loves you.

"I'm not the same" he stated, that ever-present sorrow still pouring from his shaky voice.

"No one expects you to be Rhys"

And it was true. Not a single one of you expected your laughing, carefree Rhysand to be the one who escaped from the mountain, the shadow of the man he used to be will always remain deep in the tunnels of Amarantha's stone cage. But there was always the hope that with time, with the love of his family, you may be able to draw the light out of the shell of the man before you.

But now, standing on the balcony next to him, you weren't too sure. A dreadful realization of truth burning in your chest, you would not be the one to mend Rhysand. To pick up the pieces and lovingly sew them back together for him. No, his expression told you that much.

"I found my mate."

There it was. The cursed words that you felt hovering in the air the moment you were in his presence. The truth that hid in his sorrowful face when you first saw him, the darkness that found it's home in Mor's eyes at your door.

There was always the possibility that he would have moved on in the years you were apart, perhaps needing a crutch to get him through his darkest hours. You had just prayed that the Mother was gracious enough not to allow it to be so. But it appears the cauldron had already made that decision for her.

"What's she like?" you asked, swallowing your sob, allowing the nip of the chill in the air to distract you from the pain you felt inside.

"Beautiful" he said wistfully, eyes turning to the stars that were dancing above you, "Stubborn, determined. In love with another male." His words turned to venom as he spat the last statement from his lips.

"Does she know?" you questioned, unable to stop your curiosity from seeking the answers you desired. Maybe...maybe if she knew and she were in love with another man there was still the chance this wasn't over. That this conversation was just the confession of a hurdle Rhys needed to leap over before you could truly be together again.

"No" he answered simply, jaws locking as he refused to tear his eyes from the stars which he had no doubt missed in his time under the mountain.

"Oh" was your response, unsure of what else to say to the male.

Rhys released a deep sigh as he squeezed your hand with his, you could tell he was trying to find the words he needed to say.

Taking the initiative you said them for him.

"We never had a chance did we?"

His thoughtful eyes searched your dejected ones, eyebrows knitted together as he spoke carefully, "I think we did. A long time ago. But a lot can change in fifty years...a lot has."

You nodded along with his words, a silver tear slipping down your cheek as it was your turn to cast your watery gaze to the sky in order to avoid Rhys's penetrating eyes.

"We were fun weren't we"

A sad laugh tore from your lips as you spoke. Your vision, which was locked on one singular bright star in the sky, began to blur.

"Yeah, we were" Rhys smiled softly, once more squeezing your hand in comfort, "We've shared some great memories."

"It's just time to make our own...separately" you mournfully stated, drawing your hand from his to wrap your arms around yourself, trying to protect yourself from the increasingly colder chill which was settling in your bones.

"Separately" he confirmed, "...You'll always be my what if. But this, whatever this is, I have to chase it."

The tears now flowed freely, liquid moonlight running down your shaking cheeks as you struggled to stay in control of your cries, "I hope you get your happy ending Rhysand. I really do. I can't think of anyone who deserves it more."

His violet eyes flashed with pain, lip trembling as he replied, "you too my love. I wish you everything and more."

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand imagine #rhysand acotar #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand angst #rhysand fanfic

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harryxmarvel · 3 months

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Broken trust

Summary - Y/n overhears harry calling her annoying

Pairing - Harrystyles x reader!y/n

W.c - 1.5k

Warning - Angst

A/n - First try writing angst

Y/n always felt like she was too much. Even before dating harry.But he told her it was fine to be herself around him.

She was loud, carefree, blunt and sometimes clingy and she knew that.

She knew she was and she tried to keep it at bay. Besides harry had told her that he liked how she was. He liked her character and that's what made her as her.

So she was herself when she was with him and he loved her for it but maybe it does get too much sometimes?

Probably.

So when y/n heard harry talk to a friend about how clingy and loud she could be. How he wished he could take a break from her sometimes. It broke her. She felt her heart rip into two when she heard him say those things to his friend without knowing she was hearing it all.

He had said everything she wished she wasn't but was and she thought Harry had accepted that this was her and loved her for it but maybe not.

With a crushed heart she went back downstairs, silently going back to placing the dishes she prepared for him. Now she had doubts about everything she was doing.

Was her preparing his favourite dish annoying too?

What else did he find annoying?

Did he hate it when she cuddled him?

Did he like the way she laughed?

Did he still love her?

She was staring off somewhere when harry walked down and hugged her from behind bringing her back to reality.

He placed a gentle kiss on her neck his strong arms wrapped tightly around her.

"what's for dinner, baby?" He asks still kissing her neck.

She didn't reply tho, not when she was trying to figure out if he was faking being sweet. Would he say all those things to her face?

Her ex-boyfriends have told her cruel things when they broke it off. It took her months to get over but when she met Harry everything changed and she accepted that this was her and the right person will love her for her. He made sure to help her realise that.

But now everything was coming back and she couldn't help but feel overwhelmed because she knew what came after. He was going to break up with her. The thought alone sent a chill down her spine as she unglued herself from harry and went to the dinning table.

They sat in silence and harry immediately knew something was wrong. She was never quite ,always talking about anything that was on her mind.

"what's wrong baby?" He sweetly asks his green eyes filled with worry meeting hers but she quickly looks down at her untouched plate of food.

"nothing" she murmured afraid if she talked any louder he'd find it annoying.

Harry stood up from his seat and walked near her and lifted her chin with his fingers looking at her eyes to see them "What's going on?" He asks worry in his voice.

She didn't reply , pushed herself away from him and walked to their shared bedroom. The tears were gonna burst any minute and she didn't want him to see her but before she could close the door he was behind her.

She turns around ready to scream at him but the tears finally leave her eyes and fall down her cheeks. Harry was stunned and he immediately walks towards her to hug her only she fights it and tries to push him off and he realises maybe he had something to do with this. Did he make her cry? What had he done?

"Babe, can you please talk to me? Did I do something? Did I make you cry? Please love" he begs eyes filled with worry as he watches her move away from him.

She didn't answer him, her throat tight as she tried to catch her breath. Harry tried to comfort her from distance and it seemed to calm her down. She was sat on the floor leaning against the wall near their bed.

Harry sat on the opposing wall patiently waiting for her to say what was wrong without knowing it was all his fault. Y/n never cried, if something made her sad she voiced it but she never shed a tear in front of him not even when he was teary eyed watching some sad romcom with a sad ending so it shocked him to see her fall apart infront of him and he didn't even know why.

" I'm sorry" she says and harry immediately moved closer to her and wraps his arms around her pulling her to his chest.

Harry rubs her shoulders and after she had calmed down a bit she pushes herself away from harry and he looks

"I....heard.. y...your call?" Y/n says but it comes out as a question her eyes are filled with tears again as she remembers his words.

"what call...." Harry stops mid sentence as realisation hits him like a train and y/n could read every emotion on his face. Confused to realisation soon turned to one of sad and worried.

"Babe....I di" but before he could lie and take it back y/n cuts him off

"No! no, don't do this. You wouldn't have said that if you didn't mean it."

Harry's eyes start to gloss over at the realisation of how bad this could go. He had messed up big time and now as his brain tries to find something to not mess it up further y/n packs a bag and while he scrambles to his feet to beg her to stay.

"Y/n , baby... Please don't do this. I didn't mean it. I just have been in so much pressure with the tours, interviews and the next album. I'm so sorry. I really am I'm sorry. I love you...." Harry's was scared and y/n could see it but she knew how much her leaving right now was going to hurt him she had to do it because he had wrecked her heart with his words and she needed time away to recover from that.

"H. I just need some time... I'm sorry too. I know I could be too much sometimes but I never thought I would make you feel like you have to handle that side of me but that is me and if you hate that then I can't be with you." Y/n says tears steaming down her face and harry wasn't any better he was losing the love of his life because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. He really was stressed but he still shouldn't have said it and now he is going to face the consequences. Will she come back?? His mind keeps asking him.

The truth was they both didn't know the answer to that.

It had been a week and harry had called and texted everyday leaving voicemails apologizing and even sending flowers to her apartment. Y/n was glad he stopped there and didn't show up at her door because she would cave but she still needed time to think and move forward about this. She hadn't replied to his texts or calls but she soon had to soon.

But y/n didn't need to as she bumbs into harry at the cafe they both regulars and he smiles at her and pulls her into a hug taking a deep inhale of her hair and mumbling "I miss you" as they break the hug a little too soon for his liking.

"join me please?" Harry asks eyes begging her as y/n nods her head silently in agreement . They both take a seat at one of the corner booths , the windows were tinted so they would be perfectly fine there. Harry orders y/n's usual coffee and they sit in silence. Harry trying to catch her eyes but she was looking down at the table avoiding him.

"Y/n .....I didn't mean what I said. I love you for who you are please don't forget that. I can give you reasons but that won't get us anywhere, I'm really sorry i shouldn't have said those words and especially not to someone. I really am sorry y/n. Forgive me please?' harry asks expectantly.

" I get it harry, I just .... You could have told me you know. Just let me know when I become overbearing - no let me talk." She cuts him off when he tries to interject. "The words doesn't hurt , it's hurts me to know you said it behind my back. I told you about my ex but now it feels like you did the same thing just not to my face which feels even worse " y/n says eyes getting glossy again as she blinks to get rid of the tears and harry gulps before nodding his head as he waits for her to tell the words. Tell him she didn't want him anymore.

"I'm sorry, i was feeling stressed out and I should have just told you. I really am sorry" he says and she wraps her hands in his gently.

"I do forgive you though but I need sometime to process this and to trust you again" y/n says in a low voice and harry nods his head again understandingly.

Harry agreed to have sometime apart and they moved on from there. They would go on dates and eventually Y/n started to trust harry again and he made sure she knew just how much he loved her.

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wongyuuu · 8 months

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hi,

i just wanted to say that i love your works, you’re absolutely AMAZING !!

and that kind of led me to sending in my request (since i saw they’re open), because i really need to read another piece of art from you <3

is it possible for me to ask you to write something like an angst-to-fluff pregnancy imagine/drabble with wonwoo? i know that not everyone is comfortable with this topic, so feel totally free to ignore it or change it the way you want, i’ll be super ultra thankful anyways :))

once again i love your works, keep going !!

- anon

i really got carried away with this but i'm also scared... a little really hope you like it!!

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader genre: angst, fluff word count: 1.9k warnings: none

a/n: not proofread

requests are open

With a heavy heart, you sat down in the waiting room, your eyes filled with tears. Seeing your current estate, the attendant said that it was okay if you were late, she could just make a quick shift on the schedule. You thanked her, relieved.

You took out your phone from your purse. No missed calls or unread texts from your fiance.

You told him that you could go by yourself to the ultrasound. But Wonwoo said that he wanted to be there, that since he missed the last one he had to be there for the next one.

So you believed him and waited.

You tried calling him fifteen minutes before you were supposed to leave the apartment. Then again when you were already late. Tried texting him many times in between but you never got an answer. So you called an Uber and left by yourself. Though you wanted to call him again, you forced yourself not to.

Since you got pregnant you felt as if Wonwoo was slowly pushing you away and you didn't know what to do. He was working longer hours, leaving the apartment when the sun had just risen to the sky, and coming home every night almost at midnight. He’d just shower and go to bed.

On many different occasions, you asked him if everything was okay, and why he was working over hours so much. His answers were always evasive and never told you much of anything. You knew Wonwoo wasn’t cheating but you couldn’t help but think that maybe this wasn’t the lift that he wanted. That once a child was involved in the equation he wasn’t all that sure if getting married and officially starting a life together was something that he still wanted.

You didn’t want to doubt him at all but his actions didn’t leave you with many other options but that one.

The entrance door suddenly opened and Wonwoo rushed in. His hair was a mess on top of his head, his glasses slightly crocked over his face, and a thin layer of sweat covered his forehead. He looked around for a second before his eyes finally landed on you. He sat down by your side, his eyes wide.

“I’m sorry” he kissed your head, taking your hands in his “I’m so sorry”

You just shook your head, eyes forward, refusing to look at him. Not out of anger, but because if you did you would start crying again and had just managed to pull yourself together. You didn’t want to see the doctor while crying. Your tears were only yours, to be shed in the privacy of your home — preferably in the shower when no one could see you.

“Please, look at me” he begged and you almost caved “I didn’t forget but I was stuck in the office, that’s why I didn't take any of your calls”

A shake of your head was still all he got. Wonwoo didn’t know what else he could say. He knew that he was in the wrong in the situation but he didn’t know what he was supposed to say or do. And he didn’t have a chance to think of anything because a nurse came out to take you to get the ultrasound.

For a second Wonwoo was scared that you wouldn’t let him inside the room with you but you never let go of his hand while walking in.

Wonwo had missed your first ultrasound, the one both of you had considered the most special one. It was the first time you’d get to hear your baby’s heartbeat. Wonwoo hated himself for not being there, hated how all he had was the video you took on your phone to show to him. He knew that you were disappointed in him.

“You didn’t come alone this time,” the doctor said once she walked in, a smile on her face.

Wonwoo squeezed your hand, kissing your knuckles.

He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous but he couldn’t keep his heart at a normal rate. Maybe it was because he was going to hear his child’s heart for the first time or maybe it was because you refused to look his way, your hand completely limp on his hold. Or maybe it was just a mixture of both.

“Do you want to know what you’re having?”

“Yes,” both of you said at the same time

“I don’t really like the whole gender reveal thing”

The doctor laughed, pressing the transducer to your stomach.

“If I get to say so myself, I don’t like it either” she moved her hand a little to the left, smiling again looking at the screen, lightly moving it towards you “Everything looks fine, as it should. Now, for the moment you’ve been waiting for”

Wonwoo followed you out of the clinic, his hand on your lower back guiding you to where he had parked the car.

You didn't speak to him once or even looked his away. You seemed to be lost in your mind since the moment you saw him, only ever talking with the doctor.

He opened the passenger door for you and hurried to the other side.

“What do you want for dinner?” he tried saying

“I… If…” your voice shook as you tried to get the words out “If this is not something you want, marriage, being a father, I need you to tell me now. Don’t wait until the baby is born to make up your mind. Don’t be that cruel to me”

The silence in the car was deafening. Wonwoo felt as if the world had stopped moving.

The truth was having a child wasn’t a topic you talked about frequently. Yes, it was mentioned a couple of times over the years but nothing more. However, when you told him that you were pregnant, he couldn’t be happier. He felt as if his entire life was falling into place just at the right time. His job was going great, he finally got the promotion he had worked himself crazy for, you had said yes to his proposal, and you had a baby on the way.

It was the life he imagined for himself, the life he so desperately wanted. And he wanted it all with you. So the fact that he was hurting you, even if he didn’t mean to, even if all that he was doing was so that you could have the life you also dreamed of, drove him insane.

“I want to show you something”

You did your best to not let your tears fall. Wonwoo had been silent since you asked him to be honest with you. And it was the first time, in a very long time, that you had no idea of what his silence meant. He gripped the wheel tight enough that his knuckles turned white, his lips pressed into a thin line. It was hard to resist the urge to pull his hand into yours, to do something that would change the atmosphere between the two of you.

Yet, you forced your hands to remain on your lap while you tried to discover where he was taking you. The streets felt vaguely familiar, you knew that you had been there once before. All of it made sense when Wonwoo parked the car in front of a house you had visited a few moments before you found out that you were pregnant.

After Wonwoo proposed, the two of you decided that instead of having a huge wedding party you wanted to get a place of your own. It felt much more important to have a home than a party. And you could still celebrate with your friends and family, just maybe in a more modest way.

In one of your conversations with Wonwoo, you told him that you wanted to live in an actual house, not in an apartment. It’s just a dream though, you told him. Still, when looking for a place, Wonwoo only took you to see houses, while you only chose apartments.

But, of course, you had a favorite and Wonwoo knew it, even if you never said it out loud. He saw the way your eyes shone when he took you there, when you looked at the rooms, the kitchen, the small garden in the back, the old swing set.

You watched in complete wonder as Wonwoo took a key out of his pocket and opened the gate.

“How do you have a key to this place?”

Unlike the last time you had been there, the place seemed entirely different. It was clear the house was being renovated.

“I wanted to make a surprise but I think my idea wasn’t as great as I thought it was”

He pushed the door open. It was like you remembered but also different. The walls were no longer an ugly shade of gray but a shade of pearl. The carpet had been removed and it was finally possible to see the floor.

“Wonwoo…”

Wonwoo wrapped his arms around you from behind, his hand on your belly that was starting to grow round.

“The promotion I got at work came with a bonus, much bigger than we thought. It was more than enough to get the house we wanted”

His lips dropped feather like kisses on your shoulder, the curve of your neck, behind your ear, and on top of your head.

"I've been coming here every day before and after work, to make sure that it will be ready in a few more days. But after today…"

You turned around in his arms, needing to look at him.

"Wonwoo, I wanted the house, not you"

He shook his head, a smile on his lips as he pushed the hair that fell onto your forehead.

"I wanted whatever you wanted. And I agree with you, raising a child in a house with enough space is much better than inside the apartment" he kissed you once, then twice. "There's something I want to show you"

Wonwoo took you by the hand, pulling you through the house. You only had a chance to peek at the rooms. All of them had been slightly modified.

That moment felt like a dream, the kind of thing someone doesn't actually get to live. You felt as if at any moment you'd wake up and you'd be back in bed.

All the doors in the hall were open except for one on the right.

Taking a deep breath, Wonwoo pushed the door open and took a step aside to let in first.

Tears burned the back of your eyes, a knot pressing your throat. It was a fully furnished nursery. It was everything you ever dreamed of and then some more. The white walls, the little clouds on the ceiling. Even the furniture itself was one you had chosen.

"How…? When…?"

"I might have snooped on your phone," he said with a laugh "We finished it just this morning. Mingyu helped with putting the furniture together and Seungkwan with the details"

At that point, tears already ran freely down your face. While Wonwoo was busy doing everything he could to get you your dream, you were worried that he might have fallen out of love with you, that he longer wanted to be with you.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't…"

"It's fine, I shouldn't have kept it a secret" he held your face in his hands, he had tears in his eyes too but also a beautiful smile "But this is where we start the rest of our lives. You, me, and our son"

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deliciousangelfestival · 2 months

Text

Lovers Say Goodbye | 2 - B.Barnes

Character: soft!dark Bucky x ex-girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky finds solace and love in an unexpected place, only to have his world shattered by a shocking revelation about the person he cared about.

Chap 1, Chap 2 , Chap 3 ,Chap 4, Chap 5 , -

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'd love to hear your feedback. Thank you once again.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

A dangerous glint flickered in Bucky's eyes as he stared at your employee photo on the screen. "What if," he said, his voice barely a whisper, laced with a chilling intensity, "I stirred up a little trouble of my own? Got her attention the only way she understands?"

Steve furrowed his brow, confusion etching lines on his forehead. "So, you're saying you want to create some chaos to get her back?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Based on your sudden disappearance, Bucky could only conclude that you had already made your decision, that you weren't coming back. But messing with Bucky Barnes was a grave mistake. He had developed deep feelings for you, and now, he was determined to do whatever it took to see you again, even if it meant the world went up in flames.

"Is it worth the potential consequences?" Steve pressed, his voice heavy with worry. He knew the depths of Bucky's past, the darkness he could unleash when provoked.

Bucky's posture remained rigid, his jaw clenched tight. "For her?" he rasped, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "Without a doubt."

Steve swallowed hard, the weight of Bucky's unwavering resolve settling in his stomach. He knew his friend better than anyone, and when Bucky set his mind on something, he always got it. No matter the cost.

Bucky continued staring at your picture, a twisted smile on his lips. A silent promise hung heavy in the air, a promise that sent shivers down Steve's spine.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice barely audible, "we'll meet again. One way or another."

***************************

The rhythmic click of high heels echoed down the long, sterile hallway. The cheerful facade of the friendly florist was gone, replaced by a steely resolve. Gone were the warm smiles that had charmed customers and Bucky alike; your expression had turned as cold and sharp as the winter wind.

The sun-kissed summer dress you once wore was a distant memory. In its place, a crisp white shirt and a severe black suit, the skirt hitting just below the knee, encased your form. Black high heels completed the transformation, adding an air of controlled power to every step.

As you entered the imposing exterior of the CIA building, you shed the remnants of your borrowed identity, "Alex Lynch." With each click of your heels on the polished marble floor, you stepped further away, leaving behind the carefully constructed charade and reclaiming your true self: Y/N L/N.

The elevator doors slid shut, sealing you within a metal cocoon. You pressed the button for the hidden floor, a destination accessible only to those with the highest clearance. As the elevator descended, the tension in the air thickened. When the doors finally opened, revealing the bustling operations center, a hush fell over the room.

"She's back?" A stunned murmur rippled through the ranks of agents. They couldn't believe their eyes. You, their elusive phantom, had returned after two grueling years embedded with the target: Bucky Barnes, the world's most notorious assassin.

Previous attempts to neutralize him had resulted in nothing but body bags. They'd taken a gamble, sending in their last hope, the agent renowned for overcoming impossible odds: You, with the code name of ODIN - Operational Deception and Intelligence Network.

The nervous click of Peter's heels echoed in the stark hallway as he approached you, "Ehm, Agent L/N," he stammered, barely daring to meet your gaze, "welcome back. Director Brandon is waiting for you." It was clear he was awestruck, speaking to his idol, the legendary ODIN.

You acknowledged him with a curt "Hmmph," your voice devoid of warmth. Reaching Director Brandon's office, you stopped. No knock. No announcement. Just a pregnant pause before the heavy oak door swung open with a silent by Peter.

Director Brandon, a man hardened by years of service, found himself instinctively straightening in his chair as your icy blue eyes met his. A tremor ran through his hand, a stark contrast to your unwavering demeanor. Even though he was considerably older, an aura of authority clung to you, making him feel like a student in the presence of a seasoned master.

"Y/N," he began, his voice strained under the weight of your presence. A fleeting smile, more of a grimace, played on his lips. "Welcome back. Splendid work, truly. We secured everything we needed thanks to you."

You didn't respond, your silence a weapon hanging heavy in the air, thicker than the unspoken questions and unspoken judgments. With a practiced grace devoid of human warmth, you lowered yourself into a chair, your posture rigid and unyielding, as if carved from granite.

The silence stretched, broken only by Brandon's nervous cough. "Anything you desire," he offered, the words tumbling out in a rush, his voice tinged with desperation. "Name it, and it's yours. A vacation. Anything to show our appreciation for your... sacrifice."

A single word, devoid of emotion, dripped from your lips: "Mission."

He leaned back, surprise momentarily cracking his carefully constructed facade. "But... wouldn't you like some time to... relax? After two years undercover, surely even Agent L/N needs a moment to reacclimate to the real world."

You tilted your head ever so slightly, a ghost of a smile playing on your lips. It was a smile devoid of warmth, bereft of amusement. "Tending to flowers for two years," you drawled, your voice like the whisper of an arctic wind, "has left me... unproductive. I require... stimulation."

A sigh escaped Brandon's lips, the weight of responsibility and the chilling efficiency of his top agent settling heavily on his shoulders. "Very well," he conceded, defeat lacing his voice. "I'll have the mission parameters ready shortly."

You offered a curt nod, the only acknowledgment he deemed worthy of his desperate plea.

He cleared his throat again, a nervous habit exacerbated by the intensity of your presence. "So," he ventured hesitantly, "no... regrets?"

Even though Brandon had been the one who sent you in, a sliver of unease gnawed at him as he regarded you. He couldn't shake the feeling of misplaced sympathy for Bucky, the notorious assassin you'd manipulated.

Your brow furrowed, a flicker of something akin to annoyance momentarily flickering in your eyes before being smothered by the practiced indifference that had become your second skin. "The success of the mission," you stated, your voice a monotone devoid of inflection, "is the only consideration that holds any relevance."

You rose from your chair, your movements smooth and practiced, your heels clicking like a death knell as you turned towards the door.

Without a single backward glance, you exited the office, leaving Brandon alone with the silence and the weight of his decision. He sank back into his chair, the image of your emotionless face etched in his memory.

Still, a sense of relief washed over him. Operation Pandora, a two-year-long covert operation, was finally over.

****************

A heavy sigh escaped Bucky's lips, a guttural "Huft," as he strained through another repetition. The training room, shrouded in darkness except for a single bare bulb illuminating the space, held memories he'd actively tried to suppress for the past two years.

Everywhere he looked, the ghosts of his past mocked him. Rows of gleaming weaponry hung on the wall, each instrument of death a stark reminder of the life he'd left behind.

Weight benches and punching bags stood like silent sentinels, their leather surfaces worn smooth from countless hours of his relentless pursuit of perfection.

He gripped the bar, his knuckles white with strain as he executed another hanging sit-up, the burn in his muscles a welcome distraction.

His gaze, however, remained fixed on the opposite wall, where a lone photograph served as a silent witness to his solitary workout. The image – a woman with warm eyes and a captivating smile – held the power to both soothe and ignite a storm of emotions within him.

Your fake name, Alex, echoed in his mind, a stark contrast to the cold reality of your true identity: Special Agent Y/N L/N.

"I'll get you," he whispered, his voice hoarse with a mix of determination and simmering anger. It wasn't just a vow of vengeance; it was a promise to himself, a pledge to reclaim the life stolen from him, to understand the woman behind the mask.

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Author Note:

My dear readers and followers,

Could you please share your opinions about this series with me?

If you enjoyed it, I'd love to hear why it appealed to you.

If not, I would greatly appreciate your feedback and advice on improving the series.

Thank you!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #buckybarnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x female!reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel x reader #sebastian character #lovers say goodbye series

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mindtrcks · 1 year

Note

for tyler - maybe something about reader helping rescue him from thornhill & being the hyde’s master instead of her? love your writing style!

this is hungry work

Pairing: Tyler Galpin/Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: vague mentions of grooming/violence, smut, quite a bit of plot oops, unrealistically happy ending

Summary: You may not have a master plan or a decades long vendetta, but you do have Nathaniel Faulkner's diary, and a recurring penchant for taking wild leaps of faith.

Nathaniel Faulkner says that the Hyde is a beast lying dormant in an innocent man. Something waiting to be awakened. A creature loyally dependent on its master, subservient to its core.

Wednesday says that it’s Tyler.

She says he’s a monster, that he killed enough people to get a taste for it, and now he’s killed his master, too. That he’s out of control and it’s only a matter of time before he does something big, before more people get hurt. She says anything he’s done before now has been a lie; he doesn’t care about you, and he never did. You were a pawn in he and Kinbott’s game, and he would've tossed you away the second you’d served your purpose. She says that he isn't the boy you thought, and he isn't to be trusted.

But he's sitting right in front of you, with the same puppy dog frown and furrowed brows as always. He's looking up at you with something like desperation in his eyes, and for the first time since you’ve met her, you doubt Wednesday. How could this boy—quiet and sweet and scared—be the monster she claims? How could Tyler from the coffee shop—Tyler who’s soft spoken and friends with outcasts and isn’t even screaming at Wednesday for kidnapping him—be anything but good?

You don’t doubt he’s the Hyde. If Wednesday had a vision, you’re not going to question that. But you do question whether or not she knows the whole story.

—

You’re at Nevermore when Wednesday finally pieces it all together. She’s been expelled, taking the fall for you and anybody else who’d been in that shed with her. Weems had taken it upon herself to personally escort Wednesday to the station, but evidently, even expulsion can’t stop somebody as stubborn as her.

She texts you from Eugene’s phone, the message just a single word. Thornhill.

It’s all you need to bolt up in bed, to shove your shoes on and search blindly for your jacket. You’re not sure whether it’s wishful thinking or just plain hubris, but some part of you—the outcast that wants nothing more than to fit in, to be a part of something—thinks that if you can stop Thornhill, you can stop it all. You can keep anybody else from being killed and thwart whatever Thornhill’s plan is, and best of all, you can help Tyler in the process.

It’s either that, or die trying.

—

Breaking into Thornhill’s classroom is easier than expected. She doesn't leave Ophelia Hall after eight anymore; the lockdown has grown too serious, the dark too dangerous. It allieves your fear, as you creep through Nevermore’s halls, to know that her classroom will be empty when you arrive. To not be afraid of Thornhill would be stupid; if Wednesday’s right, and Thornhill’s responsible for everything, you don’t doubt she’d be willing to kill you for snooping.

The door is locked when you reach your destination, but you waste no time in picking it. You aren’t sure how urgent this is, aren’t sure where Wednesday is or where Thornhill is or where Tyler is, and you aren’t sure what she could possibly be making him do.

You choose not to think about it as your eyes scan the room. You head to her desk first, frantically flipping through sheets of paper, turning over folders and ransacking drawers. You move to the bookshelf when the desk proves fruitless, scanning the dust on the spines of books. Nothing sticks out; the last thing you deem to try is the filing cabinet, looming in the corner of the room. There’s only one drawer that’s open, the metal dented and bent like it’d been slammed in a rush. Your feet take you to it before your brain even has time to consciously make a decision; your hands pulling it open before you know what you’re doing.

It’s empty, save for one thing: a leatherbound journal with the name Nathaniel Faulkner engraved on the spine.

—

Nathaniel Faulkner says that the Hyde is a beast lying dormant in an innocent man, a creature loyally dependent on its master.

He also says that this loyalty does not run as thick as one might think.

—

The thing is, you don’t know Tyler as well as you wish you did. You don’t get to talk as much as you’d like, or to hang out without the murders hanging over your heads. But it’s not like you’re a stranger, certainly not like Thornhill was. No, you’d go as far as to say you’re his friend, maybe among his only ones. He trusts you, and despite yourself—despite everything that he’s done—you trust him.

A Hyde’s relationship to its master is built on trust, says Faulkner.

And maybe you don’t have a master plan, or a decades long vendetta, but you do have Nathaniel Faulkner’s diary, and a recurring penchant for taking wild leaps of faith.

—

He’s in the woods outside of Nevermore when you find him, looking antsy and wrong.

You don’t want to think about what he’s doing there, about why his fingers are curled up into fists at his side. What he’s done doesn’t matter to you; all you care about is what he will do, what choice he’ll make. You approach him carefully, not wanting to set him off, or scare him away. You can’t imagine what kind of headspace he’s in, or the things going through his mind.

It’s only been hours since you’ve last seen him, but he already looks changed. Whatever act he’d been keeping up in Xavier’s shed, in the police station, he’s dropped now. His eyes are dark and his shoulders tense, mouth curled into something cruel. You hear Wednesday’s words echo in your head—he isn’t the boy you thought, he’s a monster, he’s using you—but you try to drown them out. You know Tyler. You know the good he’s capable of. So what if he’s capable of bad, too?

“Tyler,” you say, keeping your voice steady as you step forward. He doesn’t back up, but he does narrow his eyes, leveling you with a gaze that has you on edge, shifting on your feet, your body screaming at you to back down, turn away.

He smiles at you; not the small, shy thing you’ve seen from across the Weathervane so many times, but something sharp around the edges, showing a few too many teeth. Have his canines always been that big? Sharp enough to pierce skin? You feel something run up your spine; a shiver or a thrill, you aren’t sure, and you don’t care enough to try and discern it. Tyler’s walking towards you, and it’s hard to care about much of anything besides him in front of you and the diary weighing heavy in your bag. “You're the one they sent to fight the big, bad wolf?” he asks, looming over you. He expects you to be scared, to run away.

But scared isn’t exactly the word you would use. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

You can see his face flicker for a moment, quick enough that it would've gone unnoticed if you hadn't been looking for it. “And why is that?” he asks, nostrils flaring as he steps impossibly closer.

You refuse to let the proximity affect you, no matter how much it's trying to. “Because it’s pointless,” you say, chin lifting up in defiance. “You know Wednesday. She won’t let you win.”

“So I should surrender, then?” he scoffs, because he thinks those are his only two options. He thinks this is kill or be killed; keep fighting or get arrested, sent away for life. But you have another option.

“Not necessarily,” you say, as your hand snakes down to your satchel and pulls out the diary. Tyler’s eyes zero in on it instantly, lighting up with recognition, with want. “How would you like to put this whole mess behind you, Thornhill included?”

He blinks a few times before glancing back up at you, narrowing his eyes. “I can’t,” he says, baring his teeth around the words, like it physically pains him to say them.

You raise an eyebrow in challenge. “Why?”

He looks mad, now. Not the simmering anger that’s been in the air the whole time, but a lighter kind of rage that’s more akin to simple frustration. More akin to something you’ve seen on Tyler before. You never thought you’d be relieved for somebody to be mad at you. “That's not how it works.

“Because she’s taught you so much about how it works.”

“More than you possibly could,” he spits out, and it’s supposed to be an insult, but instead it’s just plain wrong. Because you have the exact same diary that she did, the exact same knowledge at your fingertips. Only, you’re willing to share your toys.

He watches as you lift up the diary, flipping to your bookmarked page. It’s power in your palms; power over Thornhill, over Tyler. It makes you sick, a little, knowing his fate is literally in your hands. How did Thornhill ever take it? “‘I have heard of Hyde’s gaining new masters only through means of battle spoils or dark magic, but I imagine there must be one other way,’” you recite, reading off of page three of Faulkner’s section on masters, the chapter you had found the most helpful in your frantic skim-through. Tyler stares down at you with something in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. You’ll unpack it later. “‘Seeing as the decision is always ultimately the Hyde’s—whether consciously or not—if a prospective master was ready and willing, a Hyde might simply choose them.’”

“You want…” he starts, incredulous, but doesn’t finish. He just looks at you, conflicted, confused, and maybe a little bit of something else. You understand that what you’re offering is bigger than anything you’ve done with him before now. Going from sitting across from each other at the Weathervane or being present in the same car—Wednesday or Enid or even Fester always a buffer—to offering yourself up as his master is quite the leap. Still, for whatever reason, you’re hopeful.

“Yes,” you answer, even if he technically never finished asking his question. Yes, you want to do this, yes, you’re willing to take the leap, yes to everything.

Tyler shifts on his feet, suddenly seeming wildly uncomfortable as his eyes skirt around the treeline. He’s looking for her, you realize. He’s scared she’s there, scared she’s watching. Scared he’s in trouble.

A gnawing pit forms in your stomach. “Tyler,” you say, and your voice draws his eyes away from the woods. “I’m offering. All you have to do is make the choice, and all this goes away.”

It sounds simpler than it is. There will be things to do, after. Strings to tie, messes to clean. But right now, all you need is to get Tyler away from Thornhill. Permanently.

Tyler stays silent for a moment, regarding you with something on his face that you don't recognize. “Why are you doing this?” he asks, unreadable. But you refuse to falter.

“Because you don't deserve…her,” you say. “The things she did to you. It doesn't have to be like that.”

He seems to consider this, for a moment, eyeing you up and down. He has no reason to refuse, not really. Not unless he actually does enjoy it, like Wednesday claims. If he likes killing, gets off on the taste of blood in his mouth. You know he doesn't, though. That's Thornhill. Right?

“So what do I do?” he asks, shrugging his shoulders up. “Since you're the expert here. What do I do?”

You close the diary, dropping it down to your side. There aren't step by step instructions, no ancient ritual for you to follow in the dead of night. All Nathaniel Faulkner had to say on the matter is that the choice is always the Hyde’s.

You roll with it.

“The choice is yours, Tyler. Make it.”

He furrows his brows, looks like he wants to protest, but doesn't. He keeps his mouth tightly shut, ducking his head down and focusing hard on the ground. You don't know what it's like, on his side. Aren’t sure how hard it could possibly be to make a decision, but won’t comment on it. You’ll give him however long he needs.

After what feels like an eternity but must’ve only been a few moments, he looks back up at you, and you know instinctively that it’s done.

“Did it work?” you ask, peering up at him. He seems unchanged. The same Tyler you’ve been talking to this whole time. The same Tyler that killed all those people and put Eugene in the hospital.

He shrugs. “Tell me to do something.”

You consider it; there's a million things you could tell him to do, endless ways this could go. In the end, you land on something simple. Something with no strings. “Come here,” you request, plainly.

And he does.

—

So you’re Tyler’s master, now.

It’s weird to think about. Weird to think that you’re the one who figured it out, that this victory belongs to you. You expected it might go to Wednesday, that she’d be the one to help Tyler. Either that, or kill him. You thought his fate would end up in her hands, for better or for worse.

Evidently, it did not.

—

There are many things you come to realize about Tyler in the following months that you never thought you’d get to know.

You know he doesn’t really drink coffee, despite his choice in occupation. He wears socks for as many hours of the day as possible, and he sleeps with three blankets instead of a comforter. You know he keeps a secret stash of twizzlers in the cabinet above the microwave, because if his dad sees them they’ll be gone before the day is over. You know what shampoo he uses, how he prefers Spotify over Apple Music, and which drawer is the sock drawer. You know his favorite TV show is Friends, and that he’s embarrassed to tell people about it.

You’re watching it right now, curled up on his couch in pajamas, empty bowl of popcorn abandoned at your side. Moments like this feel equal parts right and bizarre. Tyler’s a killer, and yet you’re spending your Friday night watching Friends together in his living room. It’s strange, but everything about your life is strange. You barely even notice it anymore.

Tyler shifts beside you; you’re so close on the couch that it seems less like two bodies and more like a wild conglomeration of limbs; a leg here, an arm twisting there, the brush of fingers on the back of your neck. His hipbone is digging into your thigh, but you don’t mind. You wouldn’t move if every one of your extremities had fallen asleep. If the couch had set fire.

“You should…maybe move your leg,” Tyler says, breaking you out of your haze. You don’t have to do anything but tilt your head to look at him; when you do, he’s staring back up at you with furrowed brows and flushed cheeks, working his lips together.

It takes you a moment to realize what he means, to feel that familiar weight pressing into the skin of your thigh. When you do, it’s with a start. Yes, you’ve done this a few times. But not enough for it to be a common occurrence. It may be rare, but it’s certainly not the first time. Once you get your bearings, you find that you’re confident enough to smile down at him, to raise an eyebrow and ask, “Should I?”

He makes a little sound in the back of his throat, and you can feel his hips arch up, ever so slightly. “I mean,” he starts, breathy and quiet. “Or you could keep it there. If you want.”

“What do you want?” you ask, sneaking a hand down to the sliver of skin exposed between Tyler’s shirt and his flannel pants. He shivers, but doesn’t answer. “Tyler,” you urge, trailing your fingers over his stomach.

“Touch me?” he asks, squeezing his eyes shut, tilting his head away.

And you’re not really in the business of denying him. It takes some adjusting—you do have to move your leg—in order to find the right angle, but Tyler waits patiently as you shimmy your way down the couch, until you can look at him and touch him all at once. You aren’t sure how long he’s been hard, but when you trail your hand down and underneath the waistband of his pants, he gasps too loud for it to have been a short while.

He’s hot and heavy in your hand, already a little wet, too. As you grasp him, he shoves his face into your shoulder, exhaling long and slow into your skin. “This what you mean?” you ask, maybe a little mean.

He nods. You won’t make him say it—you’re not that mean—but you could. If you asked, he’d answer. You’ve found that’s true in a lot of aspects of your life. It’s a power you’re still scared to wield, no matter how many times Tyler reassures you. You prefer subtlety, to guide him in this way, rather than by giving outright orders. You think he likes it better like this, too, if the way he’s squirming under your touch is anything to go by.

Friends is still playing in the background, but you’re too distracted to find the remote and mute it. Instead, you tilt your head to press a kiss to Tyler’s hairline, as you start to stroke him in earnest. You try to set a slow pace, but Tyler’s hips chase the contact until it’s fast and hard, just like always. One of these days, you’ll make him sit still, but today is not that day. You let him set the pace, pumping his cock for all it’s worth as he thrusts up into your first. He’s embarrassed, you know, but he barely shows it, apart from the way he hides his face. He’s as enthusiastic as you think he can be, not shy in showing you how much he’s enjoying himself, through little punched-out moans that have the tips of your ears turning red.

You’re not sure how much time passes like that. All you know is that your wrist is cramping and your bicep is aching, but you still feel like you could do this forever. The sight of Tyler underneath you, panting and sighing and practically shaking, is enough fuel for you for as long as he needs. Him falling apart for you has got to be one of your favorites sights; the sounds pouring out of him are music to your ears. At a particularly loud moan, you glance up, take in his state.

His shoulders are tense, his hands clenched into his fists and his hips staying shock-still. You let yourself smirk; one of the many things you know about Tyler is that he’s not always the best at lasting. “It’s okay, Ty,” you say, whispered into his jaw as you pick up the pace, moving impossibly faster.

He exhales in a gust of air, deflating almost instantaneously; now that he knows he doesn’t have to wait, he lets himself relax, sink into the couch. It’s not long after that that his hips jerk, and he jams his face into your shoulder once more, and you know.

You guide him gently back by the curls on the nape of his neck. There are many things you’ve gotten to know about Tyler, but the face he makes when he comes has got to be one of your favorites.

#wednesday #wednesday addams #tyler galpin #tyler galpin x reader #reader insert #this is also for all the anons who requested more tyler smut #i got u #sorry it took me a week

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justmediocrewriting · 4 months

Note

Luffy x Reader; maybe she steals away his hat and a huge chase ensues and she lured him to the marines bcs they made a deal that they’d relieve her village of their debt? Straw hats help her out ?? :)

Stealing Hats, Stealing Hearts {m.d.l}

Summary: when the captain of the Marines comes to you and offers your village’s freedom in exchange for luring and capturing the Straw Hat pirates, you thought it too good a deal to refuse. You were rather adept at conning, and you were sure stirring up a ruse good enough to lure the crew would be easy, but when you meet the infamous Straw Hat pirates, you can’t help but feel hesitation towards the mission, as they are the complete opposite of what you expected.

Genre: fluff(?), slight angst

Requested: ✅

Word Count: 4.9k

Pairing: Luffy x fem!reader

Warnings: themes of coercion, language, manipulation, canon-typical violence, strawhat shenanigans

A/n: this request was so much fun to write, thank you so much for blessing me with it anon! I know it took a while to get out, but I was so in love with the theme and scenario that I wanted to reflect it in the writing. I did my best to polish and refine it to the absolute best it could be. I truly hope everyone enjoys reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To say you were nervous would be a major understatement.

You were shaking like a fucking leaf in your ratty boots because of your nervousness; when you’d accepted the request from the Marines, you hadn’t truly taken every detail into account. All you’d understood was that by doing this simple thing, your village would finally be free of their debt, and the Marines would gladly walk away from their post on the island. It sounded almost too good to be true, and now the reality of that was hitting you with a heavy impact.

You’d heard of the Straw Hat pirates; of course you had. They were vicious, unforgiving, brutal and animalistic — what they’d done in Orange Town was proof enough of that, not to mention the way they’d put down and hurt many Marines in Shells Town, all for a ratty slip of parchment. There were many rumors surrounding the crew, but you’d never given too much thought to their authenticity before — but now, staring straight at the Straw Hat pirates, in the flesh, you could believe every single one.

The one that made you the most nervous was the swordsman; the three katanas resting against his right hip were intimidating enough, but the glower on his face and the rippling athleticism that was potent beneath his clothes made for a rather frightening combination — it was one which you didn’t want to experience for yourself.

“No harm will come to you, girl,” Captain Akubi had promised you earlier that morning. “I will have Marines stationed everywhere to watch your every move; if things begin to get dicey, they will intercept.”

The captain’s promise had given you a small semblance of reassurance, but with knowing what the Straw Hats themselves were capable of, and seeing them in the flesh, you highly doubted any Marine here in the town would be strong enough to protect you should you incur their wrath — especially not against that swordsman. It was enough to almost send you running back to your decrepit shed with your tail between your legs.

But this was your home — and you had to protect it, at any cost. Even the cost of your own life at the hands of a vicious pirate group.

It was with this conviction that you’d raised from your seat and approached the table the pirates had chosen to occupy in the dingy tavern. Plates were scattered and piled across the surface of the table, and the captain, the one you’d recognized as Monkey D. Luffy from his wanted poster, was currently digging into a separate, still full, plate when you stopped feet from him.

You cleared your throat to catch his attention, but you truly weren’t prepared for the sheer depth he held within his chocolate eyes when he flicked them up to meet yours. Your breath stuttered momentarily as you were taken aback by just how attractive the man was, how the dim lighting sharpened every angle of his face, and not for the first time since you’d agreed to this mission trepidation clamped your gut; but this time, it wasn’t from fear, but rather a strange sort of nervousness tightening your throat and making it difficult for you to speak. You were aware of four other pairs of eyes on you, and your skin prickled uneasily.

“Yes?” The man asked, not impolitely, but rather loudly, and you wanted to shrink back as some of the clamor around the tavern settled down. Others were looking at you now.

You swallowed down every unpleasant feeling and crossed your arms over your chest, feigning a sense of confidence that you didn’t really possess.

“You’re pirates, aren’t you?” You asked accusingly, and the man’s face simply brightened, as if being recognized as a pirate somehow brought him happiness. He reached up and briefly resituated his hat atop his head, and when he spoke it was with an adorable little accent that left you feeling slightly weak in the knees.

“We are. We’re the Straw Hat pirates!”

You didn’t think it was possible, but when the man gestured to the other four occupants of the table, his features somehow lit up brighter than the sun, and you were slightly shocked. The man seemed so gentle, so kind, maybe even a bit naive and exuberant to a fault; how could a gangly, bright boy like this be the captain of a heartless, ruthless pirate crew? A slim glance to the other occupants left you feeling and thinking along the same lines — the swordsman was openly glowering at you, but his eyes were hardened in something akin to suspicion rather than blatant cruelty, and when your eyes met with the blond, well dressed man’s he sent you a charming smile that had you blushing slightly. The other man, a darker skinned boy with a bright smile and bandana wrapped around his head, gave you a shy wave, and the only woman of the crew, redheaded and simply beautiful, also smiled kindly.

Were these people really the Straw Hat pirates? They seemed… different, than what you’d heard.

“Are you really?” You couldn’t help but ask, and the man in the straw hat looked a little confused by your suspicion. He glanced over to his crew mates briefly before returning his eyes to you.

“Why do you sound as if you find that hard to believe?” He asked, and his tone was so genuinely curious and kind, and you found that you really liked the sound of it; for the first time since you’d started this mission, your muscles relaxed.

You thought you’d feel a lot more fear from the act of staring the captain of the Straw Hat pirates in the face, but for some reason, you just didn’t — instead, you felt genuinely baffled and curious.

“Because the Straw Hats are notoriously ruthless,” you stated, flicking your eyes briefly and suspiciously over the group. “You guys destroyed Orange Town.”

The redheaded woman who was previously smiling at you now narrowed her eyes, and when she spoke to you, her voice was lowered and full of venom.

“We saved Orange Town. Buggy and his band of bastards were the ones that destroyed it.”

It was clear that you were itching beneath the woman’s skin, and that was sort of what you wanted; it would be easier to draw them out if you angered them, and their emotions would blindside them and make them lousy to their surroundings. Ultimately, capture would be much easier if they were in that state; but part of you wanted to recoil from the sheer aggression in her tone, but the freedom of your village weighed heavily on your shoulders, and you forced yourself to stay strong.

“Even if I gave you the benefit of the doubt on that one, you still stormed the Marine base in Shells Town and slaughtered numerous innocent men.” You bit back, hoping beyond everything that your tone came out just as scathing as the woman’s had, and didn’t reflect the new wave of nervousness that had crashed over you.

The redhead didn’t react exactly in the way you expected, but she did roll her eyes in exasperation and sigh heavily. “We never killed anybody. Geez, just how many rumors have been flying around about us?”

“A lot,” you couldn’t help but say, and now the swordsman was no longer glaring, but the way he eyed you with a strange sort of intrigue made you somewhat prefer the glare.

“What kind of rumors?” He asked, and you nearly swallowed your own tongue. You narrowed your eyes at him and forced your tone to stay even.

“The bad kind. That’s why you aren’t welcome here.”

Now the captain spoke up again, and his words were filled with so much confusion that it made you feel a little guilty for your fib.

“But none of those rumors are true, so why would we be unwelcome?”

Now a genuine anger was curdling within your gut, the oppression and helplessness that your village had been subjected to over the many years boiling hot beneath your skin and muddying your usual stone-cold resolve.

“Because this village has dealt with enough, and the last thing we need is a ragtag group of lowlifes sullying it with their presence. Even if you aren’t what the rumors chalk you up to be, you’re still pirates, and that’s bad enough.” You didn’t have to force the way you scathed this time, and the anger beneath your skin burned just a little hotter when the man simply stared at you with no reaction to your insults — his eyes were narrowed, but not in irritation, and he was looking at you as if he were trying to read you, trying to reach into the very depths of your soul and figure you out from the inside out. It was making your skin crawl in ways that were simultaneously pleasant and unpleasant.

The man was silent for a long time, and when he finally did speak, his voice was lowered, but the volume did not alter the genuine curiosity or the cryptic-esque quality of it.

“What kind of pirates do you think we are?”

You blinked at him, momentarily baffled and caught off-guard. You worked your lips for a few seconds, but no sound escaped, because how were you supposed to answer that question?

Quite simply, actually.

“The only kind there is,” you stated bluntly, and when you tried to turn your glare onto the other occupants of the table, it fell from your eyes at the way they were looking at you. The woman’s expression was the worst; she looked sympathetic, and even a little understanding, and it confused it you to no end, but it also angered you. Why would they feel sympathy or understanding towards you? There was no reason; and even if there were, you wouldn’t want it from pirates.

“There’s more than one kind of pirate,” the man said, and this time, his voice was kind, almost wistful, and there was a strange sort of nostalgia dancing in his brown eyes, and you swore you could see a hint of distant admiration too.

Many different emotions were gnawing at your chest from this whole interaction; there was confusion, envy, intrigue, attraction, but most of all, there was anger. Anger that you had been put in the position to feel these emotions, that you were the one forced to bear the weight of the entire village, anger that these damn pirates weren’t falling for your tricks, that they didn’t even really seem perturbed by your words or opinions, that they were completely rewriting your entire view on them, and now you just wanted them to snap; to show their true colors, and then get thrown behind bars where they belonged.

It was with this impatience that you said and did what you did next.

“There is only one kind of pirate, and I can prove it.”

The man furrowed his dark brows in confusion for a total of a second, but his expression turned quickly to shock and anger when you reached forward and yanked his hat off with barely-concealed aggression. There was a soft snap noise that seemed to reverberate around the tavern when the strings below his chin broke apart from your roughness, and to you, it sounded less like a string snapping and more like the single shot fired into the sky to signal the drop of the guillotine at an execution; your execution.

Panic gripped your muscles as you stared into pools of swirling anger, and your adrenaline spiked, and before you could even grasp any coherent thoughts you turned on your heel and ran.

Chairs scraped behind you, and your heart thundered in sincere fear when multiple footfalls immediately pounded after you. You dodged multiple patrons, from sitting to standing, and beelined straight for the back of the tavern, the route that had been given to you somehow taped to the forefront of your mind instead of forgotten in your state of near panic.

He will definitely kill me if he catches me, was what was bouncing around your skull, pushing you further than even the thought of saving your village as you led the individual behind you on the invisible path, feet kicking up clouds of dust along the roads. Your breath felt frozen in your lungs, and your legs were already aching, but you knew what was at stake, and you’d be damned if you gave in to the pain and lost everything; it wouldn’t happen, not when you had already come so far.

You just narrowly avoided crashing into a woman as you crossed a rather busy road, receiving a multitude of insults and curses; your pursuer wasn’t as lucky, as you could hear gasps and shouts of indignation as well as stumbles and a small crash, and the distraction was enough for you to gain a few more feet on the man.

Just a few more turns, you thought as you whipped around the corner of the bakery, heart thundering even harder as you pursued gathered himself quickly and the pounding of his feet closed in. The warehouse is just a couple more meters this way.

You gripped the hat tightly in your hand as you ran, every shout and command to stop that reached your ears only propelling you forward, and before you knew it, you were banging open the large doors of the warehouse and skidding to a halt in the middle. The man’s footfalls entered not too long after, and a sense of dread filled your body as you whipped your eyes around the warehouse. It was empty, save for you and the man behind you. They were supposed to be here.

Did I go to the wrong one? You thought, chest heaving with large breaths as you tried to desperately search for the signature sea-blue of a Marine uniform. But there was none in sight, and your entire body froze when the man spoke up from behind you.

“Listen, lady. I don’t get what you’re doing, and I don’t know why you’re doing it, but it ends now. Give me my hat.”

Mustering up as much courage as you could manage you whipped around to face the man. He was standing just feet inside the warehouse, and his red vest and cropped jeans were covered in dust, and his shoulders dropped heavily with his panting. You were immensely relieved to find that he was the only one who’d followed you, but at the same time disappointed, because your goal was to capture all of the Straw Hat pirates. Would captain Akubi really be happy with just the captain? Said captain’s eyes were narrowed and his fists balled at his sides, but he made no move to attack you, and it drove your nerves up the wall.

Why was he hesitating?

As if reading your mind, the man spoke again. “I don’t want to fight you, so just give me my hat. Please.”

You hardly believed what your ears were hearing. Did a pirate just ask you to do something? That didn’t seem right. This was all too confusing; it was supposed to be simple, damn it! So why were you finding it so difficult?

You glanced around once more, and hope fluttered minutely in your chest when you caught movement just left of the pirate’s flank; it was a Marine, with a gun clutched in hand, and he was advancing on the man in front of you. With a shout he whipped the heel of his gun into the back of the man’s neck, and you watched with mixed feelings of relief and guilt as the man’s eyes snapped closed and he groaned as he crumpled to the floor of the warehouse.

“Very well done,” you recognized the husky voice as captain Akubi seconds before the man himself appeared at your side. His hands were clasped together in front of his thighs, and maybe at any other point in time, you’d feel pride at his praise, but at the moment you couldn’t feel anything of the sort. You kept your eyes glued to the man on the floor, who was groaning and attempting to rise to his feet, only to have the Marine behind him slam his gun against the back of his neck and bark an order to stay still.

“It’s only the captain here, but my men are rounding up the others as we speak. They were much easier to catch since they were separated. And it’s all thanks to you.”

Your skin crawled and you wanted to coil back from captain Akubi as he purred at you, his fingers slinking up to rub at your chin.

“Don’t touch me,” you nearly whispered, eyes still not leaving the sight before you, and your breath caught in your throat when the man raised his head, eyes locking with yours. They were wide, but there was no anger within them, just worry and plain confusion. Akubi sniffed once and tore his hand away with a click of his tongue.

“Well, go ahead and cuff him, men. Our business is done here.” Akubi ordered with a snap, and you startled when there was a shuffle of movement, and four more Marines fled from their hiding places within the warehouse, one with a pair of sea-prism handcuffs clasped in his hands.

The pirate was forced to his feet with his wrists bound behind him, and the metal clink of the cuffs locking sounded much louder than they truly were — the sound sent unpleasant shivers down your spine, but you refused to let yourself feel any guilt. These people were pirates, and their capture meant the freedom of your village, and you would never allow yourself to feel regret for doing what you had to.

But the man was making it extremely hard not to, what with those eyes blown wide and those lips slightly parted, looking at you as if he couldn’t believe you could truly do something like this. You had to tear your eyes away, or you might do something stupid; like attack captain Akubi and spell the end for your village, all for the release of some measly pirate who you knew nothing about; who was rumored to be heartless and aggressive.

But there was something in your gut, something screaming at you, telling you that this man just wasn’t that type of person, and every interaction you’d had with him thus far simply proved more and more truth to that ascertainment.

“Alright, men, time to head north. We will bring this miscreant and his crew to headquarters, and finally get the recognition we deserve.” Captain Akubi said, clapping his hands together gleefully. Your heart sunk as you stared at the man’s broad back as he approached the cuffed pirate, and you cleared your throat. Captain Akubi sighed heavily and barely turned to glance at you from around his shoulder.

“What is it?”

“My village. We have our freedom now, right? That was the deal. I honored my end. Will you honor yours?”

Your heart clenched and fell even further at the look of faux sympathy captain Akubi sent you.

“Oh, my dear, that’s really not in my power. But, given how well you did here, I will surely recommend it to headquarters.”

Anger and fear gripped your chest in alternating waves, and you stumbled forward with a splutter on your lips.

“That wasn’t what you told me! You said you would give us our freedom!”

The pirate currently held prisoner flicked his eyes between you and captain Akubi, his brows furrowing as he drank in your interaction with the man.

“I got you the Straw Hats. Now free my village, Akubi!” You demanded, and you nearly tumbled on your rear when the Marine captain turned completely on his heel and advanced on you in mere seconds, towering over you with a snarl on his lips. You winced when his hand whipped up and pain exploded across your jaw as he squeezed your cheeks with his hand.

“I am a Marine captain, and you will not give me orders. I have no obligation to honor your request, and there’s nothing you can do about that, so just pipe down and slink on back to your little ramshackle hut.” With that Akubi released your cheeks and pushed you back roughly, and now you really did fall to your rear, tears stinging at your eyes as you watched his retreating form.

“This isn’t fair,” you whispered through quivering lips, anger and helplessness wracking every nerve ending in your body. You balled your fist and slammed it down against the floor, not even wincing when pain bloomed through your palm. “This isn’t fair, Akubi!”

Akubi only laughed loudly and threw his shoulders up in a shrug. “Life isn’t fair, girlie. You’d better get used to it.”

“So you did this for your village,” the pirate said, and all eyes snapped to him. You expected to find anger or resentment, disbelief at the very least, etched into his face, but instead his lips were pulled into a small smile, and his eyes crinkled with what you could only identify as glee.

The look on his face was so soft, so happy, that it caused your throat to tighten, and you were unable to get any words out, so you simply nodded in affirmation. Why you were even engaging in this with the man, you didn’t know.

“I knew you weren’t bad.” The man said, and he sounded so confident, so sure, that it sent tingles up your spine, and you couldn’t help but preen under the praise. You were equal parts relieved and disappointed when the man tore his eyes from you and pointed a cheeky smile at captain Akubi.

“And now, I get to kick your ass, for terrorizing this village, hurting my friends, and for making her cry.”

Your heart swelled with conflicting emotions at the man’s words, and your cheeks warmed, but the feelings were dashed away when captain Akubi let out a condescending bark of laughter.

“You? You’re going to kick my ass? How do you figure?”

The man didn’t react, at least not with any of the reactions you would’ve; he just smiled even wider, and clicked his tongue.

“With my crew, of course.”

As if those words had simply summoned chaos, a multitude of noises broke out within the warehouse; grunts, groans, bangs, yells, curses, thwacking, thumping — and suddenly Captain Akubi was the only Marine standing, and all the others were on the floor, each clutching at a different part of their body, or nursing a different wound. Seeing them on the floor, and captain Akubi’s speechless gape, filled you with such happiness and satisfaction that you were nearly buzzing beneath your skin. Warmth bloomed in your chest when the redhead swam into your view and offered you her hand.

Despite your earlier aggressive interaction with the woman, you were happy to clasp her hand and heave yourself to your feet with her help. She gave you a smile, and you smiled back. While still gripping your hand, she said, “I’m Nami.”

“(Y/N).” You responded curtly, feeling a little guilty for the things you’d said to her previously. She genuinely seemed nice; they all did.

“Okay, captain guy, what’s it gonna be? Surrender or fight?” That cute accent pulled your eyes like a magnet to the owner, and you felt your skin heat at just how good he looked; now that there was more light, you could see his features more easily, and he was damn attractive. And that accent definitely complimented it. The others were there, too. The swordsman was standing beside his captain, two swords drawn at the ready — and the blond man was currently lighting a cigarette as he stood above a couple of groaning Marines.

The woman beside you, Nami, rubbed a hand against your bicep, and you turned to give her a soft, grateful, if not confused, smile.

“We heard about it from the villagers. When we broke free from the Marines, the villagers explained everything. And when we got here, we heard what the dingleshit said to you. We’re on your side.”

Warmth bloomed completely through your body at her statement; part of you couldn’t truly believe that these pirates were actually going to help you, that they even wanted to, and part of you wanted to reject the help. It was what you were used to, after all. The Marines had taken over your village years ago, and the rest of the village was far too scared to stand up to them. Your rebellion against them was done in secret for the longest time, and as the years went by, you began to lose hope; up until captain Akubi had offered you this exchange. If only you had been able to see it for what it truly was — a lie.

“You’re under arrest by order of the Marines!” Akubi growled, but his voice was a bit shaky, and when you glanced at him, you felt another zing of satisfaction at the trace of fear on his face.

The man, no, Luffy, brought his hands (which you now noticed were free of their restraints) up and cracked his knuckles. His tongue darted out to briefly swipe his lip, and when he drew his arm back, your eyes nearly bugged out of your head when it stretched back yards. It slung forward with a speedy velocity as Luffy yelled “Gum Gum Pistol!”, and when his knuckles made impact with captain Akubi’s face, the cracking result was nearly deafening.

Captain Akubi flew past you to the end of the warehouse, the wall shaking as his back made contact, and when he slid down his shoulders slumped; out cold. Luffy huffed out a snort and his hand returned to his body with a snap, causing him to stumble slightly.

Silence fell over the warehouse, the only interruptions being scraps of the wall tumbling to the floor and the grumbling and groaning of Marines. You stared around the warehouse with wide eyes, and when they traveled back to look at Luffy, you flushed when you made direct eye contact with the man.

Luffy smiled brightly at you, dazzling and so, so breathtaking, and your heart leapt into your throat when he crossed the distance between you two and offered his hand.

“I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m going to be King of the Pirates. I also want you to join my crew.”

You nearly choked on your own spit, and doubled over as coughs wracked your body. Tears stung in your eyes when your coughing ceased and you glanced up at Luffy disbelievingly.

“You what?” You croaked out, and Luffy, completely unperturbed by your blatant confusion and shell shock.

“I want you to join my crew. You’re brave and you can run really fast, and you sacrificed yourself for your village. You’re a good person. Just the kind of person I want on my crew. I would love to sail with you and find the One Piece.”

Your entire body flushed at his close proximity and compliments, but then what he said registered, and you couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.

“Wait, you really think the One Piece is real?” You asked, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. Luffy’s smile didn’t dim one bit, and he nodded.

“Of course I do. And you will, too. Once we find it. So, come on.”

You shook your head and bit your lip. “Look, Luffy, thank you. For what you did here. I can never repay you for it. But… I can’t join you. The life of a pirate just isn’t the life for me.”

A shock of yellow caught your eye when you glanced down, and with a start you realized you were still clutching Luffy’s hat. Hurriedly, you shoved it into Luffy’s chest and released it before pulling your hand back as if it had been burned. Luffy had to fumble a bit to catch it before it fell to the floor.

“And, um, I’m sorry about taking your hat. And… for breaking it.” You avoided Luffy’s eyes as you mumbled bashfully, but even without directly looking at him, the bright warmth of his smile was still blinding.

“If you really want to say sorry, or repay me, just join my crew.” Luffy said, still offering you a place on his ship, and it was truly mind boggling to you, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes.

“I’m serious. I can’t join you. I belong here, and I’m not interested in life at sea; I wouldn’t be a very good pirate. I… I also don’t know what captain Akubi would do to the village. We still aren’t free, even if you knocked him out.”

At that, Luffy’s smile did fall a bit, but he didn’t frown.

“I understand, (Y/N). But… maybe once you’ve gotten everything settled in your village, you could think about it?”

At that, you finally met Luffy’s eyes, and you were rendered speechless by the pure hope you found there. There were other emotions there too; interest, eagerness, and something soft, something that made your heart constrict and your skin burn. Suddenly, you wondered about what it would be like to have a life at sea with this man — to see him every day, to be a part of every adventure, to grow close to him and know him.

To know every Straw Hat member for who they truly were, and not who the rumors said they were.

You glanced around at the other members of the infamous Straw Hat crew, and with a small smile, you murmured,

“I’ll think about it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: tbh I’m not sure about this ending, but I hope it was good enough for y’all. The next request I’m working on right now is a Sanji request, so be on the lookout for that! Thank you so much for reading!! ❤️❤️

#opla #opla x reader #opla luffy #opla luffy x reader #one piece

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valyriantarg · 1 month

Text

Dance Of Dragons

1.Harsh truth

Winterfell

Once in Winterfell, Prince Jacaerys had taken his chance and won the trust of Lord Cregan. He was a young lord used to ruling his vassals and even more used to the harsh weather and the wild things that roamed the north.

Cregan and Jace became close friends, hunting together, drinking together and discussing political issues. At night the two exchanged stories of their families. Lord Stark was happy to meet another man like him and found his equal in the prince. Jace spent many days in winterfell enjoying the company of the Stark Lord.

It was a calm afternoon, Cregan and Jace were sitting by the fireplace in the main hall of Winterfell as the autumn wind howled outside the great keep. They were discussing the events that were about to unfold in the continent, but both were surprised by the sound of a dragon's screech coming from the horizon.

"Did you hear that?" Cregan asked his friend, raising his head to listen.

Both Cregan and Jace listened carefully in silence as the sound of the dragon's screeching echoed through the castle. There was no doubt that a dragon was near and judging by the sound of its screeching it was flying towards Winterfell.

They exited the main hall and walked out into the great courtyard of Winterfell. The massive black dragon was hovering right above the castle keep, its wings outstretched as it kept up its wailing scream. They stopped outside the main doors and looked up, Cregan observing the dragon with a mixture of awe and fear.

The mighty black dragon made its descent from the sky and landed outside the great doors of Winterfell. It filled the entire place with its enormous size, its wings outstretched and its tail lashing dangerously from side to side. Cregan watched with awe and cautious as the dragon landed, its massive claws gripping the ground.

Jace saw none other than his step sister Jaehaera. The princess dismounted the cannibal and walked towards Jace and Cregan; she was a vision to behold, Cregan thought, her silver hair flying in the wind, and her amethyst eyes staring at the pair.

“Sister, what brings you to winterfell?” Jace asked her as he approached her. Her dragon remained still behind her thrashing its tail back and forth.

“I’m afraid I carry bad news”. She said and looked at her brother with a solemn face, her amethyst eyes filled with sorrow. The growl of the cannibal making the situation worse.

"What is it?" Jace asked, his voice also soft and worried.

“Luke has been killed. I’m sorry Jace.” she revealed .

Jace's heart froze and his breath caught in his throat as his sister delivered the devastating news to him. He had expected that she came to Winterfell with a message, but not that it would be this harsh.

"Luke is dead?" He spoke in disbelief his eyes already watering.

Jaehaera placed her hand on his.

“When he arrived to Storms End Aemond was already there. He taunted him, threatened to take out his eye as a debt was left unpaid. Luke tried to run away. Aemond chased him on vhagar and…” she paused

Jace listened to his sister, his eyes widening in disbelief as she told him the story of his little brother's death.

"And?" Jace asked her, his voice tense. "What happened afterwards? Jaehaera speak!"

“Vhagar ate Luke and Arrax….” She spoke the final words her eyes already filled with tears.

Jace felt like someone had punched him in the stomach at those final words. His breath catching in his throat as he collapsed on the ground.

“Rhaenyra wants you back for his funeral” she kneeled down and spoke more calmly to him.

“Mother must be devastated. The two of them had a special bond” Jace spoke as he shed tears.

“I promise you brother, Luke will be avenged. They will pay for what they have done.” She said firmly to her brother.

“I’ll stay in winterfell to continue the plans with Lord Stark. But you, you must head back to Dragonstone.” She said and helped him back to his feet.

With these last words Jace was off to Dragonstone leaving Jaehaera back in Winterfell with Lord Cregan Stark.

Taglist

@littleshadow17

@lightdragonrayne

#hotd fanfic #rhaenyra targaryen #cregan stark x reader #daemon targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #cregan stark #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf

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ruwriteshours · 9 months

Text

WORTH A LIE. (MARK LEE)

➼ pairing: mark lee + fem! reader

➼ genre: angst (exes to lovers trope), fluff at the end

➼ summary: Always wallowing yourself in self-pity, you start to doubt yourself and you think it's time to end your relationship with Mark with a lie. He'll have no choice but to move on from you. It will work...

"I cheated on you."

Biting your lip in anticipation as you waited for a response. Looking over, you could see Mark tensed at your words but he quickly covered up by reaching over the table to grab the remote control, chuckling lightly.

"Sure you did."

You shook your head.

"I'm seriously." You stated firmly, this time.

Wanting nothing more than to burn a hole through the ground, your anxiety quickly rising as he finally turned to face you. His eyes were no longer warm and loving, like you were used to seeing. No, it felt spine-chilling from the way his gaze hardened, those cold eyes searching through yours as if he was trying to detect a lie. You couldn't let him see right through you though, so you attempted to put on a assertive stance.

A moment passed by with deafening silence, you held in my breath as you awaited for his reaction yet again. This time though, he laughed humorless, you could tell that he was trying to hide his pain away. Your heart clenched at the sight, wanting to desperately hold him one last time.

Stretching out your hands to hold onto his, he pushed it aside harshly, "Don't."

"I'm sorr—"

"Save it." He spat.

He stood up, pacing back and forth as if he was contemplating on what to do next.

"When?" He looked back at you with those cold eyes.

Shuddering slightly, you meekly mumbled. "Two weeks ago."

"You mean, when you were on tour in LA? Are you fucking serious?" He bellowed, his footsteps drawing further away, not wanting to stay in the living room with your presence any longer. You couldn't blame him.

That's right. During the tour, you had barely any time with Mark— not that you had much before either. He is an idol and so were you, but managing through this relationship for a year was made possible for the both of you. Afterall, you had been friends way longer than you had been together. Both of you had so much trust for each other. Or so he thought.

Following his steps, you began making your way to the kitchen, where his back was facing you. "Look, it just happened and I thought—"

"You thought it was a great time to cheat, right?" He cut me off. "To make me work my ass off in the studio while you go fuck with some stranger."

"Must be fun, right?" He taunted.

"It really wasn't like that." Weakly defending yourself as you refuse to make eye contact.

He scoffed.

"Then what is it, huh?" He pushed on. "That I would just magically forgive you? Like what you did isn't suppose to fucking hurt me?"

His voice cracked slightly, at the end.

"I'm really sorry." You pleaded.

A month later,

Holding back your tears as you try to remain unbothered at the sight of Mark making out with some girl at the party.

After the break-up, Mark had completely shut you out of his life. Blocking your number and refusing to acknowledge your presence. Although it hurt, you knew it was for the better anyways. He deserved better.

"Why won't you just tell him the truth?" Yoora suggested, appearing at your side.

Yoora had been there and she had seen it all. The amount of tears that were shed as you force yourself to put on a smile in front of everyone else. She hated that you had to end the relationship at your own expense. Though, you trust that she wouldn't tell a soul, that didn't stop her from verbalising her disagreement.

"That will be the last thing I would do." You stubbornly retorted.

Yoora sighed.

"He hates you, now. Are you sure you're willing to live with that?" She questioned.

"Of course not, but I rather him hate me than let him have the burden of knowing." Walking off from the couch, not wanting to converse anymore.

Squeezing your way through the crowded place, you had accidentally bumped into the devil himself. There he stood, as stunning as ever. He grew out his hair, his black locks swayed around his neck and his breath reeked of alcohol. Stumbling back slightly at the impact, you could only pressume to walk away, knowing he wanted nothing to do with you.

But before you could make that step, he tugged you forward by your wrist. His mouth was near yours and you could've sworn that your heart skipped a beat. The anticipation was killing you as you could feel his lips nearing closer,

"We could've been together." He voiced out, snapping you out of your trance.

"But you— you just had to mess up!" He slurred.

"Mark—"

"No— I hate how you think you got the upper hand," He paused, "but guess what, I am living the life without you."

Your heart ache at his words.

"Please stop." Your voice quavered.

"Huh, you're actually crying." He mocked, "You're so pathetic, I shouldn't have wasted those years being with you. It's insufferable."

You took a step back.

"I fucking hated you and I'm glad we broke off." He finished, walking off.

You could only stand there in shock. You never thought he would utter those words out so menacingly. You should be glad that he bought your lie, but why does the sound of your shattering heart says otherwise?

"Alright, let's go through this one last time!" The instructor yelled out.

It was the final week of practice for the yearly stage performance for all SM idols to perform together. You would usually be thrilled about it, considering it was only the few times you would get to see Mark on stage.

Oh, how times have changed.

Ever since that party, you would only receive far worse treatment from him. From 'accidentally' bumping into your shoulder whenever you walked past, to intentionally spilling water all over your clothes and not uttering a single apology and purposely ignoring your greetings. It hurt to know he wasn't the same as how he was before.

The first week of training, the both of you were paired up as partners as part of the choreography. The best of your luck when his name was mentioned, alongside with yours. You could feel the burning tension but you attempt to remain professional, not wanting any personal issues to clash with your work. Though, you couldn't say the same for Mark.

"Mark, you have to look at her." The choreographer insisted.

He refused to make eye contact whenever an intimate part of the choreography came up, claiming he wanted to avoid any dating scandal. Yet openly flirting with other female idols in the room, being way too up close and personal with them. You still brushed off, reminding yourself that you needed to be patient. Little did you know, that his gaze was focused on yours—looking for a reaction.

"You look really beautiful." He brushed the girl's hair.

He would purposely mess up your schedule, telling you to arrive at a certain time and making you show up at least an hour late, getting an earful from the instructor.

"Oops." He mocked, smirking at the way your glaring eyes intensifies.

And it was only the beginning.

"Ugh, why would you put up with this?" Yoora groaned, leaning her head against the headboard.

"Yeah, and he is being way too blatant about it." Karina agreed, munching on her snacks.

You sigh.

"Look, I know we said we would keep this a 'secret'." Giselle said using air quotes. "But this has gotten way too far, he's being an ass at this point."

"Guys, it's not that easy." You defended.

"What's not easy? Telling him that you were hospitalised when we were on tour? Or the fact that you have to hide it?" Yoora pushed.

"Both!" You whined.

How could you? Mark was a very busy man and you couldn't let him be bothered too much about your health issues. After the tour in LA, you had been forced to take pills. Day in and day out, the doctors would come in to check up on you. Your condition was getting worse and you could only throw up every single food you ate. You couldn't stand the heat because your nose would easily bleed. Everything became too much, that you didn't want to pass the burden onto someone else. Mark has had enough on his hands and you didn't want to add on to it.

Your members think you were stupid for that reasoning but you had always been an overthinker. Even at the early stages of your relationship with Mark, you had been nothing but a trainwreck. Your emotions always got to you and it was bound to happen that it will be the downfall of your relationship.

They all shared knowing looks as you left the room afterwards.

The day has finally arrive. Everything went smoothly, fans were cheering on to the performance and you couldn't be more happy to be on stage after awhile.

"Remember what the doctor said." Your manager reminded.

You nodded, "I've taken the medicine, don't worry." You assured.

That seem to be a good enough answer and your manager walked off, letting you prepare for your next performance.

"Don't force yourself." Yoora stated, standing by your side. You could only mumble a quick 'okay' before going back to your position.

Suprisingly, everything went by according to plan. You were able to perform under the immense amount of sickness you were facing. You could feel your energy draining by the second but you still pushed yourself, nonetheless. The only thing you could focus on was the next part;

Which was when it came to your part with Mark, you couldn't help but feel your nerves skyrocketing. You miraculously did the choreograph perfectly, and Mark was able to maintain eye contact with such genuinity that it made you doubt that he was just doing it for show. Right as it was about to end, you felt Mark pull away quickly. The sudden action made you face the reality— it was no longer the same.

The cheers from the fans made you able to quickly contort your face to a look of happiness, not wanting to cause suspicion.

"That was good, girls!" Everyone cheered, just then you heard your phone ding.

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your sockets when you read it.

Mark: Meet me at the supply closet. Now.

Your heart skipped a beat at that. You quickly excused yourself as you made a beeline towards the closet, you couldn't help but feel curious at what he has to say. Surely it can't be...

Just as you entered the dark, empty room, you hear the door slammed shut. "Mark!" You turned around to open the door, only to find it jammed.

Banging the door repeatedly, you called out. "Mark, this isn't funny! Let me out, please!"

You continued banging the door for a few minutes and your calls of help was deemed useless. Just as you were about to call someone on your phone, it was a sudden horror when you discovered that your battery ran out.

Just great!

You tried to remain calm but it was imposible as you couldn't breathe from the small, cramped space. You were slowly loosing conciousness and before you knew it, you blacked out...

Why isn't she answering my text?

Mark thought disappointingly as he stared at the text he sent out a few days ago.

Mark: You did great out there!

Was it too much? Was he being too much of a creep to you. He didn't know why he was so nervous sending out that text. Afterall, it was just you.

Maybe... just maybe that's why he felt so agitated. He knew he shouldn't worry about you but he can't help it. He knew he had been an ass but surely anyone would to their cheating ex. So why did he cared when you hasn't been giving him the attention he wants?

"Mark! Mark, where the hell are you!" A shrill voice echoed through the room, his train of thoughts were interrupted.

Before the male could recollect himself, he didn't even notice Yoora until he was pulled by the ear. The group watched in shock as they watched one of their members being attacked by the enraged woman.

"Ow! What the hell!" Mark yelped in pain.

Yoora would have none of it. "You're such an asshole!"

"Yoora, calm down." Karina intervened.

"Can someone tell me what is happening?" Taeyong yelled out, trying to diffuse the situation.

"I would want to know that too!" Mark agreed.

Yoora sneered, "You knew what you did, dick!"

"Yoora, let's not start anything." Karina stated calmly, "Why did you do that, Mark?"

"What! What did I do?" Mark asked, genuinely confused of what he is being accused of.

Yoora scoffed.

"You texted Y/N that night after the performance, asking her to meet you so that you could pull a prank of trapping her in a supply closet for hours!" Yoora exclaimed.

The group gasped, curious eyes watching as the scene unfolds. Watching the way Mark's face acted the same as them, equally as shock at the horrific news.

"Well, guess what? You're stupid little prank landed her in the hospital for days!" Yoora finished off.

"What! Which hospital is she at?!" Mark was in frantic, not even acknowledging the fact that the girls were accusing him of doing that act to you. Never in a million years, would he be that cruel.

"Funny to think that we would tell you. She doesn't want to see you." Yoora crossed her arms.

Mark looked at her angrily, "Look, I didn't do anything to her! I wasn't on my phone after the performance. I fell asleep the whole day. Ask Haechan!" He desperately tries to defend himself.

Haechan nodded, "It's true, he wasn't even near his phone."

"Then who was it texting her?" Yoora ask, her anger slightly dissipitating.

Mark could feel the lightbulb flicker in his head, "Aera!"

Everyone stared at him, "I let Aera use my phone because she said she needed to call someone. I didn't even check if she gave me back until the next day." He explains.

Aera had always envy your relationship so when it came about the dreaded news of your break-up, she was visibly more than happy and was up in her feet when Mark began to show slight interest for her. Of course, it's now all ruined because of you. The girl thought bitterly before making the most inhumane act.

"That bitc-"

"Now that I've proven my innocence, let me see her!" Mark exclaimed.

"Um, you see. I wasn't lying when I said she doesn't want to see you." Yoora scratched the back of her head awkwardly.

Karina let out a groan, finally having had enough. "Ugh, this push and pull thing is getting annoying. I'll tell you the whole truth."

"Karina..."

"Don't. He has the right to know." Karina continued.

Mark could never be more confused, "Know about what?"

"You seem to be in a very bad condition but surely enough, it will be a quick recovery. You just need to have enough rest." The doctor stated, "You have been taking your regular meds, right?"

You nodded,

"Then you should be fine. In a few minutes, you are allowed to be discharged." You sigh at that, relieved that it was finally over.

"Y/N?" That voice.

"Mark? What are you doing here?" You asked, puzzled by his presence.

"Just for the record, Aera was the one who put you in here. Just wanted to let you know that I would never do that to you." He stated.

"Cool." You awkwardly replied,

"Is that all?" You avoided eye contact, not wanting him to see you in such a state.

Mark let out an unbelievable laugh, "You know, this whole time, you paint yourself to be the bad guy when you were out here suffering the whole time?"

"Mark..." You trailed off, knowing what he was going to say.

"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was suprisingly calm. You didn't know if you should be worried or glad.

"Because— You were already in enough stress as it-"

"Don't." He interrupted, "Don't use that shitty excuse on me." He snarled.

"Well, it's the truth. I don't know what you want from me." You retort.

"What I want is for you to stop hiding these types of things from me." He confessed.

You scoffed, "Why should I? We're not even together."

Almost after you utter those words, Mark grabbed your chin and made you face him. "Don't say that. You're mine and you've always will be."

His tone was stern.

"You made me treat you like shit and I'm sorry I hurt you but I hope you know that my feelings for you never changed." He spoke earnestly.

You teared up. "Stop it, Mark."

"No, I won't stop. As long as you're here, it's enough to for me to fight for this relationship. I should've done it sooner so i'm doing it now." His hands continued to leave a tight yet gentle grip, making sure he wasn't being too rough on you.

"You can say whatever shit you want, but this time, I won't leave you. You're stuck with me forever, Y/N. I'm going to take care of you until we're old and grey." He declared, kissing your forehead before giving you a warm hug.

This time though, you couldn't bring yourself to argue as you accepted his embrace.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

©ruwriteshours

#mark lee imagines #mark lee #nct dream imagine #nct 127 imagine #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #mark lee fanfiction

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nyanggk · 1 year

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MR. SIM! — s.jy

PART 2 : MY SHY HUSBAND

PAIRING enhypen jake x female reader

SYNOPSIS after marrying the man of your nightmares, your husband, jake, shows you that he's actually an angel labeled with bad manners.

GENRE romance, arranged marriage, comedy

WARNING profanities, suggestive content, piercings, MDNI

wc. 5k+

— happy birthday to this pervert :)) ! I didn't have the time to write a full smut so the rest is up to yalls imaginations, hopefully you guys still find it funny.

To be wed is the practice of both hearts joining one another in a matrimonial ceremony. There, they swear in front of everyone; their families, friends, and to God. They promise to become one, to console in another, to love each through thick and thin until death do they part. But how can you surrender yourself fully when you have no such feelings for the man in front of you?

When the pastor instructs the both of you to conjoin your palms, through the white veil you wore, you watch with quiet eyes as your groom shies away from your hold. Vengeance and malice are hidden behind your irises and you almost audibly scoff.

In the background, the pastor continues to lecture the both of you about the principles of a wedding, how God should be the center of your everything. Yet your world has been taken away from you, and therefore, your center is filled with void.

"Mr. Jaeyun Jake Sim," You hear the man cloaked in white call for the boy who stood in front of you, Jake, pulling you out of your plotting thoughts.

"Do you take Miss YN to be your lawfully wedded wife in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, 'til death do you part?"

Not even a second passes, he says, "I do, father."

He wants this, wants to marry you, however, you don't. You may not be able to avoid this marriage, but you will try in every way you can to avoid him.

Jake is handsome and every bit of his physique makes him seem like the sweetest angel. Today, his hair is nicely parted and styled to perfection. He's clad in a typical yet dashing suit, the dress shirt underneath hugging his frame to the point where you can see the outline of his pecks whenever he breathes. You caught the stylists gossiping with each other a while ago, the contents being your grooms natural beauty. They were going on and on about how naturally his face glowed, and how adorable his smile is when he curled his lips upwards. Not to mention, how nice and accommodating he is. If the two of you met under different circumstances, you have no doubt that you'll be the one making the first move.

"And do you, Miss YN, take Mr. Jaeyun Jake Sim to be your lawfully wedded husband in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, til death do you part?"

I don't.

But you have no choice and so, you gulp, letting empty words fall out of your mouth. "I do."

"Now, with the power vested in me, I pronounce the both of you, husband and wife." The pastor in charge announces, and right then, cheers erupt inside the small cathedral as echoes of their claps resound all throughout. You wince when you look at your parents' smile, clapping in an excited manner as they gush to those beside them about how happy they are. Your mother even shedding a tear. However, this is all fluke, something that they had forced onto you regardless of the fact that you despised it.

You didn't think arranged marriages were still a thing in the 20th century, but your parents have proved you wrong. There's not an ounce of them that felt guilty, even when you lashed out, and told them how you don't want to be wed with a stranger just for the company's benefit. But they said it was good for you.

"Don't you see?" Your mom asks as if it's the most obvious thing, grabbing both your arms to make you face her. "Finally, your image of being a whore—"

"Yuri!" Your dad lashes out in anger as he never calls your mother anything but their pet names for each other. This case is different as she's not only making you do something that you don't want, but is calling his own daughter a slut.

You and your mother had never seen each other eye to eye when it came to your nightly agendas. Well, neither did your father, but he loved you too much to tie you down.

"Fine." She breathes out, composing herself. "A playgirl. Your image of being a playgirl can all be erased. Jake is a sweet boy. I have no doubt that you'll fall in love with him eventually."

Oh, the misogyny.

First of all, you're not a playgirl nor are you a whore. You'd prefer the term "An Anti-Romantic that Sleeps Around a lot." Yeah, that's way better.

But all your efforts to sway your parents' minds were in vain— though your dad agreed, your mother didn't, and if there was something more powerful than your father, that was his wife— as by early November, they already had the whole wedding and reception planned, and here you are now, being announced as Sim Jake's beloved wife, his last name now being attached to yours.

Fuck your mother. Fuck your dad for not stopping her. Fuck Jake for agreeing.

If he truly has a heart as pure as milk, he wouldn't have agreed, but milk goes rotten eventually, and you assume the same case has happened to Jake. Yet, the fucker still acts like he's an angel.

"You may now kiss the bride." He says, gesturing to your now husband.

Just when you thought Jake would happily lean in and kiss you, he doesn't. He shakes in his spot and bites his lip, a nervous habit you've concluded after meeting him just a few times before. He'd done the same when the two of you were introduced for the first time, when the two of you met for dinner with each other's parents, and many other occasions.

You're not going to lie, but you found this habit cute. So, you tell yourself that you're the one leaning in because you want this to be over with, not because you want to get a taste of the strawberry chapstick on his red lips.

At first, Jake's whole body becomes rigid, and you're about to pull away when he loops his arms around your waist and deepens the kiss. Now, it's your body's turn to become rigid. Nevertheless, you keep kissing him because he just tastes so good, completely disregarding the supposed fact that you hate his entire being, reasoning to yourself that you're just acting.

When the time comes to pull away, Jake watches your reaction with nervous eyes, afraid that he's overstepped his already small boundary with you. He knows you don't want this, knows that you don't have any sort of romantic feelings with him, but he can't help it.

The first time he saw you was at a club his friends dragged him to. Jake can't hold his alcohol well, and always proclaimed himself as the driver, meaning that he wasn't going to have a drink at all.

From where Jake sat, talking to a drunk Heeseung, he caught sight of you on the dance floor. He was so in awe of the charisma you showed. He knew the alcohol must've had a part in it, but that didn't matter because to Jake, you were a goddess partying within a sea of mere mortals. You were one of a kind and the spotlight was on you. At that time, Jake was having doubts if he was sane or not for how can someone be this attracted to a stranger they've never even talked to beforehand? He has no idea if it was because of the way your body moved or if it was the way your hands clumsily wrapped around his neck after he had made the daring move to approach you.

Without the alcohol, Jake had the time of his life listening to your drunken rants beside the sidewalk, and his heart started beating laps when you leaned in to rest your head against his shoulder.

"You're such a sweet guy." You slurred out, hand absentmindedly fidgeting with the loose threads of his woolen sweater. "Can I kiss you?"

Taken aback, the boy stutters on his breath, and he looks at you for confirmation. He knows you're drunk, but the determination between your eyes is so adorable, how can he possibly say no? He knows you're drunk, but giving his first kiss to you shouldn't be that bad of a crime, right?

When he timidly nods, you take the initiative, and lean in. When you do, it's like a billion butterflies suddenly fluttered their wings inside his stomach, and he coils into your touch, melting into your body.

Your lips lay against each other for a while before Jake instinctively opens his lips, not wanting to part but needing to breathe, and you take that as your queue to put your warm tongue inside his mouth. That's when Jake feels the small metal bead pierced onto your wet muscle, the piercing on your tongue rubbing against the roof of his mouth and tongue, and Jake can't help but release a small whimper into your kiss.

Jake never wanted something so bad in his life before. He was always willing to give, and put others first. Maybe, just for this time, he can be selfish, and have you.

You probably had no recollection of him, but he had every bit of you reserved in his mind. Your meeting has become a core memory, and Jake will cherish it forever. With that, he'll show you he's worth putting yourself down, and make up for what he's done. Forgive him, but he just can't continue to bear watching you sleep with random men anymore when it should be him that you come home to. You'll be safe with him and he'll treat you right. He just hopes you give him a chance despite your resentment.

Jake watches with sadness as you pull away from each other, and acts nonchalant about the whole kiss as for a moment, he thought that you enjoyed it. The priest then catches his eye and the boy thanks him for leading the ceremony of your wedding while you completely ignore everyone's existence.

It's been about a week into your marriage. Currently, the two of you are still at your honeymoon, your parents deciding to give the whole month to the two, hoping for a baby by the end of it. It's definitely not going to happen, Jake knows that much as with the way you still act cold and dismissive towards him, even Jake doubts if he can hold a civil conversation with you soon.

Though he's been trying to get close to you, it seems as if Jake still hasn't made any sort of progress. He's made sure to be extra nice and charming, accommodating to your every need, being there for you whenever you need a helping hand, but nothing is working. He doesn't want a baby with you. Well, he wants one but he's willing to wait, and if you don't want one then he'll personally make up a lie saying that he's infertile to your parents. He's never lied before, but he'll do it for you.

All Jake wants is for you to acknowledge his presence, to at least spare him a glance. He's been craving to hear your voice and he's willing to beg.

"Good morning." He greets when he sees you coming out of the room, hair tangled in a sleepy manner as you grumble out a response.

The both of you had agreed that you would have the bed all to yourself— well, you claimed it and he complied— seeing as there was no way in hell that you would sleep beside him. Jake gladly accepted the couch, not a single peep of complaint was thrown your way which saves you more time if you were to argue.

Jakes is sitting on the couch, watching a cartoon. You would've thought it was cute for a grown married man to watch children's shows if it weren't for the earful of complaints and lectures your mom threw at you in the early morning.

She knew fully that you hadn't been treating Jake like a human being. The other day, she found out through the guards that you left him to go party at the hotel's club, and when you were on the phone talking to your mother and Jake just so happened to trudge in and ask you a question, you brushed him off.

It was safe to say that your mother is the least bit pleased with your behavior, and rang your phone to death while you were happily fast asleep in dreamland. When you picked up, she continued on with her rant, effectively ruining your day even before it began, burning your eardrums off in the process.

Being the bright guy that Jake is, his cheerful mood picks up upon seeing his wife, talking to you excitedly about his plans for today as if you hadn't been the shittiest person to him for the past week. "Do you want to go out today? I was thinking we could go to the beach—"

"Sure, Jake." You answer dismissively as you pull open the fridges door. "Whatever you want."

Jake's mood deflates after hearing your lack of interest. "Oh... uhm, Okay..."

Later on, you and Jake venture out to the beach, and you watch him by the shores as you sit on a blanket, a shade put up prior by Jake. He wanted to block off the sunlight from hitting your skin, knowing full well that you hated the heat.

Now, after setting up your rest area, he runs to go and meet up with a tan man sporting stylish dreadlocks, soon finding out that he's going to be learning how to surf.

Ohh this is going to be so amusing to watch.

You watch as he keenly listens to the surfing instructor about the do's and dont's when it comes to surfing, nodding along here and there. The board he chose was a sea blue with two bold yellow stripes along the middle. Wet, his hair clings to his forehead, him having to sweep it back from time to time whenever it comes in the way of his vision.

It seemed as if their little pep talk had already come to an end as Jake readjusts his grasp onto the board before looking at you with elated eyes, a huge grin forming across his face. Right then, you notice the way the ends of his mouth curl up into adorable hooks, and you suddenly feel the random urge to trace it.

Dazed, you wave at Jake and give him a small smile. That seemed to be enough to boost his morale as he unconsciously rewards you with the most adorable look you've ever seen. It was unbelievably charming. A smile so sweet that it puts you under a trance. One where he didn't show his teeth, his mouth forming into a straight line while his cheeks bunch up, his eyebrows raising themselves up. A type of smile that made his cheeks look like soft bread, and he nudged his thumb towards the sea as if to tell you that he's heading into the water.

When Jake turns his back, you snap out, scolding yourself as you ignore the way your heart's beating.

At first, you had planned to leave while Jake is preoccupied, but now, you find yourself stuck to the same spot, looking at your husband as he loses balance on the surfboard and dives headfirst into the water for the sixth time since he went in. You tell yourself that you've stayed because his clumsiness amuses you, not because of the proud smile he throws your way at each progress he makes. He's looking at you as if he's searching for your validation each time he manages to prolong his balance on the surfboard, the eratic oceans doing nothing to help. But regardless, you reward him with a cheer and a thumbs up, him breaking into a boyish grin soon after receving his prize.

He looks overwhelmingly charming like this, and each time he falls, he makes sure to go down in a variety of poses. At his antics, you can't help but laugh at the boy and shake your head, unbelieving at the fact that you're laughing at your husband whom you supposedly hate.

Lying chest down on the surfboard, his hands paddle at his sides to gain momentum when he notices a wave soon to crash, clearly looking excited. However, you aren't.

You can't help but let the panic in you grow as this isn't just a normal sized wave. It's huge, and comparing it to his body, he looks like he's going to get devoured into the water, especially since he's still a beginner.

You stand up from the beach towel you've been laying on, a hand to your chest as you hold your breath. When Jake manages to get on top of the wave, he looks at you in victory, but before you can return the gesture, Jake loses his footing and disappears into the water.

"No…" You inch closer to the sea, feet getting soaked into the water as you wait for Jake to come up. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Jake's instructor begins to grow worried, and you watch him paddle his surfboard close to the area where Jake had disappeared.

"Jake!?" You call out his name yet you don't get a reply. Jake always replies to you. Even when you scream or scoff his name out, he still answers. So, why isn't he now?

Wanting nothing more than to dive into the water and find him yourself, you chuck your dress off, and swim towards where his instructor is heading, following his lead so the both of you can search for your husband.

With the wire on the surfboard strapped onto Jake's ankle, you can only hope that his board soon floats up, and after a few long seconds, it does. Finally, you release a loud sigh, quickly paddling your hands to its location, finding your husband passed out. Your heart only sinks deeper at the thought of something terrible happening to him.

Without wasting any more time, both you and the instructor drag Jake's body up to the shore, carefully placing him down. With fear stricken eyes, you cup Jake's cheek in the palm of your hand, shaking it gently in a desperate attempt to wake him up.

"Jake? Wake up, please." You beg as your hands shake when you grab a hold of his own, clutching them in yours and kissing the back of it as you watch the instructor perform CPR on your husband.

The man presses down on his chest a couple of times before putting his ear next to Jake's mouth, searching for signs of breathing. When nothing happens, the instructor tells you that he's going to have to give Jake mouth to mouth precipitation, and you quickly agree. As the man's lips inch closer to Jakes', your husband suddenly bolt's up, stunning both you and the instructor as you realize that your husband was faking everything all along.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" He says, frantically pushing the instructor off, and your jaw hangs in disbelief.

"You asshole!" You scream out, slapping his chest as you feel stray tears trickle down your face at having been worried that he had been gone forever. "Why would you do that, huh? W-Why the fuck are you laughing?! Jake, stop!"

Ugh, how dare he laugh?! You feel so frustrated right now that you just want to punch that sick grin off his face.

Once Jake notices that you aren't taking his joke the same way he is, he immediately gets serious. He pulls you in for an embrace, and you gladly take it without much resistance, tears stopping soon after as you're just happy that he's alive.

Soon, annoyance comes rushing back into your senses and you dig your palms to his chest, pulling away from him. "Fuck you! I can't believe I bothered to give a shit about you! You pull that type of stunt again Jake Sim, you're not only going to lose a wife, but your kids too!"

And it's safe to say that mixed with the fear of losing his dear wife, Jake felt awfully guilty for trying to sneakily steal a kiss from you. Now that he thinks about it, he couldn't be anymore stupid to do such a horrid prank on you. His intentions might have been for his own selfish desire, but he didn't think you'd shed tears.

You're a fucking asshole, Jake. You just made your wife cry.

It's safe to say that due to his theatrics, your day of wild surfing and sitting by the beach has been cancelled. Not only that but it's as if the heavens sympathize with your mood, the sky turning gray and dark, a foreboding sign that a storm is about dawn.

It's currently night time and you still feel as sour as a sweaty armpit. You've been mercilessly ignoring Jake since the events earlier this morning, wanting him to learn a lesson or two in comedy because none of that shit was even close to funny! It was scary; the thought of him leaving.

Everytime he tries to strike up a conversation with you, you shut him down with short answers and snide remarks. The same topic of "Oh, why don't you just pretend to drown yada yada." recurring on and on and Jake is forced to retreat, though, the idea of trying again never leaving his mind once.

Even Though he's back in phase one— the phase where you hate his guts— he knows he can get past this. He can do it. He just needs to take his time and give you yours. All he wants right now is to beg down on his knees, and tell you how much he regretted doing it. If only you'd let him, he would lick your feet if you asked.

The two of you were supposed to have dinner outside when the rain started pouring, barring the two of you inside your hotel room as for some reason, the hotel made the bright idea to build the restaurant without a roof. Even though you detested having to be in the same room as Jake, you wouldn't dare getting wet. Luckily for the both of you, room service was a thing.

A part of you feels like you should act nicer towards the boy, besides, he is your husband. During your stay here, he's been nothing but a sweetheart; paying for everything, guiding you, and entertaining every childish plan you have to spite him— well, save for the stupid shit he pulled this morning— obviously, nothing worked. He just took every dumb thing you did as adorable, even when you ignored him.

"Room service!" A man announces from the other side of the door. Being the gentleman that he is, Jake gets up before you do, telling you that he'll get it.

When the door cracks open, pops of confetti and a series of cheers erupt inside your suite. The whole group of staff shows up, and they all start singing him a happy birthday. One of the staff drags in a cart full of intricate looking dishes placed gently on top, a large bottle of champagne sat nicely inside a bucket of ice, and a lighted cake with the writings "Happy 20th Birthday!" written on it.

Of course today just had to be his birthday! Now, how are you supposed to maintain your cold exterior once finding out that you've not only forgotten your husband's birthday, but also ignored him the whole day while he was just trying to get a kiss from you. It sounds so dumb yet you assume that it's an idea Jake is willing to entertain.

The poor boy gets taken aback, speechless as they surprise him on his birthday, but nonetheless, he starts clapping smally and humming with them. When he sees that they're putting the dishes down, he goes in to help them, however they shoo the boy away.

"Happy birthday Mr. Jake!" They all cheered in unison, and as their song came to an end, a staff lifted up the cake, and gestured for him to blow the candles off.

Before he does, he closes his eyes, a boyish grin on his face and you almost blurt out the word "Cute" in front of everyone. It certainly won't be out of the ordinary for them, but you can only guess the inner turmoil it's going to give you.

When he's done with his wish, he blows out his candles, and once again, cheers and claps erupt, you joining in and smiling at him, realizing that you can stop being an asshole just for today since it's his birthday.

"Mrs. Sim," A staff member calls out and asks excitedly, "Aren't you going to give the birthday boy a kiss?"

Both freezing on the spot, you and Jake lock eyes with each other, but no one notices as everyone shoots up in hoots, telling you enthusiastically to give your husband a kiss.

You take Jake by surprise when you suddenly stride towards him, pressing your lipstick coated lips on his in front of everybody. Like the first time you've kissed him, his cheeks burn, and his heart beats faster. It's like he's reliving his first kiss all over again; this version being done in front of a crowd.

His eyes are wide and unbelieving, and upon seeing his adorable reaction, you laugh, dragging your finger across the cake's icing and smearing it on his cheek before walking back with a shake of your head and he doesn't miss the giggle that escapes your lips.

Once he regains his composure and the rave eventually dies down, he thanks the staff, and bids them all a nice farewell, escorting them outside. Jake, being the kind and respectful boy that he is, doesn't forget to bow, showing his gratitude, and you're once again reminded that you're married to a literal angel, and not a devil reincarnate like how you make him out to be.

Maybe being married to Jake Sim isn't so bad. You're still angry at your parents for approving this, and you still haven't proved the hunch you had that Jake is an accomplice. However, if you find out that he is, would it change your perspective of him knowing that this kind and angel like persona is his natural self? Is it so bad to be stuck with this man for the rest of your life?

Gosh, it sounds like you're developing a case of Stockholm Syndrome, or are you just plainly bat shit crazy because are you really coming to terms with your situation this early on?

Regardless, you don't know why you've been fussing so much. You're not obligated to fall in love with the man. You just have to treat him how he deserves, like a normal human being. Sure, your endless nights reigned with sex might come to a holt for a few— you'll surely have to if you don't want to be perceived as a cheater by the media. God knows what your mother would do if she finds out you've broken poor little Jakey Wakey's fragile heart and it's safe to say that you don't want to hear any of that bullshit soon.

"Uhm…" Is the first thing he says to you after the kiss. Poor Jake is unsure of where the two of you stand. Maybe you were just pressured and kissed him so as to not raise the suspicion that you have absolutely no feelings for him. If that were the case, then he feels like it's his fault. "You hungry?"

Of Course he asks you. Jake always puts you first regardless of the situation.

"A bit." You reply to him with a soft sigh, feeling unsure yourself after the act you impulsively did.

Jake looks a bit disappointed for a moment as he genuinely thought that you might want to spend some time with him. It's his birthday after all, but he guessed that he had to try even harder for you to accept him if he truly wanted you.

You can see the heartbreak inside his puppy-like eyes, and you bet that if he had a tail, it would've stopped wagging right then. Now, you immediately regret what you said. You could've just lied and said you were hungry for his sake. Read the room you dumb bitch!

"Oh, then we can eat later when you're hungry. I'll heat it up later so it's still hot. For now, I guess—"

"Are you hungry?" You cut him off, placing your book down, sitting up and leaning forward so you can admire the food, and act as if your question didn't just send him into overdrive, this being the first time you've asked a question that showed even a sliver of interest in regards to him.

"Y-Yeah." He says, stuttering out his answer.

You sit up, feeling determined to make up for your bad behavior. "Then we eat." Gesturing for him to sit beside you on the rug right in front of the coffee table, you serve him a plate.

You feel Jake's stare at the side of your head as he watches you put noodles on his plate so, you look up with questioning eyes, knitting your eyebrows as if to ask if there was a problem. "What?"

"N-Nothing." He says quickly before seating beside you, making sure to put an appropriate amount of space between the two of you so as to not overstep the boundaries that he's already thankful to have with you.

"Eat up. I wouldn't want your mom scolding me for not taking care of her baby boy."

It was as if something in Jake had been ignited when the pet name came out of your mouth. It wasn't in the terms that he wanted it to be in, but just hearing your voice along with those words sends his body on fire, and Jake can only wish you would call him that.

The night goes on with the two of you talking over dinner, Jake being giddy and jumpy the whole time. Despite the grim night, Jake lights up the room with his golden aura, and it's as if there weren't thunder clapping outside.

Surprisingly, the boy is fairly clumsy. He knocked his glass of water, your glass of water, smeared pasta juice all over his face in a delirious attempt to make you smile— which he succeeded as he even made you laugh— and lastly, spilled wine all over your white shirt.

"I still don't understand how you managed to knock the wine onto my shirt." You scoff out an unbelieving laugh, not at all angry with your shirt being ruined as you make your way to the small of your suite's closet.

"I'm really sorry." He apologizes cutely, following behind you like a puppy, and you can't help but want to pinch his cheeks. "I'll get you a new shirt tomorrow if you want?"

"You're so sweet Jake." You comment, pulling your stained shirt off your body, exposing your bra cladded chest to your husband as if it wouldn't drive him nuts.

It's the wine working its way into your system that's making you act so shamelessly as you and Jake had a few glasses prior whilst eating. The both of you are a bit tipsy, but there's no decision you can't make in this state of mind.

Taking the chance, your husband rakes over your body, but not before catching himself slipping. He slaps himself for being so perverted, but does it again either way, and to Jake's embarrassment, you catch him.

He's about to blurt out another apology again, but you stop him by tangling your arms around his neck, pulling his body flushed against yours in the heat of the moment. "If you're going to be a pervert Jake, might as well own up to it, right?"

Jake can only stare at you with unbelieving and shaken eyes at having been caught, all the while having your naked skin pressed against his. His body is burning in want and need, and his lack of judgment and the heat of the moment overtakes his stature as he grasps onto your hips in a fit of desperation, hopelessly gripping them ground himself and have you closer.

"I asked you a question, Jake." You draw out, fingers digging themselves into his cheeks to catch his focus.

"I… I…" He's at a loss, finding it embarrassing having to confess his desires for you in such a scenario.

"Come on, puppy. You can do it." You urge on, and Jake releases a pitiful whine at the pet name, one he could only dream of you giving him. "I'm not going to fuck you otherwise."

At that, Jake's ears perk up, eyes wide and onlooking at your claim. His black boba eyes are addicting to look at. The hand that was pressing on both of his cheeks went to trace the curve of his lips, biting your lip in the process as if to contain yourself from smiling too wide. "Yes, I'm a— fuck — I'm a pervert."

"There he is," You cheer, smirking at how compliant your husband is already. "And what else?"

What else is there? Do you really want him to confess how much he's been dying for you to fuck him? Is that it?

Jake's mind is jumbled. The wine didn't make him drunk, you did as now, he’s tipsy from both the words that fall off your lips and your touches.

"You're a whore. That's what you are. " You say, answering for him as you release the grip you had on his cheeks. "Do you think I never noticed the way you'd peep into my room in the middle of the night, hm? Or, the time where you were humping the pillow you took from my room? You thought I didn't know what you were doing, didn't you?"

From the millionth time, Jake becomes speechless, and he's unsure if you're angry at him or not, though it seems to be as if you're just trying to make him own up. However, one things for sure, his dick is getting hard.

"At the end of the day, our little goody two shoes Jake is just a whore." You spit out with venom.

"Why don't you show me how desperate you are?"

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let's all wish jake a happy birthday!

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