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jessicaloons · 2 months ago

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Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince

Chapter 4

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The Heartbreak Prince

November 2022:

"So it’s possible?" Charles asked his lawyer who nodded.

"It’s a lot of paperwork, but that’s what you pay me for, right?" she laughed and Charles looked at the ultrasound in his hand "I can start to set up all the documents as soon as possible or you want to take some time to think about it? Let it all go through your head once more? Or twice? More? You still have time… the baby won’t be born until April next year, so we can wait with the final decision…"

"No. Prepare everything… can you maybe talk to her? If she has a lawyer, and if not, maybe recommend one? I don’t want her to feel… I don’t want her to feel like it’s me against her and she is defenseless. If she has a lawyer of her own by her side, she’s not alone…"

"Of course Charles. I’ll talk to her, explain everything to her and then we figure things out. One step at the time."

"Thank you…" Charles smiled and got up, guiding his lawyer to the door "Let me know if you need anything from me."

"Will do, I’ll stay in touch. Have a nice day, Charles. And good luck for your race." she left his apartment and he sighed, leaning against the door.

His mind was racing, he had to leave for the airport in not even 2 hours, but he knew he first had to talk to someone. He couldn’t keep it a secret, the guilt would eat away at him. Back in his bedroom he threw everything haphazardly into his suitcase, calling Joris.

"Hey Joris, pick me up at my mums place…" Charles slipped on his shoes, checking that he had everything important in his backpack.

"Okay? Everything alright?"

"Yeah… I just-… I’m keeping the baby and have to tell my mum now…" Charles blurted out and the line went silent "Jo?" he asked after a minute of silence "Are you still there?"

"Yeah-… I just… umm-… I have to wrap my head around what you just said? You and Alessia are keeping the baby?" Joris asked cautiously.

"No. I am. She wants nothing to do with the baby… or me. She made that clear…" the Ferrari driver sighed, slipping into his sneakers.

"And what prompted this change of heart?"

"I saw it, Jo. And its heartbeat… in that moment I realised I would never forgive myself if I would give away my child. My firstborn. I can’t do it… that’s a piece of me. And I’m going to take care of it…" he left his apartment, waiting for the elevator.

"Okay. So Alessia will have the baby and then leave it with you and she’ll disappear? Not be a part in its life like you planned to? And you keep it? Take care of it, while travelling the whole world, racing in F1?"

"That’s exactly what’s happening, I mean… if Maman won’t kill me if I tell her now…" Charles put his suitcase in his car and got in, starting the engine.

"Good luck with that… maybe you’ll die today so thinking about the future won’t be necessary…" his best friend chuckled and under different circumstances Charles would’ve laughed too, but he knew that there was some truth in Joris’ words and when he stood in front of his childhood home 10 minutes later, ringing the doorbell with shaky hands, he wished he could’ve been anywhere else in the world but here.

"Charles! I didn’t think I’d see you before you leave. What a lovely surprise." his mother kissed his cheeks, pulling him inside "Arthur and Lorenzo are here as well…"

"They are?" Charles swallowed hard.

Maybe it was easier to say it only once, then 3 times to each one individually he thought, when he stepped into the living room where his brothers already sat.

"I thought we meet at the airport?" Lorenzo, his older brother asked, looking slightly confused.

"Umm- yeah, I just- I had to talk to mum first… and I guess now that you’re here, I’ll tell you as well…" Charles voice wavered and his brothers shared some glances before they looked at him.

"Is everything alright?" Arthur, his youngest brother asked right as their mother came back with some coffee and biscuits on a tray, putting it on the coffee table, already on her way back to the kitchen.

"Maman? Can you umm-… can you sit down, please? I need to talk to you… all of you." Charles voice was raspy and he cleared his throat, looking at his mother "Please. There is something… there is something you all need to know."

His mother looked worried, and as soon as she sat down between his brothers he pulled out the ultrasound picture, taking a deep breath. He felt his anxiety reaching its peek. The guilt settling in, in what a mess he had catapulted not only himself, but also everyone who was close to him. But he made his decision and now he had to own up to it. He took a deep breath, calming himself down.

"A couple of weeks ago I made a mistake. I did something stupid, reckless. But after crashing out at Paul Ricard I just wanted to forget. I drank a lot. And ended up in a girls bed… Charlotte and I weren’t dating anymore, we broke up almost a month earlier, we just kept it private, I asked her too, because I wanted to focus on driving and not on the gossip accounts speculating about my private life… that girl- she’s pregnant. With my child. And we had a deal, that she would get the baby and then we give it up for adoption to find it a good home… But I saw it. I saw my child. I heard its heartbeat and I can’t do it anymore. I can’t give it away. So I decided to keep it. Alessia, the mother, she wants nothing to do with it. Us. She doesn’t want a child. And that’s okay. But I have to do this. This is my child. My responsibility." he didn’t make any breaks, let it all out in one go and then put down the ultrasound picture in front of his family, all 3 looking at it wide eyed "This is a part of me…"

Silence. Complete silence. He couldn’t even hear them breathe. Charles looked at his brothers, the shock evident in their faces, then at his mother, an unreadable expression on her face. She picked up the picture, looking at it closely.

"Maman?" Charles almost whispered as his mother looked up from the picture in her hand "I’m so sorry! I swear it was an accident but I have to do this. I can’t just abandon my child… please understand me. Please… please don’t be mad at me…"

"You’re going to be a father?" was all she said and Charles nodded slowly, watching her getting off the sofa, slowly approaching him.

"Don’t be mad at me…" Charles breathed out again, feeling the tears stinging in his eyes, he held his breath when his mother stopped in front of him, looking him in the eyes.

When she raised her hand he almost expected her to slap him, closing his eyes, preparing for the impact. But the slap never came, instead he flinched slightly when she cupped his cheek, wiping away the tears that had escaped.

"I raised you right…" she whispered and Charles opened his eyes looking at her "Taking responsibility. You’re a good man…" she kissed his cheek, pulling him into a tight hug, her own heart almost shattering, hearing her son’s relieved sob "Seems like I’m becoming a grandmother then…"

"Yeah… you are…" Charles replied, feeling the tension and pressure falling off his shoulders. Relief flooding him.

"It’s going to be okay. We’re all here for you. We are all on your side." his mother whispered and Charles knew that with his mother’s love and support, he could do this right.

He could become the father his child deserved. A father like he had.

December 2022:

Annoyed. Indifferent. Disinterested. That would be the words Charles would use to describe the girl in front of him. The past weeks he tried to reason with her. Tried to talk her into co-parenthood. He wasn’t trying to force her, he just wanted to give her all the options. But as soon as he mentioned that he talked to his lawyer she asked for one herself. She made it clear that she didn’t want to have their child. Time and time again. Until Charles didn’t ask anymore. He accepted it. But what he didn’t have to accept was that the young girl sat at home. Alone. At all times. Only going out for short walks. Only texting with her best friend and brother. Talking to her parents from time to time. She needed to get out. Be around other people. And so he made a decision. It was a couple of days before Christmas when the driver sat in his second apartment in Monaco. The mother of his child on the sofa, he in the arm chair next to it.

"Thanks, but no thanks." Alessia rolled her eyes, not even looking at him.

"But why? It would do you some good, getting out of here, being surrounded by people, have a little Christmas dinner?"

"No. I don’t want to be surrounded by people. What do you even mean? We had a deal. No one knows about this. Who did you tell about it?"

"My mother and brothers, that’s who I meant. Joris could come as well. It will be f-…"

"I don’t want to play family, don’t you get it? I don’t want to meet your family, who all probably have the same stupid puppy eyes, looking at me, trying to make me rethink my choice… I don’t need that. As soon as I pressed this baby out it’s yours. Yours alone. I still don’t get why you would do that, it’s stupid. All alone. A demanding career. Having a child is just stupid for you, but that’s your decision. Your problem. I won’t be here to see the outcome of it all. I won’t see what happens to that child." her voice was cold.

Annoyed. Indifferent. Disinterested. Always the same.

"I just don’t want you to be all alone… it’s Christmas for fucks sake!" Charles groaned and for the first time in weeks there was a tiny hint of a smile on the girls face.

"Listen Charles. I really appreciate it. I do. All the little snack bags you leave on the doormat, all the delicious food you send over. You treat me right. You do, really. And now this. It’s really thoughtful. But I don’t want to meet your family. I want to be alone. Here. It’s my first Christmas without my parents. Let me have it the way I want it. Okay?" her voice was softer and Charles slowly nodded.

"But can I at least bring you some of the food? My mum is an amazing cook and you’ll love it. And you need to eat for two… so…"

"I would love to have some Christmas food…" Alessia smiled.

"Alright. I get you some plates fetched then…" Charles got up and made his way to the door, and when he passed the sofa the brunette grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently.

"Thank you. And-… merry Christmas…" she whispered and Charles took her hand in his, smiling at her.

"Merry Christmas to you too…"

Bahrain 2023:

Charles was nervously fidgeting with the many bracelets on his wrist, more than usually and his media assistant, Mia, put her hand on his.

"Okay, what’s going on?" she looked at him intently "The last weeks you’ve been more nervous than ever? Even at the end of last season you were super fidgety… what’s going on?"

He ran his hand through his hair, looking everywhere but the blonde woman in from of him. He had prepared a speech, thought long about how to explain what was going on, but he wasn’t sure if he had the courage to say it, so he shook his head, swallowing hard.

"Charles! I know you for more than 6 years now! I know that something’s going on, so come on. What did you do?"

"Why do you think that I did something?" he sounded offended and Mia chuckled a little.

"Because you look guilty. As if you have to confess something… so, confess…"

"Can you- umm is it possible to have Fred and Silvia here as well?" Charles almost whispered, saying it once would be hard enough, he didn’t want to repeat it a second time.

"Yeah? Sure… I text Silvia…. but now I’m really getting nervous…" Mia took out her phone, typing away, her eyes darting between her screen and the driver in front of her. After a few minutes of texting back and forth she nodded slowly, looking at Charles "They wait for us at Fred’s office…"

"Now?" Charles eyes widened.

"Of course now? Come on…" Mia got up and Charles followed her.

With every step they got closer to Fred’s office the young drivers anxiety got worse. Right in front of the door he stopped, taking a long, deep breath. Then he looked at the blonde and nodded. Mia knocked on the door and after a moment she opened it, Fred and Silvia looking at them, confusion written all over their faces.

"Charles. Mia. Come on in." the team principal got up, pointing to the sofa in the corner "So, Charles, Mia said you wanted to talk to us. To us all." he continued as soon as the driver and his media assistant both sat on the sofa, Silvia and himself on the armchairs in front.

"Yeah… umm-… there is something I have to tell you. It’s- it’s complicated. Something happened and I had to make a decision… and… well that decision, that umm-… it wasn’t easy, you know? Then again, it kinda was? I had to do it I guess?" Charles rambled, the speech he had so thoroughly planned out gone the moment he had opened his mouth.

"He really did it? He really approached you?" Fred mumbled, making the driver look at him confused "I mean- I do understand you, last year was crucial and Mattia missed out on establishing you as the clear number one when it was needed, when you were leading so clearly. But I hoped you would give me a chance, you know? Show you that I have a clear vision of your future in the team…"

"What?" Charles had no idea what he was talking about, he looked at Silvia, her usual scowl and pointed look gone, replaced by genuine sadness, then he looked at Mia, eyes wide.

"Christian approached you and I’m sure whatever he offered was more than generous, after all, he wants you in his team next to Max for years now… I’m really sorry that you lost all trust in our team after last season, but I understand. You want to be world champion and after being let down far too many times, you had to do what feels right for you… you signed for Red Bull next season." Fred’s voice was laced with pain, guilt. The sadness in his face visible, but when Charles looked at him and started laughing, it turned into confusion with a hint of anger "I don’t know what’s so funny about that…"

"I’m sorry. Really… just… give me a moment…" he wiped away a tear, taking a few deep breaths to compose himself, a grin still on his lips when he cleared his throat "I didn’t sign with Red Bull. And no one officially approached me. Was I asked, more in a joking way, yeah, but nothing serious…"

"You- you didn’t sign with Red Bull?" Fred repeated and Charles nodded "Oh- well… umm okay… good. Really good… then, well, say what you wanted to say."

"Yeah…" Charles sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment, then he took a deep breath "I’m going to be a father… in around two months… it wasn’t planned. I’m not in a relationship with the mother and as soon as the child is born, I’ll have the sole custody and the mother is out of the picture. Forever."

Silence.

Big eyes.

Confusion.

"That wasn’t what I expected…" Silvia the first to break the silence.

"Now you wish I would’ve signed for Red Bull…" Charles halfheartedly joked, making Silvia’s eyes shot up at him "That wouldn’t be as much of a PR-nightmare for-…"

"Is it really your child? Did you make a paternity test?" she asked.

"We did… it’s mine. That night was a mistake, but the outcome is not. It’s my child."

"This conversation will never leave this room…" Silvia shook her head "You would be swarmed by the media. The Heartbreak Prince a single dad? Which of his short term lovers did he knock up? No. You and your child would never have any kind of peace for a long time. That’s not how a child should grow up! No one else in the team must know it as well. They are all too talkative. Someone would spill the beans accidentally. This is our secret. Understood?"

"Silvia, I think that’s Charles decision-…" Mia began but he shook his head.

"No. She’s right. It’s the best for us. The best for my child…"

"Okay. Umm- then… congratulations, I guess?" Fred got up, pulling Charles out of his seat, hugging him.

"Thanks." he mumbled and when his team principal let go of him, the two women did the same.

"You don’t want to know why I’ll be raising my child alone? Why the mother-…"

"No. You have your reasons. That’s all we need to know." Fred replied and Charles nodded slowly "So in 2 months? Around… Baku?"

"Will you take a break? Or what’s your plan?" Mia asked.

"I continue, like before. My mum and brothers will help me. I will spend as much time as possible at home during the races, so please, don’t make me attend too many sponsor events. Just the really important and necessary ones." Charles looked at Silvia who nodded.

"That can be arranged, Carlos can take over. And for the rest… we’ll figure it out. One step at the time." she said writing something down in her notebook, Mia and Fred nodding in agreement.

"We find a way to make this work."

"Thanks, I really appreciate it." Charles meant what he said.

He felt relieved that his team was taking the news so well and were keen to help him with his new task at hand. Maybe he could make it. Have it all. His career and his child. Become a world champion and a father.

22 April 2023:

A new life began at 3:27 in the morning at the Princess Grace Hospital in Monaco. As Charles saw his daughter for the very first time he knew, he would do everything to protect her, no matter what.

"We’ll take her, clean her up and check her through. You can stay with your girlfriend." the nurse told him and he pressed out a smile.

Girlfriend. No, she wasn’t his girlfriend. She was the mother of his daughter. Not more. Not less. The mother who wished to leave the hospital as soon as possible. Leave her daughter behind and never look back although Charles had tried everything to make her change her mind. He took one last deep breath before he knocked on the door.

"Come in." after he heard the faint voice he opened the door and walked inside.

"She’s healthy. They’re cleaning her up and checking her through and then bringing her back down…" Charles said, looking at the exhausted girl "It’s not too late, Alessia. You can still-…"

"No. I told you I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to hold it. I don’t want it, Charles." Alessia groaned and he nodded "Are the lawyers here?"

"They’re outside."

"Bring them in. I want this to be over. Once and for all." she said and Charles nodded again, walking outside.

"You can come in." he said to the awaiting lawyers who followed him back into the room.

"Let’s get this over with." the new mother said looking expectantly at her lawyer.

"Right, as discussed, Miss Bonetti will hand over the sole custody of the child to Mr. Leclerc. He will be recorded as father on the birth certificate. The child will have Mr. Leclerc’s last name." the lawyer said, looking at his client who nodded.

"Further, as Miss Bonetti stated she wants nothing to do with the child, we’ve prepared a NDA for your client to sign." Charles lawyer said, looking at the girl and her lawyer "My client will sign one as well, agreeing to never contact or mention Miss Bonetti. No one will know that the child is hers."

"What’s a NDA?" Alessia asked.

"A nondisclosure agreement. With signing it, you’re not allowed to talk about this whole situation with anyone. You can’t mention that you had a child." her lawyer explained.

"We’ve gone a step further with our demands."

"A step further? This wasn’t discussed beforehand!"

"Your client asked for a compensation. Mr. Leclerc paid for all medical bills, accommodation over the past 7 months, living expenses, maternity clothing, everything. Your client still demands a compensation for her inconvenience of being pregnant. Therefore my client agreed to pay the compensation, but on our terms."

"What terms?" the girl asked and looked at the Ferrari driver.

"You said you don’t want her. You want nothing to do with her. You want to be out of here and never look back. You want me to keep quiet about you being her mother. I gave you many chances to change your mind, you declined. You want to walk out of her life. Fine. But then you walk out forever. I want you to agree that you also never contact me, us, mention me or her and most importantly never tell anybody about our night together. It never happened. You don’t want this. Then it never happened. You were never pregnant. You and I. We don’t know each other. Not in the past. Not now. Never in the future. Today will be the last time we ever see each other." Charles said, his voice wavering.

"This means, if you ever change your mind, you can’t reach out. You sign away your right to see your daughter ever again." her lawyer said looking at her "You might want to think about that again, you’re exhausted? Maybe too vulnerable to make this decision just yet."

The young mother sat up and leaned forward, taking the NDA together with the declaration of custody out of her lawyers hands and took the pen from the side table.

"Where do I sign?" she asked.

"Here. And here. And here. And on the last page." her lawyer showed her the dotted lines in the documents, all pre signed by Charles, who took the NDA from the girls lawyer looking at it.

"The notary will be here any minute. He will certify the documents and from then on, this all never happened."

Charles got up and looked outside, when it knocked, expecting the notary. But there stood the nurse from earlier, holding his little bundle of joy.

"How’s Mummy? She wants to hold her little sunshine?" she asked as Charles stepped out onto the hallway, closing the door behind him.

"No, she’s… she’s not her mother." he took the little girl in his arms, cradling her to his chest "I mean-… umm she is but… no. She has only me."

"Oh. Okay. Well, we umm… we’ll talk then to her, she needs to be fed in the next hour…" the nurse said and Charles looked at her.

"I have formula? She- she won’t breastfeed her."

"I talk to the moth-… I talk to Miss Alessia. She can pump the-… I’ll talk to her. Here. You can rest with your little one in here." she opened up the door across the hallway, switching the light on.

Charles followed her inside, sitting down in the armchair.

"One last thing. Newborn babys love skin to skin contact. She’s a little squirming around, that’ll help."

"Take my shirt off?" Charles asked and the nurse nodded, taking the little girl out of his arms and he did as told, before the nurse opened up the blanket, wrapped around the newborn.

"Here. Hold her like before, just on your bare skin. Lean back. And let her hear your heartbeat. I’ll be back with some milk. And something to eat and drink for the new dad, you look exhausted. My name is Claudia, if you need anything, push the button." Claudia smiled and left the room.

He closed his eyes for a moment, his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He was a father now. A 25 year old single father, whose job it was to race around the world.

"Charles? It’s done. All documents are signed, the notary certified it all. They will bring Alessia to a different ward, she’ll stay here for 2 more days, so she can pump some more milk, then she’ll be discharged." his lawyer said, walking inside the quiet room.

"She will be gone? Forever? She has no right to ever contact me? Us? She’s only mine?" he asked.

"Yes. She signed away all her rights."

"How’s that even possible? She gave birth to her? She’s her child? How can she sign away everything?"

"I explained it to you. It works like at an adoption… she is her birth mother. Not more. Not less. By signing the NDA it’s like she never existed in your life. And vice versa."

"It’s just me and her?" Charles whispered, looking down at his most prized possession.

"It’s just you and her…" his lawyer nodded "In the coming days I’ll also take care of the hospital staff. It was only Claudia, the nurse, one of the doctors and the lady from administration, who filled out the birth certificate, who know that you’re involved in this. I’ll make them sign a NDA as well. No one will know about this unless you want to."

"Thank you, really. You thought of everything…" Charles mumbled, eyes trained on his daughter’s beautiful face.

"Yeah well, that’s my job… do you want me to call your mum? I’m sure she can’t wait to meet her granddaughter."

"Yeah… that would be good. Thanks." he still didn’t look up from his little angels face.

"Alright. The nurse will be back soon with a bottle for her." his lawyer was about to leave when Charles finally looked up at her.

"Is it enough? What I offered her? Will she be okay?" he almost felt guilty asking this question, like he paid the mother of his child to leave their life.

"You were more than generous, Charles. The amount of money you paid her is more than enough. She’ll be just fine." she smiled as she left.

He sighed and leaned back. In the quiet room, his precious daughter sleeping on his chest, he thought about his life almost a year ago, when he and his girlfriend of one year Charlotte broke up. It wasn’t like he didn’t love her. It was more like he didn’t love her enough, the way she deserved to be loved. She was a great girl. A good friend. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted an all consuming love. A love that made his heart beat faster, whenever he saw that special person. A love that made him crave for more and more. A love that would make him go crazy, in a good way. A love he knew would be his to hold dear and cherish for the rest of his days. That wasn’t Charlotte. And before her it wasn’t Marie. And before her it wasn’t Juliette. And before her it wasn’t Giada. The media didn’t call him the Heartbreak Prince for nothing. The Formula 1 driver who went through relationships like others went through their underwear. A messed up race and a drunk one night stand later, Charles knew they were right. But he also knew one thing for sure. This cycle was ending now. He had a daughter now. She would be his all consuming love. She would be the one he would hold dear and cherish for the rest of his days.

No more Heartbreak Prince.

Chapter 4 - Welcome on this planet, baby girl! Charles strikes me as the cutest girl dad 👉👈 I just had to make him one again 🙈

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!

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Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!

Taglist:

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verdemoun · 6 months ago

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The gang would go batshit over decorations in modern times, i think. Plants. Charles probably has a lot of indoor plants. Somehow he keeps them alive. The house is 70% kitchen 25% plants and the 5% is other stuff (aka Not Relevant).

I'm not sure what they're called in English, but those little gel fuckers you can stick to a window? Yeah that. I'm looking at them as I'm typing this shit. The first person to get them in shape of bloody handprints (again, what I'm looking at, I'm absolutely projecting) is sentenced to death aka a rant from Bessie.

PAINTING OH GOD. Let's be honest, those interested in building/house renovation are divided into two groups. Technical stuff, aka Charles for example, and decorating. They tried to paint on furniture at least once. And it's pretty!! Hey, carving into wood isn't the only option anymore, furniture can be colorful! Those girls on social media that paint furniture and it's funky but also rly pretty??? Yeah that's happening. *glances at mr morgan*

Same for wall decorating. You mentioned Lenny's uhhh right okay i forgot what it was called in the middle of typing. I am. drunk actually. sorry lol. But that wall where he's gonna figure out who appears next? Yeah that was the start. Then came notes for his studies. Someone saw that and had a wait you can do that??? moment. Posters appear soon enough. Abigail wishes she could have double sided tape in Beecher's Hope. Jack's old drawings would be up on the wall, much to his embarrassment. Luckily for him, nothing survived.

I'm so normal abt this au okay

Took a week to reply because this is just a yes and post absolutely 100% nailed it you get it. A+ gold star sticker like lost my mind multiple times over this. Welcome to the timewarp brainrot you get a name badge and t-shirt official uniform of people who just get it. We're all so normal here.

Arthur might have a garden bed outside full of herbs for cooking but Charles is the king of indoor plants. Arthur is banned from touching them because he will overwater them and Charles will give him the quiet treatment. The plants are on the couch if people are coming over Charles will grumble about having to move his plants. The gang absolutely believe they miss 1899 camping so much they are trying to make their house look as much like outside as possible. These are not traditional houseplants there are vines and flowers and a homemade hydroponics set-up growing vegetables.

I love that shit it was Sean he was at least self-aware enough to know he'd get in trouble and put it on the window of his trailer/caravan only to be woken up by Bessie who was originally panicked he'd been hurt and then threatened to hurt him herself for putting bloody handprints on the window like she wasn't meant to panic. Still gives her a heart attack when she walks out. Lenny got annoyed he has no talent for drawing meanwhile Arthur successfully covered the whole kitchen window with mock stained glass that makes the house glow with the whole color spectrum when the sun catches it just right.

Mr Poor rancher John Martson is the worst at hoarding road-side furniture, has accidentally brought bed bugs into the house at least once. However Abigail queen of youtube adores fixing up and painting furniture with Arthur's help if she texts he knows it's a solid 50/50 their sons are in jail OR she needs to borrow the soda blaster again. By borrow she needs him to come over and do it she refuses to learn herself she just likes painting. Loves painting. Best in-laws ever fixing up furniture together. Arthur does the fine details like cabinets with birds and plants painted on the side so intricately.

Lenny's murder wall!! When they realize how much easier it is to pin things to walls than it is tents they all absolutely go nuts. Bessie struggles so much not wanting to interrupt them learning they can express themselves and feel stable enough in their new home to put their own personality into it but Sean goes through a phase of putting up take-away menus instead of posters and photos just because colorful. Abigail is so determined to let Jack be a kid she knows her poor boy grew up way too fast and is still trying to act like an adult despite being 19 she wants him to know he's always her baby. He certainly isn't much of a artist anymore but she will frame serviettes he scribbles poetry and song lyrics on to his mortification. First time she went to a hardware store she 'stole' almost every single paint color swatch and just pinned them up for a bit before realizing wait I can actually... buy paint. First thing she did was paint the kitchen blue. Lets her daughter draw on the walls. The centerpiece is a massive print of the blueprints to Beecher's Hope they found in an history archive, framed above the wall mounted gas heater in place of a fireplace.

#rdr2 timewarp au #clawing at the walls of my enclosure you GET IT pal

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applepiesupreme · 4 months ago

Text

American Apple Pie

Pairing: Low/Mid Honor Arthur Morgan and female OC.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Savigne Ricci is a temporary guest at the Van der Linde camp. Her path crosses with the enforcer of the gang, Arthur Morgan, and despite their differences, a relationship develops between them. Whole lot of smut and fluff, slow burn-ish.

AOC link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54945853/chapters/147629797

Chapter 26

The next morning she woke up with him flush against her back, legs and arms tangled with hers. It reminded her of the cat in one of the orphanages who wouldn’t let anyone pet him but who had the habit of seeking out and snuggling in bed with whoever disliked him the most after they fell asleep. She tried to untangle herself slowly but he woke up and moved away. She stumbled out of bed, waved his attempts to help away and dressed herself. He dressed up as well, jaw set, shoulders rigid with determination. When she took her satchel and turned to leave the tent, she found him holding the flap open for her. She hesitated with surprise, then walked out and, to her chagrin, he followed.

He started to saddle up Frost and she was too curious not to ask: “Where are you going?”

“Gonna ride to Saint Denis. I’ll drop you off.”

She froze, her plans of spending another day groveling in anger and self pity spoiled. “I’m not in a hurry,” she cleared her throat. “You go ahead.”

“I ain’t pressed on time,” he said, throwing her a look. “We ride together.”

Jesus, was there ever a man as stubborn as Arthur Morgan? He had given her plenty of time and distance when she had been struggling after his recovery, but now he clung to her like a tick, unwilling to let her drift out further than she already had. She climbed up her saddle and rode out with him, furiously thinking of how to navigate her way out of this predicament. They made it halfway to Saint Denis before she was finally convinced that she couldn’t shake him off and slowed Cricket to a halt. “I’m not going to work,” she admitted sheepishly. “I have the rest of the week off.”

His eyebrows rose as he turned Frost around and guided him to step closer. “That so?” he drawled, with complete lack of surprise. “Where was ya goin’ then?”

She shrugged. “Wherever I want, I guess. Go to your business.”

He gave her an intense look, swaying on his horse. “It can wait.”

“Maybe go back to camp,” she countered, irked by his stubbornness. “Gang might need you. Or Abigail.”

His face tightened but he didn’t move otherwise. “‘M right where I wanna be.” he said, eyes hard.

“You know, you used to be a lot easier to irritate,” she observed. The Arthur who had joined her on the shooting range that first time probably would have backhanded her and trotted off by now.

“Grew tougher skin I guess. Seein’ you have some claws on ya.” He urged his horse to come closer still, then crossed his elbows on the pommel.

“Wanna go fishin’?”

“Wouldn’t want to waste your precious ti-”

“I know a spot.”

She pursed her lips, looking into the distance.

“Think you’ll like it,” he pressed.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, eyes following the horizon line. “And I don’t have my pole with me.”

“I got yer pole,” he said, dismissively brushing over the fact that he had, God knows how, suspected all along that she wasn’t going to work. “And…" he continued with a more serious tone, "Got things to say.”

She sighed. “What kind of things?”

“Important things,” he said gravely.

She had to admit, there was something compelling about the way he said it, eyes locked to hers, face grim. She was a little intrigued and it was pretty clear that she wasn’t going to get rid of him, so she sighed “Okay I guess,” and motioned for him to lead the way.

They rode towards Saint Denis but instead of continuing into town he turned Frost north, towards the Bayou and Savigne followed, her intrigue intensifying. She swiveled around on the saddle, trying to take it all in. This was wild country, a place she hadn’t dared to come to alone before. She gaped at the tall trees, covered in moss, listened attentively to the unfamiliar sounds of croaking and hooting and growling. It was eerily empty and they barely ran into anyone, riding for long minutes to the clop of their own horses.

“Wanna talk about why,” he said suddenly and broke her out of her stupor.

“Why?”

“Why Abigail happened.”

She straightened on her saddle. “I’m not sure I want to kn-”

“Ya need to know. Meant to tell you before…just was never a good time.” His discomfort made her curious, so she swallowed her protests and urged Cricket to be abreast with Frost. The horses slowed down to a mere walk and he was quiet for several minutes, but she knew he liked to take his time and didn’t intervene.

“I know gang loves t'talk,” he sighed, “‘M sure they told ya ‘bout me and Mary.”

“I heard some things,” she said, carefully. It wasn’t a topic she had expected him to breach.

”We was engaged,” he said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. “Long time ago now. Didn’ work out.”

The opportunity was too good to pass. “Why?”

He blew out some smoke, thoughtful as if he was debating the question in his head. “Wasn’ just one thing. Her daddy didn’ think me good enough, that’s one. She wan’ed me to leave the life, that’s ‘nother.”

It only confirmed what she had darkly suspected - that he hadn’t left the gang for Mary and the odds of him doing that for her seemed more dismal than ever. He was always going to say no, she thought, feeling a little vindicated but also a whole lot sadder for it.

”You could have,” she mumbled before she could stop herself. “Leave the gang, I mean.”

He took a deep breath. She knew he wasn’t much of a talker when it came to private matters, but as uncomfortable as he looked, today he seemed determined to make an exception. “She wan’ed me to leave my family, my trade. That’s fair,” he explained. “But she wasn’ gonna do the same.” He shot her a glance. “Wan’ed to marry Mary, true. But didn’ wanna be a penniless toy for her father to push around. She couldn’ see it. Wouldn’ see it.” He smirked. “Don’ matter.”

She tried to read his demeanor. There was regret there, no doubt, but she was surprised to also find resolve. Arthur was a proud man and the scenario he described would have been difficult for someone like him. But she could also understand Mary - hell, she practically was Mary right now, wasn’t she?

“Point bein’, she moved on,” he cleared his throat. “Married some fool and I was real broken up ‘bout it.” He smoked casually for a few moments. “Did what I always do - drank m’self stupid. Was a night, I did just that and met a girl. Eliza.”

He gave her a flick of the eyes. “She was a waitress. After the saloon closed we…fooled around.” He ran a palm over his beard, uncomfortable about the disclosure but stubbornly pushed on: “Left the next morning and didn’ think ‘bout her again. Few months later when I was back in town, she told me she was with child.” Her head whipped around to him with disbelief. He gave her a tired nod. “Yeah. Wasn’ happy bout it. Wasn’ ready for any of that, didn’ want the kid, didn’ want her. She was sweet enough but was just a fling to me, didn’ want more.” He swayed on Frost, one hand holding the cigarette, the other loosely on the reins.

“She had the baby, a boy. Named him Isaac.” He looked at her incredulous face, then away, smoking. “Wasn’ happy but tried to step up. Went every few months to see how they was doin’ and drop a couple dollars.” He blew out the smoke and grew silent for a few minutes. “Me and her wasn’ well matched and it got only worse from there. Towards the end, she used to look at me like I was the devil. But Isaac was a sweet boy and him I grew to love. He was shy and quiet. I ‘member wonderin’ who he got that from,” he mused, eyes hazy with memory. “I was a chatty fool back then and Eliza was anythin’ but quiet,” he snorted bitterly.

He smoked the cigarette to the stub and threw it away. “Few years passed. My next visit, they was gone. Didn’ own much but whatever they had was gone to the bone. Thought they moved. Eliza was angry I wasn’ doing’ more, thought she had enough, packed up and left. Was angry at first.”

He sighed. “But then I found two graves in the back.” She tried not to but couldn’t help gaping at him with disbelief. He grimaced ahead, refusing to look at her. “They was robbed and killed over ten dollars,” he finished and there was something in his tone she had never heard before.

“God,” she whispered after a long silence, stunned. “I’m so sorry Arthur.”

He nodded in acceptance and maneuvered Frost to trot ahead. She respectfully drew back a little and followed him. So much loss. Loss of his parents. Loss of Mary. Loss of a son. Loss of friends - violent and sudden in most cases. But beyond that, also loss of a childhood. And his whole adult life a loss to crime. She wondered what made Arthur keep going because she would be a weeping mess on the floor if that was her. She had lost her parents, true, but she had been so young, one could argue it wasn’t a true loss, because she couldn’t remember what having parents even felt like. And after that she had always kept a careful distance with people, reluctant in forming bonds. Losing a child was something she couldn’t even comprehend.

Why it had never crossed her mind as a possibility was a mystery. In light of this disclosure everything made a lot more sense. His gentleness towards Jack. His weak spot for Abigail whenever she came running with a request. She knew it was unfair to herself but couldn't help a feeling of inadequacy germinating in her chest. When Sister Rodriguez had told her that she would never have children of her own, Savigne had been merely a girl, so it hadn't bothered her in the least. And afterwards for a long time she had felt liberated by it - one more thing she didn't have to worry about. Now, always eager for self-depreciation, she wondered if this made her...lacking in Arthur's eyes. She rode behind him, watching his broad back and tried to muffle her merciless inner voice.

“Was my fault of course,” he picked up the thread many minutes later, voice harder. He slowed down Frost to fall abreast with Cricket again. “Young woman and a child defenseless like that, course it was gonna happen. But I was too taken with being an outlaw, being with the gang. After Mary, maybe more than before. Told myself it was fine to leave them. Was all bullshit.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze wandering the surrounding bayou. "Sometimes I think on it, try to ‘member it properly. Don’ think I can, no more. Can’t think of the good moments without thinkin’ of what followed. It’s all…tainted.”

He looked at her for the first time in a long while. “It ruined me, Savigne,” he said softly. “The guilt. Murdered a young woman, killed m’own child because I wan’ed to play outlaw. Ain’t no forgiveness for that,” he managed to choke out. “I was…sick...for a long time. Drunk for a year. Somethin’ died in me and never grew back." A pause and a sigh after: "That’s when Abigail happened.”

She swallowed and looked away.

“She was in camp few months, she wan'ed the money, I wan'ed t'forget, thought 'what’s the harm?'. If I knew she was gonna stick 'round, retire and be with Marston, would have never touched her. Even I ain’t that dumb.”

“I see.” she nodded with pressed lips.

“Meant to tell ya. Wan’ed to. But…didn’.” he finished lamely.

“Why?” was her careful question.

A long while passed. Just when she thought that he wasn’t going to answer, he said “Honest? Told ya I was a bad man. Many times. Even showed ya. But you never treated me like one.” There was a rough shrug of the shoulders. “Think I grew to like that more than I care to admit. Didn’ wanna lose it.”

The shame that was coming off of him was searing, intense. The notion that he put so much value in her opinion of him touched her in a way she couldn't explain. It was like noticing a vulnerability, a weak point in his armor she hadn’t expected to find and it made her feel irrationally protective of him.

“Listen here,” he cleared his throat. “I feel nothin’ for Abigail that way. But you was right when you said I played family. I did,” he shrugged. “Wasn’ all pure. Sometimes I did it to ease m'own mind. Sometimes to piss off Marston. But, I never stepped down and I should ‘ave. I’m stepping down now. It’s done. I like Abigail. But you’re my woman,” he said with an intense look. “Ya believe me?”

The jealousy was still there, refusing to dissipate. But she couldn’t deny that Luther’s opinion had wormed its way into her brain and Arthur’s explanation was hard to ignore. “Yeah,” she admitted begrudgingly.

He nodded, satisfied and rolled his shoulders.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

When they arrived at a ramshackle town, Arthur dismounted to buy bait from an old lady fanning herself in a rocking chair on her porch. She glided off Cricket, fascinated by this new location and strolled up her steps to walk around her shack. It overlooked a lake and she leaned on the railing to watch it as he did his shopping. It was hot and stifling here, barely anything moved. The air was thick and heavy, every breath felt like breathing underwater. She timidly watched the gators floating in the lake and listened to the cawing and the hooting and the croaking. After the bustling of Saint Denis, it felt remarkably hushed. He came to stand next to her, mirroring her and fishing for another cigarette. There was a silence between them but it it wasn't hostile or awkward for what felt like a long time.

“Savigne," he exhaled smoke after a while, squinting out to the lake. "Ain't gonna let you go live in a cabin alone. Can’t do it. Won’ do it.”

Somehow, the real reason for his resistance made it worse because now she understood it for what it was - a hard border he wouldn't entertain crossing under any circumstances.

“I understand. But…”

“Gimme few months,” he interjected, still gazing out to the water, his face unreadable.

She watched his profile for a while. “What happens in a few months?”

He played with his cigarette for a moment before he finally turned to give her a long look. “We leave together.”

The expression on her face must have been profound because he added a self-conscious mutter of “Ain’t the worst idea”, before he focused on scraping the mud off his soles on the edge of the veranda planks.

“No, it’s just…you never said anything,” she stammered when she found her voice again.

His lips bowed. “Ya never asked,” was the simple response.

“I’ve been blabbering about a cabin for months," was her incredulous objection. "Since we met, even. You never said you’re interested.”

“Never heard a ‘we’ when ya talk bout that.”

“Well…I didn’t want to…” His eyebrows rose as she searched for the right word. “…presume.”

“So ya presumed I wouldn’?”

She huffed a cough of laughter.

“Lemme guess,” he said, glancing at her. “Ya presumed I was…” he scratched his beard as he searched his memory. “…a ‘deceptive man, stringin' you along’ - that it?”

This up close, he felt magnetic, like he had his own gravitational field and she was in it, sizzling with the pull of it. It still surprised her, how casually handsome Arthur was. And how little he seemed to notice it himself. He made next to no effort to dress up or groom himself, often seemed oblivious to the entire concept of self care, more focused on caring for his guns or keeping his journal clean than he was of his own person. But somehow he always looked splendid. He kept his hair longer now, knowing she liked it and summer had stripped it into a pale gold. His skin was shades darker from when she had first seen him, giving his pallor a healthy glow. He was bigger somehow, no doubt filling up thanks to his voracious appetite and the dinners she was cooking him, but it all seemed to go to the right places on him and never the places it went on her - his waist was still trim, his stomach flat, but his shoulders larger, rounder as he leaned over the railing.

“What about the gang?” She said after a while, trying to break out of her stupor. The temptation to pinch herself was overwhelming.

He grimaced to the distance. “Done that all m’life,” he sighed before he gave her a long look. “Wanna do somethin’ else now.” Then a hitch of the shoulders, a subtle grin sent her way: “‘Sides…ya make good lazan ya...Think it could work.”

Two days ago she was certain there was no point in asking the question. Hell, an hour ago she had been sure he was never going to agree. And now he suggested it - unprompted- as easily and naturally as asking her for a date. She felt as if struck by lightning. It was inconceivable.

Maybe, she thought then, there is something to be said for being in the right place at the right time. For arriving at the back end of mistakes and regrets and meeting a man when he is older, wiser. A man who had come to grips with the fact that he won’t live forever and wary of repeating the same blunders.

"I don’t know," she stalled to gather her wits. Her heart was beating in her ears and it took everything to make her voice not quiver. "We fight a lot."

"We don' fight," he scratched his beard. "A lot," he added, probably taking the last few days into consideration. "Would be less if ya listened to yer man, tell ya that."

It was said playfully, with no menace and so was her scoff in response.

There were inches between them but neither made the attempt to close the distance as they stared out across the water. It felt bizarre to talk about something so momentous as if they were talking about what to have for dinner, but here they were. With her previous partners, Savigne had always been the odd one, the weird one, the awkward one. Now that she was matched with someone who was awkward in his own way, sometimes that meant doing this strange dance where they both played down big things to find a way to talk around them.

”Worked fine for me,” he said a long moment later. “This past summer.” He gave her a flick of the eyes. “You?”

She felt breathless, dizzy. But managed an answer: “Worked for me, too.”

He nodded at that. Sometimes Arthur had a certain shyness about him that she found quite endearing. It was rare and rarer still as he grew more comfortable around her, but not completely gone. He was the picture of male confidence, cocky and self-assured. Often he was extremely bold with her and enjoyed dominating her and she was the one who blushed and squirmed. But every now and then he had the vulnerability of a young boy he couldn’t quite mask well enough or maybe didn’t try to.

“Could be boring,” she tried to alleviate the awkwardness. "Life without the gang."

He clicked his tongue and looked away again. “‘M okay with boring.”

“What if you miss the action?”

“Ain’t gonna miss gettin’ shot at,” was his dismissive reply.

”What if you miss your friends?”

”Guess ‘m gonna have to make new friends.”

“What if…”

”All that don’ matter none,” he said gently, steering her away from her spiraling.

“Why do you need this time?” she asked at last, more somber.

“Dutch took me in at fourteen,” he said, squinting into the bright day. “Never been to school. Never learned a trade. This here the only thing I know. Ain’t nothin’ to be proud of,” he grimaced, watching a flock of cranes glide in to settle on the lake. “But it’s what I got.” A hardness crept into his voice when he continued: “Put my life in this. My best years. Gave up a lot for it.” The look in his eyes when he glanced her way was brimming with determination. “Ain’t walkin’ away broke to leave it all to Dutch.”

“But…I have money, too,” she tried.

He shook his head. “‘M a man,” he rolled his shoulders. “Gotta bring somethin’ to the table.” She knew that, of course. She was proud, but so was he. He wasn't going to show up empty handed, it went against his whole code, his identity. Even if it didn't matter to her, it mattered a whole lot to him.

“This last week has been tough. Risky. Draining. Months of that…is…a lot.”

He ran a palm over his beard, eyes flicking to her for a moment as he threw his cigarette butt into the lake. “I let Dutch talk me into shit I shouln’ have. Won’ happen again.”

She took a deep breath, trying to find a gentle way of voicing her doubts.

“Savigne," he said softly and turned to lean his elbow on the railing, facing her. “Stay with me.” He hesitated for a moment, but then his right palm came to rest lightly on her lower back and when she didn't move away, remained, more confident. His eyes were steady, earnest and clear, trying to convey his sincerity. "I will do right by you. Couple o’months. All I’m askin’.”

“And if you still don’t have what you need in a couple of months?”

He pressed his lips. “Then we get the cabin. Together.”

There was a long silence and he waited patiently while she pretended to debate it in her head, even though there really was no debate. Just like there never had been a debate when she had left the orphanage. Or when she had decided to cook for a living. Trepidation, sure. Some hesitation, some strife. But never enough to warrant a debate. She loved him profoundly, but that seemed almost secondary. Truth was, without the gang, he was perfect. Not perfect as in flawless, but perfect as in fitting - his corners and bends aligned with hers. Maybe it would work out or maybe, as soon as they were alone with each other, it would fall apart. But a couple of months seemed like a small price to pay to find out.

“Okay,” she whispered finally.

He dipped his head and nodded, his hat momentarily hiding his face from her. When he raised it again, she surprised him by grabbing his shirt to pull him down and crush her lips against his. A moment later he responded with matching fervor, lips latching to hers, aggressive and unapologetic. His hand on her lower back jerked her towards himself and she rose on her toes to snake her arms around his neck, kissing him with fervent need. He pushed her against the railing, his tongue hot and eager, seeking entrance and she moaned lowly with the eruption of excitement in her gut.

”You kids better be doin’ nothin’ unchristian back there,” came the shout from around the corner.

They flinched apart like teenagers. “No ma’am,” Arthur managed after a moment, his hand gliding lower to fondle her buttocks, eyes set on her like they meant to burn a hole through her as he tilted his head to capture her lips again.

“Good, cause this here is the Lord’s house,” was her follow up.

Savigne pulled back, wrestling to get her emotions under control, but he was unwilling to let go. He leaned in, placing his forehead on hers, pulling her closer still, flattening her against himself.

”Just admirin’ the view,” he called back, chasing her lips.

”’Mire it from somewhere else!” was the sharp rebuke.

She grinned and detached herself from his reluctant arms, stepping back and slapping his hands away.

”Thank you for the bait,” she called, trying to detach his palm from her buttocks. “Let go,” she whispered to him, half amused, half embarrassed.

“Wan’ me to knock her out cold?” he breathed, his other hand bunching up her skirt.

She bit her lip to stifle her burst of laughter and pushed against his chest. “What happened to going fishing?”

”Made me forget all ‘bout that, didn’ ya?” he smirked, still trying to get under her skirt.

”Well I’m reminding you then,” she growled, battling his hands.

He sighed and adjusted his hat, gave her look and turned around. “Fine,” he said, somewhat grouchy and held out a hand behind his back. She took it and followed him around to the front. She colored a little at the stinky eye the old woman was giving them.

Arthur touched the rim of his hat with a “Ma’am,” and walked towards the horses, unperturbed. The spring in his step was unmistakable and she grinned, feeling like she was walking on air.

He clicked his tongue as he set out. "What happened to that guy anyway?"

"What guy?”

"Deceptive man in the book."

She urged Cricket to follow as they left the town and headed further north. "He married the girl."

"Thought he was married.”

"His wife died in a fire."

"Ya don’ say,” he said with audible amusement over his shoulder.

"Wasn’t his doing, she was mad and started the fire," she explained.

His hum indicated strong doubt as he urged Frost into a trot. They took several turns into side paths, going deeper into the Bayou. It was dim and hushed here, the hoof beat of their horses muffled. Finally he stopped and dismounted and she followed suit. He took Frost’s reins and pulled out a gun, continuing on foot. She followed, trying to stay close. The shot made her jump. Something slithered into the water ahead and her skin crawled.

“Uh…this seems…a little…inconvenient for fishing,” she stammered.

He grinned but didn’t answer and moved on. Another shot, plucking dirt by a sun tanning gator sent it ambling off as they came to a clearing at the edge of stagnant, murky water. He glanced around and once satisfied, went to his saddle to unpack the fishing rods and handed hers over as she pulled Cricket closer to the clearing, away from the underbrush. He gave her some bait, then hooked his and swung it far into the water.

“Two outta three wins,” he said.

“What!?” she froze. “Wins what?”

He shrugged. “Whatever,” he said with a smile on his lips.

“You should have said that,” she sputtered, hastily preparing her rod. “It’s unfair to start early.”

He hummed in amusement. “Life ain’t fair.”

She came to stand next to him, hooked her bait and swung out her bobber. Afterwards she took a nervous look around and inched closer to him because every log and mound of mud looked like a gator. Not too long later he grunted and started to reel in. She watched, fascinated as he pulled out a respectable size of a gar. It fiercely slithered on the mud. He grabbed it and hit the head with the butt of his gun and it went slack. He threw it back towards the horses.

“Ain’t got no luck today huh?” he mused as he prepared his rod.

“You started early,” she hissed, “So that one doesn’t count.”

“Ya know what,” he sighed as his sinker strummed and flew over the water, “‘M in a generous mood. We start now.”

She squared her feet, pleased. They didn’t talk for a while.

“Nice day,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“Haven't done much together lately,” he drawled, watching the water. “Missed it.”

She concentrated on the reverberations on her pole that never came. “A lot going on,” was her distracted mumble.

He smirked into the distance. “Don’t make it right,” he said a while later. “Life’s short. Can end any day.” His broad shoulders hitched. “Should make time for things that matter.”

A comfortable silence set in between them as she dared to think of the unimaginable: life with Arthur without the gang. Just the two of them. Waking up together every day, without distractions, without worries of harm, without Dutch and Micah and the rest of it. She couldn’t remember ever being this happy, she felt breathless with the force of it.

Suddenly a buzz from his angler and she gaped as he reeled in another, smaller gar. He fought it into the mud, then carefully unhooked it to throw it back in. “That’s one,” his eyes flicked at her with amusement. She harrumphed and reeled her bait in. It was still there. He chuckled when he saw it. “Thought ya was good at this?”

She made a face at him, hooked up fresh bait and swung it out. A few minutes passed. He made a noise and she protested “No way!” as he reeled in his line but thankfully the next fish escaped the hook before he could get it to the bank. She grinned at that and fervently wished for her pole to tremble, but it remained stiff and calm in her hands. She groaned when his bobber flew out again.

“So this cabin,” he said, scratching his beard. “What’s it like?”

“Don’t know,” she grinned shyly.

“Ya must have somethin’ in mind.”

“I mostly pictured the kitchen.”

“That so?”

“Yeah. Huge kitchen. Windows everywhere. Ice box. Oven. Hearth. And a running sink.” she mused.

“Sounds nice,” he said. Then: “Gotta have a tub. Big enough for two.”

She clicked her tongue. “Of course that’s where your head goes.”

“Sturdy table,” he said casually, adjusting his hat and giving her a side-eye. “Lots of counter space in the kitchen…”

She shook her head and ignored him, he was most certainly trying to make her blush.

He seemed to take her composure as a challenge: “But ya know what we really need?”

“I’m afraid to ask” was her dry response.

“One o’them headboards.”

“A headboard?”

“Gotta be solid.” he nodded seriously. “Won’t break when I grab it.” He was visibly pleased when her color started to rise. “No neighbors, won’ have to mind the bangin’.”

“Jesus,” she managed just when his line started to sing, promising a big haul.

“The hell?” she protested, watching with dismay and frustration.

He grinned at her expression and continued, fighting inch by inch until a massive longnose flopped into view. He chuckled as she swiped at his pole, trying to make him drop it and shouldered her away. “Hey now,” he laughed.

“Life ain’t fair,” she hissed and tried to stab fingers into his ribs. He chortled loudly but it was more at her desperation, not the finger stabbing and lifted the pole away from her reach, still reeling.

“Three out of five!” she yelled as the fish was merely ten feet away.

“Nah,” he chuckled. “Think I’m good.”

“Damn it! I bet you cheated!”

He smirked in her direction, fighting the gar. “Sounds like loser talk t’me.”

She swiped at his shoulders.

“Watch the hat,” he laughed. “I drop that, ya wading in t’get it.” That cowed her and she gave up with a click of the tongue.

She stepped away from the flopping, coiling monster that he somehow managed to pull back to the muddy bank. He delivered a single, heavy thud on the head and the animal went slack. He grunted, pleased, threw it next to the other one and dropped to his haunches to wash off his hands. She gathered her line and folded her angler, annoyed, ignoring his amusement at her expression. They stuffed their poles into the saddles but he halted her after with a light grip on the arm.

“I won,” he grinned at her scowl.

“Yeah, I saw,” she huffed and made to take the reins, but his grip tightened.

“Ain’t ya forgetting something?” She cocked an eyebrow. “My reward?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, what do you want?”

He hung his hat on the pommel of the saddle and stepped closer. The mood shifted so suddenly, she was unprepared for it. She blinked when his hand cupped her face. “How ‘bout,” he drawled, inching closer still to loom over her, “a kiss?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed coyly, “That’s quite an ask.” His other hand cupped her other cheek and forced her to look up at him.

“What I want,” he said, eyes momentarily dropping to her lips. “Earned it.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” she whispered, “But a promise is a promise.” She threw her arms around his neck, rising on her toes to kiss him, long and deep. His left hand gripped her waist, pulling her against himself as he cupped her head with his other hand, kissing her back, first gentle and tender, then with more vigor. His tongue gliding over her lower lip, behind it, brushing her teeth, then moving back up, suckling harder, massaging her upper lip. He tilted his head further and his kiss became firmer, bigger. The fingers in her hair gently closing as he tilted his head the other way to kiss her again, bolder, more demanding. Dreamily she felt herself walked back until her back hit a tree, mesmerized by the taste of him. Standing on the mound around the tree, she found that she was eye level with him for once. He kissed her harder, a hand dropping to her throat to push her face up as he covered her body with his.

“Ya sore cause you lost?” he murmured against her lips, the hand on her waist impatiently throwing her skirt out of the way to cup her over her bloomers.

“Yeah,” was her shudder of an exhale when his fingers deftly began to massage her. She squirmed against him, moaning helplessly as he left a trail of wet kisses along her neck and suckled her earlobe.

A hot puff of “Too bad” as his lips closed on her neck, gently suckling, puckering her skin.

She moaned with the sensation, head swimming, gasping against his neck as she inhaled his scent of sweat, horse and cigarette, and bit her lower lip when that familiar coil strummed in her gut. Something splashed in the water and she opened her mouth to voice her concerns but his lips instantly took the invitation and crushed her words into meaningless muffles. His hand cupping her below pressed in, fingers moving slowly and she let out a shudder of air through her nose. He came up for air and looked at her, eyes blazing with arousal. He watched her as he massaged her over the thin fabric and she trembled as if it was some sort of witchcraft, undoing her, her hips grinding against him. A wetness erupted in her as her folds undulated at the thought of him in her, closing on nothing. His lips hovered over hers, fingers ruining her bloomers, teasing.

His hand on her neck glided around and shackled the back of her neck as he dipped in again, unapologetic, forceful, parting her lips brutishly, tongue diving in to assert his claim. She didn’t fight him, opening the gates willingly and stepping aside to let him do as he pleased, to take what he wanted. The hands then snaked under her skirt and tugged her bloomers down before his fingers zeroed in to what they were seeking with easy precision. The wetness he found there dilated his pupils. She twitched against him and he grunted lustily, digits gliding over her sticky wetness. He crushed her lips again as she squirmed and stumbled to step out her bloomers, then hastily swiped his suspenders of his shoulders. But when she reached for the buttons of his trousers he slapped her hand away and stepped a little back.

”Asked for a kiss,” he smiled, dropping to his knees in front of her, heedless of the mud, “Didn’ say where, did I?”

Her skirts were thrown out of the way and she gasped as he roughly shouldered her legs apart and hands palmed her buttocks to jerk her closer. A moment later, his hot mouth on her folds, making her jump. By God, what a kiss it was! She whimpered his name, squirming against his hold, hands gripping his shoulders, feeling herself unravel with every stroke of his tongue. He threw one leg over his shoulder and she whined as she was exposed to him completely and he hummed with appreciation, diving in with more gusto, shamelessly lapping at her wetness.

Her back arched and her head thumped against he tree, a peal of heavy moans falling from her lips, her fingers desperately clawing into his shoulders. His merciless lips parting her without hesitation, his tongue entering her to make her scream his name, then withdrawing to drive closer and closer circles to the center of her pleasure, her bud that was pulsing with white hot need. She writhed above him, torn between wanting to withdraw to prolong the pleasure and wanting to intensify it to its peak. She found herself saying things she never even imagined thinking, a cascade of adulation for him, whispered with religious reverence. Then his lips closed on her bud and she shuddered, bucking against him helplessly as she screamed his name into the stillness of the bayou.

She was still panting hard when he rose to kiss her, sharing her taste with her. “I like the way you sing, little bird,” he mumbled against her lips as he grasped her waist to hold her upright while she swayed on trembling legs. He pressed her against the tree and kissed her again, slower and gentler, dipping to her neck and shoulders, allowing her to recover her breath. Hands gliding on her chest and hips, cupping her face and kissing her again before suckling her neck. His hardness against her stomach grinding against her as he grunted with the pleasure of the friction.

Minutes passed before he unbuttoned his trousers and took himself at hand, stroking and coating himself with his precum. Then he roughly pulled up her left thigh and guided himself into her, pushing slowly until his pelvis was flush against her. He guided her leg to hook his waist before he palmed her buttocks for support and braced himself against the tree with his other hand. He watched her face as he slowly pulled out and rocked back in, filling her completely. She moaned at the sensation and couldn’t look away from his eyes as he repeated the motion, slowly but firmly.

He worried her lips and watched her start panting again as he languidly bucked into her. Her eyes fluttered as a wave of heat started building in her and she whimpered and squirmed under his heavy gaze. He breathed into her mouth and licked her lips as he increased his tempo. She snaked an arm around his neck, gasping and moaning helplessly at the renewed buildup of pleasure.

Her other hand dropped to his exposed buttocks, clenching at the firm muscle as if to push him deeper as he grunted, setting a harsh rhythm. In a haze, she wondered when they had sex last because despite knowing that it couldn’t have been long at all, she felt famished for it. The same hunger was reflected in his impatient groping, the unceasing assault of his lips, his sloppy bucking.

He whispered praises against her ear as her muscles tensed, trying to enhance the impact of his thrusting. Her leg folded on him, desperate to keep him closer still. He shuddered at her peal of moans, fighting to prolong a losing battle, fucking her into the tree with more and more zeal as she squirmed, trying to find purchase so he can hit her right there. He kissed her throat, then suckled it feverish as his hips slapped into her, jerking her upwards with every thrust, his big hand cupping her buttock to keep her in place as he chased her pleasure.

“Gonna make ya sing again,” he growled and deftly angled her with the expertise of someone who knew her body better than herself and when his cock bruised a spot inside her, she choked out a lusty whimper. He moaned in response and did it again and again and again when suddenly the coil sprang open in her and she clawed at his shoulders, helplessly releasing a silent scream to the sky, spasming with her orgasm, nails digging into his pistoning buttocks. He rocked into her a few more times before he joined her, a shaky, deep rumble traveling through his chest and pluming on her neck.

Her head hit the tree with a thud and her eyelids fluttered as blood started lazily pumping back into her brain. He dropped her leg and embraced her flush against his chest as if he meant to bury her into himself. They panted, trying to draw breath in the soupy air of the swamp, sweat springing from every pore. She felt warm rivulets racing down her thighs and focused on lightening her talon hold on his buttocks, gently caressing over the marks of her nails in his skin.

“You cheated…didn’t you?” she gasped, distantly amused that this was the first thing her working brain managed to spit out.

His nod against her neck would have outraged her if not for her lightheaded exhaustion. “Gave ya…wrong…bait,” he huffed.

“I fucking…hate you,” she said weakly and he chuckled, breathless.

He pulled back a little to look at her and she gazed back, enjoying the even eye level. His thumb brushed her lower lip, his eyes dancing with something she was too dazed to read.

“Savigne,” he sighed with that particular lilt of his that always made her name sound so exotic and special. “Tell me what you want. What you really want.”

Words she couldn’t make sense of but somehow understood anyway. ‘What’s in your secret heart?’ he meant, ‘Unlock it and let me see’.

She parted her lips, unsure what would fall out.

“I want you to be my family,” she whispered a while later, hypnotized by the shade of blue of his eyes.

He looked at her a long time, hushed and surprised, perhaps just as surprised as she felt at her own uttering.

Then he leaned in to gently graze his lips over hers.

“I accept,” he sighed before he kissed her again.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fluff #low honor arthur morgan #mid honor arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fluff #smut #fanfic #dom arthur morgan

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gingersp1ce547 · 6 months ago

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Everyone on equipe e’s english was pretty rusty so when they first arrived on the island interacting with the english speakers was a daunting task even with the translator. The spanish speakers were much easier to handle conversations with, hell even conversations with french speakers were nice just because because of the shared trait of being a romance language.

But english was a whole different ball park, especially to people who had never traveled out of the country before.

But Arthur had traveled put of the country before (even if he now regretted not spending that time with his father instead), so he tried his best to socialize with a bit of everyone.

Roier was always fun to play around (jokingly flirt) with, same went for melissa (who made arthur consider also making a drag persona). Etoiles and arthur would get stuck in loops of complimenting each other till the other would give up. And jaiden was very kind if not a bit chaotic.

However there was one person that arthur felt drawn to, which was odd because that person was kind of a bit of a hermit. Maybe it was his fatherly vibes or Maybe it was because he was always do sweet with his kids.

Though if arthur really thought about it, it was probably the fact that philza minecraft had wings.

Arthur didn’t mean to see them, he just happened to arrive at phils house right as he was changing out of his outfit from cellbit and roiers wedding. After staring, apologizing, closing the door and then awkwardly waiting for Phil to get done, phil opened the door up for him and offered him a seat.

He explained everything slowly and with only as much detail as Arthur assumed he felt comfortable with. When arthur asked what he felt was a stupid question phil always took the time and energy to explain it. It was something arthur had always appreciated about the man even from afar, he tried to make sure that all of equipe e was not confused or clueless about things that were second nature to others.

Eventually when phil finished, arthur showed his the tattoo of the wings on his back. He couldn’t say much, mostly because he was already crying by the time he took his shirt off. Phil seeing this tried to comfort him the best he could but arthur wouldn’t let him until he finished his point. It being that because phil was a crow and arthur was a vulture, he would always keep phil’s wings a secret until he felt comfortable telling others about them.

Phil said his thanks, as well as that he appreciated Arthur and the rest of his team’s kindness. He knows they’ve been through a lot, more than they’ve told. Not in a prying way but more so in that he’s seen a lot too.

The island there on isn’t the best way to heal but it all they got. And, sometimes, beautiful happy moments like the one they got to witness today happen.

Arthur agrees, and after once again apologizing for intruding despite phil repeatedly telling him he didnt need to, leaves.

After a couple of days, arthur comes back. Just to chat with phil and hang with chayanne and tallulah who like pretty much every egg on the island adore their tio.

For a man who was made for the sky, arthur finds phil to be one of the most grounded people he’s ever met. And after dealing with the paranormal and now fantastical, it’s nice to just go up to the wall, farm potatoes and talk nonsense for awhile.

It’s on that farm one day that arthur is told the tale of Technoblade when he comes across the little shrine tallulah made. Arthur listens attentively and as phil begins to explain why the shrine exists, he extends his hand and rests it on phil’s shoulder. When the tale is over, arthur tells phil about his own hero, a man named brullio.

He goes into it intending to not got into detail about how his father died but by the time he gets to that part of the story he finds he can’t stop spouting every detail that still keeps him up at night. That house. The black corpse carrion, it’s claws tearing into it’s face, all of it.

Phil comforts him once more the best he can, though by this point arthur has learned that phil works much better with action than words and struggles with emotional things. And when he has eventually calmed down, phil tells him one day he would like to hear more about arthur’s stories. After all it’s only fair after he’s heard so many from the ones phil tells his kids.

Despite phil’s hermitage, arthur never stops hanging out in big crowds with the other islanders or spending time alone with his team. But every now and then when the days feel like too much, when seeing his team only reminds him of what he’s lost rather than what he has left, arthur heads to the wall and allows himself to focus on the simple things in life again.

When he doesnt feel that way, sometimes he’ll drag his teammates up there. Joui really enjoys it and joins him often (he likes to spar with chayanne). Cesar surprisingly does as well, the lack of pressure to chat allowing him to relax (tallulah sometimes silently braids flowers into his hair and he pretends it doesnt make his heart melt.) Liz greatly appreciates his photo taking as well as his hidden penchant for chaos, and thiago likes to come give phil the islands weakly gossip in manageable bits while they fish (thaigo says it’s so phil isnt completely clueless about the island’s happening but the three of them know it’s mostly because he enjoys phil’s company).

It feels warm to be connected to a community again, and though he knows that everyone on the island will never replace all he’s lost, arthur knows he’s never alone.

#this is basically arthur soft launching phil as his new father figure and chayanne and tallulah his two siblings #dopspoilers but did u see how quick he was like equipe e is my family and ivete is my mom?#ofc he’s gonna get another other fmaily in the rose family #opqsmpau #gingersp1ce547 #arthur cervero #q!philza

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prettyboykatsuki · 9 months ago

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hi my lovely fang!! ramadan kareem! also happy belated isagi day!! loll i’m tipsy doing my skincare and watching formula 1 + premier league football (<-being delusional abt my teams winning. i’m no better than a m*n) but my mind ran on you so i said lemme go blab in your askbox <33

not day drinking or anything dw. just came back in from a bday dinner and then we ended up at a nightclub ?? for some reason ?? the music was really good and it felt good to be out with friends. idk, the old me wouldnt have even entertained the idea of going out so i hope ur proud of me for socializing even when i got drained like an hour into the whole thing.

hope the spring's been good to you so far. (i for one am salty since this weather still feels treacherously winterlike to me.) and remember to pace yourself for school.

life has been so interesting lately: moved out of a toxic household and decided to establish boundaries with family (got villainised for it), trying to learn an instrument as a hobby, became a deku fan (‼️♥️☹️‼️) and an arthur morgan enthusiast (⁉️), my kitchen sink randomly flooded and my landlord was an ass abt it, finally watched howl’s moving castle,

always always still thinking of oliver tho. atp i mentally chant his name like my own personal litany against going apeshit in law school. i think u were talking abt songs that remind u of him and i would like to add for ur consideration: that tyler song w/ pharell? called “ifhy”. also DONT LAUGH but i cannot hear anything off the wiped out album without some association to him. some russ songs too. idk what it is abt that bastard but i enjoy putting him in mental aus he has no business being in: like we both know he’d be a regency AU scoundrel or like a rake or smth and yet i’ll be on the subway crafting it in my mind palace LMAO

back in the day i used to depression-watch the encore westerns channel so those scruffy ruffians u have been read dead posting abt are making my ears perk up a little (a lot).

if i was actually writing you as a legit penpal i would decorate your letter and use different coloured ink and stickers and send u a polaroid and stuff. i am so fond of you like whoa. hugging and squeezing and pulling you 🫂🫂🫂🫂 like taffy!! have a great day and an even greater eid !!

-resident oliver gremlin xoxo

RAMADAN KAREEM EVEN THO I AM ANSWERING POST EID AS SOME KIND OF FOUL BEAST!!!! and happy belated isagi day to u twin i hope it was wonderful

i actually heard alot about the f1 stuff from beloved mutuals posting and general internet circulation!!! lots of . stuff going on in that place from what i can tell . i hope ur special sports guys won i love u !!

also glad ur not drinking too much. a birthday dinner and nightclub feel like a random combo sdjhsdkfj but sometimes u just dont want the night to end so i really get it. im not a club girl either it is so overstimulation for me in a way i have a hard time with so im SO proud of you

i feel u abt spring it is so midwest core how cold it fawking is rn fdkjkhdjfkg. but its fine we ball

ALSO SO PROUD OF U!!!!! setting boundaries w fam is sooo dogshit but u did right by yourself and thats all that matters. iA it becomes easier. also instrument, deku fan, and arthur....... ohhh anon it has been a busy and fun life i see.

I MISS OLIVER SOOO FREAKING MUCH IM HAPPY U BRING HIM UP. i agree ifhy by tyler suits him so much im going to throw my guts up fkgjdffgklsd. also no he is very russ song actually.... best on earth ft him and bia.... i will eat glass. im glad his horrible and annoying ass can support the bad beautiful shorty u are thru law school... the most he is capable of im afraid. ALSO WAIT REGENCY AU KIND OF EATS...... WILL BE SIMMERING ON THAT ..... i think him being a sleazy powerful noble who's been enaged a billion times and broken up with even more chasing u a mean noble girl who hates him ohhh .. ohhhhh

ALSO IM GLAD U LIKE MY RDR POSTING. i am. completely out of my mind about them forreal its actually notfunny anymore JKFDJLKS. but thats alright.

I WOULD LOVE GLITTER PEN. mine would have so many stickers. SO FOND OF U TOO ANON... WE ARE KISSING AND HOLDING HANDS... EID MUBARAK AND MANY BLESSINGS

#return to sender #resident oliver gremlin #JKDSHFKJS

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beekeeperspicnic · 2 years ago

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After some of the not-so-nice criticisms I've been getting in the other direction, I thought I should put together a response to this, as the person running Letters from Watson.

I understand that it must be incredibly frustrating and disheartening to get straight into reading something you are excited to read and encounter antisemitism. A gut-punch, for sure, and I think the cumulative effect of encountering that kind of thing constantly can't be underestimated.

I've tried very hard to ensure that the letters are presented in a way which encourages criticism and critical analysis, and that people were prepared in advance to encounter difficult content (or to decide to pass on it or wait until another time, if needed). I said this in an email which went out to everyone right before the project started, and which is available on the Letters from Watson website:

Please be aware that the Sherlock Holmes stories are mystery stories which feature various difficult topics such as murder, violence, abuse etc. They were also written over a hundred years ago and contain racism and misogyny typical of their era. Many wonderful people have helped put together a document listing content warnings, which will be linked in each email. The content warning document does contain some spoilers where necessary!

Before the project started, I crowd-sourced a content warning list which is linked at the beginning of every email. I felt it was important to crowd-source it so that it isn't just my own thoughts and ideas, and so it includes a wide range of perspectives and minority voices. I'm very thankful to everyone who was involved in putting it together.

My aim is for it to be a living document and that if anything has been missed, the community can add it. Unfortunately that's been hampered at the moment because the project has been shared around by a conservative "trigger warnings are censorship!" crowd who have sent me some defamatory emails, and I thought I should lock the document to protect against vandalism. I'm hoping to unlock it in a week or two when those people have got bored and moved on.

The content warnings document has an introduction which goes into more depth about my reasoning, and which makes clear the historical context of the emails:

The Sherlock Holmes short stories were written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle between 1891 and 1927.

Some of the depictions and attitudes in them are outdated and racially insensitive. They are also mystery stories which can contain murder, violence, war, and other difficult topics. Critically engaging with literature from the past can be a rewarding experience - and a lot of fun, too. Sometimes, however, it’s easier to engage with content you find difficult and challenging when you are prepared and informed. This document is created as a guide during the Letters from Watson project so you know what’s coming and can make informed decisions.

To address a few specific points of your criticism:

...A publication from 2022

I would argue strongly against this - this is simply a sharing of a series of publications from the 1890s - 1920s, the same as a printed hard copy book. I will not edit or censor the texts (and I don't think you would want me to.)

Additional text added at the beginning and is always, always indicated by italics.

Why not include critical analysis within the emails?

I wouldn't want to gatekeep what critical analysis ends up in the emails and which don't - everyone's perspectives are valid. Instead I've tried to provide lots of channels through which people can discuss and share critical analysis as we go.

I've set up and manage a discord and reddit to facilitate this. Within the discord I created a whole resources section dedicated to scholarship of the Sherlock Holmes stories including minority perspectives. I link the discord in every email. I also encourage people to use the #letters from watson hashtag here on tumblr.

I'm pleased to say that as well as light-hearted memes we've already had plenty of incredible historical discussion and critical commentary here, including some thoughts on the passage which you mention specifically.

Why not include content warnings at the top of each email?

I decided not to do this because I want to give people the choice about whether they want content warnings or not. Some would prefer not to - and many of the warnings are large spoilers.

Also thanks to the wonderful work of the team who put together the document, it is quite comprehensive. I wouldn't want to choose which content deserves to be mentioned in the top of the email and which you have to dig around in the content warnings document for.

****

I tried very hard to ensure that nobody had the experience you've had - I wanted to have "care and concern", to not be "irresponsible", however those provisions failed for you, and I'm really genuinely sorry for that.

I hope that you'll still want to stick around, and can feel excited about the project again.

(Apologies once again for everyone who started following this blog for updates on me making a computer game, unfortunately my main blog is still downand i want people to see this, so I had to share it here!)

Me, a Jew: I sure am excited to read Sherlock Holmes in it's original form

A Study In Scarlet Extract #2: "The same afternoon brought a grey-headed, seedy visitor, looking like a Jew pedlar..."

Me, a Jew: can't we just have one thing

Seriously though, apparently ACD had (at best) a very complicated relationship with Jews in real life, and presenting his work without so much as a mention of the harmful tropes perpetrated in Sherlock Holmes is pretty alienating to minority readers. I was really excited about the Letters from Watson thing since I'd never read Sherlock Holmes before, but seeing a publication from 2022 (which I'd argue this technically is) use the phrase "Jew peddler" completely uncritically was kind of a gut punch.

I'm not saying we shouldn't read Sherlock Holmes and I'm not saying Letters from Watson is a bad idea. But what I am saying is that presenting a massively popular work to a ready-made Tumblr fandom without any care or concern for the fact that the work has explicitly racist elements is irresponsible - and that since it's only Jan. 6, Letters from Watson has an opportunity to make changes to its structure in order to address this (perhaps by incorporate minority commentary, critical analysis, and historical context into its publications?) before this thing really gets off the ground.

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elliaze · 3 years ago

Text

GODS WARRIOR - CHAPTER FOUR

A/N: So it’s already four chapters. I know that it’s slow burning, but I want it that way hahah 😀 Anyway enjoy your reading and thank you for your likes, comments and rebloggin! ❤️

Italics are your thoughts, bold the thought of Poseidon

Pairings: Steven Grant x fem!reader x Marc Spector

Warnings: age gape (everyone is an adult, nothing illegal), few curse

Words Count: 1700+

MASTERLIST

WE TEAM UP

Y/N WONDERED IF SHE HAD EVER BEFORE DRIVEN THROUGH LONDON IN SUCH A GRAVE ATMOSPHERE AS SHE WAS NOW, SITTING NEXT TO STEVEN.

In her head, she kept calling him that, because until now she hadn't learned his true identity.

“You still haven't told me your name,” she spoke up, breaking the silence in the car. Even the radio wasn't turned on, and that was slowly starting to annoy her. “Which, considering that I've told you quite a lot, is unfair.”

“Marc Spector” he said simply, without even looking at her.

“So what, Steven Grant the cute gift shopist is a lie?”

Wait, did I say charming?

“No” he shook his head. “It's more complicated than that. You wouldn't understand.”

Y/N felt vividly offended.

“Mate, we just fought with an Egyptian ancient jackal,” she said reproachfully. “In situations like this, you don't say that something is complicated. Check me out.”

“Steven is real. He is my alter” explained Marc, finally sending her a brief glance. “We share one body, but we have two different lives. It's a disorder.”

“Dissociative identity disorder,” she announced, and if Marc was surprised by her knowledge, he didn't show it. She felt she should explain how, she knew, anyway. “My mother loves to read psychology and share everything she learns.”

Y/N folded her arms across her chest. The brief thought of her parent made her instantly miss her. She didn't like the distance that separated them, but she knew it was so much easier this way.

“Steven is not aware of your presence, right?” She asked, and he nodded. “Are you going to tell him?” He swatted his head. “Why?”

“Because,” he replied, and Y/N felt like banging her head against the glass in the window.

Poseidon, I'll kill you for this.

I'm a god, sweetheart. You don't have the power to kill me.

She rolled her eyes. The deity always spoke when she didn't need him at all.

“Next time when you meet Steven,” Marc spoke up, and the tone of his voice changed slightly. Y/N didn't know what influenced it, but she got the impression that he was worried about his alter. “You won't tell him anything, do you understand?”

“Do you realize that sooner or later he'll find out?”

“Y/L/N…”

“Oh, okay, okay. Besides, it's none of my business. This is between you and him. Just remember, Steven was perfectly aware that we were being attacked by a jackal, and I doubt he'll forget about it after you two exchange.”

“Just don't tell him anything. If he asks you about anything, you'll lie to him. Believe me, it's definitely better that way.”

“It's just one little extra lie on top of a whole list of others, isn't it?” She muttered ironically. “Anyway, never mind. Will you tell me what exactly this resurrection of Ammit is all about? And who was the guy who want to do it?”

“Arthur Harrow,” he answered briefly and looked at her as they stopped at a red light. “As long as he doesn't get the scarab that leads to Ammit's tomb, it's all under control. You have nothing to worry about, it's safe.”

“Well... I wish it was that simple too, Mr. Spector,” she replied. “But it isn't. Harrow can't get a scarab.”

Marc did not reply. The lights turned green, and the car moved on. Y/N wondered where they were actually headed. She also thought that maybe she was behaving a bit irresponsibly by getting into a car with a stranger. Even if she was supposed to be cooperating with him. Spector turned into one of the noisy streets, and she quickly recognized that they were in Camden Town. She loved coming to this place for the wonderful Chinese food and the hot chocolate churros she indulged in every time as dessert.

The car was parked on the pavement, and she looked at her companion with evident interest.

“Why did we stop?”

“We get out” Spector said briefly and, without waiting for her reaction, left the car. Y/N came out into the street a moment later. “You don't have to thank me for the lift. And don't worry about the scarab. If anything changes, I'll let you know.”

Marc didn't even look at her, he turned and moved down the street. It all happened so fast that she didn't even have time to react, and he disappeared into the crowd of people.

“You don't even have my number!” She shouted loudly, hoping that he hadn't moved far enough away. Her words definitely attracted interest, someone even whistled and commented that he himself would most likely take a number from her, and she growled quietly and looked angrily at the sky. She knew she wouldn't find any answers there, but looking up into the sky always calmed her.

She took a short breath and then headed towards the underground station where she hoped to get to her district. She hoped that at least this evening Poseidon would give her a break already, because all she wanted was to bury herself in her sheets and go to sleep.

☾☾☾

Y/N felt like the luckiest person alive when she actually got what she wanted so badly that evening. She even managed to fall asleep at a fairly decent hour, which for her meant at least a few minutes after midnight, having previously done adequate research on who Marc Spector was. Thanks to several online acquaintances, she had access to various security agency databases, which definitely made her job easier. The information she had obtained wasn't really useful, except that she had an insight into some of the man's accomplishments. And she had to admit that his file was really considerable.

That in itself should discourage her, but she knew too well that she was no better. She only pretended to be damn innocent, because it was easier for her to accept the fact that she also killed in cold blood. Even if everyone definitely deserved it.

She felt exceptionally sleepy in the morning, and even the prospect of spending another eight hours in the library made her exceptionally optimistic. A short conversation with her mother and the news that her little niece had finally started to walk on her own also made her feel positive. For a moment, she even forgot about the fact that she had twelve Olympians over her head including Poseidon, who was watching her closely, and the task she had to complete.

Later, however, her phone rang, and she saw Steven's name on the screen.

And here we go again.

At first, she was apprehensive about whether she should answer. She didn't know if she was sure she was going to talk to Steven or if Marc was still in control of the body. She wasn't ready to talk to either one. She sighed heavily, but finally answered the call. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Steven's broken voice on the other end. Of the two of them, she'd rather be talking to Grant already.

“Hey, Y/N,” Steven said nervously, and she hoped he wasn't asking about last night. “Could we talk? If you have time, of course. I feel like I'm going crazy, and I don't know what's going on. You saw it yesterday too, and I was hoping you could tell me what was going on, especially as I saw you on the CCTV footage with me. Or rather, with a person who looked exactly like me, but was definitely not me.”

Y/N cursed silently.

“Steven, calm down,” she spoke up, trying to interject Grant's monologue. “Take a deep breath and count to ten. If you want, we can do it together.”

“O-okay” he agreed and after a while they started counting together. It was moments like this that she was thankful that her mother loved to explore such things, and whether she wanted to or not, she remembered most of them. Finally, they counted off the last number together, and she could hear that his voice sounded calmer. “I think that helped. Thank you.”

“There's nothing to thank me, Steven. Now tell me again what you wanted to tell me.”

“I've just been fired from my job,” he confessed grumpily. “Apparently I trashed the whole bathroom at the museum, but I don't remember it at all. I saw the footage, and you were on it with me. I thought you might be able to tell me what happened?”

“I'm sorry you got fired, I know you enjoyed working at the museum,” she said honestly, biting her lower lip. “I will try my best to explain everything. Although I don't really know what happened yesterday. We can meet again today” she lied without stammering.

“Could you come to me?” - He asked uncertainty. “I don't want to talk about this in a public place.”

“No problem, I understand,” she agreed immediately. “Just send me your address, and I'll be on my way.”

“Yes, yes, the address. I'll send it right away, but can we meet a little later? I have to do something else.”

“It's okay, Steven,” she assured him. She had a feeling that although he somehow sounded calmer, it was not so, and she was starting to worry about him. Especially since she herself knew perfectly well what had happened and Steven - despite Marc's opinion to the contrary - deserved to know what had happened. “Are you sure you're okay? I mean…”

“Yes, yes” he interrupted her. “I just need to check something. I'll send you the address, and I'll see you there. See you.”

The connection was broken before Y/N could say goodbye. She stared at her mobile phone screen for a moment and then shook her head. She had written a short text message to her boss, saying that she would not be able to come to work today because she was sick. Y/N hated such situations, but she had no other choice. Losing her job was the least of her worries at the moment.

She knew she only had two choices. Either she would tell the whole truth to Steven, breaking her word to Marc (which, by the way, she was most inclined to do, given their conversation yesterday). Or she would add another lie to her list. Neither of those options seemed right to her, and she also knew that there was nothing to be gained from Poseidon's advice. She had to make this decision herself, and she was going to delay it as long as possible.

Or at least until she came face to face with Steven.

⸻

TAGLIST:

@officialholyagua

@graciexmarvel

@princessleah129

@simonsbluee

@inwisper

#marc spector x reader #marc spector #marc spector x y/n #steven grant x reader #steven grant #steven grant x y/n #moon knight x reader #moon knight #marvel #oscar isaac #fanfic

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ayellowcurtain · 3 years ago

Text

Elu aren’t dating yet and Eliott is hanging out with the gang and they’re playing a game where they say would you do this if you got... something for it, like would you slap Arthur for 20€, and when somebody asks Lucas “Would you date Eliott f-“ he doesn’t let them finish and says yes immediately, please?

They are good, Lucas tries to remind himself of it. They just grew apart, life happened, and that was that. There was nothing that happened that could hurt whatever they had in the past, their old feelings and history.

It was also very obvious to him that, no matter how well things ended - as well as they could given it was still a break up - they couldn’t be just friends. The feelings had dissipated into something else, but Lucas and Eliott could never be best friends and only best friends. They tried but it wasn’t going to work it out.

Lucas is too jealous, Eliott is too simplistic. Where Lucas sees a million problems, Eliott finds a solution that’s too practical. Some distance was needed, even though extremely painful after being constantly together for almost four years. It took some time, many relapses but they managed to find somewhere in the middle where it was comfortable for both of them.

Lucas never stopped missing Eliott, missing them, but it got easier. When he admitted to himself that Eliott was the love of his life, and that nobody else would ever be as loved by him as Eliott was, it became easier to get involved with some people for a few months, sometimes a whole year.

He let himself go a little bit, got rid of some of the control he tried to have over his feelings and just learned to live with it. So they’re okay these days. They can hang out, talk about random things, sometimes even talk in private and not throw themselves into each other.

“I like the beard look, how long have you been trying to grow that? Six months?”

Lucas shows him the middle finger, scanning Yann’s fridge in search of something to eat but it’s basically a literal blank canvas, nothing inside that he can use.

“Look who’s talking. Mister patch face.”

Eliott doesn’t laugh but Lucas doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling at least. He walks to the kitchen door and checks if everyone is happy to eat pizza tonight. Lucas only gets a few headshakes because Arthur, Yann and Baz are too busy with the video game, happy to not have their girls around so they can be dumb boys all over again.

“You still like cheese?” Eliott asks, already scrolling through his phone. Lucas checks him out while he’s busy, and he nods his head, knowing Eliott knows the answer anyway.

Sometimes Lucas regrets being the one to make it happen, even though they were bound to break up anyway. Eliott tried to argue with him and Lucas wishes he had given up because it’s annoying to still feel this attracted to him, feeling like Eliott is just waiting for him to admit the break up was a bad, an uncalled decision Lucas made. But he tries to remember they grew up a lot after their break up, so it was worth something. He knows Eliott had his affairs but never a relationship again but he still feels the desperate need to ask, just to hear some soft spoken, raw answer that he doesn’t want a relationship. And he would look at Lucas in that intense way of his that would be the silent addition, letting them both know that he doesn't want one only because Lucas doesn’t want them back together.

Lucas coughs to control himself, stealing Eliott’s bee that he left on the counter to find them some pizza. Eliott looks at him instantly, and laughs quietly while Lucas takes some pride in still feeling like Eliott actually likes him.

During the long, painful months right after the break up, Lucas thought Eliott would grow up. Not only as himself, become someone more mature and certain, but to grow out of love. He spent way too many nights dramatizing that, training himself to be okay with the realization that he was right, and that Eliott could move on quickly.

But he does feel calmer, a little more reliable. It used to feel like a constant marathon, like Eliott was always running to find something, a high that he wasn’t even sure what it was. And Lucas thought it would settle once Eliott had finally found the “love of his life”, and when it didn’t, he felt like maybe he wasn’t the one.

“Hm, hello…?” A voice asks right next to Lucas’ ear, and he jumps, afraid that whoever it is, was more than close enough they could hear his thoughts about how much he still loves Eliott.

“Fucking hell, Baz!”

“Oh, did I scare you, Luc? I’m so sorry, my friend!” He holds Lucas’ face with both his hands, squishes a little, and kisses his ear, and Lucas slaps his hands, trying to get rid of him.

“Luc?” Eliott quietly asks him, and Lucas tries to keep a safe distance from Basile, clearly a little too high for his own good.

“What do you want?” Lucas asks Baz, needing him to leave them alone in the kitchen again just so they can go back to quietly flirt…

“Hm, we” he points to his chest and to both his sides like Yann and Arthur are standing next to him, “made a bet. And I was given the mission to find out who wins.”

“Okay…?” Lucas feels when Eliott steps closer to him - and to Baz, to hear more about whatever bet.

“We have three prices, okay? And we wanna see who got closer…” Baz looks behind him at the living room where the other two are probably waiting anxiously. “How much would we have to pay to see an Elu kiss again?”

“Shut up, Basile!” Lucas feels like opening a hole and hiding inside of it. They’re way too old for these types of jokes, and those three were more than vocal about how tired they were of hearing Lucas’ cries and complaints after the break up so it’s extremely rude they would even ask something like that now that they think it’s okay to make fun of it.

“No! No! Come on, Luc, let me hear the options I have, at least.” Eliott puts his hand on Lucas’ shoulder.

“What? No. No!”

Baz smiles big, standing on his tiptoes with excitement, “Okay. Yann said 10. I think 30, and Arthur said Lucas is too proud so 60.”

Before Lucas can argue, and get extremely mad at his best friends, he feels soft, warm, well known lips press hard against his, two hands quickly finding their ways to the back of his neck, keeping him in place.

He wants it to last forever, he wants to wrap his arm around Eliott’s neck, pull him closer, just kiss him for hours but he’s too aware of what’s going on, and that Baz is still there, silently screaming.

“Yann will lose his mind!” Baz whispers, squeezing both their shoulders when they stop kissing, still looking at each other, way too close and too out of it to respond to Basile before he leaves.

Eliott laughs shyly, still pressing his fingertips against Lucas’ neck.

“I can’t believe they think I would need money to kiss you.”

“Stop…” Lucas hears himself say a little too low, too shy and overwhelmed. He wants to walk away so he can go back to being a working human, but Eliott kisses him again. Just a soft, long touch of lips but still, takes Lucas’ breath away anyway, every time.

“I miss this.”

“I miss you too.” He gives in, looking at Eliott, finally, and he smiles wider, actually kissing Lucas after way too many years.

#skam france #elu #elu fic #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #lucas x eliott #you blinked and suddenly I basically posted two fics one after the other #and an Elu one??? wild times my friends #maybe I’m getting back on my own writing train

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discopig · 3 years ago

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That other girl (Thomas Shelby x Reader) [Part 2/3]

Okay so I’ve made a few improvements, first one being I won’t be writing at 2 AM after 4 hours of sleep because I read back part one and honestly wanted to shoot myself, I also added paragraph/scene dividers because the first part was very messy and I kept fucking up the tenses! My imagination has been going wild for this fic so I need to calm myself. I don’t intend for this to be a long story, I hope to finish it by the next part. Hope you guys enjoy :))

Part 1 | Part 3

Warnings: implied family abuse, swearing (doesn’t even need to be a warning)

Word Count: 1,452

You stared at the woman at the door, what seemed like millions of thoughts rushing through your mind at once. She was beautiful. Not to say you weren’t beautiful yourself, but insecurity seemed to be the main component of the blood flowing through your veins at the sight of her. She looked like the models you would see at the fashion shows your mother would take you to as a kid, and she made the plain barmaid’s uniform look like the most expensive piece Chanel could offer.

The woman’s eyes darted between you and harry as she spotted the two of you together.

“Thanks for the help” Harry said, taking the glasses from the basket the woman carried them in. As though he forgot something, he quickly turned around after placing them on the counter behind the bar.

“Grace” he acknowledged the woman, “this is Y/N, your co-barmaid” he said, turning to you.

You were secretly hoping she was just here on delivery for the shop Harry had bought the glasses from, and wished so deeply she wasn’t the barmaid he had mentioned earlier, but alas, she had to be.

“Oh, it’s very nice to meet you” she smiled extending her hand towards you

“Likewise” you gave her a small smile, taking her hand and shaking it

“Harry’s told me a lot about you, about how you help him around the bar and whatnot, how good you are at dealing with the rowdy customers” You picked up on her Irish accent

"Well, that’s nice to hear. Are you not from Birmingham?” you questioned

“Oh no, I’m not. I only got here about a week ago. I used to work at a bar in Galway, so I got quite lucky to be able to get a job at a bar here” she replied.

Quite lucky I sprained my fuckin’ ankle you mean. You mentally scoffed at her

“That is quite lucky” you laughed

By now Harry had left to sort out the glasses in storage, so you figured you might as well pry for something out of her

“So Harry tells me you’ve been serving the Shelby boys while I’ve been gone, you know they’re trouble?” You asked, staring into her eyes, trying to gauge any sort of reaction you could receive. She seemed unfazed.

“Well, they’ve been quite nice to me, given me lots of tips”

“Is that so? Who’s been giving you tips?” They never gave you tips, even on the busiest of nights when you were running back and forth serving their requests for beer which seemed to come through ever 10 fucking seconds

“Uh, the tall one” John. Damn him.

“Ah, I see, hopefully it was good money” you ‘beamed’ at her, trying to be friendly

“Good enough” she laughed back

“So what brings you to Birmingham?”

“My father passed away and I just needed a change of scenery” she replied, her eyes showed sadness, so you figured her father passing couldn’t be a lie, but a change of scenery in Birmingham? Yeah right. Maybe on some farm surrounded by chickens and mosquitoes, or in some tropical American city, but not in Birmingham. Most people want out, not in, unless they have good reason to favour the latter.

“I’m sorry to hear that”

“It’s okay, he was quite old anyways, I had expected it at some point” she replied with a half smile, eyes still sad.

You both sat in silence for a moment until you spoke “I’ll be back next week to help out” you looked towards the door, more customers starting to pile in, Harry back from the storage room, rushing to get their orders, and back at Grace “things are starting to get busy, I won’t hold you any longer. It was nice meeting you” you smiled at her, getting up from your seat and heading out of the Garrison, trudging to the betting shop.

The Shelby family were in the midst of a family meeting, discussing business you honestly didn’t care much about, thoughts racing with how you were going to have Thomas’ head on a stake.

“That copper, is going to try and bring this family down with every fuckin’ cell in his body” Thomas exclaimed

“What copper?” you asked. Thomas looked at you like you had just asked him if the sun was a rock

“Campbell. We’ve been talking about him this whole meeting Y/N” you could tell he was annoyed, but you didn’t care

“When did he get here? When did this start?” you asked

“Why does that-” Thomas started

“Answer the fucking question Thomas Shelby” you interrupted

“About a week ago, he worked as a copper in Ireland, and has come with his troops to Birmingham to try and ruin all of my fucking plans. Keep up please!” He replied, clearly frustrated.

Ireland?

You knocked on the door to Thomas’ office and waited before you heard a low “Come in”

You walked into his office, Thomas looking down at some papers, and sat down on one of the chairs at his desk

“How are you liking the new barmaid?” You asked, staring him down.

At the mention of the barmaid he looked up at you, a mix of panic and annoyance flashing in his eyes

“She does her job Y/N. What else can I think of her? He replied with a sigh at the end

“Oh I’m sure she does her job well enough for you to be having secret meetings with her” you replied, venom laced in your voice. You were starting to get angry, and him behaving as though he was annoyed by your presence wasn’t making it any easier

“Y/N what are you-”

“Don’t fucking what me Thomas Shelby! Harry told me all about the lovely interest you’ve taken to her, enough so to meet with her every fucking day! Did you fuck her?! If you did you better tell me because so help me God if I find out from-”

“I did not fucking sleep with her Y/N will you PLEASE calm down?” Thomas yelled, his voice booming through the office

“If you didn’t sleep with her then what did you do?”

“We just talked” he answered, as though everything was normal

“Just talked?! Have you forgotten that you have a girlfriend Thomas, a girlfriend who had a sprained fucking ankle and couldn’t walk, who you could’ve come to any time to just talk?! You think I’m supposed to believe that’s all you did? Why would you just talk to her and not me?!” You were screaming again, your anger reaching a tipping point

“Because she isn’t like you Y/N!”

You looked at him, visibly confused

“She didn’t grow up with daddy’s loaded bank account in some posh city, she’s genuine, like a breath of fresh fucking air in this place! She gets me, and I get her, and she happened to be there when I needed someone to talk to! Is that so bad?!” You stared at him dumbfounded, not only had he implied that he could not come to you -his girlfriend- when he needed someone to talk to, he also brought up your family and history, knowing damn well the riches your family had, meant nothing to you, constantly overshadowed by the yelling, bruises and loneliness.

The true weight of his words seemed to register with him as regret flashed in his eyes under your dumbfounded, yet angry gaze

“Fuck you Thomas Shelby. Fuck you. She’s working with that fucking copper”

He moved to say something but you quickly interrupted him

“I know you did your stupid background checks, I asked Arthur about it. She’s not from fucking Galway, she never worked in any bars, meaning she lied about everything, and she, your lovely Irish angel shows up at the same time that copper does, and you still willingly walk into her presence every damn day while your girlfriend is alone, to talk?! To fucking talk?!”

Thomas was visibly getting angrier as you accused her of working with Campbell, moving to defend her

“Don’t you think you’re going too far?! I get you’re jealous but you can’t just make shit up!”

You scoffed

“Polly was right about men only being able to think with their cocks. Even you, the oh so smart Thomas Shelby, are a blind fucking idiot. Fuck you, I never want to see you again, you hear me? You can go talk to that fucking barmaid as much as you want” You spat, leaving his office with a loud slam of his door, catching John’s worried eyes as you stormed out of the shop. Your ankle was radiating with pain, but you ignored it as you stormed home.

Fucking Shelbys.

#cillian murphy x reader #Cillian murphy fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder x reader

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verai-marcel · 3 years ago

Text

Serendipitous Meetings (Arthur x GN!Reader, Modern AU, 18+)

Summary: You foolishly didn’t mark where you parked in the huge parking structure, and spend some time looking for your car. You run into a fellow who did the same thing, and things get ridiculously serendipitous from there.

Author’s Notes: How many tropes can I shove into this fic? Let’s face it, I just wanted to have Arthur fuck like the manly man that he is. Also going for gender neutral as much as possible, so all my readers who want a piece of Arthur can have him.

Tags: Arthur x GN!Reader, smut, light D/s tones, size kink, light spanking, neck grabbing, rough sex, dirty talk, modern AU

AO3 Link is here, li’l darlin’.

Word Count: 3764

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

"Shit."

You let out a long suffering sigh as you looked around the packed parking structure. In your rush to meet your friends, you had forgotten to take a photo of where you parked. Now you stared at the large expanse of cars, racking your brain for at least a slight memory of how you got to the venue entrance from your car.

Sticking your hand into your pocket, you gripped your phone for a moment before letting it go. You had already shooed your friends away, insisting you had parked nearby and could get to your spot no problem. Swallowing your pride, you started to search the rows for the off-white bucket of bolts you dared to call your car.

After searching one floor, you trudged up the stairs to the next one, stopping a few steps past the landing to gaze upon the hundreds of cars before you. You faintly heard another set of steps coming down the stairwell, but you were so mired in your own despair that you didn't pay the sound any mind.

"Shit," said a gravelly voice next to you.

Glancing over, a very broad set of shoulders filled your view. Your eyes flicked over the red and black flannel shirt and blue jeans, with an almost hilariously large belt buckle. Then you looked up.

Oh no. He was gorgeous, in a rugged, manly-man sort of way. That chiseled jaw, the five o’clock shadow, that thick neck… he was the kind of man who could probably pick you up and throw you over his shoulder with ease. You were so busy staring at him in tired awe that he finally noticed you.

A pair of turquoise eyes met yours. "Sorry," the man said. "Can't find my truck."

It took you half a second to remember to respond. Then you gave him an empathic half-grin. "I can't find my car either."

He pointed upstairs. "What's yer car look like? Maybe I saw it up there."

You shook your head. "It's just a generic off-white Toyota Corolla."

The man shrugged. "Oh. Well, sorry darlin', there's a bunch of those up there."

You sighed, lamenting the fact that your car was one of the most popular cars out on the road these days. You also secretly enjoyed him calling you darling with that accent of his. He sounded like he had just stepped out of a spaghetti western.

"Maybe I saw your truck downstairs, if it stands out," you said, trying to be helpful.

"It's a blue Chevy pick-up. Really old, like one o' them classic trucks, 'cept it ain't been cleaned up like the ones you see in a car show."

Your memory flashed with the image of a dirty blue truck in your apartment complex's garage. You stifled a laugh at the thought. You had always wondered who drove the old thing, since you had never seen its owner.

"Nope, I didn't see a truck like that downstairs," you told him.

"Oh. Well, guess we better start lookin'," he said. He looked at you for a moment, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

You waited.

“Maybe,” he finally said, “maybe we could look together? For a bit. Keep each other company.”

“Okay,” you said easily. Part of your brain screamed that it could be really easy for him to just pull you into his car, but you dismissed the voice in your head. He seemed alright; you had a good feeling about this guy.

The two of you took off towards the left side of the structure. Putting your remote under your chin and hoping it would actually increase its range, you hit the button on occasion.

“Uh, what’re you doin’?” he asked, pointing at your remote.

“Oh, I read about this online, someone figured out that you can use your own head as an antenna, or something like that.”

The man raised an eyebrow, but eventually just nodded. “Huh, I guess that makes sense.”

You shrugged. “Haven’t tested it before this, so I’m hoping it actually works.”

The two of you wandered further and further towards the center when finally you heard that familiar beep.

*BEEP BEEP*

He chuckled. “Guess it works.”

You had never been so happy to hear that annoying little buzzer of a horn. You took off at a jog without waiting for the man, going towards where you had heard the sound, and as you turned a corner, you spotted it.

It was the big, old, blue truck from your apartment complex.

No way, you thought. There is no way. Maybe it's a similar truck.

Going back, you saw the man wandering around, still searching.

"Hey Mister!" you yelled.

He turned towards you.

You excitedly pointed towards the truck. "This yours?"

He started walking to you, and as he came closer, you could see the smile on his face and felt your heart skip a beat.

"Thank you," he said, stopping in front of you. "Where’s your car?"

You grinned and hit your unlock button. The little off-white sedan next to his truck let out a little beep, the lights coming on.

"Wish I had one of those," he said wistfully. "Sure woulda made my life easier." He looked at you with a small smirk as he opened the door to his truck. "But then I wouldn’t have met you. Thanks fer your help, angel."

You smiled, feeling your cheeks warm from his comment. "No problem." You struggled to find anything else to say, feeling pathetically desperate to hear him speak more. "Have a good night," you finally said.

"You too," he said, his voice a little lower, a little more breathy as he hauled himself into his truck and closed the door. Now that you had a pretty good feeling that he was a decent guy and not a creep, you half-wished he really would pull you into his truck and have his way with you.

Shaking the lewd thought from your head, you got into your car and set up your phone to listen to a podcast as you drove home. You eased your way out of the garage, through the local roads, and onto the freeway. For the next thirty minutes, you would spot the same blue truck out of the corner of your eye. Sometimes you’d pass him, sometimes he’d pass you.

Maybe it’s a different blue truck, you tried to convince yourself.

You couldn’t convince yourself any further when you pulled into your apartment complex right behind him. He parked at his usual spot, three away from yours. Climbing out of your car, you saw him walk towards you.

“You followin’ me?” he asked gruffly, though the grin on his face clearly showed his amusement at the coincidence.

“I can’t believe we live in the same complex,” you muttered, still in shock that you had never seen this handsome man before. “How long have you lived here?”

“Oh, ‘bout two years now.”

“Shit,” you thought to yourself.

“Why’re you cursin’?”

Oh crap. You said that out loud. “I, uh, um,” you stammered.

He quietly watched you, letting you stew in your own embarrassment, an amused grin on his face. The bastard was enjoying watching you squirm!

Feeling your face heat up, you blurted out the truth.

“We could’ve known each other sooner!”

It was an unfortunate tick in your personality that you had never managed to get rid of, and now, watching his eyes widen at your embarrassing remark, you wished the sidewalk would just open up and swallow you whole. But since that wasn’t going to happen, you opted to turn around and stalk away.

“Hey now, wait, you can’t just say that and leave,” the man said, jogging to catch up to you. When you wouldn’t stop walking, he swerved in front of you, forcing you to stop mere millimeters from him. You noticed how big he was, how little you were in comparison. You weren’t a small person by any means, he was just… large.

“Why’re you runnin’ away, darlin’?” he asked, his voice hushed as if he was trying to calm a wild animal. Perhaps with the way you acted, you seemed that way to him.

You took a deep breath, accidentally inhaling his scent, a mix of pine trees and a subtle hint of campfire smoke and musk that made you want to bury your face in his chest and stay there. Desire shot straight between your legs, reminding you that it had been a long time since you’d been with anyone. Letting out a shaky breath, you made the poor choice of looking up at him.

You were blinded by his kind smile and seduced by his deep voice. “Do you want to know me?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, I do,” you answered immediately.

He pointed to his apartment. “I live there. Want to share some whiskey?"

You paused. He was a stranger.

A stranger with beautiful eyes and the sweetest smile you had ever seen.

You followed him willingly into his den.

***

You blinked after he turned on the lights. When your vision cleared, your expectations were, fortunately, not met at all.

You had expected a bachelor pad with junk everywhere and clothing on the floor. What you saw was a clean and neat living room with a simple couch and a TV on top of a small entertainment center that held a few blu-rays and a blu-ray player. The short table in front of the couch had a plate on it, a smudge of ketchup and some crumbs on it, and a glass with a little bit of water left.

The man went to pick up after himself, putting the dirty dishes in the sink before going to his pantry. His kitchen looked pretty bare, except for the dried herbs, tied up in bunches under his cabinets.

While he shuffled around bottles, you went to sit on his couch, but not before pausing for a moment to look through the door to his bedroom. He had a bed that looked big and comfy, his sheets somewhat askew but otherwise in place. Didn’t look like there were any clothes or boxes lying around anywhere. So either the man was tidy, or he didn’t own a lot of things.

“Curious li’l one, ain’tcha?” he chuckled behind you.

Spinning around, you could only give him a sheepish grin. “Yup, sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

He smiled and gave you a tumbler of amber liquid with a giant sphere of ice. “Curiosity like that could get you in trouble one day,” he said mysteriously, gesturing towards the couch.

You raised an eyebrow, but sat down anyway. You took a sip of the ice cold whiskey, enjoying its slow burn down your throat. It was smooth and sweet. “This is fantastic, what is it?”

“It’s a blackberry flavored whiskey,” he replied as he settled himself on the couch, a little closer to you than you had expected. “I thought you might like it.”

“Oh?” You leaned in a little closer. “And why is that?”

“Somethin’ a li’l sweet fer a li’l sweetheart,” he said with a grin. He knew he was being schmaltzy, but you didn’t care. You were eating up his words, spoken with that deep rumble that went right between your legs.

You continued to sip and make small talk with him until your ice had melted and the late night had become the witching hour. But he didn’t seem to mind, and you wanted to stay.

“You got a bit o’ whiskey here,” he said as he leaned in and reached for the corner of your lips, his thumb catching the drop that had escaped your last sip. You flicked out your tongue to catch him, and your eyes met. A heartbeat passed. The whiskey gave you strength.

Taking his hand in yours, you surged forward and kissed his lips, tasting whiskey and his woodsy scent. A low moan came from deep within him, but he did not reach for you. His hands gripped the cushions as he let you take the lead, climbing into his lap and wrapping your arms around him, your fingers kneading his broad shoulders. You kissed the breath from him, desperate to feel him against you.

When you finally broke away for air, you stared at his eyes, now filled with lust and longing, and realized you didn’t even know his name.

He came to the same conclusion. “What’s yer name, darlin’?”

You told him.

He nodded and repeated your name. It sounded so good when he said it. “Feels nice to say it out loud,” he said. “I’m Arthur,” he added as he wrapped his arms around you and held you tenderly. “How far do you want to go?”

“All the way,” you said, grinding your hips against his groin, making him take a shuddered breath.

Without a word, he picked you up and carried you to his big, comfy bed. He dropped you unceremoniously and took off his shirt.

He was ripped. He was built like a man who had worked all his life in a physical job, carrying & lifting. With his tall stature, his broad shoulders, and his huge arms, he made you feel small.

You had never been more aroused in your whole life.

Your body was ready to be thoroughly fucked by this man, and you hadn’t even taken your clothes off yet. You watched hungrily as he undid his belt and dropped his jeans & boxers, your eyes taking in his size. He wasn’t even at full mast yet, and you already wondered if you’d be able to take him all in.

“Your turn, darlin’.”

Taken out of your trance, you took off your clothes as he watched. You started at a normal pace, but when you saw him take himself in his hand and stroke himself while watching you with a lustful gaze, you slowed down, making an attempt to tease him. Already topless, you lay back on the bed and lifted your legs up, sliding your pants upwards. Slowly, you exposed your ass to him, winking salaciously.

He stroked himself a little faster. A soft moan escaped his lips. “Darlin’, yer makin’ it real hard fer me to stay in control here.”

You glanced down at him. “I can see it’s real hard,” you said with a playful smirk.

“Oh, yer goin’ ta get it now,” he said, his grin becoming predatory as he climbed onto the bed. Grabbing the rest of your clothes, he pulled them from you, flinging them over his shoulder before flipping you onto your belly. He gripped your ass and squeezed hard before giving you a firm spank.

“Ooh!” you yelped.

“You want more?” he asked as his hand soothed over his mark.

You could tell he was asking for permission. Turning back to him, you gave him your best pouty face. “Does Sir think I need more?”

Arthur looked immensely pleased with your response. “I think so,” he said, his voice deepening with a thread of command that turned you on beyond belief. He straddled your legs and rested one hand on the curve of your ass. “I told you, curiosity would get you in trouble.”

He spanked you hard once more. “That’s fer sneakin’ glances into my room,” he said. He gave you three more swipes, each in slightly different areas so you wouldn’t get too sore. Then he grabbed your ass with both hands and massaged your muscles, spreading you open as he thrust his cock along the cleft of your rear.

“Yer so obedient, sweetheart,” he murmured as his hips rocked, his eyes fluttering shut for a few moments. Then with his strong grip, he manhandled you onto your back, wrapping his big hands around you and pulling you into his arms. He cradled you for a sweet, gentle moment before rolling you around like you were as light as a pillow before setting you back down onto the mattress. He leaned over you as he reached for the nightstand, pulling out a condom. You watched him slip it on, but he didn’t move to enter you. Instead, he reached down and began to stroke you as he loomed above, watching your reactions.

You moaned and writhed under his deliberate exploration. His hands traveled languidly along every inch of you. When he found a sensitive area that elicited a soft noise of pleasure from you, he lingered, making you whimper and lean into his touch. He finally touched you lower, where you longed for his attention, but to your frustration he continued his study at the same leisurely pace. Soon his strokes became faster and he pressed harder against you. His eyes nearly glowed as he watched you lift your hips towards his hands, imploring him for more. Using his new knowledge to his advantage, he brought you to the brink and then shifted his touch elsewhere, making you cool off before working you back up again until you were going insane with need.

“Please, please Arthur, I need to come,” you begged.

He only smiled as he slipped a finger inside of you. He slowly worked you open enough for two of his fingers, then three. Soon he was dragging you to the edge again, and you hadn’t even had his cock. You were feeling like you were being denied the thing you wanted most.

“Arthur,” you whispered, “I want your cock.”

“Louder, darlin’.”

“I want your cock!”

“And what do you want me to do with it?”

“Fuck me!”

“Say it again. All of it.”

“Fuck me with your cock!”

His smile was wolfish, satisfied that he had heard you beg for your desire. Pressing the head of his shaft against your opening, he pushed, easing his way inside of you.

You were right. He was big, long, and oh so thick. He stretched you deliciously, and you keened softly as he took you, claimed you, made you his in the most carnal of ways. He reached up and slipped his hand under your head, gripping your hair at the base and pulling slightly.

“Eyes on me, darlin’. I want to see you while I’m takin’ you,” he murmured.

You couldn’t look away from him. His look was intense, as if he commanded your entire being, your body his to use for his pleasure. And you willingly gave it to him, letting him sheathe his entire length inside of you. He held you still while your body adjusted to his claim, watching you with an almost proud expression.

“Good li’l darlin’,” he said as he leaned over. He kissed you gently on the lips, then on the forehead, and as if he was overcome with affection for you, peppered kisses along the curve of your cheek and down your neck.

“I’m goin’ to fuck you now,” he whispered into your ear. “You tell me to slow if it’s too much for ya, alright?”

You nodded, sure that whatever he was about to do to you, you could handle it.

He lifted himself up onto his forearms, his hands framing your face. “You look so damn cute,” he murmured before his hips slowly pulled back. “So fuckable.”

Arthur slammed his cock deep inside of you with one forceful stroke. He immediately looked down at you when you let out a cry of surprise. He waited, quietly checking in.

“More,” you whispered.

You thought you saw relief cross his features before he gave you a teasing smirk. “Ask me nicely and I just might give it to ya.”

“Please sir,” you begged, “I need more.”

Arthur gave you a single nod before rocking his hips, building you up slowly, his gaze nearly burning a hole into you with their intensity. As your body stretched and accommodated him, you clawed at his arms, greedily clamoring for him to speed up. He let out a feral growl before wrapping a big, rough hand around your neck, his other hand gripping your leg and spreading you wider for him.

"You think you can take more, darlin'?"

You looked up at him and smiled a challenge.

He began a ferocious pace, angling himself to take you as deep as he could go. All you could focus on was the impact of his body against yours, his thick shaft filling you over and over, unrelenting as a tidal wave.

Soon he let go of your neck so he could sit up and grip your hips with both of his hands. He was fucking the breath out of you with each hard thrust, the sound of his hips slamming against yours filling the room with a lewd rhythm, intertwined with your breathy cries and his low moans of pleasure.

He reached down and stroked you, his touch rough and vigorous, matching the way he was ravaging you in a haze of lust. You could feel yourself sprinting towards that delicious finish line. The end was in sight as your hips jerked wildly, your legs wrapping around Arthur as he thrust even harder and deeper than before.

"Come fer me," he murmured. "I want to feel you lose yerself around my cock."

You screamed as his words broke the dam that was holding back a torrent of pleasure, your climax tearing through your body at breakneck speed. Your legs stiffened, your toes curled, and your fingers dug into his very muscled biceps as you came harder than you ever had. You shook with aftershocks as Arthur continued to thrust, his hands letting go of your hips as he fell upon his forearms, caging you in as he chased his pleasure.

"Fuck sweetheart, I'm comin'," he moaned before he buried his head into the crook of your neck. He gave three more erratic thrusts, then nearly crushed you with his weight as he pressed his hips against yours, keeping himself inside of you for as long as he could.

A breathless moment passed, the two of you trying to catch that elusive breath. Arthur rolled off of you, quickly gathering you into his arms as he tumbled onto his side.

"Goddamn," he finally muttered. "Wasn't expectin' to have such good company."

You turned in his arms so you could see the wide grin on his face. "For once, I'm glad I got lost in the parking lot."

He kissed your forehead. "Me too, darlin'. But let's make sure we don't get lost again." He found your hands under the covers, brought them up to his lips, and kissed your fingertips.

"After all, I only just found you, my li'l darlin'."

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

End Notes: Been a while, and of course, all of my pent-up lust just came streaming out of me in a flurry of words and phrases. Hope it’s still hot enough for you, my lovely readers!

#arthur morgan #arthur x reader #arthur x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #nsft #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #writing #lemon fanfic #fanfic

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years ago

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Hi! Love that you appreciate Leon too. I love the idea of Leon finding out about Merlin's magic early on. Maybe he sees Merlin confront a sorcerer or help in a bandit attack. He doesn't say anything right away because Merlin was protecting Arthur but he goes to Arthur and says something vague like "I didn't know Merlin had other...duties besides being your servant." Arthur thinks he means something else like Merlin helps write speeches or helps medically so he just vaguely confirms and says they don't need to bring it up again.

Then it just turns into Arthur getting threatened, Merlin helping with his magic and Leon quietly helping Merlin help Arthur. Leon is too loyal/smart to bring it up again so even Merlin doesn't know he knows, he just notices that his workload gets easier, both as a servant and protector. If there's a reveal Leon's just like "wait, you didn't know!?"

(This is #17 on The List)

This is hilarious to me. Leon being too cautious to say the actual word "magic" out loud in the castle, and Arthur being such a dumbass that he completely misinterprets Leon's meaning, and then LEON being too much of a dumbass to realise that Arthur misinterpreted his meaning. The knights have one braincell between them, and neither Leon or Arthur had it during that conversation.

Maybe Lancelot notices Leon being... weirdly supportive (but in a really vague way) of Merlin and comes to the conclusion that Leon has a crush on him. Cue funny B-plot of Lancelot worrying about wanting to set them up, without Leon finding out about the magic?? (Lance doesn't have the braincell either)

Merlin of course ALSO doesn't have the braincell either, because when warm meals or warmer clothes start showing up in his room, he thinks it's Lance or Gaius or Gwen or something. Leon covers for Merlin whenever he disappears, and Leon always knows where he goes (because he keeps an eye out) so search parties set out for Merlin much quicker than they normally do because Leon realises when Merlin has logically been gone for too long. Merlin has no clue why his life got a whole lot easier and doesn't question it until there's some sort of reveal and Leon is all "Oops, sorry Merlin, Arthur, I know y'all wanted to keep this a secret for a while longer" and everyone is just "???"

I'm glad y'all appreciate Leon as much as me, I love him, he deserves a godamn medal for putting up with everything :D

#send asks #send requests #asks #requests #potentials

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comfortwriting · 4 years ago

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Papa Don’t Preach - F.W

Fred Weasley x Reader, inspired by the song ‘Papa Don’t Preach’ by Madonna.

About: the reader discovers that she is carrying her boyfriends baby, the two of them decide to keep it; but the storm gets heavier when she breaks the news to her father.

Theme: fluff and angst

Warnings: teen pregnancy, mention of abortion, swearing.

Throwing up into the toilet, moaning Myrtle giggled at you and sat on the window ledge. “That’s the third time this month”

You wiped your mouth with your sleeve and got up off your knees, flushing the loo you unlocked the door and washed your hands at the sink. “I’m aware Myrtle.” You answered, glaring at her before walking out.

You rushed into the common room, luckily the only people in there were Fred and George. They were messing around pretending to duel with their wands, little sparks hissing out the end.

“Have you seen my bag?” you asked, searching around the room.

The boys couldn’t hear you over their loud laughter, you stood there and put your hand on your hip, glaring at your boyfriend. “Fred, please. This is important.”

Fred and George stopped messing around and spun on their heels.

“You okay love?” Fred asked, walking over and putting his arm around you.

You shook your head no and sighed “I just need my bag”

George walked across the room and picked up your red toiletry bag. You quickly retrieved it, walking over to the sofa you sat down and rifled through it, flicking past your period pads and tampons you pulled out your mini calendar.

Fred and George sat down next to you, the two of them sharing looks of concern.

You counted through the squares, week by week and flicked the page, then another. A wave of sickness and panic pooled inside of you, you put your head in your hands and shook your head.

‘I can’t be, we used a contraceptive charm... surely it worked’ you thought to yourself, your knees shaking and your stomach churning.

“Y/N, what's going on?” George asked, his brother too worried to utter a word.

Everything started to make more sense: the persistent morning sickness, the bloating, the all-day long nausea, your weepiness and mood swings, your breasts constantly feeling tender.

“I think I’m pregnant” you choked out, swallowing hard.

Fred felt his heart sink, feeling scared and annoyed at himself for getting you into such a scary situation.

You went back into your red bag and pulled out a pregnancy test you got from the pharmacy at Christmas when you were back in muggle London.

You stood up, putting the test up your sleeve, walking to the same bathroom, hoping Myrtle would be elsewhere harassing Harry.

“Back so soon?” Myrtle questioned you.

“Fuck off, Myrtle!” You yelled at her, losing your temper.

You walked into the empty stall, locking the door behind you. Fred waited outside as you pulled down your skirt and knickers and sat down. “Fred, put a tap on for me will you?”

Fred walked over to the sinks turning the tap on waiting for you.

You followed the test instructions and stood up, the sound of the fast flowing water made this a lot easier for you, but then again you were always needing a wee with the growing pressure on your bladder.

Flushing the toilet and putting the lid down you placed the stick on lid and walked to the tap to wash your hands. “Thanks love” you smiled at Fred.

“You know, whatever happens won’t make me run away.” Fred smiled, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “How long do we have to wait?”

You smiled at him, drying your hands on your skirt you walked into his arms and pulled him into a tight embrace. “I’m surprised that you didn’t leg it” you joked, trying not to linger in your fear. “we’ll find out in five minutes.”

Fred stood outside the stall where the test was waiting. “Want me to get it?” He asked, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

You shook your head “it’s okay, I’ll get it.”

Walking into the stall, you creeped up on the test like it was a pest you were about to wallop. You grabbed it, your whole future, your whole worth and life would be determined by this stick.

You walked out of the stall standing next to Fred, he wrapped his arm around you. You took me a deep breath and turned the test over so it was facing you. Two blue lines in the little windows stared back you, looking at the key on the handle you got your answer; you were pregnant.

“What does it say sweetheart?” Fred asked sounding nervous.

You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m pregnant with your baby Fred and.. I want to keep it.” You decided.

Fred pulled away for a moment in shock but he smashed his lips against yours, kissing you like he had never kissed you before; his pool of love spilling into you.

“Let’s go and find George, I want him to be the first to know.” Fred beamed, you nodded your head in agreement with him.

“Am I really?!” George asked, sounding like his father, he grinned at the two of you.

You nodded your head and showed him the test, George got up on his feet and hugged you and then his brother.

By 5 months your little Weasley started to move inside of you, you would jolt at first and you started to notice stronger movements and little kicks during your classes, grabbing Fred’s hand you placed it on your bump.

The students started to spread rumours and the professors couldn’t ignore it anymore, after all, you weren’t denying it.

You and Fred were forced to address the rumours, you were both scolded for being so irresponsible but you were also provided with support for your academic studies and a much needed appointment with Madame Pomfrey.

You were lucky, Hogwarts still accepted you, The Weasley’s (after taking time to adjust) were so excited for you and Fred, but you were most nervous to tell your dad; the man who always believed in sex after marriage, hated the Weasleys, and slated pregnant teens who needed help.

Fred pulled out a chair for you at the kitchen table, once you sat down he pushed it in for you making enough room for your little bump.

“Pack plenty of food on that plate, dear” Molly smiled warmly at you.

This caused Ron’s mouth to gape open “All because she’s pregnant doesn’t mean she can—“

“If I were you I’d shut it” Fred warned his little brother

“unless you want to wake up to spiders in your bed.” George added, smirking.

Papa I know you're going to be upset

'Cause I was always your little girl

But you should know by now

I'm not a baby

“So what’s with the visit?” Your father eyed up you and Fred, trying to figure out why you were home on a Saturday.

Fred sat awkwardly on the sofa, his focus shifting on various objects around the room, he feared that your father would rip his head off if he were to look him in the face for longer than a second.

“I just wanted to come and see you, I thought I’d come here instead of going to Hogsmeade for the fifth time in a row” you smiled shyly, trying to keep calm.

Starting to sweat, you fanned your face with your hand, if you were to remove your jumper showing your larger bump you’d be kicked out before you could offer an explanation.

Your father noticed the fishtail braid in your hair and smiled.

“I remember braiding your hair like that when you were a little girl, you could never sit still on my knee. You would always fidget wanting to go and play with the other little girls and boys down the street”

You smiled at such a fond memory of you and your dad, hoping that he would do the same if you were to have a little girl.

“Dad, we uh.. we’re actually here because we’ve got some news.” You opened up bravely, remembering to not place your hand over your bump.

You always taught me right from wrong

I need your help, daddy please be strong

I may be young at heart

But I know what I'm saying

“Has something happened at Hogwarts?” He asked, “have you done something?” He turned to Fred with a fast forming glare on his face.

Fred shook his head, “I—“

“Fred hasn’t done anything” you replied quickly, stopping Fred’s chance at coming clean.

“I brought you up to know right from wrong, to work hard, to respect yourself, to stay away from vermin.” Your father spoke, his words like tiny pins pricking at your chest.

You held your dads hand walking through Diagon Alley to buy the equipment you needed for your first year at Hogwarts.

Waiting in the queue outside Ollivanders a young girl with a baby bump walked past, holding out her dirt covered hands. “Could you spare a sickle or two? I’ve got nowhere to go.” She begged.

Your father pushed you out of her presence, standing in front of you “not a chance, you silly girl.” He spat at her.

You gave her a glance of sympathy and stared down at your shoes.

“Don’t have sympathy for that pathetic girl, she got herself into this mess and she shouldn’t rely on hardworking people to get her out of it!”

The tears in your eyes made your vision go glassy, wiping them away with your sleeve, Fred was quickly asked by your father to leave the room and to wait outside in the hall.

“Dad” you cried, feeling a lump form in your throat “I don’t want you to be angry or upset, I’m responsible for my own actions and choices—“

“What have you done? Tell me!” Your father began to lose his patience.

Fred stood outside the door in the hallway, pacing up and down in tears, he blamed himself - you grew up without a mother and thanks fo him you might be losing your father.

The one you warned me all about

The one you said I could do without

We're in an awful mess

And I don't mean maybe, please

“I don’t want you hanging around them Weasleys, Y/N. They’re bad news.” Your father droned on, walking you to the train.

“They seem really nice” you muttered quietly, admiring the twins getting onto the train.

“They’re too poor for their own good, Arthur has a strange obsession with muggles. That wife of his clearly has a problem closing her legs with all them kids!”

You sighed, feeling annoyed and embarrassed to even be related to the man who was dropping you off.

“I better hurry up or I won’t find a good seat” you replied.

Your thoughts spinning around your head made you dizzy, you had to swallow down the bile. “Please don’t be mad with Fred, he’s a really good guy”

Your fathers hands were bunched into fists, his knuckles started to turn white. “What has he done? Fred, get in here now!”

Fred felt he could faint at any moment but walked back into the living room and sat next to you, taking your hand in his.

“We’re in a really tough situation.” You trailed off, more tears spilling from your orb like eyes.

Papa don't preach I'm in trouble deep

Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep

But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby,

I'm gonna keep my baby,

“I’m pregnant.” You breathed out, feeling the weight suddenly lift of your shoulders “and I’m keeping it”

Your fathers face flushed with rage, he got on his feet and pulled out his wand but your instincts beat him to it, disarming him you shielded Fred.

“Dad please don’t do this.”

“You’ve really done it this time, girl!” Your father yelled. “Did I not raise you better? Did all those lessons mean nothing?!”

You began to shake in your shoes, but you stood your ground, Fred took himself away from your shielding. “She’s done nothing wrong!” He defended you.

“I bet you’ve done this on purpose, haven’t you? Get a beautiful young girl up the duff so no one will want her!” Your father bellowed at him.

He says that he's going to marry me

We can raise a little family

Maybe we'll be all right

It's a sacrifice

You and Fred cuddled in the upgraded double bed, his thumb circling yours as your hands glued together.

“I’m going to marry you, Y/N. Once we have this baby and get on our feet.” Fred murmured lowly, trying not to wake up his brother who laid fast asleep on the floor.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” You replied, your hormones making you weep in relief.

“We’re going to have the most amazing life, mini Fred’s and Y/N’s running around.” He chuckled, kissing your head. “We can get through this.”

“It was an accident!” You yelled at your dad through tears, you gripped your bump feeling the little one kick out.

“A mistake more like!” Your dad yelled back “I was begged not to bring you up after your mother died, that was my mistake! And even worse, there will now be a bastard in the family!”

His horrible comments ripped you into pieces, the pins now turning into hot pokers.

Fred wanted nothing more than to tackle your father to the ground, to beat him senseless but he grabbed your hand and tried to control his emotions.

“We’re going to get married dad, but now it’s more common for non married couples to have kids!” You argued, trying to persuade him.

“Married! With what money! You’re more deluded than I bloody thought, he doesn’t even love you!”

But my friends keep telling me to give it up

Saying I'm too young, I oughta live it up

What I need right now is some good advice, please

“Have you truly thought this through?” Hermione bored into you, pacing in the common room.

You looked up from your books and nodded “yes, how many times do I have to explain?”

“I’m just saying it’s not too late to change your mind, you’re too young to be bringing a child into this world.”

“I’m still studying and attending classes aren’t I?” You huffed, scowling at her. “You’re younger than me!”

“But what about getting a job to provide for your child? It’s irresponsible!”

“I get it!” You yelled at her, you slammed your book shoot and tossed it across the room, storming out.

You were hyperventilating, Fred rubbed your back helping you regulate your breathing.

“You’re dead to me, now get out, both of you. Leave my house and never come back!” Your father yelled.

“Daddy please” you wailed “I really need you, please don’t do this.”

You walked away from Fred and up to your dad gripping his hand in yours, “I need my dad” you cried, searching his lifeless eyes for a response.

Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep

Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep

But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby,

I'm gonna keep my baby,

You cried your eyes out, climbing into your dads arms for a cuddle.

“Please don’t cry” he wiped your tears “what’s got you so upset?”

“I’m not ready to go to Hogwarts, I don’t want to be so far from you.” You wailed, your hair sticking to your face from all the tears.

Your dad tutted and chuckled at your silly worries “you’re going to love it once you’ve settled in, and you can always write to me if you need to.”

Your father snatched his hand back out of your grip, he picked up his wand and stared down you and Fred.

“You both need to leave before I do something I can’t take back.” He warned “NOW”

You cried all the way back to Hogwarts, Fred and George comforting you when you broke down into a mess. Hermione helped you catch up on all the work you had missed from being unable to attend classes as you got into the later stages of your pregnancy, you were about to burst at any moment.

Daddy, daddy if you could only see

Just how good he's been treating me

You'd give us your blessing right now

'Cause we are in love

We are in love (in love), so please (so)

“Mum!” Fred yelled from the bathroom, holding your hand “It’s happening!”

Laying a pool of the water that burst from inside you, you were slammed with contractions making it hard for you to get back on your feet. This was it, the moment you had been waiting for the past nine months.

Molly stumbled into the bathroom and moved her hands around rapidly, piles upon piles of towels and blankets filled the room and the bath started to run.

“Fred help me get her trousers off so we can get her into the bath.”

“Mum we can just use—“

“We can’t use magic for everything!”

After finally getting you undressed they placed you into the bath.

Fred held your hand and knelt beside you, stroking your hair and placing kisses against your temple.

“Please don’t leave me” you cried, feeling frightened.

I’m not going anywhere, love.” He reassured you.

Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep

Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep

But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby, hm

I'm gonna keep my baby, ooh ooh

You opened your eyes and looked down still thinking you were in the bath, you found yourself in Fred’s bed, wrapped in blankets with a towel over your chest.

You tried to sit up but Molly stopped you, “take it slow, dear” she said softly.

“Where’s Fred? Where’s.. where’s my baby?” You asked feeling panicky.

Before you could drive yourself into worry, the bedroom door opened and Fred walked in with your bundle of joy.

Fred now delighted you were finally awake came by your side and placed your child into your arms.

You had passed out from losing too much blood just as your child came into the world.

“Madame Pomfrey was hammering at the door, brilliant timing really.” George told you as you counted your child’s fingers and toes.

“Is it a girl or a boy?” You asked, looking up at the Weasleys standing around your bed.

“A beautiful baby boy.” Fred replied, kissing your head.

“Fabian Weasley” you smiled, looking at Molly. “Let’s name him Fabian.”

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #hp #hogwarts #x reader #weasley x reader #weasley #george weasley #imagines #OneShots #angst #fluff

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matryosika · 4 years ago

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shoot me, chapter IV

pairing — changbin x reader

rating — 18+

genre of the overall series — smut, angst, fluff if you squint

prologue chapter I chapter II chapter III chapter IV

word count for this chapter — 4.5 k

warnings — masochism, choking, thigh riding, marking, humilliation, daddy kink, mild praising, kind of harddom!changbin, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of ownership and possessiveness... i think that's it!

note — i have so many ideas in my head that i think i'm failing to land on this series but today i decided to change the dynamic of the chapter a little bit and make the first part of it from changbin's kind-of-perspective so you could understand what's going on behind the actions of the man himself. the whole chapter is filthy smut honestly, i hope you enjoy it tho!

taglist: @cozyblues @ahgasearmyfan @binnie-m00n @minaamhh

[12:17 a.m. Changbin]

i don't think we should to that again

it was a mistake

i just needed to vent but honestly, getting with you can really damage my future and that's not something i'm willing to jeopardize for sex.

the dark-haired man held his phone to his chest as he thought about the words of the message that he just sent you.

it wasn't a lie though, the fact that he was afraid to fuck up his future for a night of sex, but his insides were on fire everytime he was near you, his soul aching for the same thing his mind wanted.

before you could even reply his dry messages, changbin got on his car and drove all the way to his place, contemplating on whether he should have a drink or two to try and deal with the mess of the decisions he was making.

he knew it wasn't going to be easy to have self-control around you specially because he was doomed to see you almost on a daily basis at arthur's house or the company, that being the main reason behind why he decided to send that message: because he didn't wanted things to get uncomfortable at places where the two of you should act like a couple of good friends, and nothing more.

he didn't went to your place because he needed to vent or fix his sexual frustrations with your body; he went there because, after the night of the bar, he couldn't forget the image of you as a goddess. he couldn't forget your taste, your skin, the way your hips involuntarily grinded while he was eating you out, your body following every order he gave you as if your only purpose in life was to satisfy him.

and as the days passed by, it was harder and harder for him to repress the idea of you in his bed. him owning your body, fucking you countless days and nights. the more he got the know you, the more his desires increased; even when you were talking about your childhood memories at seoul with changbin's parents in an attempt to try and avoid any kind of conversation with him, he couldn't stop thinking how attractive you were to his eyes.

Changbin's perspective

[9:54 p.m. Changbin]

i'm here

don't take too long

changbin rested his whole body weight on the drivers seat, ready to wait for -at least- another 15 minutes to be able to drive to chan's house. he was certain you were going to be there as ryujin told chan, and chan told him.

he knew all along that he wanted to have you in any way, but he also knew that his pride wouldn't allow him to make the first move after he was the one who cutted any kind of sexual ties between the two of you.

after 2 minutes, and for changbin's surprise, soyeon didn't took any longer to appear at the lobby of her complex, waving goodbye at the doorman.

"you didn't took long" changbin said, waiting for her to get inside the car.

"you were the one who made me wait" soyeon replied, getting comfortable at the car's seat.

"yeah i had things to do" the man replied as he started to drive towards chan's party that wasn't too far from the place he was at now. soyeon was changbin's best friend since highschool, something strange because he was never too fond of hanging out with women in a way that wasn't entirely sexual.

"so" the blonde one mumbled "you do realize that this plan is pathetic?"

changbin scoffed as his eyes were fixed on the road "if you don't want to help me just say so"

"it's not that" she replied "it's just that is ten times easier to just approach her than to try and make her jealous just to see if she approaches you first. not only is easier but more... mature"

"do you really want to talk about maturity, soyeon?" changbin teased "that's bold coming from the girl who breaks up with her partner every 3 weeks and then gets back together"

"you don't have to be mean" she pouted, giving changbin a soft hit on his arm. "i'm trying my best"

changbin exhaled harshly as he was looking for a place to park his car. "you don't have to do anything, just act like you are with me"

"you are so lame" soyeon said, getting ready to leave the car as changbin finished parking "i really hope she is with another man too so you can cut the crap and act like a man your age"

"whatever"

changbin left the car and opened the door for the girl to get out too. the party had started, at least, 2 hours ago so he knew he was late and everyone else was probably drunk already. not that he cared though.

soyeon entered the house grabbing changbin's left arm, her eyes dancing around the crowded living room trying to catch a glimpse of the girl that was making changbin act like a highschooler. "it would be very useful if you told me how the fuck does she looks like" she screamed, squirming and dodging the drunk people that were dancing around in the living room.

"don't act too obvious" changbin muttered in her ear "i'm not even sure she is still here, she probably left.

changbin and soyeon walked further into the house as they greeted chan and the rest of the boys, congratulating jeongin on his birthday who was too drunk to even reply.

"there's alcohol in the kitchen and the courtyard, if you want to start there" chan said, ryujin gripping his arm while she ocasionally stumbled on her place.

"you got a girlfriend?" ryujin asked without remorse, pointing at soyeon with her index finger "jesus christ i knew you were a dick"

soyeon looked at her and then at changbin, unsure of what to reply or say. not that she needed to, since ryujin started talking again right after she insulted changbin.

"i'm glad i was smart enough to convince y/n to come to this party, at least she met a man who is going to-"

"okay that's enough" chan said, him being a little more lucid than her. "she is drunk, i'm sorry"

"no worries" soyeon said, watching how chan and ryujin dissapeared into the crowd of people.

"do they know about your little obsession with her?" the blonde one asked, changbin's eyes scanning the whole room.

"i just told chan that i wanted to fuck her, i guess y/n told her the whole story to chan's date. it is her bestfriend, apparently"

"oh"

changbin and soyeon walked to the kitchen to grab a drink, since it was closer than the courtyard. after a few minutes, the search for you was usuccesful and changbin came to the conclusion that you probably left earlier with the mysterious man ryujin said.

"well, pathetic boy" soyeon mumbled "you are already here, you might as well have a little of fun, take a girl home... i don't know what you straight people do" she extended her hand to him, inviting changbin to join her at the courtyard for a dance.

as she guided him through the living room and into the patio, changbin's body was quick to react when she saw you with jisung. his whole body tensed up, making sure to grab soyeon as close as he could to pretend that he wasn't alone.

"hey man i'm not-" soyeon reproached as changbin's hand traveled to her waist, his body pressing against hers. she directed his gaze as to where changbin's eyes were fixed and it took her a lot of self-control to not start bursting of laughter. "fuck changbin, you have good taste"

"shut up" y/n was now looking directly at changbin and his partner while she danced against jisung's body. changbin couldn't see his face, but he knew immediatly who he was by the undercut and clothes the man was wearing.

"seems like my pleas were answered" his bestfriend whispered, getting more into the role of a straight-girl-crazy-about-changbin character as she rested her head on his shoulder. "better luck the next time i guess"

y/n eyes drifted away from changbin's as she turned around to stop facing the couple. her back was now against jisung's chest, her ass grinding on him slowly as the song progressed.

"this is so funny"

but it wasn't funny for changbin, his whole body ablazing because of the anger and jealousy he was feeling. watching you dance with another man was exactly what was needed for him to confront his pride, as the only thing he could think of was to drag you out of the party and fuck you mercilessly until the only thing you could remember was his name.

just a few seconds later, the image he was fearing the most was now presenting itself in front of his eyes. your sweet lips dancing around jisung's as his hands were resting on your waist eager to travel to other places.

"i think i saw hyunjin inside" soyeon mumbled, escaping the unpleaseant (but funny) scene of his best friend going completely jealous over a girl.

changbin needed to do something, and he needed to do it now.

y/n perspective

"please ruin me" you whispered, your soul immersed in arousal, guilt and regret.

"you shouldn't have said that, y/n" changbin growled as he gripped your hair to pull you in for a kiss. the touch of his hands burned on your skin deliciously, feeling the electricity traveling through your veins and into your core. the kiss was rough, and you couldn't help but whimper as you felt the fabric of his clothes against your naked skin, reminding you of how good it felt to be vulnerable in front of him.

his lips went from yours to your neck really quick, peppering kisses on the surface as he licked and sucked on the exposed skin. "if i'm going too far, you can stop me anytime" he exhaled, his teeth picking up the skin under your jawline softly.

you nodded as he worked on your neck, getting soft moans and cries out of you.

"can i please mark you?" he asked, with a broken voice as if he was running out of air, desperate to continue exploring your body. marking. the idea of being covered in faint bruises because of him only contributed to your arousal even more.

"go ahead" you moan "make sure they are visible enough"

changbin smirked against your neck as his grasp on your ass got harder. you couldn't help to flinch a little when he started to suck harshly on your neck, but he was quick to wrap his arms around you to keep you in place. the mere thought of him causing you this kind of pleasure, mixed with pain, made you squeeze your thighs together.

"god" you moaned, grabbing his hair and pushing him to keep marking you "fuck, that hurts" it did, but you didn't wanted to stop.

"it is supposed to hurt, precious" changbin said, his arms still holding you thight as he created a masterpiece on your naked skin "that's the only way you will remember who you belong to and who made you feel this good"

changbin's hands toured the sides of your body and your back, unclenching the piece of underwear that was blocking him to keep kissing your skin.

"your body is always ready for me" he mumbled, your nipples hardening at the mere sound of his raspy voice "look precious, you are so good"

you couldn't help but whine at the cold sensation of changbin's finger rings that were caressing and teasing your hardened buds. "you look so... fragile"

"you don't have to be gentle with me" you moaned in frustration, almost begging for his tongue to make contact where you needed you the most. "i don't break easily"

changbin looked at you with the darkest gaze he had ever give you. "you have no idea where you are getting into by saying those words, y/n"

changbin's mouth approached one of your nipples as he lazily dragged his tongue around it. his fingers traveled to the opposite side, caressing and playing with your other bud.

"fuck, that feels good"

finally, his tongue made contact where you needed it the most, giving small and quick licks that were starting to drive you insane. you always knew how sensitive you were, specially in that area, and now that changbin knew this it was kind of dangerous.

"who is making you feel this good, hm?" he hummed, his mouth alternating between places.

"i don't like you" you moaned, screaming the last word as changbin aggressively sucked on your chest leaving a faint mark.

"you don't? and you are this worked up?" he asked with a mocking tone, his senses intoxicated with your scent.

"matter of fact i hate you" you mumbled, trying to repress your moans "don't think you are the only person in this world who can satisfy me"

changbin planted a tiny kiss on your shoulder as he proceeded to rest his whole weight on the couch, manspreading for you. "take that off" he ordered, pointing out your panties.

you did as you were told, dragging your damped underwear through your legs and removing it in front of him. now being completely naked, his hand palmed his left thigh "come here"

you placed both your legs on each side of his thigh as your wet core made contact with the fabric of his black jeans, the sole movement making you whine and involuntarily grind against him. "show me how much you hate me"

you swallowed hard unsure of what to do next, his arms now crossed in front of his chest.

"how do... you want me to do that?" you asked quietly, feeling how your juices were probably making a mess on his clothes.

"ride my thigh" changbin ordered, giving you a condescending look "prove me that you can satisfy yourself better than i can"

you licked your lips nervously as your breath caught up on your throat. you knew perfectly that you couldn't do that, you needed changbin's help to cum and if you didn't, he would probably humilliate you for it.

"go on, precious. as much as i would love to stay here all night i have plenty of ideas to ruin that filthy pride of you" your core rubbed against his thigh almost unconciously, your hands traveling to his shoulders for support. "hmmmm" he hummed, grabbing both of your wrists and slowly placing your arms behind your back "you can do it by yourself"

the lack of help from changbin and the fact that your whole body had no support only made things harder. your hips grinded against him at a painfully slow pace while your hands were behind your back, changbin enjoying the view of your whole body trying to pathetically get any pleasure from him.

"i need to hold onto something" you cried, the frustration increasing as your clit grazed ever-so-slightly against him "please"

after that plea, you felt changbin's grip on your throat again "this should do precious" he muttered.

thankfully, changbin's hold on your neck gave you the tinniest bit of support, your hips moving now faster against his thigh.

"fuck da-"your breath got caught up on your throat, partly because of changbin's grip making it impossible for you to talk and partly because the petname that was about to leave your lips was rather embarassing.

"what was that, princess?" he asked, amused. he wasn't doing anything other than having you fucking his thigh, but he couldn't deny the painful bulge inside his pants that was driving him insane.

"it was nothing" you whispered in between broken moans.

"say it" he ordered, "say it and i might reward you with something"

you bit your lips attempting to refrain from saying anything else, your core clenching around thin air as your fluids damped his jeans. "fuck daddy" you whisper, almost inaudible.

"louder" he demmanded, his hands leaving your neck to place themselves on your hips, guiding your movements against his body while he flexed his thigh making the contact between your core 10 times deeper.

"yes, daddy" you whined, almost to the point of screaming at the feeling of his hands harshly guiding your whole movements "this feels so fucking good"

"my poor baby can't do anything by herself?" he grunted, admiring the image of your breasts swinging as your body grinded on his thigh "does daddy has to do everything for her?"

the way he used his own petname sent you to cloud 9, only making you wetter.

"i'm sorry daddy" you cried, your head falling slightly back as you followed changbin's grip.

"you should be, y/n" changbin's voice getting deeper by the minute "because you look so pathetic right now"

the words that were leaving his lips only made you needier and contributed to your arousal to increase, the knot on your stomach threatening to come undone any second.

"i think i'm close" you whispered, your hands still behind your back.

"keep your eyes open and look at me" changbin ordered "i want you to remember who made you cum this hard without even touching you"

changbin's gaze was all you needed to come undone on his thighs, closing your eyes at the minute you felt the highest point of your orgasm hitting you "what do good girls like you must say?" he asked, getting even harder by the image of your trembling body orgasming in front of him.

"thank you daddy" you cried softly, your voice broken. "thank you, thank you, thank you"

there was nothing in this world that changbin loved more than your duality. how you would act dominant in every aspect of your daily life, but not when you were with him alone. you struggled to hide your pride, but once you did, changbin knew that you were fully submitted to him.

and you knew that too. as much as you hated him, he knew how to make you lose your senses and drift into a completely different state, one more vulnerable. 3 times it was all he needed for you to show him the purest side of you: the needy one, the submissive one, the one who needed to be completely ruined and taken care of at the same time.

"such an obedient whore" changbin moaned, pulling you into his arms to give you a kiss "do you think you can keep going, y/n?"

your legs were tired, but there was something that you had been craving since the night at the bar and there was no possible way you would leave his apartment without getting it.

"i'm can, daddy"

"good" he said, getting up from the couch and driving you to his bed. he didn't bothered to turn on the lights as the whole room was lit up by the window.

you came closer to start unbottoning his pants, craving to feel his length inside your mouth just like last time, but he was quick to grab your wrists "today it's not going to be about me" changbin mentioned, undressing slowly in front of you. "as much as i want to put that pretty mouth to good use, i have other plans in mind"

you rested your whole body on your forearms as your legs spreaded in front of him, exposing your whole naked body for changbin.

he drove one of his hands to his mouth and slightly spitted on it in order to stroke his cock to lubricate it, mixing his own saliva with the precum that was already dripping from him.

"you look so good in that position" he praised "your whole body ready for me to completely destroy it"

your nipples hardened at his words, and he was quick to notice it "i don't think jisung would have been able to make you feel this good"

you licked your lips at the confidence he exuded, even at moments like this. changbin's body aligned with yours, the tip of his cock rubbing against your wet folds, slipping with easiness "you are always so wet for me"

the frustration building up again just by feeling his cock against your entrance. you would be lying if you said you didn't thought about how it would feel to have him inside you, even if the idea scared you. it was a while since the last time you fucked and, to be honest, you didn't think you had done it properly. the only times you actually did it, it was completely hard for you to feel anything but pain, and that thought crossed your mind right before he could even get inside you.

"can i?" he asked, noticing how your face looked slightly terrified.

"changbin i-" you stopped before you could say something else. you tried your best to build up this confident sex-appealing character who, in reality, knew nothing about the practice of sex. it was going to be embarrassing to admit that you were -barely- a virgin, even though you actually weren't, to the man who just humilliated the shit out of you a few seconds ago.

"mhm precious?" he asked, a faint smirk appearing on his face.

"i- it's been a while since the last time i did it" you confessed, his smirk growing bigger. "it's not my first time, but let's just say that i have little to cero practice on this area"

it was embarassing to admit such a thing, but you were not open to have more bad experiences with sex. you expected for changbin to laugh at you, or act all cocky, but the smirk on his face was rather confusing. "i'll treat you well, precious" changbin said, sliding the tip of his cock against your core "can i?"

with a hesitant gaze, you nodded, your whole body squirming under his as you felt his cock stretching every wall inside you. changbin was big and it was painful, you couldn't lie. "you are taking me so well, precious"

soon, the painful feeling became pleasure. changbin wasn't moving at all, letting you get used to him inside you, but you quickly found yourself moving your hips in circular motions signaling that you were completely ready to take him.

slowly, his hips thrusted in and out of you. he needed to ruin you, he needed to go fast and rough on you, but your comfort was a priority for him. as much as he wanted to make a mess of you and make you scream in pain and pleasure, he was determined to control himself and his impulses.

"you are so fucking tight" he growled, trying to repress any sinful noises that could escape his lips.

"don't hold back" you whimpered, feeling how the pleasure and pain were finally becoming one. "do whatever you want with me but don't hold back"

"you don't know what you are asking for, precious" he scoffed, the feeling of his lenght being hugged by your warm walls almost driving him insane.

"i do" you moaned, looking directly into his eyes with the needier gaze he had ever seen in his life "i need you to ruin me like you promised me to, i know you can"

changbin licked his lips as his forearms rested on both sides of your head, his breath coming closer to yours "you have so little experience in this but i already made you a masochist, didn't i?"

changbin thrusted hard into you as he said the last sentence, earning a whiny moan out of you.

and, following your plea, his pace rapidly increase without a warning. your eyes rolled to the back of your head with each thrust, changbin going completely feral at the sight of his good girl begging for him to hurt her.

"faster... daddy" you cried, almost out of breath. the feeling was as humilliating as it was powerful. there was some comfort in knowing that you submitted completely for him, and that now he was going to show you how good he could make you feel.

"you are such a whore y/n" he moaned, his raspy voice turning deeper as he thrusted inside you. "my whore"

your fingers traveled all the way to your clit, rubbing it with circular motions as changbin's length was satisfying your hole "does that feel good precious?"

"it does daddy" you reply, words broken as the whines and moans wouldn't let you form decent sentences.

"you look so good being ruined by me"

there it was that familiar knot again, starting to come undone on your lower abdomen. by changbin's heavy breathing and sloppy thrusts you knew he was close too. "you feel so fucking good, y/n"

you bit your lips, your voice not being able to emit any sound at all because the pleasure was starting to become slightly overwhelming. it felt incredibly nice having him inside you, ruining you, destroying you. you felt powerless and at his mercy, ready to do anything just for him to praise you with a few words.

"i'm close again daddy"

as you said this, changbin's pace increased. his lips attached into yours, his tongue fighting to get that intoxicating taste of you once again. your whole body started to violently shake as you came undone changbin's arms holding you right in place so you wouldn't move. "that's my good slut" he praised.

tears started streaming down your face as you were at the highest point of your orgasm. "that's my good fucking slut, cuming on her daddy's cock" he grunted.

the overstimulation by his thrusts was soon to appear, making you squirm into his arms but trying to hold on so he could chase his high too. "y/n"

"changbin" you cried, your half-lidded eyes looking directly into his, that were now filled with desire.

"let me cum inside you" he asked, biting his lips and trying to control himself waiting for your answer.

the overstimulation began to feel like pleasure quickly again at his words, your core dripping even more your own juices with each thrust he gave you. "cum inside me, please daddy"

those words were all he needed to release himself inside your cunt, earning grunts and moans from him. the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.

"thank you daddy" you whined, feeling his hot cum dripping out of your pussy once he pulled himself out. "thank you so much daddy"

the mere perversed image of you with your legs parted, his own cum dripping out of you as your fingers traveled to your cunt to mix your arousal with his and then tasting it, was all he needed to convince himself that this was not going to be the last time to have you like this.

he needed to have the precious submissive girl who was in front of him, with her makeup and hair ruined, with her whole body dripping in sweat and his scent.

he needed to ruin you.

he needed to destroy you.

he needed to take care of you.

he needed to own you.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #smut #angst #stray kids angst #skz angst #changbin x reader #changbin smut #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz oneshots #stray kids oneshots #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #kpop smut #kpop angst

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coldmorte · 3 years ago

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bro i'm a sucker for soft Vandermorgan....dutch reading while arthur sketches.....leaning on eachother.....dutch reaching over to rub arthur's back every few pages........running his hand through arthur's hair...soft k*sses and giggling...

Howdy, anon! 💜

My apologies that it took me a week to get back to this one. I gave time to consider it, and I hope the fic I wrote in response makes up for that!! It’s a very cute ask, and I love tenderness between them, too. But despite my affection for lighthearted stuff, I usually struggle with writing it (I’m a very dark and morbid person - oops 😅). Anyway, I’ve been getting quite a few soft VDM asks lately, so I figured I would accept another challenge!

I was hesitant about actually posting this, but I figured, what is there to lose? It does have some angst sprinkled in (I couldn’t help myself), but I hope I did your idea justice!!!

Oh, and to anybody else who sent VDM asks recently, I am still giving them some thought! So, stay tuned 😉

In the meantime, please enjoy…❤️🖤

“Why are you avoiding me, Arthur?”

Hand freezing and pencil ceasing its scratching within the journal on his lap, Arthur furrowed his brow as he peaked over the fire at Dutch. Yet, his eyes remained wide and questioning as he pushed back, “I’m not avoiding you. I just didn’t think you wanted to be bothered while you read.”

“Oh, come on. You know I never minded it in the past, especially not on a cold night like this. We could use all the heat we can spare between us,” Dutch flipped his book shut, patting the ground beside him.

Likewise, Arthur slid the bookmark of his journal in place as he closed it. “Well, I guess… it’s just…”

Dutch chuckled as he noticed Arthur bite his lip to suppress a timid smile. He gestured to Arthur, beckoning him over once again. “I know it’s been a long time since it’s been just the two of us, but you don’t have to be shy.”

“Alright,” Arthur agreed as he pushed himself to his feet, journal still clutched in one hand. He walked over and knelt next to Dutch, but before he could properly get seated, Dutch reached forward and grasped him by his shirt collars. Pressing Arthur’s back to his bedroll, Dutch pinned him there as he straddled his hips.

The journal got cast aside as Arthur grabbed at Dutch’s back. Their lips met, hungrily and impassioned. Dutch pressed his chest firmer against Arthur’s and moaned at the warmth that radiated between them. He pulled back and grinned down at Arthur through heavily-lidded eyes, “See, isn’t it better on this side?”

“I was afraid this might happen,” Arthur laughed as he reached a hand forward and brushed some loose curls away from Dutch’s face.

Emitting a soft hum, Dutch felt himself glow with a warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Leaning in close once more, he whispered, “And are you complaining?”

“Never.” Arthur pulled Dutch in for another kiss, before Dutch backed away and sat up.

“I didn’t think so.” Dutch smirked as he reached for his wool blanket and unfolded it. Motioning for Arthur to sit up as well, he handed him a corner. They each wrapped part of it around themselves as they huddled close to the fire.

Arthur scooped his journal up and leaned against Dutch, his back pressed into the older man’s arm and shoulder for support. He reopened the journal on his lap, but his position hid his face and the journal’s contents from Dutch as he returned to sketching.

Attempting to peer over Arthur’s shoulder to no avail, Dutch asked, “What are you working on?”

“What are you reading?” Arthur shot back.

Dutch felt his heart briefly flutter. He couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice as he responded, “Since when do you care about what I read?”

When Arthur gave no response, Dutch slipped one hand around Arthur’s chest, hugging him and pulling him tighter. Gradually, he let his hand glide lower, until it reached the top of Arthur’s pants. Tugging at the shirt tucked in there, Dutch moved it out of the way and slipped his cold fingers inside. Arthur jumped at the sudden intrusion and gave a shriek, “AHH! Dutch! Your hand is freezing!”

Nuzzling his nose against the back of Arthur’s neck, Dutch pressed a soft kiss there. His lips grazed the sensitive flesh as he muttered, “Why are you being so difficult tonight, my boy?”

“Too bad you just ruined any chance of seeing my sketch.” Arthur’s voice had a teasing edge, but it was lighthearted. “Read to me, first. I always liked listening to your voice.”

At that statement, Dutch pulled his hand away from Arthur’s warm skin but still kept it wrapped around him as he moved his head back in surprise. His mouth hung slightly agape at the boldness in Arthur’s tone, though he felt the corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. “So, that’s how you want to play this game… fine.”

Picking his book up in his free hand, Dutch opened it in his lap and scanned the pages. Arthur continued to sketch as Dutch’s other hand rubbed small circles over his chest.

Landing on a passage that caught his eye, Dutch began to read, “‘But whether the resistance against tyrants is non-violent or physically violent, the overarching efforts to overthrow oppression justifies the means.’ What do you think of that, Arthur?”

“It’s very nice, Dutch.”

“‘Nice?’ That’s the word you’d use to describe it?” Dutch protested, though he affectionately wrapped his arm tighter around Arthur as he did so. He flipped through the pages for a few more moments of silence before his eyes landed on another. “Well, how about this one? ‘The whole point of America is freedom. Freedom of thought, freedom of deed, freedom of action.’”

Letting out a sigh, Arthur tilted his head back so he could look at Dutch. Their faces were close - mere inches apart - as Arthur spoke, just barely above a whisper, “Does it always have to be about politics, Dutch? Some greater good? I thought we came out here to escape all that.”

Dutch wanted to argue and explain how important Evelyn Miller’s writings were to their mission as a gang and their survival. But he knew Arthur was right. This was their moment to share, and it wasn’t any use wasting it on philosophical debates. Those could wait.

Tipping his head forward, Dutch pressed a chaste kiss to Arthur’s lips and nodded as he pulled away. “Okay.”

Arthur smiled at him as he turned his head back towards his journal and continued to work. Looking back at his book, Dutch searched for a different passage to read. Though most of the ones he noted were about ideological teachings, he did finally settle on one that made his eyes narrow and lips tighten in consideration.

Taking a breath, Dutch traced the words with his finger as he read aloud, “‘Say what you have to say, not what you ought. Any truth is better than make-believe.’”

Arthur did not say anything in response, though Dutch felt his hand stop drawing, as if Arthur was thinking about it. Dutch could feel the steady beat of Arthur’s heart as he gently massaged his chest.

Eventually, Dutch buried his face in Arthur’s blond hair as he asked, “Hmm, was that better?”

Arthur flipped his journal shut in his lap and rocked lightly into Dutch as he muttered, “You know I was never much good with words.”

“Oh, son… and you know that I wish you wouldn’t downplay yourself like this.” Dutch squeezed Arthur’s breast as he cradled him closer. “You speak from the heart, that’s what matters most... same goes for when you draw in that journal of yours.”

At that, Arthur bent his head down towards the journal in his lap. He tied the leather flap and slid the pencil in place underneath it. Lifting the journal, he set it in front of where the two of them were seated and pushed it forward. It was like a silent invitation, placed just out of reach.

Adjusting his position, Arthur turned around so he could lean his chest against Dutch as he wound both of his arms around the older man’s waist. He buried his head in the crook of Dutch’s neck, and Dutch couldn’t suppress a shiver as Arthur’s warm breath vibrated across the bare flesh at his collar when he spoke, “Thank you for reading to me. ‘M getting tired…”

“Rest up, it’s been a long day.” Dutch set his own book aside so he could readjust himself and wrap his arms around Arthur’s back. He rubbed soothing circles as he rested his chin atop Arthur’s head and watched the flickering glow of the fire.

This was real.

This wasn’t make-believe, or some long-lost memory. Arthur’s steady breathing and the warmth of his flesh confirmed that fact. Dutch let his eyes flicker shut in thought as he was once again reminded of how right Arthur was.

At the end of the day, all those fancy words in his books and his own philosophizing would be meaningless without Arthur by his side.

Dutch furrowed his brow as he blinked his eyes open. Biting his lip, he took a sharp breath and paused. He hesitated to say the words on the tip of his tongue, but he released a long exhale as he tightened his grip on his boy.

He felt safe here.

“You know, Arthur… you’re right. This life of crime, even I sometimes wonder where it all ends, or if it even ends at all. I try to do what’s best, I really do. I know I talk a lot about loyalty and how important it is to keep faith, but these moments when I’m alone with you….” Dutch let his voice trail off. Even amidst his own speaking, he couldn’t fail to notice the light snore coming from Arthur’s lips.

But rather than feeling anger or frustration, Dutch merely smiled. In a way, it was a relief. Arthur couldn’t hear him, and if he could, he would never remember Dutch’s words come morning. Somehow, it was easier this way. Whatever he said aloud, he knew he wouldn’t have to prove or justify it to anybody. He could speak from the heart.

The truth.

“I don’t know how I could ever go on without you. Please, don’t ever let go…”

At that, Dutch squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He focused on the way Arthur maintained a tight grip around his waist, despite his steady snores. The words weren’t meant to be literal, but for the moment, Dutch could allow himself to believe it was possible both physically and figuratively.

Dutch blinked the dampness away from his eyelashes as he looked back towards the fire. The journal was still sitting there, illuminated by the orange glow. Shifting on the ground, Dutch lifted his head away from Arthur and peered down at him. He seemed unbothered by the movements, so Dutch decided to push it further. Unwrapping one arm from around Arthur’s back, Dutch leaned slowly forward, until his fingertips were just able to land on the journal’s leather cover.

Pulling the book towards him, Dutch was able to pick it up in one hand and place it in his lap. He briefly feared the action disturbed Arthur, for he whined and pressed his face harder against Dutch’s shoulder. However, his heavy breathing continued, and Dutch proceeded to slide the journal’s strap out of its place. Holding the pencil in his hand, Dutch turned to the bookmark at the back.

There, he found a sketch of two animals - a buck and a wolf. Despite serving contrasting roles in the wild, they looked perfectly at ease within the sketch. They curled around each other as they laid down to rest, their noses nearly touching. The way they huddled together made it seem believable that they really could find harmony, regardless of their true natures.

On the opposite page, a message was written, “‘Couldn’t resist, could you?’”

Dutch chuckled, Was he really that predictable?

Using the pencil, he scrawled his own note underneath, “‘It’s no use trying to fight who we really are.’”

Taking one last look at the sketch, Dutch ran a finger over it. Just as he could speak in metaphorical language, Arthur could draw in it. But the meanings underneath it all remained the same.

Just because it wasn’t literal, that didn’t mean it wasn’t the truth.

Closing the journal and placing it back where he found it, Dutch kept a firm hold on Arthur as he pulled the both of them down to lay on his bedroll. Adjusting the blanket, Dutch made sure it was draped snugly over them as Arthur soundlessly snuggled his face against Dutch’s chest and hugged him tighter. Once Dutch was comfortable, he likewise wrapped his arms around Arthur, one holding him by the small of his back and the other rumpling his hair.

Feeling tired as well, Dutch shut his eyes. With his final words for the night, Dutch thought of what he just wrote in the journal as they held each other close. Continuing along the same line of thought, he whispered, “We just gotta embrace it.”

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