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waynes-multiverse · 2 days ago

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I'm way too stoked to write a proper intro, so let's get right into it 😂

“It’s better that you don’t know,” Charlie said.

Not shady at all 🙄 He's such a mess

At least he came to the realization himself, even if his solution clearly isn't well thought through 😅 I can see his good intentions, though. Hope he realizes soon enough that he needs to accept some help 💔

But then to be gone for four months???? 👀 What the hell did he get into?!

So here you sat, in the living room of Dory’s apartment, crying into a jar of Nutella that you’d long ago stopped spreading over the strawberries she’d laid out.

Been there 🤣🤣 (But honestly, eating pure Nutella and just spooning it out of the jar is the fucking best, even though you feel like shit after 😂)

I love that she didn't want to call the cops to protect her brother. I'm glad she sees he's only lost and still wants to help him, no matter what (even when he apparently burns the house down 🙈). It also makes complete sense she doesn't want to lose him, considering everyone she's already lost 😢

She's always so strong and keeps it together because she's always had to do that, but I'm glad she could go for a moment with Russell ❤️

Your nerves had you pacing back and forth across the living room as it rang.

I'm legit freaking out with her. I'd be just an anxious, nervous mess too haha

“What, you wanna make out with him too?” she teased. Your mouth dropped open in disbelief.

DEAD 💀🤣🤣🤣

But yeah, seriously, what the fuck was in those woods they grew up in? Magic water??? 🔥🫠

Dory sniffed as tears welled up in her eyes, looking up at both of her brothers. Colter wore a more reserved smile, but he did wrap an arm around his sister and thump his older brother on the back.

Ugh, I want a full family reunion so badly on the show 😭 Thank you for this 🤍

Your brows rose. “I don’t think so.” Colter’s mouth parted, and he blinked, like he hadn’t expected you to push back quite like that; calm and matter of fact.

Love her 🤍 Also, you captured Colter's personality so well! His reactions crack me up so much. He's either always super focused or gives sarcastic deadpan answers 🤣

“I haven’t seen Charlie since he quit last week,” Jimmy claimed. “He quit?” you said. “They told me he just never came back.” “Yeah, well, same thing,” he said.

No, it's not! God, what an idiot. Help 😂

And again, what the hell did Charlie get into??? Missing artifacts, and now she's getting kidnapped? I hope the guys find them before the bad guys hurt either reader or Charlie.

Also, Russell surely will bite himself in the ass for not just taking her to the bar with them after this 🙈

Gaaaaah, I can't wait to read the next part! I'm on the edge of my seat 😁👏🍿

Every Second Counts - Part 2

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him.

AN: I decided to put this chapter out a bit early due to some Father's Day stuff tomorrow. I was blown away by the response from you guys on Part 1!! Thank you so much. 🥰 I had some trepidation writing a new character, but I'm so glad you guys seem to enjoy where this little series is going so far. It makes me even more excited to bring you the next chapter of ESC! 💜

Song Inspo: “Too Late” by The Paper Kites

Word Count: 5.3K

Tags/Warnings: Shaw family feels, a bit of mystery, tinge of fluff and mutual pining, and a twist…

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 2: “Family Reunion”

The next day after he left, you finally managed to get Charlie on the phone. He implored you not to try and find him.

He claimed he was staying with a friend for now, and was picking up some odd jobs through a connection at the museum—another security guard who knew how to get extra work.

“What kind of extra work?” you asked. You sunk back into the couch in your living room and held a hand to your aching head. You had already lost sleep over this, worrying about where he was and what the hell he was doing.

“It’s better that you don’t know,” Charlie said.

He really knew how to frustrate you to the nth degree.

“Charlie, just come home. Please,” you said. Tears burned in your eyes, choking your words. “I’m sorry for what I said, okay? We’ll figure this out together, I promise.”

You heard him sigh.

“You had a right to be mad,” he said. “I’m the big brother, remember? But I’m…I’m a fucking mess. You shouldn’t have to take care of me.”

“We take care of each other, and you know that,” you said sharply, wiping at your eyes in frustration.

“Listen, I’ll come home when I can, okay? Be good.”

“Charlie! Ch—” The call ended, and you nearly tossed your phone in aggravation.

“That stubborn fucking idiot,” you muttered.

Four months later, your worry was eating you alive.

Charlie refused to come home or tell you where he was staying. The only time you got to see him was when you visited him on his night shift at the museum. You tried to talk him into coming home, but your brother remained stubborn.

“You get that from Dad,” you’d told him once, while watching him eat some leftover meatloaf you’d made for him. The two of you stood outside the museum on his break.

Charlie had smirked at you. “Yeah, well, you share the disease.”

You’d rolled your eyes at that.

But just when you thought you were starting to get through to him, now, he’d stopped answering your calls. For that matter, the museum hadn’t even seen or heard from him in a week or so.

So here you sat, in the living room of Dory’s apartment, crying into a jar of Nutella that you’d long ago stopped spreading over the strawberries she’d laid out. You had a chocolate-covered butterknife in one hand and a used Kleenex in the other.

Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.

“You should call the police,” she advised.

You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t want necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.

You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.

“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:

“Colter, the tracker.”

You hadn’t had a chance to meet him when he dropped in a couple of months ago, but she’d told you about his brief visit to find a graduate student who had been kidnapped, and nearly killed by a professor in the Sciences department for uncovering a flaw in the man’s research. That flaw would have costed him his entire grant, and possibly his career and reputation.

The terrible incident had caused an uproar on campus. Students were released from their classes for an entire day after the professor was arrested.

Now, Dory considered your question with a thoughtful nod. “I’ll call him.”

You were grateful, but your face became pained as something occurred to you. You held up a hand.

“Wait, I just realized I can’t pay him,” you said. You didn’t have more than a thousand dollars in your savings account, and that was for emergencies. Like the time Charlie nearly burned the house down after a lighting mishap with his bong.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t worry about that,” Dory said. She laid a comforting hand on your arm. “He’d do this as a favor to me.”

“I don’t know,” you replied, your brows furrowing. “That’s a pretty big favor.”

She’d told you what some of Colter’s fees could run up to, but she tried to quell your reservations and promised to call him regardless.

However, the more you thought about it, you already had a phone number in your cell…for the one person who would understand the part of your brother that you might never be able to.

After you left Dory’s apartment, you debated the idea in your head for the entire drive home.

And when you got to the house, you picked up your cell, and you called him. Your nerves had you pacing back and forth across the living room as it rang.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help smiling just at the sound of his voice, smooth and pleased, and a hint surprised.

“Hey,” you replied, biting your lip. “How are you?”

“I’m good. You’ve got good timing too. I just came off a job,” he said.

“Oh really? Where are you?”

“Well, I’m states-side now. Just got back from South America.”

“Oh, wow,” you said, blinking incredulously.

What the hell was he doing there? you had to wonder. Maybe he was protecting some Latin American emissary. Or maybe, he was doing things you didn’t want to think about. Your brother had filled you in a bit about civilian contract jobs in recent weeks, as he’d considered going after those himself.

“They can pay very well, from what I hear,” Charlie had said. “The problem with that is, it kind of defeats the purpose of leaving the military.”

Despite that mildly troubling thought, you tried to focus on the fact that you had this man on the phone at all.

A smile formed across your lips. “Did you get yourself a nice tan?”

“Eh, not really. Was more of a night job,” he said. “But uh…how are you doing? Not gonna lie, I’m surprised to hear from you.”

“Yeah, I’m…I’m not all that good, if I’m honest,” you said.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. You heard the concern in his voice. You steeled yourself before you answered.

“Russell, I’m sorry, but I need to ask you for a big favor.”

“Hmm, this sounds serious,” he said.

“Yeah, it is,” you agreed. When you next took a breath, it came out unsteady. “My brother’s missing.”

It was a bright Saturday morning when you welcomed Russell Shaw into your house. He looked around, finding family pictures, bookshelves, paintings, candles, all things that began to shade in who you were in the comfort of your home.

“It’s nice,” he said. “It’s uh, homey.”

You smiled and closed the door behind him.

“Well, it’s the house we grew up in,” you replied.

You and Charlie had of course inherited it after your parents’ passing. Their life insurance policies had helped pay off the three-bedroom house while you two were still in school. Your grandparents helped a lot back then too, and had even moved in for a time. Now they each had plots beside your parents at Grandview Cemetery.

“You want some coffee? I know you had a long drive,” you asked.

“Sure,” Russell agreed. He followed you to the kitchen, where you put on the coffee pot. You made a discreet glance at him. He looked virtually the same, with that familiar green jacket, jeans, boots, and a Jimi Hendrix shirt. You'd had a feeling he was a classic rock guy.

“Look, not that I wasn’t glad to get your call,” Russell said, “but you do know that I’m not the tracker in the family, right?”

“Dory did offer to call Colter, but I can’t afford to pay him,” you said.

“I could help with that,” said Russell. You raised up a hand to stop him there.

“I don’t want that kind of help from you,” you said firmly. “I didn’t call you for money, Russell. I called you because you’ll probably understand where Charlie’s head’s at. Better than me, anyway.”

He hesitated, but nodded in understanding. When the coffeemaker dinged, finished percolating, you turned to make him a mug with cream and sugar, as per his request.

While he waited for the coffee to cool, he admired you for a moment. Even in a plain V-neck shirt and a pair of jeans, your hair swung up in a ponytail, you were still a sight. (Your lipstick did match your shirt though. That made him smile.)

And Russell could admit, it was good to see you again.

“Me and Colter reconnected recently. Did Dory tell you?” he said.

Your brows raised high in surprise. “Oh yeah?”

The two of you found your way back to the living room with your mugs.

“Yeah. We talked for the first time in…shit, over twenty years,” Russell laughed, raking a hand through his hair.

Not only had he been able to say his piece to Colter about their…family issues, they’d also solved a case of their own, with Colter agreeing to help him find his friend Doug, who worked for the same black ops contract agency as Russell. The Horizon Group.

The aftermath of that still left Russell with a bitter taste in his mouth when he thought of how Horizon would’ve left Doug to rot, if it hadn’t been for him and Colter pressing their luck and digging deeper into who’d taken his friend.

That whole mess had also made Russell begin to wonder if maybe he needed a new line of work after all. But, because the money was just that good, he’d ended up on a new job by the end of the month.

Your voice soon broke him from his thoughts.

“I’m glad to hear that,” you said. You reached over and touched his arm, with warmth in your eyes.

Russell gave you a smile. The closeness between you brought up memories of that dusty bar, and the taste of lime and tequila on your soft, supple lips. But you subtly cleared your throat and took your hand back. He hid a twinge of disappointment.

“So what’s going on with your brother?” Russell asked.

Get back on track, he reminded himself.

You sighed. “Damn Charlie.”

Over coffee, you explained that Charlie took off a few months ago, the night you got back from the bar. You had seen him only briefly, whenever you were able to catch him at the museum after work. He’d been keeping in touch with you on a weekly basis, but now, he hadn’t called in almost two weeks. You couldn’t get ahold of him on any of the numbers you had. They all seemed to be burner phones. Plus, he’d been let go from his job at the museum after not showing up for the past week.

“What’s he into, extracurricular-wise?” Russell asked.

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me,” you said in frustration. Tears prickled at your eyes, and your lower lip trembled. “He said it was safer that way.”

Russell laid a supportive hand over yours, earning your watery gaze.

“And you haven’t gone to the police?” he asked.

“I think he’s gotten into something…dangerous. I don’t want to get him in more trouble than he might be already,” you said. “I just want him to get help for his problems. Physically and mentally.”

Russell nodded. He understood that you wanted to protect your brother. Sometimes though, getting into “trouble” was the rock bottom someone needed in order to face their problems.

“Does he have friends?” he asked. “Some kinda crowd he hangs around with?”

“Not anymore. I think he’s lost touch with his Air Force buddies,” you said, though you tried to think. Your brows furrowed as something occurred to you. “He knew someone at work, at the museum. Another security guard on his same shift. After they cut his hours down to part-time, Charlie said the guy knew how to get extra work.”

“Okay, that’s definitely where we start,” said Russell. “Let me just give Dory a call. If I don’t let her know I’m in town, I don’t even wanna know the consequences.”

You laughed through your tears and tried to brush them away.

“Yeah, do that. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

Russell took one look at you, and he tightened his hold on your hand.

“Hey,” he said.

You glanced up at him, as tears clung to your lashes. His heart couldn’t help but clench for you. He really didn’t like to see you like this.

“We’re gonna find him. You’ve got my word,” he said.

You were desperate to believe him. So you nodded, sniffling as you tried and failed to keep yourself together. You were scared, for the first time in a long time.

“All right, come ‘ere,” Russell said. When he guided you into his arms, you went willingly. You pressed your face into his chest to hide your weeping. His hold was warm and strong enough to make you feel secure. Just for this moment, you didn’t have to pretend you had everything handled.

“He’s the only family I have,” you reminded him. He nodded.

“I hear ya. We’ll get him home,” he said. “And I am going to call Colter. Don’t worry about the rest. I’ll square it up with him.”

“Russell—” you protested, but he just squeezed you playfully.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll pull big brother rank. He’s got no choice,” he joked.

You shook your head, but you allowed him to comfort you for a bit longer. Because all too soon, you’d have to steel yourself again. You’d have to be the version of yourself that you always had to be, ever since you were fourteen years old.

You invited Dory over to your house, where the three of you were soon joined by the last of the Shaw siblings: the one you had yet to meet.

Colter made it in time for dinner that afternoon. The tall blonde took up your doorway with his broad shoulders and offered you a polite smile, along with his hand.

“Hi, I’m Colter,” he said.

You mentally tripped up a bit as you shook his hand and gave him your name. Did all the Shaw siblings have to be so damn attractive?

“Uh, yes, please come in.” You ushered him into your home and led him into the living room, where Russell stood from the couch.

“Ahh, there he is,” Russell grinned, slapping his younger brother on the shoulder.

“Here you are,” Colter gestured at him. “Where the hell did you take off to after last time?”

“Ah, you know. Argentina was fun.”

“I’m sure it was.”

You paused in the doorway, just watching the brothers in mystification. Dory shot you a questioning look as she came over from the kitchen. You met her with raised brows.

“What?” Dory asked. A smile played on her lips.

“Do all of you have to be so unbelievably pretty?” you whispered over to her. Dory smirked and bumped your shoulder, nodding at Colter.

“What, you wanna make out with him too?” she teased.

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief. Dory just laughed and moved on to say hello to the other blonde. She pulled him down into a hug, and he reciprocated warmly.

Russell then laid a hand on Colter’s shoulder, as well as Dory’s. He wore a big, proud grin.

“Hey. Look at us, huh?” he said.

Dory sniffed as tears welled up in her eyes, looking up at both of her brothers. Colter wore a more reserved smile, but he did wrap an arm around his sister and thump his older brother on the back.

You smiled. You were lingering by the kitchen doorway. If nothing else, you were glad that this whole mess had been able to bring Dory back together with her family.

You decided to give them a moment, and you wandered back into the kitchen. There you took a beat for yourself, mainly to breathe.

When you again thought of Charlie, you had to wonder just what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

Later, the four of you sat in the living room so you could explain everything you knew so far to Colter. He took all the information in with a pensive expression that didn’t reveal much to you.

“So you said he was struggling?” he said.

“Yes, after he got out of the military,” you confessed. “He had a hard time figuring himself out. I got him the job at the museum, but I don’t think it was enough for him.”

“Why is that?” Colter asked. He saw that you were reluctant to explain. “I need to know the full picture of who Charlie is if I’m going to be able to figure out his probable moves.”

You sighed. “Well, he was seeing a VA psychiatrist for a while. They wanted to put him on antidepressants, but he stopped going. He…started self-medicating instead.”

That part was hard to admit, but it was the truth. You couldn’t pretend it wasn’t any longer.

“What substances?” Colter asked.

“Alcohol, mainly,” you replied. “At his worst, there were hard drugs, but I got him to tone it down just to weed every now and then.”

You bit at your thumbnail out of habit, but you forced yourself to stop, folding your hands in your lap. You didn’t see judgment in Colter’s eyes, just him taking in the information. You couldn’t help but glance at Dory, where you found her sympathy. She knew enough about what you’d been dealing with for the past few years. Russell seemed understanding as well.

“Anything else I should know?” Colter asked. You shook your head. You felt bad about revealing Charlie’s business like this, but you knew it was the only way to help him. Still, you felt you had to defend him a little.

“Look, my brother has his problems, but he’s a good man,” you said. “He, um…he basically half raised me, after our parents died.”

Dory also knew this story. She rested a hand on your back, and you gave her what smile you could.

“How old were you?” Russell asked. He earned your attention, and you met his sympathetic gaze.

“Fourteen,” you answered. “It was a car accident.”

He took that in, nodding slowly. “I’m sorry.”

The way he met your eyes when he said it, you believed him. You subtly cleared your throat and directed the conversation back.

“So, I don’t have a lot of money. But I can give you something for your services,” you said to Colter. Both Russell and Dory met you with similar looks.

“I’ve got it,” Dory says, before Russell had the chance. Colter waved her off though.

“In this case, it’s not necessary,” he said, focusing on you again. “So Charlie was working at the local museum?”

You breathed a note of relief at his generosity. Dory, Russell, and now Colter…they were all good people in their own way. You felt emotion rise in your throat.

“Yes, it’s about ten minutes away,” you managed to reply. “It’s closed now, but his coworker could be on shift. They always have security in place.”

You grabbed your purse to go with them when Colter and Russell stood, but the former raised a placating hand.

“It’s best if you stayed here,” Colter said.

Your brows rose. “I don’t think so.”

Colter’s mouth parted, and he blinked, like he hadn’t expected you to push back quite like that; calm and matter of fact.

“Ah, well, it’s really for your safety—”

“I’m not going to sit and wait,” you said. “That’s all I’ve been doing for months. I may not be an expert tracker, or have been in the army, but I do know my brother. And we are going to find him.”

Behind you, Dory was giving Colter a warning shake of her head. She knew just how stubborn you could be. Meanwhile, Russell came up on your other side with a smile.

“What’s the harm in her coming along to the museum?” he said, sliding his brother a teasing look. “Unless the T. rex wakes up all the mummies, Ben Stiller style.”

You wanted to point out that that wasn’t exactly the plot of Night at the Museum, but you held it in with a smile. You gave Colter an expectant look.

He sighed at Russell’s antics, but he turned to you with a nod.

“Okay, let’s go,” he said.

“I’ll head home then,” said Dory. “Call me if you need anything.”

You gave her a hug after she gathered up her purse.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, rubbing your back. “Colter’s the best.”

“All right, fine. And what am I? Chopped liver?” Russell remarked, gesturing wide with his hands. You all filtered out of your house, and you locked the door behind you.

“Oh, you’re special, all right,” Dory quipped back, but she gave her eldest brother a warm hug as well, then patted Colter on the arm before she left.

Russell shot Colter a playful smirk. “I got the hug.”

Colter rolled his eyes and pointed over to his big pickup truck.

“Just get in the car, please.”

You had to smile at all their sibling teasing. It reminded you of how you and Charlie used to cut up, when things were good. On your way down the driveway, you hesitated by the Chevy Chevelle parked next to your own car. She was still black and sleek and beautiful.

You happened to glance up, and there was Russell, getting into his brother’s pickup. He winked at you across the driveway. You turned your face to hide your smile (and your blush) as you climbed into your car.

Colter noted the exchange when he buckled up into the driver’s seat. He watched Russell do the same on the passenger side, all while wearing a certain smile on his face. When he noticed how Colter was looking at him, his brows raised.

“What?” said Russell.

“What was that?” Colter asked.

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, right,” Colter chuckled. He began to pull the car out of the driveway after you in your car, so he could follow you. “What, do you two have a thing or something? Is that why she called you before me?”

Russell shrugged, but his smile was telling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhmm. Convincing,” Colter said, but his lips tugged upward as well. His good humor diminished though, when he considered the last time he saw his brother. “How’s the arm?”

Russell gave a thumbs up with his left arm—the one that previously had a bullet run through it. It was still healing, even now.

“It’s good,” he said.

“Did you see a doctor?”

“Sure did.”

Riiiight. Another thing Colter wasn’t sure was the truth, but he’d give Russell that one.

“And that unfinished business?” Colter asked.

Russell’s smile faded, but he nodded. “Finished.”

After a moment, Colter nodded as well.

“Okay,” he said.

Something occured to him then. He paused, and he reached into his pocket. He held up a small, closed pocketknife with a wooden handle, and he gave it back to Russell. It had the man's name carved on the side.

Russell's smile returned as he flipped the old keepsake through his fingers.

"Thanks for keeping it safe for me," he said.

Colter smiled back. "Thanks for trusting me with it."

Colter parked next to you at the museum. It was closed, but the security guard, Jimmy, did know your brother.

“I haven’t seen Charlie since he quit last week,” Jimmy claimed.

“He quit?” you said. “They told me he just never came back.”

“Yeah, well, same thing,” he said.

The front doors of the museum opened, and out came Dr. Feinman, your former boss, and the Head Manager. You left Jimmy’s questioning up to Russell and Colter with a meaningful look, and you went to intercept Feinman.

“Hi, sir, how’re you doing?” you asked. Your name fell from his lips in surprise.

“My dear, it’s good to see you, but why are you here after hours?” he asked, his British accent lilting.

“I’m trying to find Charlie. He’s been missing, well, officially for about a week,” you said. “I was actually surprised to see you here so late.”

The man cleared his throat. He smoothed a hand over his tie and suit jacket.

“Yes, well, we could’ve used Charlie’s help. We’ve had to double our security efforts,” he said. “We’re currently dealing with a sensitive issue, so the museum will be closed until it is resolved.”

“You’re doubling your security efforts… Was something stolen?” you asked.

Feinman clearly didn’t want to tell you this, but you knew you’d hit the nail on the head by the look on his face.

“Please, keep that information to yourself,” he said.

“What was stolen?” you asked in concern.

“I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information. Not even for you, dear,” he said. “I do hope you find your brother though.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that, and as a matter of fact,” you began, but Feinman waved an apologetic hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m in a terrible rush just now. But call my office tomorrow and Brenda will help you with whatever you may need,” he said. “Good evening.”

“Wait, Dr. Feinman,” you tried, but he was already breezing past you and heading toward his Mercedes in the parking lot.

Meanwhile, Colter and Russell weren’t having much better luck with Jimmy.

“Look, I really don’t know where Charlie is,” he said. “Haven’t seen or heard from him since he took off.”

“He said you connected him with someone who could give him some work on the sly,” Russell said, leveling a hand at the man’s chest. “Who did you connect him with, and what kind of work are we talking?”

Jimmy blew out a breath, like this was really inconveniencing his day. (Or night, at this point.)

“What, you’ve got somewhere to be?” Colter said. “You’re getting paid to stand right here, and we have no problem sharing your shift all night. You might as well just tell us what we want to know.”

Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck in annoyance.

“All right,” he snapped. “I hooked him up with this guy I knew through a mutual acquaintance, who just needed some muscle. I guess you could call it private security.”

“A mutual acquaintance?” Colter repeated.

“What’re you, James Bond? Who did you connect him with?” Russell pressed.

Jimmy was reluctant to talk. You came back over to join them, and the security guard became even more tight-lipped.

“You guys should go. I don’t have to talk to you, and I’ve got a job to do,” he said.

When he tried to continue his patrol around the museum, you stepped deliberately in his way. You didn’t have the patience for this, and you would no longer be a doormat, letting the Goldsteins and the Feinmans of this world push past you.

“Look, Jimmy, if you don’t give us something we can go on to find my brother, you know where I’m going to go?” you asked. But you spoke before he could respond. “To the police. And your name is the only one I have to give them. Now, if you don’t want that to be you, then give me a different name.”

Jimmy looked down at you, and then over at your intimidating shadows, Russell and Colter. Jimmy sighed.

“Eddie,” he gave, finally.

Russell raised his hands, as if to say, Is that it?

“What, Eddie Vedder? Eddie who? Come on,” Russell said.

“Eddie Mendez,” Jimmy replied in a lowered voice. “I don’t know where he lives. I don’t have his number. And that 'mutual acquaintance' is doing some time in lockup. But Eddie hangs out at a bar called Howley’s.”

You and Russell shared a meaningful look at that. You turned back to Jimmy.

“Okay. What was stolen here at the museum?” you said. “That’s why it’s been closed, right?”

“I don’t know,” Jimmy said. “I wasn’t on shift, and Dr. Feinman keeps a tight lid on that kind of thing.”

“We’ll need to get into his office then,” Colter said.

You blinked wider at Colter. Wait, was he really suggesting you guys break into the museum?

Jimmy pointed to the black device attached to the ceiling above them.

“See the cameras?” he said. “That's not happening on my dime.”

Colter looked up, and he saw the cameras strategically installed across the front of the museum.

“Then take us where the cameras don’t see,” he said.

You, Colter, and Russell were able to break into the museum via a storage unit door, thanks to Jimmy’s texted instructions. You couldn’t believe you were actually doing this, but it was for Charlie, you reminded yourself.

You remembered where to find Feinman’s office. You paid for a lot of your undergrad expenses, namely your books and tuition, by working full-time as an office assistant here, and the occasional tour guide.

You led them to the room where the inventory records were kept. Colter gave you his gloves so you didn’t leave prints, and you were able to pinpoint what was labelled as missing from the latest shipment.

“Oh great,” you muttered.

“What was taken?” Colter asked.

“A collection of Native American weapons. Dated almost eight hundred years old,” you said, shaking your head. “The collection is valued at $1.5 million dollars.”

Russell and Colter shared a look.

“That’s some big motive,” Russell said.

“When did they go missing?” Colter asked.

“Almost two weeks ago,” you said. Your brows furrowed the more you read, as you realized something. “Just a few days before Charlie left the museum…”

The timing wasn’t lost on anyone. But if Charlie was a suspect, Feinman hadn’t let on to that at all. You checked the exact date the artifacts went missing again: a Tuesday night. Charlie didn’t typically work on Mondays or Tuesdays, you realized. And he’d left after the artifacts went missing. So maybe they hadn’t thought to question him yet. One small blessing.

You sighed. With that information gathered, the three of you put back everything you uncovered and left the building the same way you came in. Jimmy was nowhere in sight, probably patrolling the other end of the museum on purpose.

When you all made it back to the parking lot, you turned to Colter and Russell.

“Okay, what’s next?” you asked. “Howley’s right? To find Eddie.”

“Actually, I think it’s best Russell and I take it from here,” Colter said. “We don’t know what kind of character Eddie Mendez is, but from how reluctant Jimmy was to tell us, it doesn’t sound good.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Russell drew closer and touched your arm. You could see in his face that he agreed with his brother, even though he hadn’t said anything yet.

“Look, you’ve been a huge help,” he said. “But let us work on this, okay? We’ll call you when we find something.”

Still, your lips pursed. “Russell, he’s my brother.”

“I know. Punching out drunks is one thing, but this might be a little different,” he said, grasping your arms gently. “Will you give me some peace of mind, knowing you’re home safe?”

He brushed one of his thumbs along your skin. Already you had goosebumps. From the cold chill on the air, or from him, you weren’t sure. But that simple touch, along with his earnest, imploring gaze broke you down.

“All right. I get it. I’m not the Special Ops guy,” you said. “But call me afterward so I know how it went.”

“Okay, will do,” Russell agreed. He let you go so you could go to your car. You shot the brothers one last look before you climbed in and peeled out of the parking lot.

Russell expelled a sigh of relief. He got into the passenger side of his brother’s pickup while Colter started it up.

Thanks to the late hour, and how little traffic there was on the road, it didn’t take you long to get home.

You’d debated whether you should just go to Howley’s anyway, but you didn’t want to get in the way, or make Russell worry for that matter. You smiled, despite yourself.

His touch had tingled across your arms, and whenever he absently laid a hand on the small of your back, supportive or guiding.

Thinking about him just made your heart ache. Because after this was over, he’d be gone again—on a new mysterious job, perhaps on the other side of the world.

You’d been regretting how you left things with him at the bar for months, but now you were glad you hadn’t gone any further with him that night. Your heart was too easily ensnared, it seemed, and Russell didn’t seem to be a “strings attached” kind of guy.

When you parked in front of your house, you let out a tense breath. Russell and Colter would find Charlie. You believed in them. You just hoped your brother was all right, wherever he was.

You pulled your cell out of your purse to call Dory as you headed for the front door. You wanted to give her an update and let her know that you were back at home.

The call began to ring just as you slipped your key into the lock. Unfortunately, you never got a chance to open it.

A strong pair of arms wrapped around you from behind and yanked you back, and a firm hand over your mouth smothered your scream.

AN: 🫣 *Whispers* Sorryyy. But hey! What did you think of the reader's reunion with Russell, as well as the little Shaw Family Reunion? Plus, we got a bit of the reader working with Russell and Colter on the case.

Now, the real timer starts...

Next Time:

You were led into what sounded like a warehouse. You couldn’t know for sure with this musty bag over your head and your wrists bound together with zip ties, but you clenched your teeth and tried to stop sniffling. Your fear made your heart pump fast and loud in your ears.

Voices echoed around you, arguing, yelling about shipments. You were shoved hard to the ground, and you gasped, instinctively throwing your hands out when your knees hit the hard cement.

“No…”

That voice was all too familiar.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

#wayne reads #russell shaw #russell shaw x reader #tracker

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joelswritingmistress · 2 days ago

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Neighbors with Benefits: Chapter 15 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2300

“Where are we sleeping tonight?” You asked Joel, though immediately you regretted asking. It wasn't his responsibility to figure things out for the two of you.

“Next door to each other?” He toyed with your hair as you hovered a few inches above him in the back of the truck, but you shook your head.

“No.”

Joel laughed. “Well, what do you suggest?”

“I don't know,” you admitted. “But I can't be apart from you right now.”

“Oh you can't huh?” He grinned up at you.

“No.” You smiled back and leaned down and touched your lips to his.

“My brother has a two family house. He knows my situation is fucked up. Maybe we could spend the night there.”

“Does he know about us?”

Joel shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Would it be okay with him if I was with you?”

“I don't see why not.” Joel continued to run his fingers through your hair and you closed your eyes. “Worst case scenario..” He pulled you toward him to kiss along your collarbone, “We can go camping.”

You giggled against him and bit down on your bottom lip when he kissed down your breasts and latched on to your nipple.

“I'll go anywhere with you,” you whispered, cupping the back of his head and gently grabbing a fistful of hair.

You were completely immersed in one another again. After all was said and done you almost suggested just sleeping in the truck; though Joel finally talked you into putting your clothes on and getting back in the truck.

“I'm going to call Tommy,” he explained, finally starting up the engine. “My brother.”

You nodded and began typing your message to your mom that you were out for the night. It pained you to hit send because you knew for the first time in your life, you and her were not on the same page. That was the one part of the whole ordeal that didn't feel right. Still, you knew your decisions were yours, alone. Leaving Joel wasn't an option.

“Hey,” Joel had the phone to his ear and you could hear the faint voice of Tommy on the other end. “You still have that space available on the upper floor?” He paused and nodded. “Alright.” Another paused, “Great, thank you.” Joel huffed a laugh, “I'll pick you up a thirty pack of Bud Lite.” Pause, “I'll leave it on the front step for when you get back. Thanks man. I owe ya.”

You smiled to yourself, noting it must have worked out. When Joel turned, you smiled. “We all booked?”

“We’re booked,” he confirmed, “As long as you don't mind a swing by the package store.”

You shook your head. “Not at all.”

Joel grabbed your hand and kissed along your knuckles. “Good.”

Things felt right at home when you were beside Joel. Nothing mattered. You were light as air. When the two of you strolled into the liquor store to get Tommy his beer, Joel picked up a bottle of champagne and winked as the two of you checked out.

“Champagne huh?” You asked as you were securely back in the cab of his truck.

Joel nodded and linked his hand with yours. “I figured I'd get us a little something.”

Your heart was full. In fact it felt like it grew three sizes. You were so completely in love that you knew if this ever were to end it would be difficult to bounce back from. Still, you pushed the negative thoughts away. Things were good. You and Joel were on the same page in the same book.

When his truck cruised into Tommy’s driveway, Joel parked in the back behind the house near a detached garage. The house was in a suburban neighborhood, though trees surrounded the property, making it at least semi-private. In the back of the house was an outdoor staircase that led up to the second floor. That was where Joel led the two of you after leaving Tommy’s beer on the front porch.

“I have a key,” he explained, and you noted that he and his brother must have been close. Joel propped open the back door that gave way to an upper deck and the two of you made your way inside.

You glanced around the interior. The first step inside was a quaint, little kitchen that gave way to the living room. Down the short hallway, you soon discovered, were two bedrooms and a bathroom. Almost right away, Joel spoke the words you were thinking.

“I wonder if he'd let us stay here until we figured shit out.”

Yes. Yes. Yes! From the second you walked in the door you wanted that.

“Us?” You asked.

“Yeah.” Joel turned and read your face, “Us.”

You smiled wide. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“This is crazy, isn't it?”

You shook your head and leaned in, pleased when Joel met you with a needy kiss. “This doesn't feel crazy.”

“What's it feel like then?”

“Just right.” The words naturally rolled off your tongue and the two of you began to make out in the hallway. “Maybe a little crazy.”

Joel snickered against your lips. “Come on. Let's get settled in.”

You did just that, selecting the bigger of the two bedrooms to reside in before dropping off your bag of clothes. Joel found a mason jar in a cabinet, rinsed it out and put your toothbrushes in it before finally you both settled down on the couch and put a movie on.

Joel retrieved a pair of glasses and the bottle of champagne, making you wince with a giggle just before the cork popped.

“I'm not going to lie,” you admitted, “I had a feeling that was going to spray everywhere.”

Joel laughed lightly and shook his head. “I'm an expert.” He poured you each a glass and set the bottle down on the table in front of the couch.

As you held your glass out you asked, “What should we toast to?”

“To new beginnings,” he suggested.

“The beginning of..” your voice began to trail off. You stopped yourself from finishing the sentence.

“The beginning of..?” Joel held your stare and you couldn't look away from his eyes.

“Nothing,” you laughed and tucked your hair behind your ear.”

“No, say it.”

You shook your head.

“Come on.” His smile convinced you. In that moment you knew he could probably convince you to do anything.

“Ughh..” you cringed but finally manned up the courage, “To the beginning of forever.. possibly.” There we're your insecurities taking the reigns.

“Possibly?” Joel continued to own your gaze. Raised his eyebrows. “Drop that word, baby.”

You spoke with more confidence. “To the beginning of forever.”

Joel still didn't look away and tapped his glass to yours. “Cheers to that.”

Fuck. There went the next size up of your heart. You were all in - not that you weren't before. But this man, you knew for certain, had your beating heart in the palms of his hands. Maybe you held the same power. Still, it was scary, exciting and made you feel more alive than ever all at once.

You each took a sip. Your eyes stayed locked on Joel’s. His eyes remained on yours. You drank about half the small glass and then placed it down next to the bottle. When Joel was done taking his sip, you removed the glass from his hand and set it down before straddling him on the couch.

His hands dropped to your hips and your lips eagerly found his again as you snaked your arms around the back of his neck.

“I'm not kidding,” you whispered against him.

“I'm not either.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

The eye contact was pulling you in as much as his kisses and touches. Joel was intense and he pulled you in so easily.

“Kiss me,” he ordered, and then added. “Please.”

Joel's plea made your body feel hot. You kissed him sensually at first. And then it became more desperate. You kissed one another every time like it would be the last time. It was hot and addicting.

Your clothes were on the floor within minutes and you took control of the moment, reaching for Joel’s hard cock as he dropped his pants to his ankles. His arms outstretched the length of the couch when you positioned him at your entrance and then lowered yourself down onto him.

Joel's head dropped back onto the top of the couch when he felt you tighten around him, but you pressed your lips to his forcing his head back up.

“Kiss me,” you echoed his words from a few minutes before. “Please.” When you rolled your hips he groaned into your mouth.

Joel's arms wrapped around you and he aided in helping you move on top of him. He growled your name in a whisper, letting his teeth graze your lower lip. It made you moan.

“Let it out,” Joel begged.

“What if he hears us-”

“Tommy’s not home.” Joel thrusted up into you and you cried out and whimpered, holding him harder. “I never want you to hold back with me.” His fingertips dug into your back and nibbled down your neck until his tongue swirled around left nipple.

“Joel..” you whined his name. When he trusted up into you harder again you whined again. And then moaned louder when he impaled you again and again.

Your legs trembled and thighs tightened around the outsides of his. You felt tears in the corners of your eyes and as you continued to ride him they fell. You whimpered again and Joel’s thumb grazed your cheek, wiping away the stray tears.

“(Y/N)..” His voice was concerned now but you kept moving on top of him.

“Don't stop,” you begged. Emotion flooded every part of you. So did a wave of pleasure. The build up was making your head spin. “I'm about to c-” The burst of pleasure halted your sentence and you cursed as your body stiffened. “Fuck.. Joel.” You grabbed him as hd steadied your hips with his hands, rocking your hips through your orgasm as you did as he asked you do. You let it out. You let it all out.

You moaned, you whimpered, you choked out his name as stars erupted behind your tightly pressed eyes you felt the flow of more tears stream down your face.

“Fuck..” you cried out, feeling a thudding pulse between your legs. At the same time a warmth filled you and knew Joel came just a few seconds after. He groaned into your neck and held your hips harder, leaving panting breaths against your neck.

You felt like you were on another planet for a moment, until Joel finally snapped you out of the daze.

“Are you alright?” He asked. “Hey.. (Y/N)..”

Your eyes opened and your felt a dampness on your eyelashes. Joel looked back at you from an inch away and you laughed as you continued to sob quietly.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

You were crying. Out of the blue. In the middle of your orgasm.

“Hey..” Joel repeated, touching your cheek with one hand.

You sniffed in and took in a few deep breaths in a row. Tears fell from your eyes when they closed and you reopened them.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You nodded. “I don't know why..” you shook your head. “I'm just..” you had nothing. You didn't know what you were saying or why this sudden eruption of emotion was coming out this way. “I love you.” You laughed again and felt completely crazy as you fell apart in his lap.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you said right away with a smile. “No. I don't.. I don't know why I'm crying.” You laughed and cried. Laughed and cried.

Joel’s arms secured around your body again and he held you against him, kissing your forehead, your cheek and then the area beneath your eyes.

You let out a deep breath and dried your eyes. “I'm sorry. I just.. I'm not used to feeling like this. I'm.. I don't know.”

When Joel brushed your hair away from your face and your eyes met again you swallowed hard.

“I promise I won't hurt you,” he said.

You gave a half-smirk. “I know.”

“I love you. And I'm sorry if this is putting a strain on your relationship with your mom.”

You swallowed hard. “I want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you, too.”

“I mean it,” you went on. “When I'm not with you I'm looking at my phone wondering when you'll call or text me me next. I think about you. I always think about you.”

“Then let's move in here,” Joel said. “Together. You and me.”

This was all so new and felt impulsive. But it also felt right. Joel wasn't even officially divorced yet. Your relationship was new. It didn't matter. You only had one word to say back.

“Yes.”

Joel could read you were certain in your response. He dried your eyes again and kissed you once chastely on the lips. “I'm feeling what you're feeling.”

“I know.”

“I'm going to be with you so much you're going to get sick of me.” He tipped up the corner of his lips in a half-grin and you smiled back. When another tear fell he wiped it away.

“I'd like to test that,” you told him. “And prove you wrong.”

“So, pending Tommy's approval,” Joel went on, “You're going to move in with me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

Joel smiled. “Let it out.”

You laughed and said it louder. “Yes!”

“Yes?”

You shouted now. “Yes!”

@mellymbee @pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421 @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @maybetomorrowgirl @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @vickie5446 @writlingerz @drewharrisonwriter @churchofjoemiller

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kazumikissu · 8 hours ago

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CRYBABY !

tutor!scaramouche x fem!reader

✧ — making you cry is part of the learning process!

— nsfw, university au, scaramouche has dacryphilia, spanking, sex with an object, humiliation, reader is the stereotypical sorority girl for the plot, not beta read | 1,378 words

no amount of pleading from different subject professors could ever get scaramouche to tutor. with pay or not, the last thing he wanted to eat on his place was a stupid student who can't fend for themselves in a field where mental strength and intellect mattered over beauty and fashion. he cared little to how you even passed the opening exams and got accepted into a high-demanding university like this, the exact same one scaramouche attends, unfortunate for his luck.

if that wasn't enough, you took the same program as scaramouche did, leading you to share a few too many classes together—too much for what he would consider his liking. you're no more than brain-dead during lecrure hours, having evaded from conversing with you one-too-many times. a no-good partygoer in his eyes, with a face caked with layers of make-up and an IQ as little as your personality.

if he could, scaramouche would've gladly ignored your existence for the rest of his years and acted like you never existed first thing. yet he could only bet on his luck for the nth time he's turned down his professor's request in tutoring you. when his phone rung to his mother's number, no longer pleading, but demanding scaramouche just for the extra points he'll get after a hell of a session with you—or at least that's what he'd like to imagine being with you for a few many hours.

after a cacophony of cursing over the line, he ends up in front of your doorstep, fingers ticking by his side as he finds himself to be less and less interested in entertaining your stupidity, all by the passing minute.

yet scaramouche couldn't find too many complaints now that this session brought you draped over his lap, teary eyed and snot down your nostrils. "how many times are you going to get this question wrong, stupid bitch?" a tone as sharp as the slap he drives against the plush of your ass, stinging your reddening flesh a prominent red. a shade addictive, the darker it gets, the better he saw it.

"s…scara, m'sorry!" drool dripped down the corner of your lips as sniffles left your lungs, the tips of your fingers quivering with an electricity that goes through your veins, buzzing with every harsh smack from scaramouche. "I don't know what… what the question means…"

words fumble out your lips as slippery as a rock in a river, tongue smooth on the roof of your mouth as you took in a heavy gulp. there was little to no mercy in scaramouche's piercing gaze, however, yet he was heavily entertained with the stupid little delight he had draped over his lap. "oh, but wouldn't this be the sixth time i'd have to explain it to you? are you that much of an imbecile?" another slap bounced against the walls of your room, cries coming louder than words with the parting of your lips.

"the only thing you're good at is opening your legs. the professor might as well make you the class whore, if he wants you to be so useful. i don't see anything that can nurture you in the brain if not between your legs," scaramouche has mocked you more times you've spoken a coherent sentence over the time he's been with you. but, unfortunately, pain came little from all your crying. rather, a show of pleasure, as it seemed your lower legs were weeping wetter than your eyes were spilling out tears.

scaramouche has never seen anything more pathetic. well, maybe his mother trying to reconcile with him after years off adding pressure to heavy his plate, but this was another category. you were another category, and one he surprisingly enjoys. "stop squirming, shitface," he hissed, brows knitted as one hand held you down, the other finally straying away from your ass, reaching for something.

a something that had your eyes widen looking back, twirling a pencil enticingly between his fingers. "what, cat got your tongue again, dumbo bitch?" that bite never left his tone as scaramouche brought his hand back, now right between your legs as you're left restrained in horror. "move and I'll drive the tip of this until the lead is flush against your thigh bone, okay? i'll make my own hole to fuck with if you don't stop pissing me off."

that threat had you frozen immediately, the air in your lungs thinning within seconds of anticipation. your heartbeat was assaulting your eardrums with every little breath you started to heave, a shudder breaking through as you felt the eraser side of the pencil trace the outer of your labia with deliberance. slowly, mockingly, as if scaramouche is taunting you—and he is.

the blunt surface pressed against the pearl that peeked between your slit, making you suck in a breath before scaramouche does it again, squishing your clit with every toe you curl from the sensation. your back arched an angle you didn't know you could curve at, the moment he pushed the slender wood into you, with the intent to seek out that spot that made your vision start to blur at the edges. well, if they weren't already.

with how turned on you got by a spanking, cloud 9 was closer to your reach with how loose your mind has gotten. and throughout, scaramouche found a sick sense simmer inside his stomach. perhaps, a sense of satisfaction… or a something that wells his ego at the sight of you so stupid. perfectly fucked-out type of stupid, and he's yet to start! "you're getting off to this? fucking disgusting." he swirled the pencil inside of you, purposely rubbing every wall and nudging at every crevice. "had the professor's known you'd be so whorish, you're better off being a prostitute than live out a life where you start business and make money.

"because, unfortunately for you, the main foundation of a company should be the founder's brains. but you? you're only a waste of meat," scaramouche's tone lowers in volume, a taunt underlying each hurtful words, meant to make you sniffle louder than the last time. make you cry more vibrantly, where your voice is bouncing off the walls, moans and cries with the sound of your pussy slick as the cherry on top. "then again, you're not so bad. you're a waste, but certainly a… pleasant looking one."

the backhanded compliment made the lower of your stomach hot, accompanied with the persistent push of the pencil's blunt tip inside you, aiming at your g-stop with impeccable precision. you always loved to flaunt your looks, anyway, what could a superflouos of talent stand for if there's already a pretty face catching everyone's attention?

"scaramouche," his name bubbles at the surface of your tongue, forming words become a much more even difficult feat—had it been earlier when he punished you by spanking and making you read, you would've failed by a landslide. scaramouche's name was the only coherent thing you could manage out your drooling lips, and even then, it was still muffled by the sound of sex in the air. "i'm gonna… scara, 'm gonna cum," the words squeezed out your lungs the same time as your pussy clenched around the intruding object, velvet walls contracting like it's seeking for more. and more did scaramouche give, drilling the pencil fully into you after a click of his tongue.

only then did you finally feel the object kiss your cervix, causing you to immediately sieze across his lap. finger clenched inwards, burning onto the palm of your hand to the point your knuckles go white. back arching further up that scaramouche's internally impressed you haven't broken the curve of your spine yet, and the tense curls of your toes with your knees throwing at the air in pleasure. "holy shit," scaramouche grunts, pausing the movements of his wrist, fingers slipping as they kept their hold on the pencil sheathed fully in you. his whole arm was soaked beyond his bewilderment, but that quickly shifted into something else.

manifesting a smirk on the corner of his lip, scaramouche hummed. "you're really a dirty fucking bitch. but that's only good for me, yeah? let's see how much more times i can make you fucking squirt." certainly more times that you can get a good grade for your subjects on your own—or lack of thereof—but only the loud stretch of the evening will tell.

a/n; um... don't do this at home unless your pencil is clean, i guess? keep your kitty infection-free ❤️😝 i'm not actually sure if i wrote this properly so uh boombayah!!!

#kazumikissu #scaramouche #genshin scara #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche smut #tutor scaramouche #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #smut

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heybaetae · 2 days ago

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hi friends! 👋🏻

i am here with my little 2024 gif wrapped after being tagged by @jkvjimin, @cordiallyfuturedwight, @yooboobies, @taehyunghobi, @jinstronaut, and @btsjk-biased. i didn't expect so many tags, so i appreciate you all for including me and wanting to see me recollect some of the work i shared this year. i'll do so under the cut and leave comments wherever i see fit.

i've seen a couple different ways people have done this, so i'll do a variation of both. i'll list my favorite vs. most popular set per each month + some honorable mentions that i liked or were particularly proud of. feel free to go show any of the mentioned posts some love just as i plan to do with everyone else's some time after i post this!

JANUARY

my favorite - vmin holding hands ↳ because i'm Me and they are insufferable

most popular - vmin in the car

honorable mentions - jikook clowning in the barracks

my recap stops there as i have nothing to show for november and december (with the exception of the yeontan tribute set and what i'll be posting for tae's birthday) as i stopped giffing at the end of october.

you can take a look back at everything else i made in my archive here :)

i don't know what the new year will hold for me as far as posting content goes, but thank you very much to those who never stopped supporting my work this year and the last four years since i started this blog. i've had a lot of feelings this year about my place as a gifmaker here and i've struggled a bit reckoning with the low engagement despite how much i know my work is loved by those who matter and never fail to let me know. i am working on reminding myself of this and i offer the same sentiment to anyone else experiencing the same feelings. you all deserve 100x more than what you get back.

for now though, my queue is gonna continue posting for me for a while. if i can get myself out of this funk by the time bts comes back, then i hope to provide whatever i can when the time feels right.

i think nearly everyone has been tagged to do this by now, but i’ll tag (unless you’ve already done it, just lmk or ignore me) @jung-koook, @kimtaegis, @btsiu, @namchyoon, @kookjinnies, @rjshope and whoever else wants to do this, please do and forward it to me or put it in my tracked tag so i can reblog it!

i love you all. happy new year 💜

#tag game #cc tag game #don't mind how bad that header gif is

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justiceforvillains · 1 day ago

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CALL ME M O N S T E R

➽ PAIRING : Vampire Hyunjin x Fem Reader

➽ SUMMARY: Vampire Hyunjin has lived hundreds of years alone, only leaving his castle when the thirst became unbearable, so what happened when a pretty-faced, broken human asked to be his blood pet?

➽ WARNINGS : Mention of Abuse, body bruises and injuries, implied starvation

[Part 1] [How it's like Living with Vampire Hyunjin]

Note: "Shadows" is something I made up; they have no souls or opinions or anything; they're just mindless black shadows, basically his puppets.

Hyunjin's anger simmered as he paced his darkened chamber. He didn't even know why he was angry or why he cared. The human's scars told a heartbreaking story. How could they be so cruel to their own kind?!

He recalled your desperate tears and your willingness to surrender to him

to what your kind called a monster.

He called upon his shadows

Hyunjin's gaze narrowed. "Prepare a room. See to their wounds. Feed them. Clothe them." Before the shadow could take another step, Hyunjin sighed, and with a flick of his fingers, the shadow disappeared. If you were already terrified as it is now, there's no use scaring you more by having a shadow come get you.

He re-entered the bathroom, not surprised to find you curled on the floor, trembling. you were still crying, not even noticing his entrance; it seems like you won't be showering anytime soon now

Gently, he lifted your chin, cradling your fragile form.

"Little one," he whispered, "no harm will come to you here." Your eyes widend at his words, "y-you will a-allow me to stay here?"

His expression softened, but he quickly masked it with a scowl. "Don't get too comfortable, though. You're only here because I need a decent blood pet."

You stayed quite; he could still feel your little body tremble and shake. He sighed again before he carried you.

As he carried you to your new quarters, he muttered, "Stupid human. Thinking they can just waltz in here..." His gaze drifted to your bruised face. "And thinking I'd care."

Hyunjin deposited you onto the plush bed, gruffly ordering, "Stay put. Eat. Sleep. Don't make a mess. These are the rules if you want to live here."

you trembled slightly "T-thank you, my lord."

Hyunjin's scowl deepened. "Don't thank me. You're here for my convenience."

As he turned to leave, your tiny hand grasped his sleeves. "M-my lord?"

He froze, pretending irritation. "What?"

Your voice barely registered. "Aren't...aren't you going to feed on me?"

Hyunjin's mask slipped, revealing pity. it was apparent what you were doing; you wanted him to feed on you to make sure he will eventually let you stay and not kill you. A vampire's promise can only be sealed with a deal; the deal hasn't happened yet so obviously you were skeptical

"with the state you're in, you can't even stand on your own; one bite and you will die right here." you nodded. "that's very kind of you..my lord."

He swiftly recovered, snarling, "Fool. Don't misunderstand. You're just…a useful tool."

Hyunjin shook off your grasp, grumbling, "Don't touch me."

Your hands retreated, fingers fluttering like injured birds. "Sorry, my lord."

As Hyunjin turned to depart, Your stomach growled loudly. He spun back, catching your embarrassed flush.

"Food, right," Hyunjin muttered, snapping his fingers. A shadow rushed in with a steaming tray.

Y/N's eyes widened at the weird creature, immeditly backing away fear evedance in the air mixed with sadness. "i-i t-thought you won't k-kill me; i'm sorry, please; i will b-be good."

"They're harmless; they're just my servants; no harm will come to you I gave you my word already." Before you could say anything else the shadow dropped the tray on the bed before disappearing before your eyes.

. "O-oh…so much!"

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. "Eat. Don't waste my resources."

you didn't need to be told twice you dug in, slurping noodles, sauce dripping down your chin. Hyunjin's gaze unwillingly lingered.

Hyunjin sighed, handing Y/N a napkin. "Clean yourself."

Y/N dabbed, smearing soup across their cheek. Hyunjin's lips twitched.

"You're a mess."

You lowered your head. "Sorry, my lord!" You were already making mistake after mistake till when will he be so patient? You thought, When will he just get rid of you or, even worse, send you back to the village? you shudder at the thought.

Hyunjin's resolve crumbled. He grabbed a damp cloth, gently wiping your face.

Y/N's eyelashes fluttered. "Th-thank you…"

Hyunjin's touch lingered, his mask slipping. "Just…be careful."

you cowered, eyes wide, as Hyunjin's fingers brushed their skin.

now that he's looking at your face he could tell there were some small bruses and cuts some on your lips and some right below your eyes

his jaw clenched. He rose, departing abruptly. "Rest. I won't bother you."

Y/N's whispered "thank you" followed him, tinged with hope.

ok so i really need your guys opinion on this one because i used a new AI thing to help me with the grammar and spelling and sometimes it recommends other words so please tell me if you like this or not

Also, I would really appreciate it if you thought I should continue this since I already have the next chapter kinda written, and let me tell you it's going to be HOT!

one last thing would you guys like it better if i said Y/N all the time or just "You"?

[How it's like Living with Vampire Hyunjin]

[Part 1]

✦ Masterlist ✦

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thewriterwithsnakes · 2 days ago

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The Ekko of A Violin: Part 2

Sorry this took me so long to get another part in, the holidays have me swamped. I am excited to let you all know that this story has a death grip on me and will become a series. I've already got ideas running around for the next few parts.

Summary: Your first day as a firelight is as exciting as it is embarrassing. Aka your new environment is wonderful and you can't help being awkward around Ekko.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, still not hitting the full romance part yet, not entirely proofread

The next day you woke up, well rested for once. You stretched and your joints cracked. You sighed in relief and got ready for your first day as a firelight. Before heading out though, you did some warms ups and practiced a bit on your violin. It was nice to start mornings with music, it calmed your mind and let you mentally prepare for the day. You set the instrument down on your bed before throwing on some sneakers and heading out.

It was a bit of a shock, being greeted pleasantly. The usual greetings in Zaun consisted of foul words and attempted muggings. If you were lucky you'd only get demeaning looks and catcalls. So to be told good morning with a smile was a little jarring, but you took it all in stride. Usually change was pretty terrible, especially in the undercity, but now it was refreshing and more than welcome.

Unbeknownst to you, everybody knew that when a new firelight was recruited, Ekko wouldn't tell them who he was right away, he liked to see how people treated their equals. So nobody mentioned it to you, nobody batted an eye when Ekko approached you by the tree and told you his name was Gabriel. It was the name he used when recruiting so that way nobody would get mixed up. And recruiting in the undercity was sparse enough that it didn't happen often anyways. It's not like Zaun was full of people who spent their free time doing charity work.

"So what's your name, sugar?" A smirk graced his face as he leaned up against the beautiful tree. You let out a soft laugh.

"I'll tell you, but only if you promise to keep the nickname." You joked. He gave you a playfully offended look as he pressed his hand to his chest. "As if I'd ever forget!" He shot back as he laughed. You could get used to the sound. The sight of his smile and the sparkle in his eyes as he playfully shook his head at you in mock disappointment, hair swaying slightly with his movements. "So?" 'Gabriel' asked. "Hm?" Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Well are you gonna keep staring at me sugar or are you gonna give me your name?" Your cheeks burned, you hadn't even realized you were staring. "Oh uh sorry it's y/n." You looked at ground more than slightly embarrassed. "Pretty name, sugar." He spoke again. "I've gotta run, have fun on your first day as a firelight sugar." He walked away and you let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding in.

The rest of the day was pleasant and you went through what was basically orientation. A fellow firelight explained their values and usual routines, what to expect and some basic rules. You delighted in finally feeling like you had a family. You made some friends and then spent the late afternoon playing your violin. The piece you'd been working on, a proudly original composition, was coming together nicely. You still had to tweak just about every note though, okay so maybe you hated it but an artist always hates their work right? You set the violin and the bow back it the case before settling in for bed. A sigh left your lips as you tucked your arm underneath your pillow with a smile. You really began to love going to sleep looking forward to the next day instead of dreading it.

#ekko x you #arcane ekko #ekko x reader #ekko arcane #arcane #ekko #ekko x y/n #firelights #ekko league of legends

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moriartyluver · 11 hours ago

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FALSE LOVERS CHAPTER XXIX

"SO, DID YOU TELL WILLIAM?" Josephine asked as she walked through the Moriarty Manor with (Name) "you know, about your condition.."

"What?" (Name) blinked, clearly invested in her own thoughts whilst her friend spoke. "Oh...my condition.." she paused, standing still on the stairs, her hand rubbing at her neck nervously, then moving to fidget with her hair. "see..the issue is.." She trailed off, trusting to explain. Josephine furrowed her brows, noticing a fresh bruise on her neck.

"Oh my god." She huffed under her breath. "You didn't tell him, did you? You slept with him! Again!!"

(Name) frowned, getting a little defensive "It's a very difficult position to be in-"

"Oh I bet you know a lot about difficult positions.." The brunette remarked.

"Josephine!"

"Sorry, sorry. I've never been pregnant before, surprisingly, so I can't judge.." she hummed

"Don't say that word out loud. If my own husband doesn't know, I'd rather nobody but you or James know either." (Name) said, moving her hand down to fiddle with her sleeve "I did try to tell him, I really did. But then he started being all flirtatious and he somehow has this way of making me feel all funny, and honestly he may be the best man I've ever had, in a weird sort of way.."

"I'd never imagine you describing William as such," Josephine giggled "Still, how did things escalate so much..?"

"Well, I went to his office, made some small talk about the incident with Whitely, before he was assassinated, then he starts making some jokes, and we reminisced on our university days together. He brought up this one memory I feel quite fond of, and then I realised that I must have been very..mean to him, more so than I am now. As if I crossed the line a few times, so I apologised and then we kissed, and then.." (Name) spoke very, very quickly, her demeanour flustered "Well, you know.."

"I'd rather not know," Josephine pulled a face. To her, this was like walking in on one's parents doing it. "Also you should tell him to be more discreet..you have a huge bruise on your neck, it almost looks painful.."

"You should see the ones I gave him." She joked, before noticing josie's flat expression. "Sorry."

She rolled her pale blue eyes, walking down the staircase with her to the lounge. "It's fine..it's quite nice to be able to gossip for once, especially with how busy things have been lately. With Fred now gone more often, I've been used as messenger girl whenever I'm available.."

"Yes, well, we did recently confirm to the public that this urban legend of the Lord Of Crime is real..it's a shame my old persona hasn't made a return. Now she is just the Lord of Crime's wife," (Name) chuckled dryly, her silk gloves sliding across the bannisters.

"Most women could only dream of such a thing," Josephine reassured with a soft laugh whilst they walked into the lounge whilst the others discussed matters regarding milverton.

"..but I would never choose that option. I'll kill Milverton whether my name spread or not." William spoke, pausing as (Name) entered the room. Everyone went silent for a second or two as she sat down beside her husband, confused as to what they were discussing.

"I'm afraid I missed a few chapters." (Name) stated calmly. "Are we really going ahead with such a plan, provided the risk?"

"(Name)," William placed his hand on her thigh reassuringly. At this point in time, he didn't care if people knew of their odd relationship. "It was bound to happen at some point."

"Right." She nodded stiffly. She was clearly unhappy with the idea but she couldn't say much. It was part of their contract and pre existing agreement before they started their affair — could one even have an affair with their spouse?

"As Louis said, this mission will carry unprecedented risks, but I can't keep Milverton alive much longer." He said. (Name) honestly was quite fond of Milverton at first, but upon finding he was responsible not only for the deaths of the Whitleys, but also the Jack the Ripper scandal, she could care less if he died. She just found him intriguing.

Sherlock used the correct means to achieve moral goals, William used unethical means to achieve moral goals and Milverton purposely would use horrible means to achieve horrible goals.

She couldn't help but wonder why.

Regardless, he was to die, hopefully at William's hands, because she'd rather not have Milverton be Sherlock's first kill.

"Let's take action as soon as we're ready." William stated, snapping (name) out of her thoughts.

Louis parted his lips, about to protest before William cut him off again.

"We all knew this was coming, Louis. It was going to happen sooner or later," He said. "It's all according to the moriarty plan."

"So this is it.." (Name) muttered as she sat on William's bed, surprisingly clothed.

"This is it." He repeated. "When you signed that contract, you knew it would come to this..I apologise."

It didn't exactly feel sincere when he apologised, almost as if he was speaking to an acquaintance or associate — not his wife.

"I suppose I'll have to remarry.." She hummed. She knew she probably wouldn't, couldn't. She was finally pregnant, with an heir. That's all she needed.

William's jaw clenched at the mere idea of another man stealing the life he wanted. "I suppose you will." He nodded, shutting the book in his hands, getting out of his chair and approaching his bed on the other side of the room. "I.." He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, like a fish.

"I know." She looked up at him. "I know."

He nodded, sitting down beside her and wrapping an arm around her waist apologetically whilst she rested her head on his shoulder. "Who would've thought..you and me.."

"I never took you as the sentimental type." she laughed dryly.

"I am a dead man walking, after all," William rubbed her shoulder soothingly. "Speaking of which..."

"I'll pay for the funeral, don't worry. I can even have you sent to (home country) so you can have a tomb where it won't be destroyed by angry people." She said in a soft, melancholy tone.

"That's alright. I'll let my gravesite be destroyed and ruined." He smiled. "Actually..I was thinking."

"You always think."

"So do you," he chuckled. "But in all seriousness, this is important. I'm going to have to ask you to do something a little bit difficult."

"I've never failed any mission you've given me," (name) reminded him. "I'm your strongest soldier."

"That you are," He kissed her forehead. "But this isn't a physical thing..I mean, you'll pick up a pen, and write a few sentences, but it's.." William trailed off, his scarlet eyes shifting away from her and onto the equally red wallpaper.

"What is it?" she asked curiously.

"I'm going to need you to write a letter," He explained, rubbing her thigh. "To one of the main newspapers. I'll need you to write about how you recently discovered I was the lord of crime, how you plan to annul the marriage, and how you want the public to know you were never involved."

He paused, looking into her eyes, searching for a reaction. She took a moment to process his words, her eyebrows furrowing in an angry glare.

"No! Why would you ask me to do such a thing? I may be a killer but I can't lie to an entire nation!" She exclaimed, standing from the bed. "I was just as involved as you were, and I've been killing since I was 16!"

"You've lied numerous times before, I don't see how this may be any different," He pointed out.

"But it's different—" She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What am I to tell my parents? My friends? Should I just continue to live a lie after you...you.."

She couldn't even bring herself to say it.

"You can tell your parents the truth if you like, (name). They're good people, they wouldn't cast you out." He reassured her "And it's for your own sake. What will society think of a woman who knowingly let her husband kill people? What will they think when they find out you helped too? What will they think when they find out you married me because you just wanted to keep your parents happy and the men away? This is for your sake, I only ask that you write one letter."

"William.." She whispered his name.

"If you don't, I'm afraid I'll have to forge one." He stated. "You're already in enough trouble with parliament and her majesty herself, what will they do to you or to (home country) if they realise you were involved, that you were the lady of crimes."

She sighed. He was right.

"I have business to attend to in Manchester, tomorrow afternoon, which I can always say was done out of fear of my husband being upset with me. I may have time to write a letter then and send it off as soon as possible to all the newspapers possible." She rambled. "And I'm telling my parents. They're going to be in Manchester too."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"I knew something was wrong." Grand Duchess (last name) sighed. "I told you, didn't I, (Father's name)?"

"You're right. I apologise for not believing you, my love." He rubbed his wife's shoulder, kissing her cheek apologetically.

(Name) couldn't bear to even look at them. She kept her head bowed and her eyes on her shoes. "I'm sorry, again."

"No, (Name). I'm sorry." Her mother reached her hand out to hold her daughter's. "So is your father. This wouldn't have happened if we.."

"There was nothing you could've done to change anything." She reminded them. "I had to do what I did, regardless of how horrible and wrong it was.."

Her parents shared a look, before turning to their daughter again. She looked so small, so vulnerable. It was as if she was 9 years old all over again.

"But we should have been there." The grand duke spoke. "At such a young age, you witnessed something so traumatising, and you lost your brother too..then we encouraged you to go to Britain for the sake of your education, and didn't contact you regularly, only visiting a handful of times, and even then we weren't around long enough for you."

Her mother nodded in agreement. "If we had been there, if we had made you feel safe and welcome with us, you wouldn't have killed as many people as you did, you wouldn't have felt the need to marry a man you despised, and you wouldn't be in the situation you are in right now."

"It wasn't your fault.." (Name) whispered, holding back tears. "There's this man, Charles Augustus Milverton..he would spread rumours about me through a magazine he owned, solely to torment me..it just made matter worse and now he's going to expose William's wrong doings to the entire country, and that..I can't imagine how he must feel right now.."

The grand duchess sighed. "You love him, don't you?"

"I do."

"For how long?"

"I..I'm not entirely sure.." She glanced down to her stomach. "But I know that I can't let him die..I just can't."

"There's something else you're not telling us, isn't there?" Her father asked.

"You can tell us, we won't judge you or be upset." Her mother reassured. "We're your parents."

"I haven't even told William..Josephine, and another close friend that I work with, they're the only ones who know..." she trailed off. "I mean, how could I tell him. I haven't even told him I love him yet..He's convinced our relationship is just a facade for the public with some extra benefits for the both of us.."

"(Name).."

"I'm pregnant."

"It's a shame this comedy doesn't have an audience," Milverton laughed as William and Sherlock turned their pistols to face him, rather than pointing at each other. They had both been inside Milverton's villa for a while now, with two very different reasons yet seemingly the same outcome. "The light and dark that symbolise London..the two of them are here together."

"Make that three." A voice spoke from behind Milverton. He glanced over his shoulder, smirking as he saw his main target, (Name) (Last name).

His smirk widened as he noticed a gun in her hand, pointing straight at him, finger on the trigger. "It's splendid you could join us. You seem so innocent but upon further inspection, anyone could tell that you had been aiding your husband's 'activities' all along, perhaps even the match that lit the fire."

"I'm not here for him." She assured "You know exactly what you've done."

"I do indeed." He chuckled, watching as (Name) slowly walked through the dimly lit room so she was stood in front of him, beside William and Sherlock. "And I'm glad you turned up. I was worried, really, that you weren't going to be here when I saw your husband without you." He paused. "Can I even call him that? Your 'husband'?"

"There are legal documents to prove it. I'm sure one of your lapdogs can retrieve them for you," she retorted.

"Yes, legal documents." Milverton hummed. "I found a rather interesting one earlier this week...Although, not nearly as interesting as a criminal couple, even if you may not be the most romantic."

(Name) glanced at William who didn't seem to pay her any attention apart from the initial surprise she was here despite orders given that she wouldn't.

"It was you, wasn't it?" She asked, her finger trembling on the trigger, her hands uncharacteristically shaky "You who tried to expose me for taking down that trafficking ring, you who had my name plastered over the tabloids, and for what? I didn't do anything to you."

Milverton's eyes darkened for a moment before he grinned again "because it's fun."

"So are theatre productions not good enough for you anymore?" She asked sarcastically.

He laughed. A sickening laugh.

"Why watch a measly play when I can make my own?" He smiled. "Tragedy, comedy, romance...All three seem to apply to your life."

"What—?"

"For example, sweet and innocent nine year old (Name), bright beyond her years, possibly the most intelligent woman, maybe even person, to ever live." Milverton continued, interrupting the woman, a bead of sweet running down her forehead. "A box turns up one day, her dead brother's head inside. How Tragic. She swears to take down the British empire, and has quite a lot of fun in the process. Most of your little boy toys ended up dead or missing, though. It was no coincidence that Theodore Arden, your little male friend, happened to have the father who ordered your brother's grizzly death. And it was no coincidence that they had been tortured to death soon after, aswell as blown up by a few bombs, how comedic."

How did he know this? How did he know any of this? Even with a photographic memory, she still couldn't remember the exact details of all these occurrences, her brain had blocked them out for the most part.

And (name) swore she only brushed over the surface of all this with William. Because she trusted him. She glanced at him, an expression of hurt on her pretty face, then forced her eyes back to Milverton.

Did William tell him?

"And of course, he wasn't the last man in your life, but he was certainly your first." He enunciated the last word, highlighting the double meaning. "I can barely count them on one hand. But then, after a strange disappearance of Lord Ashfordshire, You found the one. How romantic," Milverton looked between (Name) and William. "You were married, but seemingly didn't consummate, and I wasn't the only tabloid following your love life around, but I certainly got the most information. How would your husband," he gestured to William "feel about that?"

"You know nothing." She hissed between clenched teeth.

"Oh? I know nothing, do I?" Milverton chuckled. "For a genius, you make this so easy, my lady. The jokes just write themselves."

William looked uneasy. He had long since settled in his feelings for his wife, which felt ridiculous if he said them out loud. He had confided a few times in his brothers, his friends, and he knew he was in the worst possible circumstance right now. He was in love with. And he was the Lord of crime. The Lord of crime, in love with a girl he originally perceived to be rude and spoilt and cruel and promiscuous.

And he loved her, with his entire soul.

"How would your husband feel, knowing he was likely your last option for a prospective husband? How would your husband feel," Milverton continued, each word leaking venom. "Knowing you only consummated your marriage because a few rumours fuelled your need to become with child?"

William and (Name) made brief eye contact, with her looking at him apologetically. He didn't look at her with anything more than a neutral expression.

"How would your husband feel knowing you had an affair the entire time you were in (home country), towards the end of last year?"

Her gaze could no longer linger on the blond, looking straight at Milverton with a mixture of anger and shame.

William's eyes widened for a moment, waiting for her to say something in her defence.

Nothing.

To the people of The British Empire, I apologise.

I, Lady (Name) (Last Name) Moriarty, have recently discovered something no woman would want to find.

Recently, I had been lead to believe my husband was having an affair, due to the secrets he kept and the life he concealed. This, like most marital issues, was to be kept private. That was until I discovered something far, far worse.

A few days ago, I had caught my husband, William James Moriarty, arriving home late, drenched in blood. Naturally, I was suspicious, and this event had led to me uncovering a truth I cannot keep to myself.

William James Moriarty is the Lord of Crime.

Had I known earlier, perhaps I may have been able to prevent the unjust murders of many innocent people, such as that of Adam Whitely. The guilt I feel is immeasurable, and I intend to financially compensate all those involved as well as provide evidence for this conspiracy to the authorities.

Once again, I apologise for all the harm my ignorance has caused,

Lady (Name) (Last Name).

"I assume this was all fabricated," Mycroft placed the newspaper back on his desk after reading from it aloud.

"You know me so well," (Name) chuckled. "I do intend to repay all those who need it..deep down you don't really have an issue with what transpired. I know you don't." She said, her voice dropping a tone. "William himself asked me to write that, so don't think I'm sacrificing him to save myself."

Mycroft scoffed. "Well you've never had a good history with men and their feelings."

"Why would I? Most of the men who were involved with me in some way were all horrible. It makes no difference that I married a serial killer," she smiled, taking another sip of tea. "I have all I needed now. I won't bother you again, Mycroft dear, I assure you...although you will miss me. I was the only opponent to the British Empire who actually entertained you."

"I don't consider destroying merchant ships entertaining," He recalled. "Or how about that time the new prime minister said something unkind to you and you set Parliament alight?"

"First of all," (Name) defended herself. "I had valid reason for destroying those slave ships, you know very well what trades they're involved in. I'd rather not look away from such devastating practices, there are real people involved, not just figures and statistics," she argued "And second of all, that wasn't the prime minister, they were something else, Home Secretary I think, and they were very offensive to me. You know how I get when I'm angry."

"Well at least he managed to survive." He muttered.

"I've not killed that many people." She retorted.

"I can't even give an exact amount, but most of the people you killed were important people, and it affected our economy, our politics, and our society in multiple ways," Mycroft explained. "Which returns us to the main issue...Your husband — can I even refer to him as such?"

(Name) hummed to herself "Well, I was thinking of having the marriage annulled, but William seems to have other ideas. Regardless, he is, unfortunately, still my husband and the future father of my child."

"I gathered as much. Hopefully they don't inherit your spitefulness." He rolled his eyes. "Anyways, your husband has murdered more nobles than I can recall, some of which we still have yet to confirm. Albert has been vague with me on the issue. What do you suppose you'll do when the economy comes crashing down? What about if the people, the working class population, blame you for their issues? They'll revolt soon, riot around your family home..Now what must you do?"

"They won't blame me if the elite don't do it first. That's how it always happens anyways, blame the marginalised when in reality, it's the rich's fault. The only reason it's causing issue is because the time between the murders has shortened to a mere few hours. Previously, it had been much longer, so another rich old man could fill the void and everyone kept their low paying jobs," she explained. "And the rioting is part of William's plan."

"So that's it? You'll let him die and return to (Home country), have that unfortunate child, then raise it as an heir?" He asked, although she wasn't supposed to answer. "Your life would be so much better if you had married one of her majesty's sons."

"No thanks, they're all hideous," (Name) shook her head, making a face.

Mycroft fought back a laugh, trying to maintain his serious persona. "They are members of the royal family."

"And the inbreeding caused their unfortunate appearances. At least William was handsome. Now I'll have a son with perfect features," She half joked. She did choose William over so many other men because of his superior breeding, which is ironic with his background as a commoner.

"How are you so sure it'll be a boy?" Mycroft asked "wishful thinking?"

"No, I'd much rather a girl, a sweet little girl with beautiful hair I can style, but I know, it's just my intuition. It's never been wrong," (name) flashed a smile.

"No, I suppose not," He nodded "So, you're visiting my brother after I dismiss you?"

"You don't get to dismiss me, but yes, I am." She said. "I need to ask him a favour."

"Very well. We're done here," Mycroft stood up opening the door to his office. "Please keep me updated."

"I shall." She gave him a nod, bowing her head a little before leaving "farewell, and have a nice evening."

Although that morning she had her letter published by the press, 'confessing' her lack of involvement, she knew some would not be entirely convinced. After all, who better to place the blame on than a foreign woman? Yes she was far from innocent, and she didn't exactly want to be perceived as such, only going along with William's plan for the sake of her parents and home country.

So, she decided it would be much less likely that any rioters spot her if she secretly entered Sherlock's apartment, rather than from the front where anyone could see. He had been cleared of his murder charges that same day, now likely at home.

(Name) peered into the window, knocking slowly after a moment. The curtains drew open, revealing a slightly amused Sherlock. He opened the window wide enough for her to enter in her cloaked disguise. She slid inside, walking towards him and pulling her hood down.

"I wasn't expecting you, especially not like this," Sherlock laughed.

"Well, hopefully after all this blows over, you'll expect a lot more from me," she smiled, combing her fingers through her hair.

"Mhm..you're here about Liam, aren't you?" He asked, still remembering the incident with Milverton, but he decided against mentioning it. After the confrontation, ending in Sherlock shooting Milverton, he had heard (name) apologising to William from afar as they left, trying to get him to say something, but merely brushed her off with a claim he was busy.

"I am." (Name) nodded. "I just finished talking to your brother actually, apologising for the whole ordeal."

"Oh yeah, you sent that letter to the papers, right? I could tell most of it wasn't true, no wonder that brother of mine wanted to talk to you," Sherlock said, leaning against a wall. "You knew about this since the beginning."

"And I participated too. William used me as the whistleblower because nobody would expect such things from a woman." She explained, brows furrowing. "Actually, I'm probably worse than he is. Which is why I think it's unfair that he must sacrifice himself, and only himself, for the sake of everyone else. I don't see a crown of thorns on his head, he isn't obliged to do so."

"Classic Liam." He hummed. "So, let me guess. You orchestrated the Arden massacre, and were involved in the disappearance of Ashfordshire?"

"Amongst other things, yes. I also was the main planner with that whole sex trafficking scandal a while back, and I was the one who set us all up on the Noahtic." (Name) confessed.

"They never did find Ashfordshire's body..I assume you killed him though."

She sighed, recalling the story "If you had seen what I had, you'd kill him too. It still haunts me sometimes. And although I did kill him, William dealt with the body. It was so badly damaged and wounded that nobody would recognise it even if they found it."

"How intriguing. You know, (Nickname), I really wish I had met you sooner." Sherlock smiled. She reciprocated it with a bitter one. "So, what is the favour you're planning to ask me?"

"I don't know if Louis has already asked you to do so, he's been on edge all week so it's only reasonable to assume he's upset," She trailed off "I have my own plan, to convince William to stay, maybe just fake his death instead, I'm not entirely sure considering he hasn't been speaking to me much lately..But, if that fails, I want you to be there, when he tries to die. I want you to do everything you can to save him, and I'm sorry for asking so much of you."

"Who's to say I wouldn't do it regardless?" His smile widened.

(Name) let out a dry laugh. "In that case, I haven't anything to worry about.."

"You really love him, don't you?"

She nodded then glanced to the door, footsteps slowly creaking up the stairs. She glanced at Sherlock, nodding goodbye before climbing out the window, gripping onto a tree branch outside as he said his final words to her.

"Congratulations, by the way. That kid's going to be a genius." Sherlock whispered.

She hummed, a little surprised at first that he knew, but shook it off. He was the world's greatest consulting detective after all. She parted her lips to speak, but noticing the door slowly freak open to reveal William, who had yet to spot her whilst she slipped out the window, ready to return to her carriage home.

Once she arrived home, she waited in William's bedroom, that which could have been a shared one between the couple if their marriage had taken a different route. The sheets clearly hadn't been slept in for days, likely due to the recent killing sprees William had been on. Honestly, nobody had slept much recently anyways. (Name) couldn't remember the last time she had gotten in a full 8 hours of sleep without interruptions. She had been plagued by nightmares as of late, and she had too much to do so sleep seemed like a waste of time. She had made arrangements for the following morning to board a ship back to (Home country) with her parents and hopefully with William too. Her room was empty and everything was now packed away and on the ship somewhere.

William eventually returned home, darting straight to his bedroom to clean up, only to be met with (Name) waiting for him. She saw the blood staining his cheek and the tired look in his eyes which once shone so brightly, now making him resemble a corpse rather than the man she had finally come to terms with being the one she loved with all her heart.

"The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?"

He didn't respond.

"William?" She called out to him again, approaching him, but strangely enough it seemed there was a boarder preventing her from coming too close. "We need to talk about this whole situation...I.." she bit her lip, voice cracking as she tried to find her words. She felt nervous, reminded about how he reacted after finding out about the affair.

"What?" William muttered softly, albeit exhausted.

(Name) almost seemed startled at how different this current William was to how her usual William was. "I'm somewhat offended you didn't tell me about this plan of yours earlier." She said, although that wasn't really what she intended to do. It was in typical (Name) fashion, in a sense.

William spoke again, his voice aching as he wiped some blood off his face with his palm "You had known this since the beginning, it was in the contract after all..besides, we spoke about this earlier, a few days ago when I asked you to write that letter to the press."

"You're right..my mistake." The noblewoman whispered "The plan was that I either marry again for an heir or have a child and remain a widow." (Name) recalled, stood before William, her hands interlinked as she fidgeted with the fabric of her gloves "But..it's not what I want anymore."

She couldn't help but become incredibly aware of how selfish she continued to sound, with every sentence, every word, every syllable.

"Not what you want?" William repeated curiously. Although he could barely bring himself to speak, he still attempted to keep this conversation afloat, in hopes of completing one of the last phases of this plan, his final problem.

(Name) took a deep breath "You're not dying. I prohibit it," she said harshly, her voice slowly raising, something William noticed happened every time she was frustrated. Once again, she felt selfish, but selfishness may have been the only way to counteract the selfless sacrifice of William dying. "You're not allowed to die like this when there is clearly another way!"

"Another way?" The blond mocked "(name), there is no 'other way'! I have the blood of hundreds on my hands, and the only way to compensate for all the lives I have ruined and all the pain I have caused is by dying!"

(Eye colour) eyes widened momentarily. (Name) took her husband's hands in hers "And you won't let me help you clean these hands?" She asked, kneeling before him as he sat on the bed. "William, please just listen to me for once!" She pleaded, begging him on her knees, an image that (Name) from a year ago would have deemed impossible. "My parents have already heard of what we have done, I spoke to them a few nights ago, and they helped me formulate a plan in which nobody else has to die for the sake of this stupid class system!"

"We..We can run away! We'll go to (home country) with mother and father and...and we can take Albert and Louis and Josephine and everyone else!" (Name) continued, her grasp on his hands tightening "I don't care about the tension between (home country) and this pathetic empire anymore! If any conflict breaks out, I can deal with it! I'll do anything, I just want you by my side. We won't have to worry about anything anymore, William!"

Williams lips parted, then shut, then parted again, as if he was choosing his words cautiously before finally muttering no more than her name, in a whisper so silent that it would be overpowered by the sound of a mere draft, leaking through the window.

"(Name)"

She looked up at him, her eyes glassy with tears that were threatening to spill, another word and the dam would break.

"William, please," (Name) whispered, her voice cracking, squeezing his soft hands gently "I couldn't bare it if you were to die...didn't you consider that? There's so so much to live for, even if the nobility has made you feel otherwise..."

"(Name), please don't do this," He whispered, blinking slowly and opening his eyes once more, the ends of his eyelashes sticking together with shiny tears.

Even being sat there now felt more torturous than any form of pain he had ever felt. William had been hurt so much to the point physical pain had no effect on him anymore. He had been smacked in cruel orphanages, kicked by passers by, cut as a result of both his pride and his namesake's sadistic nature, whipped by his own adoptive mother, and yet he was being caressed so gently, but felt this pain was much more unbearable than anything he'd ever experienced in his twenty four years of pitiful existence.

Seeing (Name), his beloved wife, sat in front of him, begging him to continue to live, something most men around him could do without a second thought (which he felt envious of, and then guilt for his envy), was devastating.

He had considered her proposal, imagining a life where he and (name) could exist peacefully. They could read at one of the many libraries in the (Last Name) Manor, whilst (name) would teach him (mother tongue), and be by her side on her travels to various countries. He'd play chess with (name) until she finally won against him. He's finally be able to sleep peacefully in her arms without fear for his comrades and nightmares riddled with guilt. He'd live a life without needing to stain his hands with a single drop of blood again...

And yet he couldn't.

The more William imagined a future with her, the more it hurt knowing this was simply impossible for him to have. He wasn't allowed to be happy. He wasn't allowed to move on. He had killed too many, there was no turning back, no matter how badly he wanted to do so. It was cowardly, William knew that, but so was running away and leaving England in shambles because of his own selfish plans.

"Don't you understand, William? I'll do anything.." (Name) looked into his eyes once more "I.." she took a deep breath, voice shaky

"I love you."

#moriarty the patriot #—false lovers 💋#william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #mtp william #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader

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complicatcd · 2 days ago

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"Don't seem so surprised." He knew how silly it must have seemed. That a man of his physical stature and career history could ever need the occasional compliment every now and again, but his insecurities were alive and well, just like so many others that needed the same. Only most of his had been created from his own mistakes and shortcomings. It was the career flip that had really thrown him off kilter. From the rink to the sports bar... sometimes they weren't so different. Another compliment had him flashing a toothy grin down at the blonde. She was right about that — he'd mastered the art of faking it years ago.

He'd spent several holidays alone after his divorce. Henry had welcomed the feeling of loneliness, but not everyone craved that torture that he did. "Who says you have to be alone?" Decorations were only part of the holiday season, but he couldn't deny that as a young child, he'd appreciated all the lights and leaned over plastic reindeer his mother had planted in the front yard. "What about your place? You already have your lights and stuff up?" His mother would always have something to say, but most of her comments were harmless. If the one thing she complained about was his lack of Christmas spirit, he'd call it a win. "I'll just tell her there's a light shortage. Can't decorate 'cause someone already bought 'em out."

Surprisingly, her reassurance hit the spot. His mother could complain if she wanted and knowing her, she most certainly would, but maybe it'd account for something in his mother's eyes. "You let me know how that goes." His attention only shifted from her as long as the so called charming took. It was a stray laugh here, a boyish grin there, and bingo. "The latter. I'm all charmed out and truth is, I don't even know where I'd start anyway. What about you?"

Maeve raised an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she took in his words. "Confidence boost, huh?" She chuckled, giving him a sidelong glance as they made their way through the crowd. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment. But let’s be honest—you’re doing just fine. You’ve got enough charm to pull off anything. Besides, if anyone knows how to fake it until they make it, it’s you."

"I think this is the first year that I'm alone for Christmas and I never realized just how much moms put into decorating and the Christmas spirit, you know?" She tightened her grip on his arm briefly before releasing it, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the scene around them. She could almost taste the tension in the air, the low hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, the balancing act that came with running a business and staying true to yourself. “And for the record, your lack of decorations? Definitely going to come up when your mom walks through that door. You should probably prepare yourself for a lecture about the importance of holiday ambiance.”

Hooking her arm tighter into his, she leaned in closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “But don’t worry, I’ll have your back. Just remind me to mention how busy you’ve been running the bar. Moms love that—makes you sound responsible.” As they reached the bar, she gave a knowing look as Henry made the order. Her eyes flicked to the drinks, then back to him. "That’s a solid win if I do say so myself" She took the drink with a raised eyebrow and a wink. With that, she took a sip, watching his reaction closely, before adding with a playful smirk: "So, what’s next? You planning on charming the crowd or hiding away for the rest of the night?"

#henry ft. maeve peters.#interaction | henry monroe.

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weisshapt · 1 year ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄 𝐕𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐒 + family tree

one of the most notable and powerful families in the city of baldur’s gate, the house of de vryes, an unbroken line of warlocks, has ascended over nearly four hundred years like no other in the city’s history thanks to a long-held and generationally renewed pact with a demonic being of immense power.

ayana. the pact maker. having found herself carrying a child, ayana went to the father to tell him, only to be accused of dark magic and manipulated seduction so that the man might save face in the eyes of his family and his young wife. more than that, he accused her of cavorting with demons, claiming that in laying with him she had used him as a proxy so she might carry a demon spawn. the village in which ayana had lived was overly superstitious, and took little convincing to spark their hysteria into violence. they beat her, before dragging her to the town center and tying her to a post to be burned, never listening to the way the girl protested her innocence. as the torch was brought forth, suddenly the flames sparked, billowing backwards and alighting both people and buildings alike. out of the flames there came a man, or the likeness of a man. the flames that had begun to creep up around ayana were extinguished, and with a wave of his hand her wounds were healed. the man, taltos as he called himself, charmed the girl and offered her a new life amidst the ashes of her old one. “i have nothing to give you,” she confessed. “not yet. but i have everything to give you. in this we are a perfect match.” ayana asked taltos for power. for wealth and beauty and security for her children and her children’s children. three drops of blood from either party were placed in a locket, which taltos clasped about her neck, and the first pact was sealed.

belesa. the cunning courtesan. ayana never got to see the true fruits of her deal with the devil, but her daughter did. her mother having died when she was still quite young, belesa was raised in a brothel, taking on the profession of the house once she was of age, and what a career she made. with taltos ever in her ear, training her in all arts of seduction and manipulation, belesa became a premiere courtesan. when the young woman reached twenty three, taltos explained to her the deal her mother had made, and the reason he’d always been so adamant that she never part with the locket she wore. he gave her the choice to make the same deal, and she agreed. her talents as a courtesan eventually led her to seduce a retired general by the name of dagan mormont. so in love was he that upon a day he fell to one knee and begged the woman to leave her life behind and marry him, professing he cared not for her past if she would only pledge to him her future. and she did. the two eventually had a child, a girl named phoibe. but when their daughter was hardly a year old, dagan fell ill. before she was two, he died. belesa wasted no time, however. when her husband’s health began to fail, she very quickly noticed the way one of his acquaintances, a noble, cadmus de vryes, was suddenly ever at her side, offering condolences and comfort. mere weeks after dagan’s death, the two were engaged, and upon the condition that her daughter be provided for and her future secured, they were married. cadmus legally adopted phoibe, giving her his name and bringing her into his house. within a year, the two had a son of their own, janus. sadly, cadmus perished on a business trip twelve years into their marriage, leaving belesa the independent lady of the house, the first de vryes matriarch.

phoibe. the girl in the garden. adopted by cadmus de vryes when she was no more than an infant, phoibe became the second heir to bear the de vryes name, though she could claim no de vryes blood. despite this, life was easy for phoibe. her steps were light and her laughter gentle. with a mother who doted upon her and a demon at her beck and call, rarely did she want for anything. this trend continued when she met a man, the second son of another noble family named leander amnell, whilst he wandered the garden of her family home where she’d been reading. he was to her the prince in her story books, perfect and pretty and shining. as struck by her as she had been of him, the two were fascinated by each other, but when leander made to speak with the pretty girl he’d discovered, she fled from him, hoping he’d give chase. chase he did, but phoibe knew well the secrets of the garden, and she escaped him. the pair met again that night at dinner, and finally were formally introduced. within days, and following a request to her mother, they were betrothed. meanwhile her younger brother, janus, also found himself engaged to a young woman named chadara elfarren, the daughter of a family well-known for their wine trading, marking two political victories for the de vryes family which would further their ascent amongst the higher society of baldur’s gate. the marriage between phoibe and leander was a happy one, practically a fairytale. like her brother and his wife, phoibe had two children, and like her own mother, she first had a daughter, oriana, and little more than a year later a son, ambrose.

oriana. the delight of baldur’s gate. even more than her mother before her, oriana was adored by all those who looked upon her from a young age. no one would ever speak an ill word against her. talented in poetry, music, dancing, riding, and the arcane arts, and never putting neither foot nor finger out of place or out of order, she was a compliment and a treasure to her family. by the time she was sixteen she had been socially dubbed ‘the delight of baldur’s gate’, with nobles, knights, scholars and artisans alike all eventually coming to vie for her hand. the only person seeming to hold against her any ill will was her own brother, ambrose, though the source of his contention and resentment was always a point of whispered rumour. perhaps it was because the man always thought himself cleverer and more ambitious by half than his sister, and believed he would have made a more competent and effective heir to both the family’s fortune, and to taltos, sentiments that were only spurred on by his later wife, calpernia exeltis, who herself resented that she was not the official lady of the house. when oriana did finally choose a husband and marry, it was to a knight named gideon de nogaret. the two would, as with the previous two generations, go on to have two children, this time twins, numerius and aurelia.

numerius and aurelia. the twins. the only time taltos has ever chosen two heirs. always bound together, rarely seen apart, it came as hardly a surprise when both of the twins claimed to see taltos just after their seventh birthday. after, it was common occurrence to find them huddled together in some quiet room, listening to their infernal tutor, or whispering to each other as though they had a secret language. as they grew older, whispers in quiet corners became secret touches in darkened rooms. in an effort to stem the tide of their debauchery, oriana and gideon married their only daughter to daguenet grimaud, the son of a wealthy merchant family known for their penchant for falconry. still, the pair would not be separated. when aurelia gave birth to her first child, a son named castus, no one dared question who had fathered the boy, though everyone, including aurelia’s own husband, suspected they did not need to. for a time it seemed as though the twins would distance themselves as aurelia focused on motherhood, though this did not last long before the two began to sneak away together again. “find the boy a pretty wife and perhaps he will finally put an end to this degeneracy.” numerius was quickly wed to cornelia eomane, the daughter of a family which owned successful oil and perfume factories in the city. still yet, the twins continued. they could not be stopped and what could be done? they were the heirs to the powers that held the family together. to lose them would be to lose him. worse still, they knew it. in time aurelia had two more children, antha, and deirdre. with his own wife, numerius had a single child, a daughter called isadora, whom, while it was ever clear that he loved her dearly, was hardly his favorite.

antha and deirdre. the deserter and the second choice. antha was a quiet girl all her life. studious, clever, precocious and talented. growing up, awareness of her parentage weighed on her more heavily than it did her siblings, but she never gave any signs of vitriol or disloyalty to her family. not until that night. three days before her binding ceremony, antha disappeared from the de vryes family home, the locket of her birthright left laying on her bed. it was a little over a week before she was found, in a temple to pelor, where she had pledged herself and vowed to remain for the rest of her days. “i want to live in the light, away from the darkness and temptation of our family,” she said to her cousin and half-sister isadora, recently married to a minor noble named tristan hedare, when she came to visit. her abandonment was unprecedented, and taltos was hardly pleased with the development. still, in the loss of one heir, he chose another, the youngest of aurelia’s children, deirdre. as she was a spare heir, she was the spare again in her betrothal to the man who had once been promised to her sister, pelleas de lauzon, the son of a family also known for their arcane abilities. it was clear she was not who either had wanted, as pelleas had long obsessed over her sister, whilst deirdre had done the same over him. together she and her husband bore a single child, a daughter they called nimueh. having moved away from the city, isadora eventually had a child of her own, another girl, linnea.

nimueh. his favorite. it is said that taltos did not wait until nimueh had passed seven years before he came to her. instead, yet reeling and still furious from the loss of his previous intended heir and more than determined not to repeat the same unfortunate mishap, he was ever at nimueh’s side from birth, speaking to her, guiding her, molding her into a warlock of formidable power, especially at such a young age. perhaps that is why the girl grew into a woman who, though more clever and cunning than any who had come before her, had a certain touch of madness, always whispering of her dreams and of destiny, visions in her eyes as much as was the waking world. perhaps it was that madness that led her to her own uncle’s bedchambers one night. “my dreams demand it,” she would say. though, it cannot be truthfully said that castus protested overmuch. together the two had five children, their eldest, agravaine, then twins of their own, cyprien and melitta who died young and furthered her mother’s unstable mind (”i was promised a daughter. i am meant to have a daughter. how could she be taken from me?”). then came bastian, and finally their youngest, the little girl nimueh had so longed for, ovidia. nimueh never married, which did nothing but fan the flames of widespread rumor as to the identity of her children’s father.

cyprien. the seducer. as shrewd as his mother, cyprien recognized early that her never marrying put their family in a precarious position, with potential to lose some of the footing they had gained amongst the nobility of baldur’s gate. so, after a good few years of honing his talents, so to speak, and with taltos as his guide, the young man set out to capture the heart of the beautiful daughter of one of the most powerful families in the city, isla caldwell, and capture her he did. he would charm the girl until she lay with him, and then continued to do so until he could be certain that she carried his child. upon such discovery, he wasted no time before presenting himself to isla’s parents and demanding that they be wed. the only options then were to either grant the imperious boy her hand, or risk the destruction of her reputation once she began to show. the pair were married quickly, though with as much ceremony as befitted the station of cyprien’s bride. despite the schemed nature of its origins, the marriage was not without affection as cyprien did seem to truly love his young wife, and once wed quickly put away much of his more rakish ways. however there were some who resented the match, cyprien’s elder brother among them, as agravaine himself had oft desired his brother’s wife, though to no avail. less than five months into their marriage, the couple welcomed their first child, a son named atlas, and after three and a half more years, a daughter was born, whom they called amara.

amara. she who loved two. while both she and her elder brother were outwardly the perfect picture of dignified nobility, amara had a streak of wild and unbridled curiosity in her that her brother atlas lacked. prone to sneaking away from her family’s guard whenever the urge struck her, the young woman at times found herself wandering the lower city. it is there she developed a certain fascination for the organized fighting matches that were held in secret in abandoned warehouses near the brampton docks. it was at one of these matches that she discovered a fighter by the name of conall merrilin, a man who seemed fully at home in the violence, even appearing to find joy in it. as he’d caught her eye, she’d caught his, but it was between them a sort of game of cat and mouse. during matches, his eyes would find hers, which were often already glued to him, and she would give him a knowing smile and a tilt of her head, but after the match, she’d disappear before he could reach her. one night he finally caught her, and despite knowing practically nothing about each other, passion burned bright between them following a very brief introduction. after, amara revealed why she’d finally allowed him to catch her. she was engaged, but she’d not been able to help herself. her betrothed was magnus artemel, the son of a noble family from waterdeep who’d made their fortune through moneylending, and he was to arrive to meet his new bride in two days time. this news however, did nothing to deter conall, who found amara again in the upper city after days of searching. it was good fortune that her new husband had a deep love of hunting and would be away from home for days on end at times, as amara could not seem to refuse the figher who’d captured her eye and a piece of her heart. still, she came to love magnus as well. “he is my husband. it is not as though i don’t hold some affection for him.” “then why meet with me?” “because i hold affection for you too.” through the years, magnus never learned of his wife’s lover, or if he did, he said nothing, and the two (three technically) remained happy, even when their children were born. while amara assumes that conall fathered both her son, rylen, and later her daughter, ursula, she could never be quite sure, and magnus treated both as his rightful children, whether he believed them to be or not.

ursula. the melancholy heir. the early years of ursula de vryes were happy ones. though she was quiet, she was untroubled and joyful. well beloved by her parents and thick as thieves with her brother and his good friend fabian vadim, it seemed nought could go wrong. such a statement would sadly not stand the test of time. it began with a letter from a distant relation of the family, and the revelation that the current heads of the de vryes family, the most powerful of their line, were not true descendants of cadmus de vryes, and held none of his blood, making their claim both of the family name and its fortunes and holdings illegitimate. this distant branch of the family had fallen on difficult times due to the gambling debts and poor financial decisions of a previous generation, and having discovered the truth of their lineage, demanded recompense as price for their silence, this coming in the form of a betrothal between ursula and their son, oberon de vryes. ursula was crushed initially, as she’d hoped to live her life with her first love fabian, but to refuse the match would be to ruin her family, so she acquiesced. her new husband however, seemed to care little for her, as his own heart belonged to his mistress, finola donati, and would always be hers. things may have worked out had ursula been then free to be with her own love, but a year into their marriage, fabian was killed after being robbed in an alley one night. the news broke ursula’s heart, and from then on she focused purely on her family and worked to be a good wife to her husband, which despite oberon’s lack of the tender fondness she so desired from him, grew as they welcomed multiple children in the coming years, beginning with their eldest, malachy. their next son, dorian, fell ill when was eleven years of age and did not survive, taking with him another piece of his mother’s heart. after that came two daughters, first yseult, and then their youngest, laeta. her brother rylen fell madly in love with a seamstress named cerys rivers, whom he married little more than a year after meeting.

yseult. the runaway bride. despite her mother’s pensive and at times downcast nature, yseult was a happy girl and did what she could to lift her mother’s spirits. incredibly stubborn and hard-headed, there was rarely a rule she wouldn’t be willing to break, much to the chagrin of any charged with looking after her, and it was near impossible to get the girl to hold her tongue under any circumstances unless of the utmost importance. her relationship with her father was always tempestuous, as she largely blamed him for her mother’s dejection, but matters were made worse when he arranged a marriage for her and announced it one night at dinner. while her brother and sister were more or less free to marry as they chose, she, as the heir, had a ‘duty’, so he said, and thus such a choice could not be left only in her hands. even after meeting her intended she did not care for him, as her heart had secretly already been stolen away. the night before her wedding, while both her own family and that of her betrothed slept under the roof of the de vryes manor, yseult slipped on her wedding dress, packed her things, and crept down to the front door. on her way, she came upon her mother, who immediately noticed, even beyond the way she was dressed, the bag she carried over her shoulder. ursula said nothing, just embraced her daughter and gave a silent nod. she understood. having said the only goodbye she cared to beyond the note she’d hidden for her sister, yseult ran beyond the gates of her home and into the arms of her barbarian lover, ulric wolfspeer, whom she had originally met when the man had done mercenary work on behalf of her family. in the years that followed, yseult would live happily with her new husband in his home beyond the city, and would in time bear two sons, hilarus and lindon.

hilarus. the outlander turned nobleman. when hilarus was thirteen years old, his father died in battle whilst away from home on a job. after, though his mother gave it her best attempt, yseult found that without her husband she had no place in his world, and with taltos having already chosen hilarus as the next heir, she knew it was time she returned home to baldur’s gate. it was not what most would call a happy reunion especially where the boy's grandfather was concerned. harsh words were traded back and forth as a mother held both her sons behind her and defended her return. “you may bear the name but you married into this family, father. try not to pretend you understand it.” despite the tension they could not turn away the next generation, could not cast out the new source of their power. still, adjusting to such a new and different life was difficult for hilarus and though he was only ten at the time, it appeared harder on his younger brother lindon. the burden was greatly lifted when hilarus found a friend in a local boy his own age, auctus lyle, and from then on the two were nearly inseparable. what was the kinship between boys eventually turned to love between men. nevertheless, as heir to his family, hilarus had a certain duty, and that duty came in the form of thessela jannath, the daughter of a mine-owning family related to a former grand duchess. the marriage was at the start a cold one, but in time the walls between the two were pulled down stone by stone, surprisingly at auctus’s own behest. as the years passed, affection blossomed not only between a husband and his wife, but between thessela and auctus as well, and together the three found true happiness. thessela only ever had one child, a daughter named alais. lindon was ever a barbarian in the city, remaining by his brother’s side as the sword that guarded his family.

alais. the harshest of all the heirs. alais’s birth was not a gentle one. her entrance into this world was bloody and difficult and violent, and left her mother unable to bear any more children. while her father had left the life of a barbarian behind as a young boy, there was a level of barbarity in his daughter that few could deny. even as a young girl, alais was steely and unyielding, preferring to keep to herself rather than pass her time with other children her own age, as she found them too silly to bother with. as she grew older, she came to hold a marked dislike of weakness, such that when it came time for her to marry, she was adamant that she would not wed a weak man, no matter his riches or his title. at her suggestion, her father hilarus arranged to host a tournament, wherein the prize for the victor would be the opportunity to wed his daughter, should she accept their hand, and if not, a more monetary reward would be offered. however on the day, alais quickly grew bored of watching contender after contender prance about the field, seeming to care more for putting on a show for onlookers rather than making any true show of strength, and thus her interest quickly dwindled. it was well past mid-day, the sun high in the sky, when a tall, scarred man in heavy armor walked silently onto the field. when the fights began, he threw himself into the fray, seeming hardly to even notice the audience, and where others had pulled their swings, he carried them through, never outright killing his opponents, but coming close more than once. suddenly alais was on the edge of her seat, practically leaning over the railing to watch. when the sun set, they had their victor, and alais was married to owain gallus within a week. despite theirs not initially being a romantic match, the two shared a passion for violence that soon became a violent passion for each other. alais often claimed her husband was the other half of herself, and the love the two held for each other was obvious to all, and frightening to many in its intensity. there was no line one would not cross for the other. over the years alais had three sons, riordan, quintus, and galen.

quintus. the social climber. of alais’s three sons, quintus was the least outwardly similar to either his mother or his father. where his brothers, riordan and galen, favored swords and battle and physical strength like their father, quintus’s might was his intellect. his mind was his weapon, shrewd and calculating, no less sharp than his brothers’ blades and perhaps even more ruthless. of all the generations of the family, both past and present, quintus was the most responsible for not only increasing the power of the de vryes family, but of bringing it all under almost singular control. in addition to arranging a marriage between himself and the daughter of one of the oldest baldurian noble families, calliope tillerturn, quintus, over the years, brought together all relatives bearing the family name, no matter how distant, and installed a de vryes at every level in every sector of management or governance in the city. a de vryes hand in every cookie jar. quintus also furthered the family’s involvement with the city’s merchants, the guilds, the artisans, the moneylenders, became a patron to the arts and even kept regular contracts with mercenary groups, one of which was eventually headed by his own younger brother. whilst the family had, before him, already been powerful and a known name both in and beyond the city, quintus made the de vryes family one of the most powerful and near untouchable in baldur’s gate. with his wife, he would come to have three children, attius, despoina, and caecilia.

caecilia. she who wished to be beautiful all her days. caecilia was the youngest of her parent’s children, and the perfect daughter to a noble house, straight-backed and proper in everything she did. her one main flaw perhaps was a touch of vanity, as upon her fifteenth birthday, when taltos asked what she wished for, she stared into the mirror in her bedroom and told him “i wish always to be beautiful, to be perfect.” despite most thinking she was, caecilia’s image of perfection was always her elder sister, for whom she held a level of affection she never dared speak of aloud. it wouldn’t have been proper, and there were few things more important to caecilia than propriety. less than a year after her binding ceremony, she’d secretly wish she’d said more, said something, when despoina came to her one night, and told her she was leaving. she could no longer remain in the family home and pretend she agreed with what they were all doing with taltos, as she believed the family had outgrown any need of him and their pact, or indeed of any pact, especially one with a demonic being none of them had ever truly understood. in one night, she disappeared and never returned, taking a part of caecilia’s heart with her that she’d never get back. eventually she would wed a somewhat distant cousin in decimus de vryes, a man who favored propriety and perfection nearly to the extent that she did. while they may never have found true passion with each other, they did have respect, which both would argue was far more important. they would have one child, a daughter they named helaena. the same was true of caecilia’s older and only brother, attius, who married the daughter of a waterdhavian family famed for their jewelry, nynaeve massalan, and together they had a child of their own, iphigenia.

helaena. the one who died young. much like her ancestor phoibe de vryes, helaena was a sweet girl, quieter than some, perhaps even shy, but never unhappy. as her parent’s only child, no expense was spared in her upbringing. every dress, every doll, every book she desired was hers as quickly as she could voice her desire for it, but it did not leave her spoiled. still, it did leave her unprepared for the first time she was firmly told no. when she was newly twenty, helaena fell in love with the son of a family heavily invested in seafaring and maritime trade, corvus vieri, after meeting him at a grand carnival held yearly by her family. it was love at first sight for both, but corvus was not her father’s choice of match, and her hand had already been promised to another. rather than live a life of unhappiness with a husband she did not love, helaena snuck away one night to meet with corvus, and the two were married in secret, which she revealed to her family the following morning when there was nothing they could do to stop or change it. decimus was furious, and while caecilia disapproved of her daughter’s secrecy and subversion, she did admire her determination. her cousin iphigenia thought the whole affair was “spectacularly scandalous.” in the following weeks there was a held a full and grand public wedding, so that the match might seem more legitimate in the eyes of the aristocracy. their first child was a girl, whom they called licinia, as was their second, but it was in giving birth to ilithiya that helaena would lose her life, passing away shortly after she first held her second daughter to blood loss. corvus himself would die when his youngest was only three years old, off on an expedition, his ship sinking somewhere beyond the trackless sea.

ilithiya. the one whose destiny has been interrupted. after her mother helaena died in childbirth, there was a period of years that the entire de vryes family, immediate and extended, existed in a state of panic. taltos had been bound to helaena, and seemed to have diseappeared with her death. no one saw him, no one heard from him, no one felt him, and all wondered what would become of the family without him. licinia was four at the time, and remembered well the ever-present tension that existed in the family for those years, worsening as she grew older and never saw any sign of him, as much as she’d hoped to. it was only after ilithiya had turned four herself that her grandmother noticed her laughing at nothing and making childish responses to what appeared a one sided conversation with a presence caecilia could not see, that hope was born again in the family. from that moment on, everyone doted on the younger girl, who was officially regarded as taltos’s new chosen upon her seventh birthday, as was tradition. whilst her older sister was, in personality, the spitting image of her grandmother, ilithiya was seemingly an amalgamation of nearly all of the heirs that had come before her, and was the first since nimueh to have had taltos attached to her since her birth. like phoibe and oriana, she was beloved by most all who knew her. like amara she was beautiful and wild with curiosity and a thirst for life and for understanding. she wanted to see and do and feel and experience all she could. when she wondered about love and lust and why people were so moved by it, taltos taught her as he had taught belesa and cyprien before her, and she eventually seduced her tutor and later a guard who worked for her family. like yseult, she never did care for rules or for doing what she was told, and would often sneak away for a ride on her favorite horse, a black cormyrean destrier she called nemetes. unlike those who came before, her relationship with taltos was not only one of a warlock and their patron. all her life he had been there with her, watching her, whispering in her ear of the great destiny which lay ahead of her, a destiny she never understood but accepted wholeheartedly. he was her first and greatest friend, and she'd do anything for him. despite never speaking the words aloud, ilithiya was in love with him, desiring him above all others, desiring to know him and to feel him. whether taltos truly returned her feelings was a question that remained unanswered, though he would always play into and encourage her affections. in this, more than all her ancestors, the evening of her binding ceremony felt to her a sort of wedding, as did the night that followed. still, she knew she would eventually be required to make a real marriage match, and it was whilst travelling to meet a potential husband that disaster struck and the mindflayers attacked. since her abduction, she has not heard from taltos or felt his presence, circumstances that have already begun to fray at the threads of her sanity, only worsened by the sudden weakness of her magic. at present, her only goal is to return to baldur’s gate, to return to him, and hope he does not believe her to have abandoned him. it would also be good to get that damned tadpole removed along the way.

#oc: ilithiya #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #baldurs gate 3 oc #baldurs gate 3 #long post #this is the biggest and obviously longest edit i've ever made #i'm just so happy it's done #i didn't add all the various cousins because space but i added a couple for the flair #i have a second edit like this already started for the secondary branch of the family #and some subsidiary little branches that didn't get included here #but i am so proud of this #genuinely started to wonder if i'd get this out before full release #heavily inspired by a lot of the historical family tree edit's i've seen and been obsessed with for god knows how long #i stole a bunch of names from waterdeep and baldurs gate nobility lists for the lore connection #but also because deciding on 20+ surnames was a god awful experience #can't wait to do it again for part 2 #if you could see the reference family tree i made to keep up with casting???? put me in a padded room #only annie fully knows how much has gone into this #i was in her dms every time i so much as breathed on it #incest tw #death tw

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dawnwriterimagines · 5 months ago

Text

The Verdict Due

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER

Traitors Among Us (Part 1)

Innocents Among You (Part 2)

The Guilty Plea (Part 3)

Clear Skies (Part 5)

Summary: You head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

Simon's steps are slow, lacking energy or purpose. Releasing the buckles strapping his vest down to him, he finally arrives to his door, lifting the camo from himself.

His forehead pressing into the wooden door, he finds it harder and harder to open everyday, seeing reminders of you every moment of everyday, when he closes his eyes, when he lays down in bed. Hell when he opens the door. He hated this room now.

Outside of the place that you both had made your home away from war, from battle, from the base, this was where the two of you had once spent most of your time.

He raised his head off the door, before bringing it back down on it, then doing it again, this time hard enough to hurt. "Fuck," he cursed, cursing himself, his stupid decisions, the times he'd never get back, the mistakes he'll never be able to erase. Huffing out bitterly, squeezing his eyes shut, he's still for a moment, before banging his fist against the wall. "Fuck!" There's a crackle along the wall, a clatter of dust and dried paint hitting his feet.

A shuddered breath leaves him, swallowing down his grief, his anger at himself. But, he can't help it. He's ruined everything.

Simon's head stays there against the doorway, he doesn't want to go in.

His head turns a bit, seeing a figure down the hallway, straightening up, dark eyes squinting. "Johnny?"

Quiet and Still. The Scotsman's mouth is set in a hard line, he runs a hand down his face, smearing the mess he'd made of himself. "I..." he breathes deeply. "I saw her today."

"You what?" Simon perks up, eyes wide. He looks past his comrade, seeing the open doorway of your room, "She's here," he speaks, voice alight and hopeful. Making his way past Johnny, "She's here?" he asks this time, bracing himself at her doorway.

But, the room is a mess and void of you. He'd nearly forgotten how the soldiers had left it, the day it happened he could watch it, it would've been too finalizing of what he thought was your betrayal. Today was meant to be the day they'd clean it all up, due to plaguing themselves with missions and ops that required long weeks, long hours. No one wanted to think about what they'd done.

But, now they'd only made another mistake in waiting too long. And now you had to be greeted by this mess.

"I didn't know it was--" Johnny couldn't turn back to the room, back to Simon, as he spoke. "I didn't know we did so much to her. I thought--how long--how could I--" he shakily began. "--how could you?" Simon's eyes flicker to his friend, dark circles and sunken cheeks seem to worsen. "She was so...she couldn't even look at me, Si. Like I'd make her sick, like I'd--hurt her again...I've never--" his fingers claw at his chest, hoping to rip away the ache in his heart, eyes haunted to tears and staring into the dark of his memory as he thought back. "I'd never--" he can't finish.

"She was here?" Simon asked again.

Johnny's clouded eyes look to Simon, opening his mouth before opting for nodding. Clearing his throat, finally seeming to get a handle on himself, "Just left."

"She what?" Simon bolts out towards the stairs, pushing through the doorway and jumping down the first flight to rush through the rest.

As he gets to the lobby floor, he shoves through the door, revealing the hallway to him, running down the long stretch before ramming into the side wall to catch himself at the corner. He continues down the way, running as fast as he's able, before bursting through the side doors of the front lobby.

He sees you immediately, beyond the glass doorways.

"(Y/n)..."

He's running before he can think to get his legs moving.

---

Leaving the dormitories, finally leaving behind the spare hospital wear that you had swapped for your own clothes, you waved down the first vehicle you'd seen.

The driver letting you into the truck, the two of you unaware as he begins to drive off, Simon shoving his way through the residential doors and coming to a stop in the middle of the street as you drive away.

You, having hopped a ride with one of the soldiers making his rounds, the Jeep shakes with the changing terrain, providing more conversation than the trooper that was much too quiet. Shifting his shoulders, adjusting his fingers around the leather, glancing one too many times through the mirror.

It was getting weird. But, you were a familiar face on the base, unfortunately now, it used to be because you were good at your job, the best sniper they had on the force. But now, it was because you were the first proclaimed traitor of the force in decades and the first to be wrong about.

So, the new attention is nothing to be pleased about.

"Find something interesting to look at, soldier?"

Back straightening, body stiffening and eyes facing the road, the trooper swallows thickly at having been caught eyeing you. "No, ma'am!"

"Then I suggest you keep your eyes on the road."

"Yes, ma'am!" clearing his throat. "Sorry, ma'am, I don't mean to stare."

Arms crossed, head turned to watch the smaller buildings go by, your jaw clenched. "It's fine..." you breathe, before relaxing a bit more as the drive goes farther and farther away from the residential areas. Eyes flickering over to the still tense trooper, you mutter. "Ease."

His shoulders drop, head turning, flustered. "Sorry, ma'am."

It was always strange to be called 'Ma'am' by fellow soldiers, usually you were only a year or so apart, others you had been younger by ten years or older by five. But, this trooper was new to the force, young, clearly still jumpy, you had been the same after your first missions on the Task Force.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the trooper then speaks, shakily.

"You don't have to keep--"

"About what happened to you," he continued. "I'm not sure if you heard that yet, but it's--that sounds--I can't imagine. I'm sorry that happened to you."

For a moment too long you're quiet, holding your breath, staring at the scenery as it whistled on past, the wind whipping through your hair. Your nails tearing into your skin as you rake them over your scars, smearing the line of blood left after ripping out your IV line, abandoning it as you found a ride.

"Get any cool scars out of it, at least?" he jokes, lightheartedly.

Your eyes snap his way, his eyes widening before he looks back to the road, back to stiff.

You open your mouth to speak, but you can't. You're just angry, too angry to find the words. But, you don't want to take it out on him, he was just attempting to alleviate whatever burden he imagined to be on your shoulders. But, all it was was a reminder, this was all anyone could think of anymore, when it came to you, this ordeal.

The apologies, the reminders, the quiet looks, the whispers, the fucking gnawing pain still splintered through your spine, you were tired of it.

The car pulls up to the largest administrative building on the base camp, hopefully you were right and this was where Laswell was posted up.

Quickly pulling the car handle as the trooper steps out of the vehicle to assist you, you hurriedly speak as he reaches to touch you. "I've got it," you hiss out, harsher then you meant. Stepping down and off the platform, onto the sidewalk, you forget you don't have your IV pole to at least stabilize you. So, when you stumble, he grabs your arm, his other resting on your shoulder.

"Woah!" his grip lacks gentleness, though not bruising, it's enough to set you off.

Your arm goes back and over his arm, shrugging him off, roughly. "I said I got it!" Your palm pushing into his shoulder and sending him back and off of you, he shifts back and nearly off his feet, catching himself.

"Alright, jeez!"

You're stumbling back into the light pole luckily a few steps behind you, leaning yourself against the cemented metal, you balance yourself. Shaking off the buzz in your ears and rubbing away the tension built along your skin, taking a few shuttered breaths, turned away from the soldier.

The trooper takes a few steps away from you, expression lifted to frustration and annoyance, rolling his eyes, brows furrowed and back pedaling to the Jeep. "Fucking crazy," he mutters to himself, adjusting his gear and stepping up back to the vehicle.

But, he doesn't make it very far until you're on him.

"What the fu--!"

Taking the opening of his kevlar and yanking him out of the vehicle, unable to catch himself fast enough to get to his feet. You hold a steel grip on the collar of his uniform, literally holding him up by his straps, pulling his entire bodyweight off the ground, leaning down so you're face to face with him. "Say it again," you snapped, eyes dark and boring into his skull. "I wanna have a good excuse for what I'm about to do to you."

He was taller, probably stronger, but looking up at you, he could see the years of mayhem and chaos that's burned itself into your irises, made you the lieutenant he'd tripped up on properly respecting. "I didn't--I didn't say anything! I'm sorry, ma'am, it won't--it won't happen again!"

Nostrils flared, eyes flickering between his wide, fearful ones, your hands loosen around his gear. He falls forwards, landing on his forearms with a groan, releasing a relieved breath.

He looks up, watching as you turn and make your trek into the building. You had seemed so fragile before, with a limp in your walk, scars head to toe and those braces along your legs, he assumed you had no fight in you. He couldn't have imagined, five minutes, he'd be wrong.

---

"Laswell."

The Station Chief turns, manila folder files in hand, brows raised at the intrusion before her eyes widen at the sight of your tired figure.

"Gray..."

You don't wait to be invited inside, instead pulling up a chair as you let the door close behind you. Not fully out of a lack of respect but your legs were killing you and surely if you wait a second longer you'll literally tear a muscle. "You free?"

"Never. But, I can make time," she answers. "Is something wrong?"

You bite down on your tongue. What isn't wrong.

"I put in a request for council in resignation, ma'am. I'm just here to know if it went through."

"I did...receive your request," The woman is still quite surprised to see you, a bit off put at your presence, hearing about your scars was one thing, seeing them was another. "Of course. Though, I expected you to wait for my call before deciding to come to me."

"I'm sure," you feigned a slight chuckle that faded as soon as it started. You say nothing else but stare.

Laswell sighs, tossing down the folder she'd been holding. "Look, Lieutenant Gray--"

"Just (L/N)," you gritted out. "Please." You couldn't stand your codename at the moment, you didn't want to carry a single thing this team had given you.

"Lieutenant..." Laswell pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the long table, facing you, "You've accomplished much on the force, saved lives, eliminated threats that had the potential to level the united nations, your honors and distinctions. At the very least, here, your guidance is a treasure..."

"I'd like my resignation to be approved, Chief--"

Laswell continues. "I need you to careful think about what you're doing here, Gray--(L/n). I don't want you to be motivated by what's happened to you, you still have a place on the force, it doesn't have to be beside your team. Don't waste your talents in the field because of this experience."

"Experience," You scoffed at the word, nose cringing up in disgust at the downplay. "I didn't go on a rollercoaster at Disney World, god--I was tortured by my team for weeks while my fiancé threatened to kill me afterwards..." you were about to lose your mind. "What makes any of you think I'd want to stay here? Why can't any of you just respect my decision to leave? I'm resigning."

Laswell settles back into her chair, lips pressing together, she makes a hum of a sound. "I can arrange a transfer," she compromised. "But, my authorization goes through only after informing Price, he also needs to sign off on this."

Your jaw clenches, your fingers tightening around your clasped hands. "Then how about that favor you owe me?"

Station Chief straightens, brow lifting and arms crossed. "Excuse me, soldier?"

Sighing, reaching a hand into your bag, you bring out a folder of your own, some documents signed off. "I had to wonder who the evidence was sent to, given it was right after our mission and Price doesn't even look at his reports to sign off on something in under 24 hours, it wasn't him," watching as Laswell opened the folder, revealing her own name signing off on the interrogation, just a few of the photos that'd declared you guilty. "Thanks for ruining my career, Laswell."

She spreads out the evidence, her own signature on the papers, she breathes out. "And what are you trying to do here, Gray?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Trying to threaten me with what exactly--?"

"Nothing," you answered. "I'm asking for a favor, from someone I thought was my friend," you find it harder to say, Laswell's jaw clicks and she shifts in her chair. "You owe me that much."

"It's the job, (L/n). I was protecting our own, our resources were very promising."

"Until they weren't, huh?" you sarcastically gritted out.

"Yes..." Laswell sighs. "I do apologize, (L/n), but--"

"Just do this for me," you interrupted, pleading this time. "Please. I can't go to him, I can't even look at Simon, let alone Price. Forget about being in the same room with them. I just--I can't be here, this isn't where I belong anymore," looking down at your hands, the scars that circled your wrists. This was a final decision. "I'm resigning with or without you."

Rising from your seat, Laswell stands as you do, "You resign without clearance, they'll take everything from you. Your pension, your insurance, retirement, everything, you'll be dishonorably discharged, you understand that?"

"'Course, I do," you admit. "Honestly, I thought I'd be dead on a mission somewhere before I saw any of that, I don't expect anything out of this. Nothing's...worth any of this."

As you turn the handle to leave, Laswell speaks once more. "I just wanted to enlighten you on what I'm risking for you, signing off on this."

At that, you glance back to her, watching as the older woman sighs heavily, picking up a pen, opening up the manila folder she'd been holding onto previously. Opening it up to reveal your resignation papers.

"If I do this, when I call on you, Gray," Laswell says. "I expect you to be there."

As she wrote her signature down on the dotted line, you swallowed down the ache that's plagued you for weeks, "I swear."

As the station chief continues down the packet, turning to the next page and signing once again, you slowly slide back into your chair, sitting silently as you watch her sign off on your leave from military service.

You bring your hand up fast as a tear runs down your face, wiping it away before Laswell can see, sniffing quietly.

---

Walking slowly down the side hallway of the admin building, you stare out into space, your eyes glistening as you hold the signed resignation packet to your chest, pressing it to yourself tightly.

Passing the front desk, the security posted up at the elevators, you enter the main hall and come to a stop. Your grip on your documents tightening as you watch rain pour out onto the outer glass of the windows.

Watching the downpour outside, you can't seem to get your feet moving to just leave this place. That's all you need to do, just...walk right through it, into a car, past the gates, onto the highway. Just...go home.

As you flinch at the pitter patter of the rain hitting the building, a short burst of thunder, you try to inch your way closer to the doors but the closer you get, the more you can remember. The more you can feel.

The rain gets louder, and louder. It's cold, although you recall it being 90 degrees and in the middle of the desert. It must just be you.

Putting your folder away and into your bag, the automatic doors open for you, but it's too hard to step through. Staring out into the open landscape, the dividing border of the desert land and the gates surrounding the base. The dry ground now turning muddy, trucks driving by and the mud swelling up at the change in pressure, soldiers rushing through the rain, kicking up mud, flicking up umbrellas.

Breathing deeply, you scuff your shoes forwards, feeling the first drop hit your skin, it's warm, but it's no comfort. Gasping at the feeling, you stumble back into the building, the automatic doors closing.

Short gasps of breath quietly leave you, your nails burrow into the skin of your forearm, you stare at the rain as it pelts at the ground, flooding pot holes and falling into storm drains.

The automatic door opens again, you back up, shifting to the side, as an officer gives you a strange look as he walks past and into the rain.

Your hesitance to proceed into the rain was noticed by a few in the main lobby. Like Kyle, who still stood in his mission uniform, dropping off his reports to the main desk, getting off the elevator to see you staring up at the cloudy sky.

His eyes widening in shock, he's lost in his own world when he begins to take steps towards you, lips parting in disbelief, voice cracking as he breathes out to say, to beg or plead for forgiveness.

The automatic door opens again as you shuffle forwards to try to step outside, he doesn't fully notice your fear of the weather when he speaks.

"(Y/n)..."

You turn at the sound of your name and his eyes flicker to the large scar along your cheek, the red of your eye still, that had changed the color of your iris, maybe permanently. The way you hold your bag tight in your hands as if to shield it from the rain before yourself.

You don't say anything, he hadn't expected you to. You stare at him, surprised to see him, then the expression changes to terror, brows pulling inward and hands sinking into your bag to bring it closer. His heart aching at your reaction to him, his lips pressing together, he doesn't know if she should say another thing. Just let you go.

"(Y/n), I..." he can't help himself as he continues, breathlessly.

You back away from him, out of the building and into the rain. The moment it hits your back, soaking through your shirt, rain hitting the top of your head, down your back, you tense up and spin around.

Kyle's brows furrow, before worriedly witnessing as you curl into yourself instantly, crying out in terror, your hands coming up and over your head. "(Y/n)!"

Realizing what you'd done, your back hits the glass doorway, too late for the doorway to register you wanting to come back inside. You stumble to the corner of the building, just next to the doorway and under the too small gutter to find any shelter from the pelting water at your skin.

A loud sob leaves you, squeezing your eyes shut, you can feel the torture starting again, the unbearable freeze of your limbs, the force of crashing pounds of water along your spine. The screams they would pull from you...

Your torment lasts only a few seconds, suddenly the rain stops, but the sound continues around you. A coat settling around your shoulders and over your head, Kyle's hands on your shoulders, he's yelling over the thunder. "Come on, let's get you out of this. Come on, (Y/n)," he takes your arms. "Let me help you, please!"

"You did this," you cried. "I told you. I told you it wasn't me. But, you kept turning it back on! And then you'd leave it like that and it drove me fucking insane. I'll never be ok again, I can't--" hyperventilating. "Don't touch me, Kyle."

Kyle swallows thickly, head hanging low, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before leaning down to you. "I can't leave you here like this, please, love," he hauls you up to your feet. You shove him back, pressing yourself further into the corner, shaking, "(Y/n)--"

"Don't put your fucking hands on me. What don't you get, huh?" you spat. Pulling off the jacket he'd placed over you, tensing at ever drop of rain that fell over you after, but you toss it back at him. "I don't want anything from you. Never again."

"I'm sorry," Kyle clutches the jacket. "I'm so bloody sorry. I'm sorry for every damn thing I'd ever done to you. I'm sorry we didn't listen. I should've never done that to you. I didn't want to, I just--I thought I was doing the right thing for all of us," his voice breaks and he cries under the rain as his little sister, his family, hatefully stares him down. "I thought you'd give in, that it'd be over as quick as it started! I'm sorry I couldn't trust that you were telling the truth all that time."

"I don't want your apology!" you yell. "Cause you'll never know the same feeling. You'll never understand what you've taken from me. What you've done to me--" hiccupping painfully.

Kyle looks away from you, inhaling with a shudder, reddening eyes are covered as he raises his hands to run over his face.

"Your apologies. Your wishes for forgiveness," you seethe. " You should keep them. They mean nothing to me."

With that, you shove on past him, re-entering the building and rushing down the hallway, you turn the corner away from Kyle. Leaving the distraught man out in the rain, the automatic door sliding closed as he looks on after you.

Part 5 OUT NOW!

#call of duty x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley angst x reader #ghost angst #cod x reader #call of duty #ghost x reader #cod angst #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley angst

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lina-lovebug · 11 months ago

Text

I'd Fight The Devil

Pairing: Alastor x fem! reader

Background: reader is Lilith and Lucifers oldest, and resembles Lilith more. Lucifer has a hard time bonding with her because of this, and Alastor decides to step in.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"DAD'S COMING?!"

(Y/N) Morningstar, firstborn daughter of Lilith and Lucifer, was currently having a breakdown over the fact that her father was on his way to the hotel.

She'd have no issue leaving, of course, but Charlie tricked her dear old sister into staying by saying she needed help with the hotel. . .and told her their dad was coming when he was two minutes away.

It's not like she didn't miss him, but things became different once their mother disappeared. Lucifer threw himself into his ideas, and (Y/N) tried maintaining their relationship but he couldn't even stand the look of her.

"I'm sorry! But I thought maybe you guys could talk while he's here?" Charlie suggested with a gulp, twiddling her fingers.

"I'm done trying with dad. If he wants to talk, he can come to me," (Y/N) crossed her arms, firm on her stance.

"I never thought I'd meet someone with worse daddy issues, but here you are, cher," Alastor, with his famous grin, looked down at the Princess of Hell. She huffed, not in the mood for his side comments.

"Alastor, please-"

"He's here!"

"-please fucking hide me!" She ran behind him, despite the mass amount of blonde hair making it obvious.

He chuckled.

Honestly, since meeting the eldest Morningstar, Alastor deemed himself her Protector. Not that the girl wasn't capable or needed him persay, but he cared for her. Being on the aroace spectrum, he wasn't plagued by a selfish desire to fuck her, but it was a sweet concern that slowly turned into a need to be near her.

A need to make her his.

"Hopefully he doesn't-"

"Pumpkin?"

"Fuck," (Y/N) silently cursed under her breath before Alastor stepped aside.

"Hey dad," Lucifer felt a pang in his sinister heart at her tone. She sounded uncomfortable and wouldn't even look at him, but he also remembered that he couldn't look at her at times.

It reminded him of happier times.

Times he didn't want to be reminded of anymore.

"So how've you been? Heard you've got a fancy job now. Probably making loads of money, huh?" He chuckled nervously.

"Dad, it's my company. I made it."

And he couldn't even remember that she did that?

Any dad would remember that his child created her own business.

"Ouch."

"And it's got a fucking duck on the logo. God, dad," She rose her voice, "you can't even remember that?"

"I've been busy, pumpkin-"

"Too busy to call? Too busy to even fucking call?!"

Charlie flinched at the harshness in her voice. She's always been a firecracker but she's never seen her so angry.

"I'm not fighting with you, (Y/N)," Lucifer stepped towards her, "why do you insist on fighting? Especially when I'm here for Charlie."

"Oh, you're here for Charlie?" Her horns started to come up through her skin, rolling back like a rams.

Just like her mom.

"I'm not making this about me. I just wish you'd make the effort instead of it having to be me," She missed who he was.

And during this, Alastor could see the pain on her face. She was furious, and rightfully so.

But he let her fight her own battles.

"I'm sorry that I look like mom. Is that what you want me to say?!"

"Yes!"

He didn't mean it. Of fucking course he didn't mean it, but it slipped out.

"Dad! That's enough!" Charlie ran to her, seeing tears well up in her sisters eyes. "How could you say that?"

"Pumpkin, I-"

"Don't," She sniffled, holding Charlie close, "don't come near me."

But he didn't listen.

He hated being the fact that his little girl was crying because of him.

"I think you've come far enough," Alastor spoke, getting infront of Charlie and (Y/N). He is excellent at saving face, so his pure unadulterated rage was hidden beneath his smile.

She hiccuped behind him, sobbing into Charlie's shoulder.

"Don't make me move you," Lucifer glared.

"And don't make me fucking kill you for hurting what's mine."

His voice turned more static-like than before, his eyes a burning red and his horns outstretched. He was a fucking shield for his Princess, and not even the King of Hell could get through. Lucifer recognized this and humbly backed away, retreating with his tail between his legs.

_ _ ☆ _ _

(Y/N) spent the next hour crying in her room. Over the years, she had started to hate herself for looking like her mom, and Lucifers' confirmation only reaffirmed it.

"Need anything else?" Charlie asked her. Although her sister wasn't searching for redemption, she had her own personal room in the hotel.

"Can you get Alasto-?"

A knock sounded at the door.

"Was he there the whole time?" She sniffled, and a muffled "maybe" came through the door.

Her bed was surrounded by napkins that she quickly placed on her bedside as Charlie allowed Alastor inside.

Alone.

The two of them.

Might as well just throw them condoms and say get to it, is what (Y/N) was thinking. She's known about her crush on The Radio Demon for a few months now, having a fantasy dream here and there, but wasn't much of an active person herself.

"Thank you. I know he tried to fix it, but I couldn't stand to look at him," Her puffy eyes made Alastors eye twitch, still a small spout of anger for her father.

"Of course, my dear," He sat himself next to her on the bed.

"Because your father, although the King of Hell, is a fucking coward", is what he wanted to say but kept those words for himself.

"Did you mean it? That I'm yours?" She asked, her hand inching closer to his.

"I never say anything I don't mean, cher," He grabbed her hand, kissed it, and made the she-demon gasp.

"I thought you hated touch."

He chuckled, "Oh, I do, but not if it's you. Your skin is warm, and it brings me comfort. You bring me comfort."

"You'd have me, even if I want to be glued to your side? Even having petty fights with my dad?"

"Darling, I'd wear your skin if you asked."

"Oh, how romantic," She blushed before both his hands came up to her face, bringing her into a needy kiss. With her, he needed to feel her.

Someday, even all of her.

"And I'd eat demons with you," She whispered against his lips.

"Oh my heart may burst, my dear."

Taglist: @lorkai @droopingdatura @tr1coo @randomuser-89 @abbiedail @evelin1o1 @sseleniaa

#alastor imagine #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine

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rosedpetal · 4 months ago

Text

Behave

Summary: Bucky shows you what happens when you test him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: smut.

Minors, do not interact.

Masterlist | Part II

You didn't mean to be so overbearing, but you just loved him so much.

"Doll, you have to stop giving the stinky eye to these women. It's getting embarrassing." He whispered on your ear, his grip tightening just a little bit on your arm as he smiled for the people schmoozing at Tony's gala event. "Seriously, when did you get so jealous?"

"Jealous?" You scoff, adjusting the skirt of your long dress, softening the slightly wrinkled fabric. "Barely. I just wish you didn't look so smug with all those single bitches fawning over you."

"In my time, we used to call them spinsters." Bucky raised his eyebrow at you.

"Well, that's just sexist."

"And calling them bitches is not?"

Your glare made him shut his mouth, a little smirk threatening to tug at the corner of his lips.

"I get it, okay? I'm being too much. It's just that I'm so obsessed with you. Why can't I just be one of those wives who barely wait for their husbands to drop dead?" You sighed, adjusting his tie.

He chuckles, a low rumble reverberating through his chest. He trapped your chin between his thumb and index finger, amused at you. "You're crazy, you know that? But it's okay. Your psycho side is almost as cute as your clingy and needy one."

You roll your eyes. "Gotta admit, though. You looked really hot over there talking to them and signing autographs and all. If I didn't want to stab your guts off, I'd be horny... " You paused. "Okay. I'm horny either way."

"Behave." Bucky hissed, looking around to see if anyone was paying attention to the two of you. At the sound of your little crazed giggle, he snapped his head back to you. "How much have you had to drink, by the way?"

"I didn't drink that much. I don't know what's taken over me, okay? You're just... Ugh!" You groaned, and Bucky blinked, a little taken aback. "You're hot. Are you taken?" You playfully bat your eyelashes at him and he chuckles.

"Well, I do have a wife. But she's quite small, so I think you can take me from her if you want to." He smirked, rubbing circles on the small of your back.

"Ugh, you're married? I bet she's a fucking witch."

Bucky shakes his head, getting his lips close to your ear. "Honestly... My wife is quite crazy. Sometimes I'm scared at how unhinged she can be when she's jealous."

"Is she hot, though?"

"Oh... She's so hot. Just thinking of her has me feeling all types of way... But she's also quite needy. It gets on my fucking nerves. I swear, that woman could drop on her knees to beg for my attention."

"Is begging the only good thing she can do on her knees, though?" You purr.

Bucky checks again for any nosy listeners, relaxing a bit as he realizes you're too are safe.

"Well... She also prays really well, just like a good girl should."

Your could feel your gaze becoming a little unfocused, your core warming up. "I wanna choke you so bad."

Bucky's face and neck turn a little red. "Jesus, baby. What has gotten into you tonight? Is it all because I dressed up?"

"Maybe. Do you think it's possible for humans do go into heat?"

"Oh. I don't know, are you?"

"Breed me. Breed me. Breed me." You chanted on his ear, and his grip on your hips tightened almost painfully.

"Stop right this second." He hisses. "I do not need this right now. Are you trying to get me hard in public, you little shit?"

"Is it working?"

"You're going to pay for this."

"Are you gonna give me your belt tonight?"

"Y/N-"

"What? Is this too kinky for you? Is the idea of marking my ass with your leather belt too much for your poor brain to handle right now, baby?"

Bucky closes his eyes, fists clenching on his sides. Then, he grabs you by your waist, pulling you to the nearest room he could find.

He swiftly unlocks the door, assessing the small supply closet you two are in. It's not ideal, but it'll be enough. His hand fly to your throat, pressing on it slightly, eyes darkened with desire, his slacks tight and uncomfortable. "Filthy little tease. You enjoy riling me up, don't you? Do you think you'll get away with this little stunt you just pulled, huh?"

His vibranium hand snakes under your dress through the slit on your thigh, his eyes darkening at how soaked your underwear is. "Tsk. Does being a little slut make you wet, baby?"

You whimper, completely overtaken by lust, his digits teasing your clothed clit. "You can try to give me shit for misbehaving, but you love how obsessed I am with you, isn't that right? You crave my attention. You thrive on how needy I can get for you."

Bucky's eyes darken, the beautiful expansion of his blue irises only getting noticed by you by the moonlight reflecting through the small window.

"You're giving me fucking butterflies, Bucky. What the fuck? Wasn't that supposed to stop after we got married?" Your brows furrow, your indignant tone making a little snicker escape him. He hooks his finger on the waistband of your panties, a sharp tug being enough to rip your underwear.

"I didn't vow to bore you 'til death do us part, doll. I'll never stop making you feel this way." He whispered, gaze softening at you. Time seemed to stop as he inched closer to you, lips brushing against your red painted ones. "I fucking love you, you unhinged little thing."

"Love you too, baby." Your eyes close shut, mouth hanging open as he fingers you in the supply closet, swallowing your moans with his tongue, bucking his hips on your hand as you palm him through the straining fabric.

Reaching down, you swiftly undo his slacks, pulling them low enough just to free his twitching cock, guiding the thick head to your entrance.

With how lubricated you are, he only has to spit on his cock and moisten the length with his hand, a low growl leaving his mouth as he sink on your heat, inch by inch.

There's a moment of silence as you two lock eyes, your weeping pussy welcoming him with a tight grip that he swears it makes him harden, if that's even possible.

Your head falls back with the first shallow thrusts, a small gasp leaving your lips. Bucky's gritting his teeth, pulling you up, your legs wrapping around his middle. Then, he slams into you.

You can't even speak, getting your walls bullied repeatedly by your husband's thick cock. "F-fuck! Bucky, ohmygod, wait!"

He smirks, not slowing down a second. "I told you were gonna pay for being a menace tonight. What's the problem, baby? What happened to the slut who told me to breed her just a few minutes ago? Where is she? Huh?" He circles his hips, buried deep inside you, making you see white. He swats your thigh, his voice rough. "Answer me."

A little, humiliating whine escapes you, and he chuckles again.

"See, baby? How I can fuck the brat out of you? How you should think before riling me up? How you can't back up for your little antics?" His vibranium thumb circles your clit, the coolness of it only serving to make you orgasm quicker.

Bucky moans at your walls clamping violently on him, a grip so deliciously tight it makes him wanna pull his own hair. So he tugs hard at your locks instead, exposing your neck for his greedy lips as he comes inside you.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #buck barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic

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soaps-mohawk · 7 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 23: Regrets

Summary: Depression: a common mental health condition characterized by a low mood or loss of pleasure or interest in activities for long periods of time.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,940

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, mental illness, depression, very heavy emotionally, angst, Johnny gets his feelings hurt (but only for a moment), angst, everyone is having big emotions, Bella Swan-esque sad montage, angst, kissing, slight suggestive content, angst

A/N: Did I completely rewrite part of this during the editing process? Yes. Are you going to thank me for that? Also yes. I'm trying something a bit different with this chapter, so let me know what you think. It probably won't be a regular thing, but I just thought I'd give it a test and this chapter was the perfect time to do that.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

They say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

They’re right. There’s a hole in your chest, an empty void. The squeaking of your shoes on the tiles sounds far away as you numbly walk back towards your room.

“Ye alright, kitten?” Johnny asks cautiously as you pause in front of your door long enough to turn the handle.

You turn to look up at him, his brows pinched and his eyes shining with concern. “He's gone.” Your voice cracks and shakes, breaking over the words like you're speaking the finality of the situation.

You are.

“I know.” Johnny reaches out, his fingers wrapping around your arm. “I wish there had been more warning, but this is usually how his solo assignments go.”

You swallow thickly. “He'll come back, right?”

Johnny grimaces. “Ye know I can't promise that. But, there's no one quite as capable in the field as him, except maybe Price.” Johnny squeezes your arm gently. “He’s been doing this for a long time, kitten. Have faith in that, and his skills.”

Johnny’s words do nothing to help the turmoil inside you, the fear and anxiety. One split second mistake, one wrong decision and you know it could be over. Everything could be over before it even started. Why didn’t you confront him sooner? Why didn’t you pick up on his true feelings, his emotions as quickly as he seemed to decipher yours? It’s not fair that they can be taken from you so easily and so quickly. There’s no room for argument, no room for any begging or pleading for them to stay. They have a job, and they’ll always choose that job over you.

“Ye gonna be alright?” Johnny asks, letting his hand fall from your arm as you push open your door, entering your room before closing it in immediately, clicking the lock into place. You lean against the door for a moment, biting your lip to try and stop the tears as you begin to shiver from the dampness of your clothes.

You leave your shoes in a pile next to the door before you pad silently to your bathroom, stripping off your clothes once you hit the tile. You’re shivering, a cold chill starting to seep into your very bones as you start the tub, letting it fill with water. The tears blur your vision, dripping into the steaming water as you sink into the bath. You can’t stop the tears as you sit there, not caring how hot the water is, not caring how it makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. You’ll take the pain, the discomfort. Anything to ease the pain that’s ripping your chest wide open.

It hurts, he won’t lie, when you close the door in his face. Well, it wasn’t entirely in his face. He was a foot away from the door, but it still causes a little ache in his chest, a little upset in his mind that you just cut him off like that. The click of the lock is like a finality, the gavel falling on your decision to distance yourself for now.

The rejection of his offer for comfort has his beta stirring uncomfortably in his mind. Tears fill his own eyes as he stares at the handle of your door, wishing he could reach out and grab it, fling it open and take you into his arms and hold you until you stop crying, until the pain of Simon’s sudden absence goes away.

“Come on.” John says quietly, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “Give her some time.”

He lets John lead him away from your door and back towards the rec room. He shouldn’t be so hurt by your abrupt dismissal. You were quite obviously upset, upset enough to run out into the rain after Simon. He saw you race out the door, his stomach clenching in worry, but thankfully the rain had forced most inside. There was little threat to you, not with Simon there, but he had been worried you might not be able to catch him, that you might run blindly into the rain to try and find him.

He had spotted the tears trailing down your cheeks as you walked back to the barracks, mixing with the rain that soaked straight through you. He’s used to his alpha having to leave suddenly, the distance and the worry are second nature now thanks to their jobs, their lifestyles. You’ve never been through this before with him, though, and so soon after the two of you were finally beginning to give in. It’s like a curse. They begin to get close to you, and then suddenly they’re ripped away.

He almost feels guilty, like he’s responsible for your pain. If he hadn’t forced it, if he hadn’t put you both in that position, maybe you wouldn’t be so upset. He couldn’t have known, though, that Simon would be called away like that. It could happen at any time, they all know that. They always have to be ready, always have to be prepared to be called out. Even on leave they can’t guarantee there won’t be an emergency. It’s just the nature of their job.

It wouldn’t have bothered any of them before you.

“She didn't take it well, did she?” Kyle says as John guides Johnny to sit on the couch next to him.

“Christ, she's so upset.” Johnny says, leaning his head in his hands. “If I hadnae pushed them, then this wouldn't have happened.”

“You couldn't have known this was going to happen.” Kyle says, squishing Johnny between him and John to try and comfort the upset beta.

“We didn't even know until a couple of hours ago.” John says, draping his arm across the back of the couch.

“If she's this upset at one of us leaving...how upset was she when we all left?” Johnny says, his stomach churning at the thought. No wonder you were so shaken when they came back.

“The best thing we can do right now is leave her alone and let her do what she needs to do.” John says, pulling Johnny so he's resting against his chest. “She'll come out when she's ready.”

The afternoon comes and goes, the rain slowing to a light drizzle. You still haven’t left your room, sealed inside, secluded from them. Johnny casts the closed door a wistful look every time he walks down the hallway, half tempted to try the knob and see if it’s been unlocked, but he stops himself. The last thing you need is to be scared by someone trying to get in. John is right. You’ll come out when you’re ready.

John knocks on your door as they get ready to head to dinner, waiting a moment for some type of response. “We’re going to dinner, sweetheart.” He says through the door when there’s no answer to his knock. “Do you want us to bring you something?”

There’s a quiet noise from your room, some muffled response to John’s question.

“We’ll be back soon.” John says, somehow able to make out what it is you said. Or maybe his plan was to bring you something regardless of whether you agreed or not.

It feels strange, just the three of them walking to the mess. It’s not the first time they’ve gone just the three of them, but it feels different this time. It’s not Simon’s missing presence that weighs so heavily, it’s yours.

There’s a tenseness that’s settled over them as they sit at the table, avoiding eye contact with each other. Simon’s empty space at the table wouldn’t have felt so much like an empty chasm if you had been there to fill some of it.

They’re not sure what to do, the feeling similar to what they felt upon their return. They knew it would be bad, but they hadn’t expected you to be in shambles like you were. Their pack mate is hurting, their omega is hurting, and there’s nothing they can do. They don’t know what to do. Johnny wants to kick in your door, rush into your room and envelop you in a hug so tight you’ll complain that you can't breathe. He just wants to help you, but that’s not what you want, what you need right now.

He knows it’s his beta instincts, his need to comfort and soothe and support. If Kyle is feeling the same way, which Johnny knows he has to be, he’s hiding it well. Though, perhaps that’s just for his sake and John’s. He can’t even imagine what John is going through, knowing his omega is suffering in such a way.

All because Simon is gone.

How easily one missing piece could tear the pack apart. If something happened to one of them, or god forbid something happened to you, they might not be able to recover. They had always assumed their training would win out, that they could move past it in the way they would had there been nothing but the bonds of camaraderie between them.

How silly that idea had been.

It’s no secret death disrupts pack stability, shakes the bonds that tie a pack together. He remembers how his Grannie’s death had shaken his family for weeks and it had taken months to return to what could be considered normal after a partially expected death of a member of the pack. What kind of damage would an unexpected and sudden death do to a pack?

Johnny shakes the thought from his head. There was always a risk. They all knew that, they all agreed to that when they signed up. He knows Simon is highly skilled, well accustomed to working alone, to completing solo assignments successfully. The risk of something happening was always high, but he trusts Simon and puts faith in his skills.

John goes back through the line once they finish, making a tray for you and piling it high as usual. It always makes him happy to see how well cared for you really are. Despite the circumstances of you being added to their pack, he knows it could have been so much worse. There’s worse packs, worse alphas out there. At least with them, you’re an equal. You’re their precious omega, and they’d make anyone who threatened you regret that decision.

John is surprised the handle turns when he tries it. You’ve gotten up at least, but he’s not surprised to find you back in the same place you’ve likely been all day. He closes the door behind him before moving to your bed, setting the tray of food down on your nightstand. You squint as he flicks the lamp on, reaching up to rub your eyes. The bed dips as he sits on the edge, a quiet sigh leaving his lips.

“I know this is hard for you.” He says softly, brushing his fingers across your bare arm. Your skin is warm, likely from being burrowed under the blankets. “I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now.”

“He's gone.” You say quietly, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Just for a while.” He says. “He’ll be back.”

“But you can’t promise that.” You argue, pushing yourself up to sit. Your cheeks are still damp with tears, eyes red and lips still trembling.

“There’s always a risk,” He says softly. “But you have to trust Simon. He’s not going down without a fight.” He sighs quietly as your gaze drops to your hands, your fingers picking at the skin around your fingers. He slips his hand into yours, stopping you from continuing. “What’s eating you?”

“I should have told him.” You sniffle, your eyes on his hand as your fingers close around it. .

“Told him what?” He prods gently, curiously.

“That I love him.” You say, lifting your gaze to look at him. “I should have said it but I didn’t and now what if he doesn’t come back? I love all of you, and I don’t want you to leave, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” The words end in a sob, tears sliding down your cheeks again.

Your words take him by surprise. It’s no secret how they feel about you, how their feelings have grown from curiosity to companionship to attraction and now to love. All of them have come to love you in their own ways, even Simon in his resistance wasn’t immune to his feelings, to their shared feelings towards you.

“Look at me.” He cups your face gently, his thumbs wiping the falling tears. “I wish things didn’t have to be this way, I wish they hadn't picked us to be first for this. It's not fair to you, it's not fair to put you through this. I wouldn't change having you as my omega, but forcing you to live like this, to be left behind with the worry over something none of us can control.” He shakes his head. “It was a selfish decision by those who created the initiative.”

“What...what happens if the initiative fails?” You ask softly.

“We’re not giving you up.” He says, holding your gaze. “We wouldn’t want to, and we wouldn’t let it happen. You’ve been part of this pack since the day you stepped foot on this base. We wouldn’t have let you go then, and we sure as hell won’t now.”

Your breathing is shaky as you stare at him, and he can see the wheels turning in your head, the hesitation as you debate whether you want to speak. He hates that you still feel this way, that you have to hide your thoughts from them out of fear or worry that they might be angered by them. He’s not sure there’s anything you could say that would anger him.

“Would you ever leave for me?” You speak the words slowly, hesitantly, like they might bite you if you're not careful.

He's not expecting it, though he has wondered if you'd ever ask it of them. If it might come to be too much and it leaves you no choice but to ask, to give them the ultimatum. He lets out a breath, all the answers he'd thought up in response gone as he sits face to face with you, as he faces this question out in the open for the first time. Tears are gathering in your eyes as you stare at him, taking his silence as second thoughts, as possible rejection.

“Please be honest with me.” You whisper shakily, a tear slipping down your cheek.

He watches its path as it slides down your cheek, pausing at the line of your jaw before it drips down onto your shirt. He lifts his gaze back to yours, the pain in them stabbing straight into his heart. He wants to say yes, that he'd leave in a heartbeat, give up what he'd worked his whole life to achieve, all for an omega. His omega.

He wouldn't be able to sleep at night, knowing the kind of evils that exist in the world, the kinds of threats that linger in the dark. The evils that may pose a threat to you and his pack. You’ll never be truly safe, not so long as there’s others who know of your existence. Very few of them he’d truly trust with the knowledge that you pose a threat to their efficiency as a team, a weakness that could be exploited.

What bloody fucking fools they were, leaving you alone like that.

“Part of me wants to say no,” He admits honestly, ignoring the flash of pain in your eyes. “But it would depend on the situation. If your life was ever in danger because of us, then without question. If the initiative fails, if we can't adjust, then we may have no other choice.”

“The job comes first.” You say quietly, sounding defeated.

“But there may come a time when it doesn't.” He says, trying to reassure you. “Don't worry about that too much right now.” He brushes a hand over your hair. “If a situation arises, then we'll talk about it further.”

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You lean into him, letting out a quiet breath. He pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I love you too.” He says, his lips brushing the top of your head. “And Simon knows how you feel.”

You shift in his arms, pulling back just slightly to stare up at him. Your brows are pinched as you stare at him. “What do you mean?”

“Simon is very good at reading people. Their scents, their emotions, their body language. Years of training paired with his own natural abilities.” He smiles softly at you. “He knows how you feel.”

“Oh,” You say, shrinking into yourself.

“He'll likely convince himself it's not true, knowing him and how he thinks. You'll have to tell him to make him believe it.” He pats your leg under the blankets. “Don't worry too much about him. He'll be back before you know it.” He pushes himself up to stand. “Eat your dinner. We'll be around if you need anything.”

“John?” You ask, stopping him before he can leave.

He turns back around to face you. “Yes?”

“Thank you.” You say. “For everything.”

A small smile pulls at his lips. “Of course.”

You're just stepping out of the bathroom when the knock sounds on your door. You had gotten up to rinse your face with cold water, your skin starting to feel tight and itchy after nearly an entire day of uncontrollable tears. You freeze at the sound of knuckles tapping on the wood, your heart leaping into your chest. Is it one of the guys coming to tell you bad news? Has something happened to Simon?

Or is he coming back already?

You’re half scared, half hopeful as you make the short journey across your room to the door. You feel like you’re moving in slow motion as your fingers close around the handle, slowly pulling it open.

Johnny is standing on the other side, his face a mix of worry and sadness. It doesn’t help the despair already starting to manifest in you. Something must have happened to Simon. Something’s gone wrong. He’s not coming back, or they’ll have to leave to help him.

“Ye doin’ alright, kitten?” Johnny asks, his brows furrowing as he stares at you.

“Yeah.” You can’t help but wince at the way your voice cracks around the word. You sniffle, wiping at your nose with your sleeve.

“I have somethin’ for ye.” He says, his hands fiddling with the fabric he’s holding. You hadn't noticed it before now. ��I was gonnae do Simon’s laundry, but I thought ye might want this.”

It’s one of Simon’s shirts he’s holding out to you, one of the black standard cotton t-shirts he often sports. Your fingers tremble as you take it, bringing the fabric to your nose. You don’t care that it’s dirty, having likely been soaked in sweat at one point. You inhale deeply, nose pressed into the fabric. It smells of soap and deodorant and him. Tears well in your eyes as you take in the scent, almost as if you’re getting it directly from the source.

You’re moving before you realize it, your arms wrapping around Johnny’s middle. He seems almost surprised by your action, his body tensing for a second before it relaxes, his arms wrapping around you.

“Thank you.” You murmur against his chest, a couple tears slipping from your eyes. You’re so tired of crying, but you can’t stop.

“Yer welcome, kitten.” He says, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Ye need anythin’...”

He leaves the other half unsaid, but you know what he means. You’re hesitant to pull away from him, wanting to just stand there and cling to him until Simon returns, but you know he’s busy. Eventually he’ll have to leave you too. You’re not sure you could handle watching him leave your nest, close your door behind him as he’s forced away to do his job.

Your door clicks as you shut it, holding Simon’s shirt to your chest. You’re tempted to wear it, to slip it over your head and bathe yourself in your scent, but you know if you do that, his scent will just fade faster and become overwhelmed by your own. The desire to bury yourself in it is strong, let his scent sink into your body and overwhelm your own.

Your eyes pass over the giant bear sitting in your desk chair before snapping back to look at it. An idea begins to form in your head as you set the shirt on your bed.

You grab the bear, hauling it to your bed and sitting it on the edge. You pull the shirt over its head, stretching the neckline slightly. The shirt is slightly baggy on the bear, but you don’t care as you maneuver it so it’s laying on the bed, trying to picture Simon in its place. It would be a tight squeeze, but then again it always is with any member of your pack. Their bodies don’t leave much space on the narrow mattresses by themselves, much less with you curled up with them. You can’t help the stirring in your chest, the yearning for more space, for a bed big enough to fit all of you at the same time. Big enough for Johnny to starfish himself comfortably, for you to escape the inescapable suffocating heat of their bodies that will build up inevitably.

Tears burn behind your eyes as you crawl onto the mattress, draping yourself across the giant bear. Simon’s scent wafts up around you as you press your face into the shirt, pretending it’s Simon you’re laying against. You can almost feel his arms wrap around you, holding onto you like you might disappear if he lets go. You squeeze your arms tighter around the bear, letting Simon’s scent seep into your mind and take away your fear and your worry and your pain for a little while.

It’s two days later when you finally leave your room. You’ve managed to stop the onslaught of tears, calming down enough to exist without being a weepy mess. There’s still an ache in your chest, though, the gaping hole that won’t close. A piece of you is missing, a piece you hadn’t even noticed was there until it was ripped out of you suddenly and violently. Your hug with Johnny had been the first time it had felt less intense, the aching abating just slightly.

They’ve just returned from their afternoon training, earlier than usual meaning they have some downtime before dinner. You can almost tell where he is before you leave your room, following the sounds of the TV. Your steps are slow and quiet, the cold tile biting into your bare feet as you approach the rec room.

He’s seated on the couch, spread out as usual. His eyes flicker to you as you hesitate in the doorway, tugging at the hem of the baggy shirt you’re wearing. You’ve long forgotten whose it is, the name on the tag worn off and all hints of scent erased by the many times you’ve worn and washed it. The thought tugs at the hole in your chest. Eventually Simon’s shirt won’t smell like him anymore, faded and rubbed away by time and your own scent.

“Hi kitten,” He says, breaking the silence between you.

You let out a shaky breath before entering the rec room, approaching him. You can tell he’s expecting you to sit next to him, to curl up against his side by the way he moves his arm, but instead you straddle his lap, all but throwing yourself against his chest. He grunts quietly in surprise, his arm instinctively wrapping around your back. You lay your head on his shoulder, going limp in his hold.

It doesn’t fix the hole, doesn’t remove the ache entirely, but you can feel it start to lessen as you sit there, getting as close to Simon as you possibly can through his beta. You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt. He wraps his other arm around you, holding you tightly as his scent begins to project around you. Nothing is said, but nothing has to be. He knows what you need, and he doesn’t even have to use his instincts to figure it out.

A week goes by without a word from Simon or even about him and how he’s doing. You return to your normal routine in a numb, almost dazed state. You follow the rest of your pack around like a lost puppy, going to meals and following them to training when John allows, withdrawing back to your room like a recluse when you can’t. You sit in the rec room with them in the evenings, but you feel far away, distant from them and reality. You stare at the TV, but all you can see are blurry moving shapes. You can’t even read, often finding yourself staring at the cover until the words mesh and blur into something else.

You never thought the distance could feel like this. You almost miss the fear of them all being gone. At least that had made you feel something.

You see Dr. Keller twice as usual, both appointments unproductive as you fight to force some kind of life into yourself to drown out the numbness that’s settled. You’re far away, distracted from everything. Even food tastes different, more mushy and flavorless than usual.

They’re worried about you. Even in your numb state you can tell that. John hovers closer, allowing you to follow them more than he probably should. It’s not like you’re paying much attention to what they’re doing, seated far away from anything that might put you at risk as you stare up at the sky, or off at the trees in the distance. Even when you’re inside, your gaze is far away, never quite focusing on anything.

Johnny and Kyle keep you close as much as they can, squishing you between them on the couch or when you walk to meals. They’re always touching you, holding your hands, brushing your skin, wrapping their arms around you. They’re trying to comfort you, and it works for a little bit, not even your numbness impervious to a beta’s soothing presence. They hold onto you like they’re trying to keep you grounded to the earth, like you might float off and disappear into space if they don’t.

You don’t sleep well, electing to sleep in your room every night. It’s a vast difference to what you had been doing, avoiding your room as much as possible. You’re seeking out the safety of your nest, a comfort only it can provide despite everything that’s happened. You feel bad for pushing them away, keeping them at a distance, but at the same time, you don’t care.

You just want Simon back.

“I’m worried.”

“I know. I’m surprised you didn’t come here sooner.”

He feels strange, sitting in Dr. Keller’s office alone. It’s not the first time he’s been here, spoken to her about you. After their return from their first assignment, he had sat with Dr. Keller and gone over everything that had happened during their absence, or at least as much as she could tell him. Anything you talked about was considered confidential, but at least she could tell him if there were any issues or incidents.

“She’s depressed.” Dr. Keller answers before he can even ask. “It’s not uncommon for omegas to become depressed after separation. Even when there’s necessary splitting of a pack into a satellite, there’s a risk for all omegas to develop depression because of it.”

He should have known. He’s seen it happen to soldiers, when the blood staining their hands grows to be too much and they begin to recluse in their own bodies, becoming empty shells of who they were before. You’ve become a shell, a body simply existing out of necessity.

“What can we do?” He asks, unable to keep the mask up, to hide his concern and fear.

“Not much more than you have been.” She says. “Keep supporting her, reminding her that you’re there. There’s an adjustment when a bond begins to weaken. Omegas are especially susceptible to it, and with how strongly connected and aware of her instincts and emotions she is, it’s going to affect her more.” Dr. Keller sighs, leaning her arms on her desk. “I don’t think anyone has ever taught her how to balance or even use those purebred instincts. Institutes are supposed to, but from what we know, they teach subservience over anything.”

John shifts in his seat. Of course no one would have cultivated those abilities. It would have made you too aware, made the risk of you being able to manipulate them too high. Your job was to serve them above all else, so why would those teaching you want to give you that ability? Those instincts would have made you a perfect omega, able to pick up on the slightest changes, the needs of your pack. Yet, if you became too aware of your own abilities, it would give you too much power over them. That’s the one thing institutes don’t want...an omega that knows how powerful they are.

“How do we teach her?” He asks.

“I can help her with balancing those instincts and emotions, but only someone who knows can really teach her how to be successful at using them.”

“Simon.” He says, the pieces beginning to come together.

“If he didn’t know how before, his military training would have cultivated those instincts. That’s why purebreds are so sought after by militaries. Of course, it’s a bit different for alphas and omegas, but you are two sides of the same coin.” Dr. Keller smiles. “She’s smart. She’ll begin to figure it out on her own once she’s aware she can do it. In the meantime, just keep doing what you’re doing. If there’s some way she can talk to him or get in contact with him, that may help alleviate some of the depression.”

He knows it won’t be likely, but if it will help you, he’s willing to take that risk. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He stands outside your door, staring at the knob. It’s late, his eyes burning from exhaustion. He’s stressed, not just from the day to day stressors of his job, but your obvious pain and discomfort has been affecting him. It’s affecting all of them. Kyle and Johnny’s times on the course have slowed, their aim is off, and he knows they’re not sleeping well either.

Even with you beginning to return to your normal routine, your distance from them has proven to affect them more than your presence. Even with you around them, your numbed, absent state has disrupted their abilities to function, to exist as a normal pack. He’s relayed the sudden change to Kate in an attempt to prove his decision not to leave you alone is the right one, and it will help his case should they decide to try and separate you from the pack.

He can’t think of a reason why they would now. The bonds are too strong. The separation of just one of them has proven to disrupt the bonds between all five of you. He can only imagine how Simon is feeling, being apart from everyone. It’s never bothered him before, but that had been before your presence. If Simon was incapable of fulfilling his duties and performing the task he had been assigned, they would have forced him out of the field and sent him back by now.

Perhaps your fears were right and Simon isn’t as in love as John thought he was.

He shakes the thought from his head. He’s seen the way Simon looks at you, the obvious change in his demeanor since your trip to town, the changes that have happened in your demeanor around him. Simon cares for you deeply, more than just as an alpha in your pack.

He tries the handle of your door, surprised again when it opens. He might have thought you’d start locking it at night again with how much you’ve regressed. Maybe this was your silent plea for help, for comfort, for something other than the emptiness inside you. He slips into the room, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light of your nightlight in the corner. He can’t see you except for your arm tossed around the giant bear. It’s wearing a black shirt, likely the one Johnny had given you. It was a good decision, offering you at least an extension of the missing alpha.

He approaches the bed quietly, not wanting to startle you. He doesn’t want to climb over you either, but he knows moving the bear will wake you. Perhaps you’re exhausted and sleeping hard enough he won’t disturb you.

He picks the lesser of two evils, lifting the bear. He curses silently when your body shoots up as soon as the bear slips from your grasp.

“No!” You shout, almost like an angry child having their toy taken away. It’s a desperate sound, a shocking one, ringing loud in the silence. You’re reaching for the bear, trying to tug it from his hands.

“Easy, easy.” He says, putting his hand on your arm, your movements slowing to a stop as his touch brings back to reality. “I’m just moving him.” He shifts the bear to your other side, your body rolling to follow it.

He climbs into the bed, barely managing to fit on the mattress. It’s a tight squeeze with the two of you and the bear, but he’ll manage it. He’s slept in tighter places. He slips an arm under you, the other reaching across you to settle on the bear.

“Tight squeeze with the three of us.” He says quietly, trying to ease some of the tension.

“Need bigger beds.” You murmur, voice slightly muffled from where your face is pressed against the bear.

He chuckles quietly. “I won’t argue with that. Perhaps someday.”

You shift slightly at his words, obviously not expecting him to continue your conversation from earlier this week. He normally tried to avoid thinking too far into the future. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up for something he might never get to have. Or, at least he used to feel that way.

Things have changed.

“I used to think this job would be all I did.” He continues, speaking almost to himself. “I’d never grow old enough to retire. Someday I’d die in the field and that was good enough for me. Then, of course, things changed. Had those three other muppets to worry about.” He slips his arm from the bear to wrap around your stomach. “Then another little muppet got added. Now I’m thinking about a nice little cottage by the sea, big enough for five, with a nice flower garden in the front. Just a short walk to the beach, where we can sit and watch the sun set.”

“White picket fence dreams.” You say quietly.

“Or at least the British equivalent of that.” He says, a smile tugging at his lips.

You shift slightly in his arms, pressing back against his chest as you turn as far as you can. “You mean it?”

“Of course.” He says, his thumb gently rubbing your stomach through your shirt. “Things have changed. Priorities have shifted, and not just for me.”

He presses his forehead against the side of your head, breathing in the soft scent of your strawberry body wash and the new vanilla scented shampoo Johnny had gotten you. There’s a faint hint of leather beneath your scent, the smell rubbing off from Simon’s shirt you dressed the bear in. He can almost imagine Simon in place of the bear, both of their arms tangling around you as they surround you and keep you safe from the outside world. Just a moment of peace in the hectic violence and chaos of their lives.

“John?” You say quietly, pulling him from the edge of sleep that had settled in his mind.

He hums quietly in response, forcing himself back to consciousness again.

There’s a moment’s pause, a second of silence, and for a moment he wonders if you’re going to speak at all. “Don’t let go.” You finally say, your voice quiet and broken in the silence.

“Never.” He says, tightening his hold around you.

John's phone ringing drags you from the light sleep you had managed to slip into. It hasn't been long since you drifted off you think, but then again, it's hard to tell. It's still dark out, and you're still in the same position. John lets go of you to reach for his phone on your nightstand barely managing to grab it at the awkward angle he’s at.

His voice is rough with sleep as he answers. “Hello?”

It's quiet for a moment. You can't hear much aside from a male voice on the other side. You can't tell who it is or what they're saying.

“Good to hear.” He says, slipping into the Captain again.

Something stirs in your stomach as you try to listen, try to catch who it is. Just one word, just one hint.

“I'm sure.” There’s another pause, this one feeling like a lifetime. “I have someone here next to me that would like to talk to you too.”

You nearly elbow John in the stomach in your frantic attempt to turn over. You yank the offered phone from his hand as you lean the top half of your body on his stomach. “Hello?” Your voice wavers as you say it, the emotions beginning to stir within you again.

There's a second delay before you hear it. “Hello, love.”

You nearly cry at finally hearing his voice again, the pet name causing a fluttering in your stomach. You've never heard him call you that before. “I missed you.” You finally say, managing to get the words out.

“That's what I'm hearing.” He says, and you can imagine the lifting of his cheeks under the mask, the slight crinkle of his eyes as he smiles.

“When will you be back?” You ask.

“Soon. Won't be much longer.” He says.

“Be careful.” You say, your breathing shaky. “You better not come back hurt.” You're not sure you could handle it if he came back on a stretcher, or even with a single bandaid.

“Yes ma'am.” He says seriously, but you can hear the humor in his tone. “I'll try my best.”

“Good.” You say, wanting to lay there, to listen to him breathing for a while, just so that you know he’s really there, he’s really alright. You know you can’t though, your fingers shaking as you pass the phone back to John.

He speaks to Simon for a couple more minutes while you lay across his stomach, listening to the rumble of his voice in your ear. Relief is flooding through you after hearing Simon's voice. He's really alright, he's fine, he's coming home.

“You alright, sweetheart?” John asks after hanging up, his hand coming to rest on your back.

A thousand words want to come out of your mouth, but you can't get them up past the lump in your throat. “He called me love.” You finally say, replaying the pet name over and over in your head.

“Did he?” John asks, and you can picture the way his lips turn up in a smile.

“He's never called me that before.” You say.

“Well then I'm sure he meant it.” John says.

You sure hope so.

It's a week later when you get to stand on the tarmac again, waiting for a plane to land. It's early, the sky clear and the sun just starting to rise over the trees, casting everything in a golden light. It’s so vastly different from how the world had looked when he left, the weather seeming to convey your inner feelings. The rain and darkness a perfect symbol of the dread and pain of him leaving. Now that he’s returning the sun is out and the sky is clear, conveying your relief. You’re beginning to feel again, the ache in your chest beginning to lessen. It’s the most alive you’ve felt since he left.

You're in a dress today, the yellow sundress that Johnny had bought you. You wonder if he’d done it on purpose, perhaps knowing something you don’t. Despite the sun rising, there’s still a chill in the air, and you had quickly stolen his sweatshirt to cover your bare shoulders.

You squeeze John's hand as the plane comes in to land, watching it approach in eager anticipation. You're going to hug him tightly, throw your arms around him and refuse to let go until you have no choice. You're going to give him the greeting he deserved weeks ago when they all came back.

He's like a magnet, halfway down the ramp when you start approaching, moving without even thinking. He's in his full mask, the one with the half skull sewed to it. He looks dangerous and deadly, the true visage of a Ghost, but you approach without fear, without hesitation. Underneath all of it you know there’s Simon, the man you’ve quickly fallen in love with.

You're ready to hug him, to feel him again, to wrap yourself around him like you could sink right into his body.

You're not prepared for what he does next.

One of his hands reaches up, the fabric of his gloves rough on your skin as he grips your chin, his thumb on one side, digging into your jaw, the other four fingers on the other side holding your head still. His other hand pulls his mask up over his mouth, giving you a glimpse of his stubble and chapped lips.

You don't get to look long as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours.

It's like time freezes as he kisses you, your skin erupting in goosebumps, and it's not from the cold air. You weren't expecting this, your brain trying to catch up, to process that this is really happening, that this is real.

He tilts your head to the side, deepening the kiss as he leans closer into you. Your hands reach up, closing around the sleeves of his jacket. He's real, he's really here, and he's kissing you.

The moment likely doesn't last more than 30 seconds, but it feels like forever as his lips move against yours. It might be cliche to say fireworks are going off, but that may have just been the engines of the plane shutting down.

He finally pulls away from you, his hand still gripping your jaw. You could melt into a puddle right there, his eyes speaking volumes of what's going on in his head. He's done a lot of thinking in his time away. You wonder how many thoughts you've shared over the last two weeks.

“Should have done that before I left.” He says, his voice rough, but just as you remember.

Tears prick behind your eyes as you stare up at him. His fingers are digging into your jaw, but you don’t care. He’s here, he’s back, he’s safe, and he just kissed you like you’d wanted to before he left.

“I wish you had.” You say, as he slowly releases your jaw, his hand brushing your throat before it drops to his side. You let out a shaky breath before throwing your arms around him, holding onto him tightly.

“What are you doing?” He says, taking you back all those weeks ago to when you hugged him the first time. There’s no confusion in his tone now though, instead there’s an amused lilt to it.

“Giving you the hug you deserve so you don't get mad at me.” You say, your voice slightly muffled from your face being squished against his chest.

“You think I'd get mad about not getting a hug after kissing you?” He asks, patting your back.

“Just making sure.” You say, his chuckle reverberating in your ear.

You don’t release him as he begins to walk to where the others are, keeping your arms wrapped around him tightly. He greets the others, Johnny squishing you between them as he hugs his alpha. You don't care as Ghost's armor digs into your body, it's just a reminder that this is real. He's really here. This isn’t a dream.

He's really back.

You sit between Simon and Johnny in the back seat of the car. It's a tight squeeze between the two, but you don't care one bit. Johnny's hand rests on your thigh as John drives back to the barracks. Perhaps you’re still reeling a bit from the kiss, or perhaps it’s Simon’s scent, but you want to push Johnny’s hand higher, hike up your dress and hope Simon gets a peek at what's waiting underneath. You won’t though. You want him to be comfortable. You want your first moments of intimacy to be just the two of you, something special.

Dread begins to fill you again as the car rolls to a stop outside the barracks. You know what to expect now, having gone through it once before. He’s not truly back, he still has to leave you again. At least this time, you have the others.

“I'll see you soon.” Simon says, squeezing your arm.

“Hurry back?” You stare up at him.

“As fast as I can.” He says, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

You're tempted to kiss him again, but you don't want to push his boundaries. Sure, he had kissed you, but it could have been a fluke, a one time thing born out of desire and time spent apart.

You won't care if he never kisses you again. At least you know what it feels like.

Thankfully he makes the decision for you as he turns his body slightly towards you, as much as he can in the tight space. He lifts the bottom of his mask, leaning down to kiss you again. You purr against his lips, your scent exploding in the car like a smoke bomb.

Johnny lets out an extensive curse as he fumbles for the door handle, forcing it open in an attempt to escape the sudden onslaught. Kyle is quick to follow, allowing more air in to disperse the intensity of your scent in the confined space. John rolls his window down, lighting a cigar, trying to do anything to keep your scent from going straight to his head.

You feel giddy and almost proud as Simon places one last soft peck against your lips. You don’t want to let him go, but you know you have to. He’s not quite yours yet. He still has more of his job to do before then.

Always the job first.

Your lips are still tingling as you walk into the barracks, your heart still fluttering in your chest. Johnny is staring at you, almost walking sideways. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, your face warming.

“What?” You ask, finally looking at him. He’s wearing that stupid, smug grin on his face again.

“Been a long time since I've seen him like that” He says, squeezing your arm gently. “Not since his first romp with Kyle.”

You turn to look at the other beta behind you who simply shrugs. “What can I say? No one's immune to my charm.” He gives you a dazzling smile. He’s not wrong, his smile causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

“Cannae wait to see him glowin’ after his first taste of our sweet omega.” Johnny says, backing you against the wall.

“Yeah, well, you might be waiting forever for that.” You say, stopping his approach with a hand on his chest.

He tilts his head at you, his brows furrowing. “What do ye mean, kitten?”

“I'm not even sure he's going to want that, much less if he'll do it.” You shrug. The thought has been going through your mind despite the kiss in the car. Though he’s kissed you twice, that’s a big leap to make, a leap you might never make.

Johnny snorts at your response. “Kitten, he's been holdin’ himself back for weeks. He's just worried he may...be too much for ye.”

You give Johnny a look. “I can handle you, can't I?”

Johnny grins. “Aye, but this is...different. He's not gonnae make the first move. If ye want it,” He leans in closer. “Yer gonnae have to do it yourself.”

“Well,” You slip under his arm, nearly making him faceplant on the wall. “Then I best save my stamina for him, then.”

Kyle laughs, patting Johnny's back. “Set yourself up for that one, mate.”

You peel off Johnny's sweatshirt, adjusting the top of your dress before tossing his sweatshirt to him. “I'll see you both later.” You give them a smirk before turning on your toes, heading back to your room.

Johnny curses quietly behind you, and you just know his eyes are glued to your ass.

Johnny’s words replay over and over in your head as you go through your day as usual. Simon had returned to the barracks, going straight to his room to shower. You had been tempted to step into the hallway, to wait for him, but you know he’s not free yet. He still has paperwork to do, which you know from experience that could take a long time.

Thankfully, that gives you plenty of time to think about what you’re going to do. You're going to have to make the first move, but what if you move too fast? How do you even broach the subject?

“Hey Simon, welcome back. Would you like to rearrange my guts?”

“I cried the whole time you were gone, would you like to make me cry for a different reason?”

“Bend me over and fuck me like a real alpha.”

You facepalm at your own thoughts. You could just slowly initiate it. Start with touches, getting closer, more kisses. Leave yourself open to him in hopes he gets the message, that he pushes past that boundary and finally fucks you like he wants to.

Heat blooms in your stomach, sinking between your legs. You're all worked up and he’s only kissed you twice. Johnny’s words don’t help the fantasies in your mind. He’s scared you won’t be able to handle him. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought. He’s a big man. You know, you’ve felt it before. It’s hard not to, with some of the positions he’s put you in during your training, nothing but those grey sweatpants and his underwear as a barrier.

You wonder how he'll do it. Bend you over so you won't see his face? Keep the mask on and put you on your back so you can hold eye contact with him? Or will he finally take the mask off, finally let you see his face?

You assume the others have seen it, so when will it be your turn?

It’s not until after dinner when you hear footsteps down the hall. Johnny had gotten food for Simon who was still deep in his paperwork when you left for the mess. Despite his absence at the table still, it had felt less gaping, less like a black hole threatening to suck you all in. He’s back, he’s here. Soon he’ll fill that empty space again.

You try to stop yourself from running out of your room when the steps get closer. You’re not even sure it’s him. You don’t want to disappoint the others if you leave your room so excitedly in the hopes that they’re Simon. So instead, you stay seated on the edge of your bed, staring at your unlocked door. You want him to open it, to step into your room, but you know he won’t. He’s never been in your room. The furthest he’s entered is your doorway.

You’ll have to make the first move.

Your stomach nearly leaps out of your body as the boots stop in front of your door. You hold your breath in anticipation, too scared to move, too scared to throw open the door and risk your excitement being too much. You might push him away in your eagerness, but you’re not sure you can hide it much longer. You’d let him bend you over with the door open, hell, you’d let him take you in the hallway.

One step at a time. One step at a time.

You repeat it over and over in your head as you push yourself off your bed, moving to the door. He’s not going to knock, he’s going to wait for you to open it, for you to remove that barrier between you. He’s giving you the chance to change your mind, to go back, to call the two kisses enough and draw the line where you want it.

The doorknob is cold in your sweaty hand as you grasp it, turning it slowly. The gavel is falling, the slow opening of the door marks the finality, the crumbling of the final barrier. There’s no going back. The bond is too strong, the line has been removed completely.

You stare up at Simon as the door swings as far as it will open. His eye black is gone, washed off in the shower revealing the pale skin underneath. He smells good, cleaner than he had on the tarmac. You can smell it despite the space between you. Under the smell of his generic soap you can pick up his natural scent. Leather and eucalyptus and the musk of alpha. You want to drown yourself in it, rub it all over your skin until your own scent is gone.

“Hi.” You say, goosebumps forming across your skin from the intensity of his gaze. You’d forgotten how sharp it is, how easily he can peel away your layers as he stares at you.

“Hi.” He says, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. You’d forgotten how deep it really is, the roughness around the edges harsher than usual, but you expected that. They had all been a bit hoarse after returning from their group deployment.

You continue to stare at him, lost in his earthy gaze. The hole in your chest has lessened to almost nothing, slowly the bond repairing itself just from the knowledge he's here, he’s standing in front of you. He’s real.

You clear your throat, smoothing your hands over your dress. His eyes drop, following the movement. “I thought you'd want to rest.” It's the first thing you can think of to say, speechless in his presence. He must be tired.

“I slept on the plane.” He shrugs.

“Yeah, but surely a real bed is a relief.” You say. You’d half expected him to retreat to his room, seeking out a comfortable bed. They’re not all that comfortable, but compared to what he probably was sleeping on these last couple weeks, it must feel like heaven.

“Probably is.” He says, his gaze shifting back to your face.

You sink your teeth into your lip as you stare up at him. You’re testing the waters, pushing into new territory as the last walls of the barrier crumble around you. “You could go rest.” You say, shifting on your feet, giving him the option to turn away, to change his mind. “I’m sure you missed your bed.”

He’s still as a statue as he looms in your doorway, his frame filling it easily, making you feel small. “I'd rather relax in yours.”

Your face warms at his words, not expecting him to say that. The warmth pooling in your stomach intensifies, your heart fluttering in your chest. You’re not sure what happened during his assignment, what caused such a drastic change. You want to know what went through his head, what he was thinking about. Did he picture you at night when he got a moment to rest? Was he imagining you there with him, curled up against him? Or was he picturing you in other positions?

You might never know, just another secret hidden between you.

A shudder runs through him. You can see it, the slight twitch in his body, his hands closing into fists. He’s responding to you, to your scent. Such power you could hold over him if you were brave enough to try.

Such power he could hold over you, if he wanted to.

“You could come in.” You say, taking half a step back in invitation.

He doesn’t move, still frozen there like a statue. You wonder how he stays so still, but that was probably part of his training. Be as steady as possible while shooting, how to be invisible even in broad daylight. “You're sure?” He finally rumbles out, his foot shifting just a centimeter, but you catch it.

You shrug. “Why not? You are part of this pack. You could have entered sooner, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t have minded.”

He hesitates for just a second before moving his foot from the tile and into your room. He pauses there for a moment, watching you, waiting for a reaction. It’s your turn to stay still, staring up at him as he makes the slow transition into your room, venturing into your sacred space, a place he’s never been in before.

He moves the other foot, taking the first step over that line, pushing himself past that barrier, leaving it crumbling behind him.

There’s no going back.

Something shifts inside you as he enters your room, a weight you hadn’t even realized was there lifting off your shoulders. The hole in your chest is gone, the missing piece back in place. All the tumultuous emotions, all the stress and the fear and the anguish is gone. Your room is safe again, complete again with him in it. Tears prick at your eyes as relief floods through you. No one is getting in, no one can get in now, not with him here. You want to hug him, to kiss him again, drag him onto the bed and make him hold you for a while.

You don’t. You stay still as he takes in your space, his eyes scanning your belongings and your decorations. He’s never truly seen it in the light. The only time he’d stared into it was that morning when you thought maybe someone had broken in, when your fear had fucked with your emotions enough to think they’d truly let someone enter without their knowledge.

How silly that thought had been.

His eyes move to your bed, landing on the giant bear wearing his black shirt. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare at it as well, suddenly thinking you should have removed the shirt, shoving it into your laundry and moving the bear back to your desk. Yet, you want him to see it, want him to see that you tried to comfort yourself in his absence, tried to make a placeholder for him. You won’t need it now, though. Not with the real thing standing in your space.

He shakes his head as he stares at it, rolling his eyes as he lets out a sigh. “Fucking hell.”

NEXT ->

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confused-pyramid · 8 months ago

Text

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

#art donaldson smut #art donaldson #challengers #challengers smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x fem!reader #challengers fanfiction #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x you

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