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kneelingshadowsalome · 2 years ago

Note

Oh GOD, breeding kink with Ghost but he's actually determined to get his darling pregnant because after everything they've been through together, how much he loves her and vice versa? I could go on but it's just something to think about. I also strongly believe he'd be that kind of girl dad heheh

Couldn't Love You More (Ghost x F!Reader)

Left pic credit: @ vhenan_virabelasan on IG

Word count: 3.7 k

Tags/warnings: Tooth-rotting FLUFF. Mild, soft smut 🔞, crying (from joy), breeding kink (obv), comfort no hurt. All the softness and love.

A/N: Excuse me, more soft!Ghost coming through! I hope you like this take anon 💕

"I'm tired of using those things."

Simon rarely whispers, hardly ever murmurs, and never coos. But this time, his voice is deliberately soft.

You sigh and put the condom package down on the table. This evening had been a nice change, a pampering for your poor, stressed-out nerves. He had done his best to take your mind off work ever since he got home: he took you out for a 3-course dinner – which reminded you of the early days of your dating – and it was all supposed to end in a good stress relief of a fuck.

You'd sent him suggestive texts all morning, knowing he was coming home today. Those messages were extra naughty because you happened to be ovulating, and juicy, and horny as hell.

And you know he has waited for this moment as well. Which is why you can't get your head around why he wants to raise the subject of using other methods of contraception right before you're about to have sex.

Why would he suddenly start complaining when both of you are already naked – practically seconds before you're about to roll down the condom for him?

"You know I've tried, Simon," you sigh again – you don't even bother to disguise the annoyance in your voice. After all, you've tried basically everything to make it more pleasurable for you to make love without the risk of getting knocked up. You hate the rubber between the two of you just as much as he does, if not more. Apparently you need to remind him how the last attempt with the pill went.

"I become a bloated monster," you say, realizing you're pouting only when he laughs.

You absolutely love it when he does: it's a rare thing, even with you. Even after all these years of love and dedication, the warm, husky chuckle at the back of his throat makes your heart flutter and your head feel dizzy.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean…?"

The man has a tiny twinkle in his eyes, and the flutter in your heart turns into something heavier, more serious. He looks you up and down as if to weigh whether you're ready to take in what he's about to say.

"How about we just ditch the bloody things?"

Your heart is truly getting it today: it skips a beat or two from what he says. From what he implies.

"But you…” you whisper, still unsure if you're truly discussing the same thing here. “You said that kids are a bad idea."

"They are."

The twinkle in those eyes turns into an amused gleam, the corner of his mouth lifts up a bit from seeing you so shocked.

And Simon never said he didn't want children.

It's just that he has avoided the subject like it's a seasonal flu he doesn't want to catch.

He would make the perfect father: you just know it. Sad to say, but it was one of the main reasons you fell for this man. It's stupid, but it's true: women look for these things. They can tell if a guy would be a good choice for a father. They notice safety, security, the willingness to support and provide.

Biology and instincts be damned, you simply can't deny that Simon is the first man who made you think about what it would be like to have children. And of course the perfect candidate for a father thought that kids were a bad idea…

It seemed like a cruel joke, the way he brushed you off when you first approached him with your shy request. You pussyfooted around the subject, were as delicate as one can be, knowing it might make him uncomfortable.

And it did. It more than just did.

He freaked the fuck out, went to work, and worked himself nearly to death – literally almost got himself killed, and you understood that this was serious. His childhood, his past, the dangers of his work – of course he thought himself unfit for the role.

Infuriatingly, it only made you more convinced that he was the perfect choice. The man was just so fricking responsible.

You barred your mouth shut after that. Instinct told you Simon might just leave if you continued the talk about having kids. Not because he couldn't take it, but because he would want to give you a chance to find someone to raise a family with before it was too late.

It was his view of unconditional love: he was ready to let you go if need be. He would set you free if he suspected it would make you happy.

But then you saw him look at tiny kids – usually the ones that had just learned to walk – with a fleeting longing in his stare. It always turned into a withdrawn sulk, the gaze of a man who has accepted his fate.

He seemed to have the softest spot for little girls, especially when they were laughing and giggling or being unruly rascals, and sometimes flinched when a baby started to cry in the store. He looked a bit distressed for a second, and not because of the noise – but because he couldn't locate the immediate source and go and calm the baby.

That's when you realized he actually wanted kids. The biological clock on this man was ticking just as furiously as yours.

Years passed, and you silently buried your dreams of raising a little family together. He was enough for you, more than enough: you would not break up because of this. No man could ever replace Simon.

But it still hurt. It was like a wound that never healed.

Until this night…

This night, it seemed he would not only cure it but heal it so well it wouldn’t even leave a scar.

You suddenly find yourself under him – his moves are so quick that it's almost like you're teleported there. He sometimes does that: lets you play with him for a while, have your fun on top before reminding you who is in control here.

And this time, he won't even let you play.

"Simon, what are you doing," you sigh with barely concealed exhilaration.

As if you didn't know exactly what he is about to do.

He looks at you with that possessive look he sometimes has when you two have been apart for far too long. And there's something more behind that stare. It tells you that this is serious; this means business. The package you placed on the nightstand remains unopened and, apparently, will be the witness to his mission tonight.

Serves the damn thing right…

You take in the absolute beef of this man: the bulk of pecs above you, the wide, solid middle that nearly swallows you every time you're under him.

You almost disappear between him and the mattress when you two are doing missionary, and it's one of the best feelings in the world. You've wanted to sink your teeth in to those huge, solid shoulders for god knows how many times. Once or twice, you actually did give him a little bite, only a nib, really, during a good pounding – and giggled at the breathless grunt of "Hey" that followed.

The trail of hair, darker in tone compared to the hair on his head, spreads over his abs which rest under a thin layer of fat. The happy trail, as you call it, runs down until it meets the heavy cock that always makes your mouth water like it's your favorite meal.

His hand is weighty, adoring when it comes to rest on your waist – the callous of his palms feels just the right kind of rough as he gives you the softest squeeze and a caress.

And he must know from the wanton looks you gave him all evening that he can just walk right in. Probably knew from those texts already that you've been wet all day long.

You try to spread your legs wider than they can go as he grabs himself to be positioned to your entrance. The fat tip of him feels heavy on your folds as he lazily slides himself up and down your slit, teasing the opening but not going in. It feels heavenly to sense him, all of him, with nothing there between you. There's no lifeless rubber: just his thick velvet meeting your wetness and silk.

The darned man won't even answer your question… Probably knows it's not really a question, just an astonished sigh of love.

"It's…not safe," your head falls back as he pushes the first few inches in – teasing you still by not giving you the full length and thick of him.

"Tired of safe, too," he rumbles softly above you, feeds more of himself in, and you tighten around his cock: receive him with fierce love and yearning. He groans at the sensation – it must feel divine for him, too. It must feel like it's meant to be this way. Now and forever.

You sigh as he starts to move, slow and intense, just the way he knows you like it when there's been too much stress and life has been a bitch. He always makes you feel better, always makes you melt in his arms when you run to him from the unfair, fucked up world.

He's got some bad days too, and that’s when you ruffle his hair, scrub his back in the shower, give him a sloppy little blowjob, or make him his favorite dish, anything to make the tension in those mountains of shoulders disappear.

You two worship each other; there’s no question about that.

"Simon–ah… Truly, are you serious…?"

"Hell yeah."

The idea of him cumming inside you is thrilling enough, but it's not just about that.

You're ovulating, and he's a man in his absolute prime. He reminds you of mountain lions and snow leopards, living their life in harsh conditions and in wandering solitude until… Until the perfect companion comes along. He's simply the most virile male there is; broad, wide, and heavy, always ready when you are.

A man like Simon just cannot be infertile.

His eyes are half-lidded already, and those pale eyelashes make you bite your lip and grab his butt like it would be a life or death situation if he chose to withdraw.

And you know he loves it when you grope his ass and try to assist him with the thrusts.

His little helper, indeed…

"Bloody fucking hell, you feel good…"

His head rolls back, exposing the tendons on his neck, thick, like the rest of him. Everything in this man is thick and broad and good – and fuck – he glides in and out like a dream. Somehow the extra layer of rubber has taken the brunt of his thickness away, but you feel it now, all of it, and it's something you could die for.

He grunts and thrusts, then halts for a while, chuckles all breathless…

"It's gonna be one hell of a show, sweetheart."

He's talking about what comes after. How it will be when there's a new addition and not a crew of two anymore. It brings tears to your eyes to see how he's already thinking about the future – and how he does it with a smile and a pleased chuckle.

"I'm used to sleepless nights," he reminds you softly. "You're not."

Ugh – he's thinking about your well-being when it would only make you the happiest woman on earth to take care of his children. Your children.

"I'll manage," you whisper.

"I know you will."

The tears are so close now; he’s simply the one and only person in this world for whom your love is boundless. It’s endless, overflowing.

He pulls back a little, raises your legs to rest on his shoulders, then crawls forward – he’s about to go deep, and the indecent but insanely sweet position makes you quail from him at first. It’s just too much all of a sudden.

"Wait–"

"The boys said this'll do the trick," he explains, waits until you adjust under and around him.

"The–the boys?"

He had been discussing this with his workmates…?

Discussing which position is the best to help conceive?

"Yeah. Wanna do this properly."

This man might actually be serious… He just might be serious about this, and you still have difficulty grasping it.

"I can't believe you want this," you whisper, still trying to catch your breath on what's happening.

"Believe it or not, it's gonna happen now."

The smallest tear escapes, and you purse your lips, shut them tight to prevent a tiny little bawl from erupting.

"I've always wanted you, Simon," you breathe into the air between you as he starts to make love to you, fill you with intent. "Just you, all these years…"

He rarely whispers, but this time, his voice is the softest hush.

"Right back at ya, darling."

"I–I want to give you… want your kids," you whimper, tears coating your voice as he continues the torture while the sweet, tight love surrounds you both.

"I want a family, Simon," you pant weakly, almost distressed. So urgent, desperate, like the wound is yet to be healed. You've never said those words to him before because you were afraid he might leave.

"Love… fuckin' hell."

He has to stop to catch his breath, to catch the truth. Of course he has known it all along without you telling him, because he simply has those instincts of a wild animal.

But words are powerful… They are magic. And this magic wants itself spelled out.

"I'll give them to you," he promises. "All of it. I swear."

Your eyes drift closed from the full wave of his vow. This mission is a crucial one, then, one of his most important ones. The man loves challenges; he loves when you up the stakes. Perhaps that's what this is about: he doesn't want to be a coward about the thing you both want.

The skulls, the brass and death that always surround him can't take away the fact that he's a lifegiver. No matter what anyone says, men can give life, too. He has already given you so much, and now he's going to give you children.

A few more tears push through, and it's one of the sweetest things in your life: to get fucked by him so good while you're crying from joy.

"Luv. You trust me?"

You open your eyes again, and the sight of him is crystallized through tears. It's the most beautiful thing.

"I trust you," you answer with a shaky breath.

Your trust is even more drugging to him than the tightness of your cunt, it seems. The corner of his eye twitches once, his brows knit together, and a pained look passes in his stare: but it's the sweet kind of pain, just like yours is.

"Feels so good," you whisper, looking up at him with devout love. "So, so good…"

"You're damn right," he sighs, panting with strained, short breaths. "Never felt this good."

He rocks you like you're under the sea, at the bottom of the ocean where the waves are mellow and the seabed is made of the softest sand. You're squeezed between his arms, tightly; he pins you to the bed with his body. The flutter of those pale lashes with every thrust is illegally sweet.

Your lips are bolted shut from the raw sensation, the swelling waves, but when a noise finally erupts, it does so with force.

You know it makes him wild whenever you cry and plead under him. You know it sends him straight to the edge, too: when you moan and tighten around his cock, spread yourself for him to plunder while you're clawing at his back. You were so embarrassed the first time you noticed the red marks on his skin after your little sessions, but he was only pleased and said you should never apologize for that. His body is full of past pain and torture, and still, still, he allows, even wants you to destroy it even more.

"Faster, Simon, please…"

"Yeah, that's it. Beg... Beg for me, love… "

And damn right, he's eating up your wrecked state like it's time for Christmas dinner, and the table is brimming with his favorite food. You're close, so close it would be torture, devastation if he stopped.

"Ya want me to give it to you?" His voice is more rough, more commanding. God, he's close too.

"Yes–give it to me, please–"

Just don't stop, whatever you do, don't stop…

You beg some more, but it's incoherent. Just the way he likes.

Simon–fuck…

There's no reason to it, just ah's and fuck's and love's, all knit together in a sweet, heady mess as you come–

Fuck–!

…the orgasm is so intense it points your toes, makes you wrap around his middle with what little strength you have in your arms and fingers and those tiny little claws. Your nails sink in, somewhere between his shoulder blades: he's so wide you can't quite reach to hug him, but you latch onto him like a drowning person nonetheless.

"Oh–oh fucking god…!"

He comes, right after, buries himself so deep that it stings a little, but you would never, ever complain. He pumps you full, doesn't even move, only arches his back to go even deeper, although he's already buried there to the hilt.

And never has he in all your years together sounded so vulnerable. He usually just grunts and huffs when he comes, but now you get a whole string of words and a fragile, broken pitch. He sounds as if he's near the point of breaking into tears.

It must feel divine to cum inside you instead of a condom, and what's even more, with the intent to fulfill a mission with that shot. Give life.

If you don't get pregnant from this, well… you doubt you ever will.

He's lying on top of you in a heavy, panting heap, sounding like he's just done ten deadlift PRs in a row. You can't help but laugh, breathless, too, and caress him as he comes down from his sex high.

"You can let me go now," you ghost your fingertips up and down his back when he still doesn't move. It's not that you want him to release you, but he's simply too heavy to be lying all over you like this for long periods of time.

"Nah not yet. Gotta make sure..."

He thinks you want him to pull out, and you giggle some more.

"You're crushing me," you laugh. "And we can do this all weekend, silly. If you want to make sure."

His middle contracts with a silent laugh, too.

"Got a fair point there, love."

Finally, he lets you out of the spread. He pulls out, too – that's not necessarily what you wanted, but when he takes you in his arms, you don't complain.

"That was… so nice," you say, suddenly shy. As if this was the first time he wrapped himself around you in a post-coital embrace.

"That was the best."

He's so warm, and the arm around you is heavy, even when lax. Especially when lax. You feel soft and sweet in his hold made of pure strength.

"I'd be surprised if not. You were very determined."

"You think that did it..?"

He's suddenly shy, too. You could swear he has never asked such a fragile question during or after a mission.

"No half-assing with my sweetheart."

One could say he really used his whole ass on this. You know it, because you're the one who spurred him on with weak but eager hands.

"...but I think it would be best to try again tomorrow. Just in case," he suggests, and you can hear the smile. God, that you love him.

"I wouldn't say no to that."

You imagine him waking up to your baby's cry with a sigh and a jaw-dislocating yawn, hushing you back to sleep by telling you it's his turn to go. He would finally locate the source of crying and make it his mission to cradle the little breadcrumb back to sleep, too. You just know Simon would sometimes fall asleep on the sofa while the baby is still in his arms, sound asleep just like their dad.

And you also know the child would make him laugh more. He would have the greatest time hearing all the silly (not to talk about the clever!) things the kid comes up with once it started talking. Simon would listen with a straight face, at first – out of respect – but then he would come to you with an unrestrained smile and a comment: "Did'ya hear what that little thing just said? Unbelievable..."

Whenever the kid had a tricky question, you would send them to Simon. It's decided already. You imagine him explaining things to the child with his steady and calm briefing voice while you're trying to keep your giggle in.

And when the little one was big enough to run around and poke things off the shelves, Simon would embrace you from behind while you're pouring some morning tea and say: "Should we make another one, hmm?"

After all, your little troublemaker would also need a friend to play with...

There's a gigantic, peaceful smile on your face, and Simon should be snoring by now… But he's still awake, and the arm around you draws you closer. He even tucks his hand partly between your body and the mattress. It's the sweetest prison from which you never want to escape.

"What if… What if I get grumpy when I'm pregnant?" You start to chit-chat nonsense while he holds you against a solid chest. You know he will fall asleep soon, and you wish to voice some fragile concerns before he does.

"I'll bring you ice cream to keep you nice and calm," he mutters in the back of your neck, sounding drowsy already.

"What if ice cream won't help?"

"I'll bring you chocolate."

You smile at him having a solution to every problem, no matter how minor.

"You're really not afraid…?"

"Of you being grumpy? Nah I don't think so."

"No," you laugh at him joking around. "Of… changes."

"After all that we've been through? No." He brushes his lips over your neck, and you turn a little to look at him.

"Simon... What made you change your mind?"

He thinks on the answer for a good ten seconds. You know that inward look, which is both a gaze to the past and a shaky, hopeful glimpse to the future.

"Don't wanna die without knowing how our kid would look like. What they would be like."

You swallow past sorrow – it's such a beautiful thing to say that you have to catch your breath for a moment. Then you put your hand over his arm, the one keeping you close to him.

"Guess I got tired of living in fear," he sums up the change of heart, and you have to blink back more tears.

"I'm tired of living in fear, too," you whisper, and he entwines your fingers together. The kiss that follows is like a seal to your change of plans. It's pure hope.

"Could you... Could you say that we'll be fine?" You speak on his lips as softly as you can. You sometimes worry that he's annoyed by your constant need for reassurance, but he sounds as solid as a soldier can be.

"We'll be fine like always. Promise you that."

He doesn't seem to mind: if anything, you could swear that giving you encouragement only makes his chest puff up a little. The man gets satisfaction from you needing him in your life like this.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of us."

You ease fully into his embrace. He has said he'll take care of you many times before, but now your world is changing. It has changed already; you just know it. There's no more you and him, a team of two.

There will be a tiny little breadcrumb too.

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon riley imagine #soft simon riley #soft ghost #fluff and smut #call of duty #mw2 fluff

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linamromero · 8 months ago

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𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄.

𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬 ��𝐟 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭. 𝐥𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐚 𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 - 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑.

...

it happened again.

the team won the la liga for the season again. It was even better because your girlfriend alexia made her comeback after being out for nearly 10 months from a nasty knee injury.

you and alexia were celebrating on the way back to the changing room, clinging on to the trophy her hand on one handle and yours on the other, "nosotras somos las campeonas!”

"mi amiga!" patri sang the next lyric so she played the queen song on the speaker.

alexia pulled your body close to hers swaying to the music, you buried your face into her neck placing light kisses every once in a while, "amor!”

"sí?" you hummed sending vibrations through her body.

"i don't want to stay out late tonight, we can celebrate at home." alexia whispered stroking your hair.

"how would you like to celebrate at home?" you smirked playing dumb.

"i think you know." she murmured in your ear.

"venga lovebirds, have a beer!” mapi handed you both a bottle of estrella from her cubby.

"valé valé valé!" alexia put her hands up before taking her sweaty match shirt off.

you could help but stare a little too long before taking your own shirt off. the team sang and danced for a while before you decide to go home and get dressed up to go to manuelas.

you both got into alexia’s car and managed to get out of the car park before being swarmed by fans. the both of you took photos and signed items before leaving the premises.

once you got home, alexia went straight upstairs into your shared bedroom changing for a shower, “y/n cariño are you showering with me?”

"sí claro, stupid question bonita but we can't be long i promised patri i would pick her and piña up." you called up stair well.

"valé!”

you rushed into the master bedroom taking your shorts and sports bra off as you were eager to get to alexia. she was in the shower facing the wall you thought she looked good from behind. her ass is incredible.

you opened the glass shower door, she didn't even turn around so you approached her holding her hips, grabbing her bum lightly, "hola bonita." she greeted you.

you hummed in response kissing over her neck and across her left shoulder, you brought her arm up kissing all the way down her arm and down her hand to her index finger. alexia tilted your chin up to look at her in the eyes, bringing you close to her face connecting her lips with yours.

no words were shared, just through actions.

you managed to wash each other without getting too carried away, "can you pass me my towel amor?"

the midfielder wrapped a towel around you and her own around herself walking back into the master bedroom. you decided to dry and straighten your hair, leaving your natural freckles to sprawl themselves across your face only applying a little bit of mascara.

finally you decided to wear some caramel dress trousers and a white vest top paired with your dior high tops, gold rolex, cartier bangle and chunky rings.

your girlfriend decided on a black crop top with extra ties and a matching black ruched skirt. she left her hair looking wet pushed back out of her face, alexia put light eyeshadow on with lashes and a red lip, "what jewellery shall i wear?"

"definitely gold so maybe your hoops and the gold rolex i got you." you suggested, which she agreed putting them on.

"and my shoes?"

"your red jordans 100%." you implied.

"you have such good taste, i know i can count on you." alexia smiled kissing your lips lightly.

"ale!" You groaned.

"que?"

"you got your lipstick on me." she wiped your lips with her finger, "no kissing me all night."

"but y/n, that's gonna be so hard you look so good." alexia smirked.

“you’re just gonna have to behave."

"i will try my hardest ." alexia raised a brow grabbing her bag.

...

after the couple picked up patri and piña they drove to the open air restaurant, their head coach had invited the team out for a celebratory dinner.

of course they were the first of the players to arrive, alexia was always good with her timing, arriving first to everything.

"hola bona nit.” each of the greeted.

"sit, sit." he pointed at the rather long table.

you and alexia sat near the head of the table as the staff sat next to jonatan who was at the end with patri and piña sitting opposite you. once everyone arrived jonatan handed your girlfriend the trophy placing it in between you both.

"mi reina." You mumbled into alexia's ear, a smile appeared upon her lips.

"mi querida." she looked at you with loving eyes.

everyone had eaten and drinks were flowing, you were finishing third estrella whereas your girlfriend was finishing her fourth strawberry daiquiri. mapi danced over to the table with a large jug of sangria, "let's get this party started!"

you all cheered, mapi filling fresh wine glasses to the brim with the beverage. you placed your hand on alexia's bare thigh making her flinch at the coldness of your rings, "lo siento."

she brushed her thumb over your knuckle reassuring you that she was fine.

jonatan told everyone to grab a photo with the trophy in which you all did, "campeonas! campeonas !" cata and mapi started shouting dancing around with her flag that she bought with her.

eventually you all floated off to manuelas which you were looking forward to. As soon as you entered, you were stamped with a 'manuelas' tattoo and lots of stickers.

you got the love was playing a slowish song so you dragged your girlfriend to the dance floor slinging her arms around your neck. slowly dancing and singing the lyrics with your teammates.

she span her body around as antes de morirme started playing guiding your arms around her waist, you pulled her hips colliding them with yours. her skirt began to ride up as she grinded her backside into your crotch, “cariño."

she looked up at you with an innocent look on her face, "si mi amor?"

"i said behave." you bit your lip.

"i am not using my lips though am i?" alexia winked at you knowing that she was teasing you.

"bathroom. ahora." you grunted in her ear.

you got to the bathroom, other women were hooking up by the basins so alexia lead you into a cubical. you pushed her up against the door, exploring her exposed body in the limited space you had.

she returned the favour, flipping your body over onto the door, pulling your straps of your vest top down taking it off with your bra. alexia attached her lips to your neck, kissing and sucking at it moving down to your breasts, "ale."

she just looked at you innocently, "you want this right?"

you nodded in response and she set to work taking your nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it adding a light suction. At this point alexia's lipstick had smeared all over your body but you were too busy to care.

"ale! y/n!" a voice called from outside the cubicle, of course it was ana.

her voice pulled you out of the messy fog, "yes what?"

"if your gonna have sex, go home." she yelled as you quickly put your clothes on and opened the door.

“how did you know?" alexia furrowed her eyebrows.

"look at the state of y/n for a start!” your body was absolutely covered in alexia's lipstick.

"ah well i-."

"save it, just go home i've ordered you an uber and pick your car up in the morning." ana said leaving the bathroom.

"gracias ana!" you pulled a face as you left the club.

"we can continue this at home, mi reina." you smirked getting in the taxi.

#woso #alexia putellas #futfem #barcelona femeni #woso community #alexia x reader #fcb femení #espwnt #woso x reader #fc barcelona femeni #woso fanfics #alexia #la reina #alexia putellas x reader #woso oneshot

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hwaslayer · 4 months ago

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vivrant thing (jwy) | five.

—SPOTIFY PLAYLIST / SERIES MASTERLIST

—SUMMARY: after getting into a little accident, wooyoung decides to do his sister a favor by pretending to be your date at the company summer party. as soon as the night ends, wooyoung would go back to his usual routine of hanging out with his boys, keeping his distance from committed relationships and being a typical brother to jiwoo. except, the favor comes with more than what wooyoung expects and he finds you occupying his mind more than usual.

—PAIRING: jung wooyoung x f. reader

—GENRE: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriend’s brother au | fluff, angst, smut

—WORD COUNT: 9k

—CHAPTER CONTENT / WARNINGS: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, crying, chapter is pretty heavily papa-focused, mentions of illness, the talk happens!!, crying, bbygirl is sad and exhausted but wooyoung tries his best, yes im sorry i had to reference the howl/wooyoung thing, small sweet kisses and affectionate acts, very brief mentions of alcohol consumption / intoxication / hangovers, also very brief mentions of wooyoung's past again, more jiwoo vs. wooyoung (bickering not actual arguments lol), lots of apologies from jiwoo lol sorry if i missed anything!

Something's wrong, and Wooyoung can't figure it out. It's bothering him. As much as he's trying to respect your space, he can't help but worry about you. Especially when you haven't returned any of his texts or calls. He was expecting something, anything by now, so he can't help himself when he sends another text—

wooyoung: are you at work?

you: i'm about to head home.

You only respond because even though you aren't quite ready to face him regarding all of this yet, you don't wanna worry him unnecessarily. But, it still does anyway. Why aren't you at work?

And maybe, he should've asked if it was okay to see you first. It's the anxiety, the panic, within him that isn't letting him rest. He just needed to see you and make sure you were okay after everything that went down. His sister could be a piece of work, and you didn't necessarily have Yeosang to lean onto. Truthfully, you wouldn't be mad if he actually showed up at your door step. He is the comfort you need as much as you'd hate to admit it right now. At the same time, it'd make you a little more sad though, more confused.

Lo and behold, when you get home from the long night in the hospital, Wooyoung is leaning against the rail; waiting right by your doorstep. You don't question why he's not at work either, but you feel a sense of relief come over you seeing him there. A sense of relief mixed with nervousness. He doesn't say a word, simply cause he's trying to read you. He's trying to figure out if he's the reason why you look so low and tired. If it's his sister, Yeosang. All of the above.

"I don't really have time to talk about this, Wooyoung—" Is all you mutter as you unlock your door and step in.

"Then, we don't have to talk about it right now. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." He slips in and slowly kicks off his shoes, watching the way you drag yourself towards your closet. You're not sure why that's enough to trigger you, but you find yourself starting to tear up. Exhaustion hitting you tough, sadness stemming deep from your gut. Wooyoung can tell, and even if you're trying to be incredibly sneaky about it, he can still hear you quietly sniffing away. "Y/N." He says, forcing you to pause your movements as you continue to cry. "What is it? Whatever it is, let me help."

"Wooyoung, please just go. I need to go back."

"Go back where?"

"The hospital." You mutter softly.

"The hospital?" He furrows his brows. "Wait, what's going on? Why are you shutting me out?"

"That's a bold question to ask after that everything that's happened." Fuck, Wooyoung thinks. Don't be fucking stupid, Wooyoung.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I'm just—" He pauses, watching as you pack things in your bag before setting it aside and grabbing a new change of clothes. "I'm worried about you."

"Don't be."

"Y/N." He calls you again, and you take this moment to look him in the eye. Everything within you wants to cave when you see him looking down at you the way he is, hand gently tugging at your wrist. He's basically pleading through his eyes, and the only reason why you continue with your next response is because he actually looks like he means it.

"Papa's in the hospital." You softly say.

"W-what?" He stutters. "What happened? He got worse?"

"Kidney infection." Wooyoung sighs. "He's been hiding it, but he's been feeling more than just being tired. The pain got really bad. Super sudden and sharp. He almost went into sepsis cause of the fever he had."

"Shit. Is he okay now?"

"He's stable." You try to brush past him to quickly wash up and change, but he blocks your path.

"Let me take you." You try to move past, yet you're still unsuccessful.

"Wooyoung."

"I'll take you back—"

"Stop it. I don't need you to. I don't need you to do anything for me. I can handle it." Your response almost makes him flinch. Truthfully, he knows he deserves it. He knows it shouldn't have taken him this long to talk to you, to reach out to you. So, he knows. He's fully aware. It doesn't make it sting less, though.

"I fucked up. I acknowledge that and I'm sorry. There's so many things I can tell you when the time is right. But, for now, please don't shut me out and do this alone. I wanna be here for you." He pauses, every inch of his heart slowly shattering the more he sees the tears constantly staining your cheeks. "Please let me be here for you." You nibble on your bottom lip, shifting your attention away from Wooyoung as you wipe at your tears and try to suck it all up, try to regain composure. Before Wooyoung can even reach out to wipe the stragglers away, you step around him and lock yourself in the bathroom, leaving Wooyoung in the middle of your living room area. You give yourself a good 15 minutes to freshen up and change before meeting him outside again. He sits on the arm of your couch, patiently waiting.

"I just need to grab a few more things."

"Do you need me to help pack some stuff up?"

"It's okay." You pack some clothes and the rest of your necessities in case you'll be able to stay the night again, though you know it's probably a long shot. You hate having to be away from Papa, and now [even more than ever], you feel the need to keep him close. You feel the need to make up for not being there when he needed you the most; the guilt eating you alive.

Once you've finished, you grab yourself a bottle of water and turn to Wooyoung who is now waiting for you near the door. He gives you a small, toothless smile, gently grabbing your bag from you before leading the way out of your studio and to the car.

The drive is so, so incredibly quiet, but Wooyoung understands you need this more than anything right now. The only time he spoke a word was when he asked you which hospital you needed to go to. Otherwise, he let you sit in your peace. He'd look over from time to time, itching to hold your hand, kiss your hand or gently massage your head as a way to affectionately reassure you that things would be okay. Instead, he looks back out to the road and adjusts the heat a bit to make sure you're warm enough— hoping it's enough to provide comfort from a distance.

"You sure you don't wanna stop by for food or coffee? Anything? You should eat."

"I can just eat at the hospital."

"Mmkay." Wooyoung says, pulling into the hospital and straight towards the parking garage. When he pulls into a spot on the second floor and shuts off the car, he immediately steps out to grab your things from the trunk. You walk alongside of him towards the main entrance, checking in with the front desk before slapping on your visitor stickers and heading down the hall. It's quite the journey of twists and turns before you get to Papa's room, and a sense of relief washes over you when you finally arrive. He's sleeping in his bed, TV on to one of his favorite cooking shows.

"Papa." You gently rub at his arm to wake him. He looks up at you with sleepy eyes, mustering all his energy to smile back at you and Wooyoung.

"Y/N, Wooyoung."

"How're you feeling?" Wooyoung asks.

"Better. Not the best yet, but better." Wooyoung nods before turning his attention to you. "Why don't you go eat? I'll stay with Papa." Wooyoung looks at you sympathetically. You simply nod in response, tugging Papa's blanket up before you let him know you'll be stepping out for a few minutes.

"Papa, do you need anything right now?" He shakes his head. "I'll be back then, okay? I'm going to get food." Papa nods sleepily. "Wooyoung is here." You turn back to Wooyoung, who is now sitting in the chair next to his bed. "Want anything?"

"I'm good." He gives you a pursed smile, watching you walk out of the room and down to the cafeteria on the other end of the first floor. After grabbing some toast, a bit of egg and bacon, you order a latte to go with your food. You sit at a table near the window and slowly eat away, scrolling through social media and stumbling upon Jiwoo and Hongjoong's pictures. You like all of them, though the two of you hadn't really talked much since the fight, since she left. Despite all of the commotion, you still sent her a text wishing her a safe trip, in which she replied with a heart reaction.

You left it at that.

It was hurtful, and you were sad you and Jiwoo were like this. But, you were still optimistic that the two of you would return to your usual ways soon. Besides, you still needed to figure out what was going on between you and Wooyoung.

All of this was a mess.

You feel your bottom lip tremble and you press the back of your finger flat beneath your nose to try and prevent yourself from crying in the cafeteria. When you feel the wave pass, you let out a shaky breath before focusing on finishing your food. Meanwhile, Wooyoung continues to watch the TV while Papa lays next to him, in and out of sleep. At least, that's what he thought until Papa breaks the comfortable silence that had fallen between them.

"Wooyoungie." Papa is barely able to make out, his voice hoarse and tired. Wooyoung is surprised to see him awake right now, only being able to imagine how tired he is.

"Mhm?" Wooyoung tugs his blanket up a little more on the side, returning his attention back up to Papa's face afterwards.

"Take care of my Y/N, hm?" He smiles softly. "My body isn't what it used to be. I'm afraid it'll only get weaker, and at some point, my time will come." Wooyoung's heart drops hearing the statement fall from Papa's lips, though, when he faces the reality, it's only the truth. "Take care of her. Please don't leave her alone."

"I will. I promise I won't leave her side, okay?" Papa lets out a content breath, resting his head back against the pillow. "Although, I think I might've messed up with her."

"You didn't." He pulls another tired smile.

"Pretty sure I did." Wooyoung licks his lips. "I was being stupid."

"You needed time, I assume. It happens to the best of us."

"Did she.. tell you everything?" Wooyoung asks, afraid of the details Papa might know. And he knows, to some extent. You did tell him that dinner with Yeosang was terrible. You did tell him that you drank a little too much after, that you accidentally texted Wooyoung instead of Jiwoo. You did tell him things 'kinda' escalated.

And then you apologized profusely while you cried at his bedside for not being there because you got into a fight with Jiwoo over the whole thing with Wooyoung. You cried your sorries nonstop; Papa didn't even know what was more painful to endure: you breaking down and sobbing, or his kidneys going outta wack.

—FLASHBACK

"Papa?" You step inside his apartment and slip out of your shoes, a small smile on your face when you see him watering his plants out on his balcony.

"Hey, there she is." He laughs a bit, putting down his watering pot before placing an arm on his lower back. "Was just watering my plants." He winces a bit as he steps inside and plops onto the couch.

"You okay?"

"Ah, my lower back's been bothering me, but it's not too big of a deal. Probably just need to exercise and stretch more."

"You sure? We can go to the hospital just to get it checked out."

"No, no. No need." He sits back and smiles up at you. "I am sure."

"Okay. I'll brew us some tea? I got us a few pastries from your favorite café." You sit the box down on his coffee table and pop it open, revealing a matcha cream pastry and a fruit danish with seasonal berries [which is Papa's favorite].

"Sounds good. Thank you." You smile at him and start heating up some water before seeping bags of green tea. Papa lets out a content sigh as he flips through his TV and starts watching the news while you prep. "So, wanna tell me how dinner with Yeosang went?" You briefly pause, hearing the electric kettle click and automatically shut off. You take two mugs out from his cabinet and pour the tea into each before dipping the green tea bags. You set them aside for another 3 minutes, grabbing two small plates and utensils for the pastries.

"Well, to be straightforward, it was awkward and terrible."

"Awkward and terrible. That bad?"

"I don't even know if we'll even go back to being the same, Papa."

"I'm sure you will. Just give it some time. It's all fresh so it'll feel weird for a little bit." He looks at you and observes the way you avoid eye contact with him, even while you cut the pastries in half.

"Mhm." You hum.

"Something else happen?"

"Why do you say that?" You pass him his plate and utensils, still avoiding eye contact.

"You're avoiding your old man." He chuckles and you briefly look at him before shaking your head and returning your attention to the matcha cream pastry on your plate. "You were never a liar, so it's easy to tell when you're not exactly telling the truth and covering up."

"I don't know."

"You can tell me when you're ready."

"I am ready. I just don't know how to say it."

"You know I'd never judge you."

"I know, I know." You sit back on your knees before looking up at him. "Hm. After the dinner, I went to the convenience store near my house and drank some soju to get my mind off of dinner with Yeosang. Plus, I dunno, I didn't feel as satisfied so I grabbed some snacks. I got a pretty tipsy again and ended up accidentally texting Wooyoung instead of Jiwoo. He came to my rescue. We hung out at my apartment and um." Your bottom lip pokes out. "Things kinda just.. happened." Papa nods slowly.

"Ahhh." The response is somewhat elongated.

"I know, it's awful."

"No, it's not. But, why do you seem sad or upset about it?"

"Because I dunno where this leads us. We haven't talked. I haven't even told Jiwoo yet either and I know she won't take it well. That'll probably ruin our friendship, too." You sigh. "I'm just losing my friends one by one."

"Don't say that. They love you and care for you as much as you do. Fights will happen but it won't compare to the strong foundations you've built." He pauses. "Where do you want the whole thing with Wooyoung to lead you?" You shrug.

"Is it dumb to say that I like Wooyoung? It all started from the party and—" You let out a frustrated sigh. "I know he probably doesn't feel the same." And that's the issue for you.

"You don't know that. Maybe he needed time to form his thoughts, Y/N." You look at Papa blankly. "People who have feelings will often need time to form their words. It's too deep for them to understand quickly so they dissect carefully. Especially if they don't wanna mess things up. Give him some time before you overthink and start jumping to conclusions. Can you do that for me? Wooyoung wouldn't just leave you without answers like that."

"I guess, ya." Is all you say, shaking it off before you start crying in front of him. "Anyway, tea is ready. I'll go grab it and we can watch your favorite movies?"

"Sounds good to me." He chuckles a bit, though deep down he is a little worried about you. Himself. He's been feeling off lately, and after this, the last thing he wants to do is worry you more.

He just hopes whatever he's been feeling will pass so it'll be one less thing on your plate.

—END

"She didn't have to tell me specifics." Wooyoung nods. "Do you find yourself feeling any different about her now that time has passed? You can tell me and it'll be safe between us."

"I like her. A lot." He does a slight head tilt. "Wouldn't blame her if she didn't feel the same, though. I handled it poorly."

"My girl's got a big heart." Papa chuckles a bit. "I know she feels the same about you, or else she wouldn't have been sulking over it." He lightly teases, making the heat rise to Wooyoung's cheeks. "Just promise me you'll take care of it. You'll take care of her?"

"I'm sorry. It was my fault in the first place. But, you have my word. I will. I'm gonna make things right after this."

"I trust you." Papa holds out his hand for Wooyoung to take, and he does. He holds it tightly, giving it a squeeze.

"For now, she still needs you, too. Promise me you'll take care of yourself?"

"I know, I should, huh? Might need you to be my personal trainer." Wooyoung laughs a bit.

"I think you're stronger and way more knowledgeable than me."

"Should we arm wrestle when I get a little better?"

"Sure, I'll let you hurt my feelings just once. I deserve it." Papa laughs just before shutting his eyes to rest again. The nurse comes in to give Papa his breakfast and meds, greeting Wooyoung as she sets it up on the table. As soon as she instructs Papa to eat his porridge and take his medicine right after, you walk in and greet her with a small smile on your face. You speak to her to check on any new updates regarding Papa and she reassures you that everything seems to be fine. If he continues to improve and remain stable within the next day or two, she thinks he can go home sooner than later.

"Do you think I can stay here again with him tonight?" You're holding a pastry in a bag and a cold, bottled americano for Wooyoung in your hands. "I-I just don't know if I can leave him alone here." The nurse looks at you sympathetically and shakes her head, her hand on your wrist.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I wish I could bend the rules even more for you, but we can't allow visitors to stay for another night. I promise he's in good hands, okay? And as soon as the morning comes, you're more than welcome to come back." You sigh and nod, trying to be understanding of the rules. You knew this would be the outcome, but mentally preparing ahead of time doesn't make you any less sad. Nervous. Anxious.

"No, it's okay. I understand. Thank you." She gives you another sympathetic smile.

"Call me if you need anything, okay? I'm here until visiting hours end tonight." You nod, watching as she walks out, leaving the three of you in the room. You hand Wooyoung his food and drink, pulling the table with Papa's food and medicine over.

"You didn't have to."

"You should eat, too." You look at him before looking at the food and unwrapping it. "Papa, you ready to eat? You gotta take your medicine soon so you can sleep a little more."

"I could eat." You chuckle a bit while Wooyoung helps him sit up properly.

After Papa eats and drinks his medicine, he continues to fall in and out of sleep due to the exhaustion from everything that happened over the past day and overnight. The pain seems to be managed well, and the treatment plan that the doctor has him on seems to be working. It was caught at a time before things could get too deep and severely irreversible, so you're grateful for that despite the pain Papa had gone through. In between his naps, you and Wooyoung would talk about the show on TV or go on quick walks around the hospital before coming back to the room. The only time Wooyoung leaves your side is to briefly buy some food at the convenience store across the street, grabbing you an egg salad sandwich and some iced tea per your request, and grabbing himself a few other snacks in case you wanted some, too.

Which, as he expected, you ended up stealing his chips and mochi. You only left him with a bite of his favorite strawberry mochi, but he couldn't even be mad when you looked at him with wide-eyes, powder around your lips after taking the majority of the damn thing into your mouth. All he could do was sigh, suppressing the want to tease you and tickle you until you surrender [or kick him in the balls accidentally, whichever comes first].

When evening hits, you make sure Papa gets a good amount of his dinner in before taking his medication and drinking lots of water. It hurts you to leave him alone for the night, but you know he'll be coming home soon and you'll be able to spend as much time as possible with him then. You squeeze his hand and hold back your tears, reassuring him you'll be back in the morning before dragging yourself out of his room when visiting hours ends. Wooyoung trails behind, hand rubbing at your back gently as he guides you back to the car.

The ride back home is equally as silent as the drive over to the hospital, and Wooyoung is having trouble figuring out when he can talk to you about everything going on between you and him. No time ever feels like the right time, but Wooyoung knows he has to do this instead of pushing it off even more.

"Wooyoung?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for driving me and for staying with me today."

"It's nothing."

"It's a lot, and I really appreciate it." He looks over with a tiny smile before pulling up to your street. It's obvious Wooyoung wants to say more and you know what it is, but the assumption doesn't get solidified until he breaks the silence again; you're not entirely sure how to feel with where this is going.

Anxious? Afraid of what he might actually say to you about everything?

"Y/N." Wooyoung calls for you just as he parks his car and shuts it off. "Can we talk now please? It probably won't feel like the right time, but I'd really like to before the night ends. I don't want another day to pass like this." You look at him, hand tugging on the sleeve of your sweater as you nod.

"Okay." Wooyoung looks at you and gives you a small smile.

"Let me start off by saying I'm sorry about the way things happened. I was fucking stupid and I shouldn't have left you that morning. Truthfully, I just didn't know how to put my feelings into words because it's never been this way for me. I know it sounds cliché, but I really don't know how else to explain it. I just.. I like you. A lot. I have a lot of feelings for you and it was scary for me because it happened quick, and I wasn't sure if you felt the same. I know I should've just said it to avoid all of this in the first place, but clearly I'm bad at it." He chuckles nervously before shaking his head. "Um, anyway—I'm rambling. I'm sorry." He repeats, soft dark brown eyes on you. "Point is, I like you and there's nothing else I've been more sure of. I hope I didn't mess this up already, but I'd understand if you wanted nothing to do with me. I didn't treat you the way you should have been treated that morning, and I'm sorry for making you feel that way in the first place." His voice falls lowly, Wooyoung trying to stomach his nervousness for your response. He watches as you fiddle with your fingers before you look up at him.

"I appreciate the apology. I'm not gonna lie, it was hurtful Wooyoung. And it didn't make it any better that your sister was in my face with the 'i told you so.'" You sigh.

"I'm sorry, I know. That was never my intention, Y/N. And if you wanna do this with me, we can take this slow so that I can show you. Because I never wanna make you feel that way again."

"I feel the same way and I do want this with you, Wooyoung. I'm just scared."

"I know, and that's completely valid. But, I promise you that you can trust me to take care of you from here on out, okay? We don't have to rush into anything and just take it as it comes. But, I'm here with you no matter what. Nothing will change that." You slowly nod, the feelings slightly becoming overwhelming.

"Okay." Is all you respond with. You're feeling happy, relieved, but also scared, anxious. It might just be everything that's been happening with Papa, but it feels good to know you aren't entirely alone. Because even if you didn't wanna admit it before, you were afraid of being alone. Despite your friends being with you over the years, there was always a sense of loneliness that was hidden in the corner of your mind. Loneliness without your parents. Loneliness without a person, your person. You tried not to look at it this way because you weren't really lacking anywhere and still had love coming from different avenues. But, you also can't lie and say you didn't think about it and how it'd feel to have your parents, or someone to call yours genuinely and wholly.

"And Jiwoo.." Wooyoung does a slight head tilt. "I won't apologize on her behalf, but whatever she said about me, I can't lie and say it isn't true. You know I haven't been the best in the past, but you mean more to me than that and I'm trying to do better this time around. It's not gonna be perfect but know that I'm trying." He lets out a breath. "She'll come around soon, too. I know you're worried about her. You know how Jiwoo is."

"I hope so."

"I'll try and talk to her."

"It's okay. I think I just need to sit her down and open up to her about all of this." He nods.

"We're okay then?"

"Yeah." You manage to push the rest of your feelings back momentarily when Wooyoung leans over to place a chaste kiss on your forehead. For a second, things do feel okay.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs. Been a long day for you." You nod. Wooyoung grabs your bag from the trunk, following closely behind you as you walk up to your studio. You still seem rather quiet and although he's happy the talk is done with and you two are okay, he can tell something else is bothering you. It isn't long before he finds out because as soon as you enter your studio, you let out a heavy sigh and drop your purse to the floor. You stand in the center, suddenly breaking down into your hands when the feeling gets immensely overwhelming, almost unbearable.

"Y/N." Wooyoung says, close to a whisper. He comes from behind and gently wraps his arms around you before turning you to face him. He pries your hands away from your face, thumbs softly coming to wipe your tears away. "Baby, hey. It's gonna be okay." He shushes you as you rest against his chest, crying and wetting his shirt. "Baby." He repeats at a whisper, shushing and cooing you in his arms. "What is it? What's bothering you?" He tenderly kisses your tears away, thumb caressing your cheeks while he looks at you with a small frown on his face.

"What if they didn't get there in time, Woo? What if he had been one minute late—" Wooyoung tuts and rests against the back of the couch, pulling you in between his legs. He continues to wipe your tears away, shaking his head.

"But, none of that happened, okay? None of that happened. You don't need to worry about that because he's still here. He's recovering and you've been there with him every step of the way. That's all that matters. He's gonna get better, he already is. He'll be better tomorrow and the next day, and so on." You sigh, looking at him before nodding.

"I can't lose him right away."

"You won't. I promise. He's still strong and he'll get through this." He brushes the hair away from your face. "It's gonna be okay." He repeats.

"Sorry."

"Don't be, love. Why don't you get comfortable, hm? We can hang out here and watch another Studio Ghibli movie."

"Will you stay?" You ask him softly, watching as he presses a kiss to the surface of your hand.

"Of course I will, Y/N. I'm just gonna grab some stuff from my place, but I'll make it quick and come back."

"Okay." You answer, voice dipping close to a whisper. Wooyoung pulls you closer, pressing a light kiss to your lips before standing. As you grab your pajamas, Wooyoung gets a hot shower started for you, tossing a bit of your lavender epsom salt onto the shower floor to help relax you. He reassures you again that he'll be quick before shutting the bathroom door and heading out. You give yourself time to just be under the hot water, letting it ease and relax your body while you cry out all your worries and concerns— letting them all go so that you can find some peace for the time being.

Maybe the universe will take the rest into its own hands.

After taking your time in the shower, you step out and do your nightly routine— carefully lathering the lotion across your body before working on your skincare. You throw on your red flannel pajama shorts and step into a vintage Disneyland crewneck before walking out to light up some candles and search for a good movie. It's not until about 15 mins later that Wooyoung comes through the door, holding a brown bag in hand; duffle bag slung on his shoulder while he's also [apparently] sporting red flannel pajamas and a black Stussy hoodie.

"Copycat." Wooyoung points to your red flannel pajamas as you watch him show you his own hiding underneath his sweats.

"Excuse, I threw these on first."

"What if I got to my apartment before you stepped out?" Wooyoung cocks a brow up, making you roll your eyes in return. He snorts and rushes to hold you from behind, kissing you on the cheek. "It does look better on you, though."

"I thought so." He chuckles a bit before pointing at the bag. "So, I might've made a pitstop to the McDonald's drive-thru because I was craving a shrimp burger and some fries. I got you the chicken sandwich. With a side order for their special sauce?" He says in a questioning tone. "And fries!"

"How'd you remember?"

"Please, I've only had to do the order for you and Jiwoo a million times over the years." You giggle.

"Thank you, Woo." He sets his bag down and slips out of his sweats to walk around in his flannel pajamas before coming over to you in the living room.

"No problem." He points at your hair. "You can get sick." He crinkles his forehead at you before walking into your bathroom and grabbing your hair dryer hanging off of the organizer you have. He takes one of your wide-toothed combs and plops back onto the couch.

"Wooyoung." You look at him as you take the food out of the bag and set it on the coffee table. "You don't have to dry my hair."

"Well, I know you won't and I don't want you to get sick. I don't mind. Come." He pats the area in between his legs. Once you've set the empty bag aside, he sits you in between his legs before plugging the dryer into your extension cord. He switches it to the low heat setting, taking the blow dryer to your hair as he gently combs through. You set the TV onto Howl's Moving Castle, picking at your fries as Wooyoung continues to patiently dry your hair. "You can eat." He says over the noise. You hold up a fry for him to take in his mouth, continuing his motions until your hair is mostly dry, a few strands still damp but not too wet. "There." He says, shutting it off and gently combing through your hair.

"Thank you." He chuckles before neatly tying the cord the way you had it done earlier and slipping out from behind you to put it back in the bathroom. You've moved back onto the couch with your burger box in hand, pressing play to the movie as Wooyoung sits down.

"Yoooo." He smiles. "This is one of my favorites!" You look at him with your eyes squinted. "What?"

"You know, since you started growing out your hair, I knew you looked like someone but I could never put my finger on who exactly. And now it makes sense."

"What?" He repeats.

"You look like Howl." He blushes and does his high-pitched giggle, making you snort in response.

"You mean that?"

"Shut up. You just wanna hear it."

"I do." He pouts.

"I'll change it."

"I mean go for it, you can always look at him here on your couch." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Wooyoung." You whine, flipping to Grave of the Fireflies.

"Baby." It's his turn to whine. He'd probably kick his feet and cry about it if he truly wanted to. "Why'd you turn it?! I heard this is hella sad!"

"Then, we'll cry together this time! A core bonding moment." You press play.

"Sassy." He looks at you. "I just wanna remind you that you ate my favorite mochi earlier." Wooyoung reminds you and you sigh.

"I already said sorry!" He laughs.

"I'm just teasing."

"Do you really not wanna watch this?"

"No, I do! I don't mind. I just thought the reminder would help since hours passed." You roll your eyes.

"I'm just gonna buy you another one tomorrow."

"I'm kidding. Honestly." Wooyoung laughs. "You know what I could take instead?" You cock a brow up.

"Dare I even answer?"

"Too late, I'll take that as an answer." He puckers his lips. "I'll never bring it up again." He says in between. You giggle and succumb to his wants, quickly pecking him on the lips that leaves him smiling in a daze. "I'll never get tired of that." You shake your head and press play, the both of you finally eating away at your food as the movie gets on to a start without interruptions.

You finish your food within the first 15 minutes, not realizing how hungry you were for good, sloppy comfort food. Wooyoung surprisingly remains quiet for a majority, only making noises and reacting to specific scenes. Eventually, the food coma hits you and you find yourself switching positions until you're snuggled up to Wooyoung. He takes the outer end of the couch while you lay on his chest from the inside. The blanket you leave hanging on the arm of the couch is now draped over you two, Wooyoung's arm around you to keep you close. When the movie hits the last 20 minute mark, Wooyoung starts spilling out his thoughts, but finds that your responses get more and more delayed as time goes on.

"Mhm." You answer late, causing Wooyoung to look down at you. You're damn near falling asleep on him, and it doesn't help that Wooyoung feels incredibly warm. Comfortable. He laughs a bit to himself before gently shaking your shoulder and pressing another kiss to your forehead.

"Falling asleep there?"

"Just wanna rest my eyes for like.. 5 minutes." You mumble, with Wooyoung carrying on to finish the rest of the movie by himself. Suddenly, his phone starts vibrating on the coffee table, making him swoop it up in a haste to avoid waking you up from your so-called 5-min nap.

"Ay!" Wooyoung rests the phone on his ear, regretting it as soon as San's loud ass voice comes through on the other end.

"The fuck are you so loud for?" Wooyoung says lowly, hoping this doesn't wake you.

"Kinda drunk. Wanna head out? We're gonna head to the bars!"

"Uh, nah." Wooyoung looks down while you shift in your position, snugging closer to him. "I'm good."

"What?" San laughs. "You're turning down bar hopping? For what?"

"Just cause. Plus, it's the weekday. You're gonna be so fucked tomorrow."

"Wow, that's new." San snorts. "Are you with Y/N or something?"

"Yeah. She's asleep."

"So, you won't even head out for a bit while she's asleep?"

"No, dude. I'm not gonna leave her." There's a silence that falls between them before San is clearing his throat.

"I get it. Okay then! Well, we'll be at our usuals if you change your mind."

"Probably not. But, have fun and be safe."

"Thanks!" He says before he mumbles something to the rest of the group and hangs up the call. Wooyoung wraps up the movie and switches it to a college basketball documentary that's playing on the TV, only making it about 15 minutes more before he finds himself getting sleepy.

"Y/N." Wooyoung calls for you before he can fall asleep completely. "Let's get ready for bed so we can sleep." You let out a small whine before rubbing at your face, sitting up as Wooyoung follows suit. You sleepily waddle over to the bathroom to brush and floss your teeth with one eye barely open. You quickly check the clock outside, seeing that it's only about 11pm but it feels late. You feel exhausted. Wooyoung is tossing the trash away before wiping down your coffee table, shutting off the TV before grabbing his things from his bag. You quickly pee and wash your hands before walking over to the bed and letting Wooyoung take over the bathroom.

The entire studio is dark at this point besides the bathroom light seeping from under the door in the corner, and for once, the dark doesn't seem so frightening, so lonely.

So cold.

For once, the dark is soothing, is peaceful. For once, the dark is warmth because Wooyoung will be there no matter which direction you turn. You crawl under your covers, scooting towards the inside of your bed to make room for Wooyoung. He takes about 10 minutes before he shuts off the light and heads over to join you. He sheds off his hoodie and tosses it aside, slipping under the covers in his pajama pants and white tee. You continue to face him as he settles, his hand coming to your side to pull you a little closer.

"Wooyoung."

"Yeah, babygirl?"

"You know you don't have to stay at the hospital tomorrow, right? I'd be okay if you just dropped me off." He shakes his head.

"No, I don't mind. I'll stay."

"You sure?" You yawn.

"Mhm. I want to."

"You're gonna be so fired." He laughs.

"I've got hours, don't worry."

"Thank you."

"Stop thanking me, love. I'm only trying to take care of you properly." You sleepily smile at him while he kisses the tip of your nose. "We should probably sleep since we need to be up early tomorrow." You nod, his hand giving your side a squeeze. You initiate the kiss this time, feeling comfortable yet bold enough to give him a goodnight kiss. He holds it for a second longer before parting, chasing after your lips quickly after. You giggle when he starts to repeatedly kiss you and smiling into the kiss, almost having trouble prying himself off of you. "Okay, okay." He laughs. "Goodnight, pretty girl."

"Goodnight, Woo." You welcome yourself into his arms and almost fall asleep immediately, his arms feeling like home to you.

The next morning comes, and you and Wooyoung are off to the hospital about 30-mins after visiting hours begin. You found it hard to sleep fully throughout the night, anxious and scared a call from the hospital would come through about changes in Papa's status. But, thankfully, none of the sort happened, and Wooyoung did his best to keep you comfortable throughout the night by whispering his reassurances against your head.

Through sweet, gentle touches and squeezes.

To your relief, Papa looks brighter and more alert when you walk in. He's already slowly going through his oatmeal, the morning news on the TV screen. He smiles when he sees the both of you walk in, loosely hand-in-hand. You happily walk over to Papa and hug him, sitting on the edge of his bed while you place a hand on his forehead.

"How'd you sleep?" You ask, his temp feeling way better than the past days.

"Good! I was in a deep sleep." You laugh.

"No pain or anything?" He shakes his head. "Good. Everything seems to be working. You might be outta here tomorrow!"

"I just might." He chuckles. "The nurse said she was gonna come back and wash me up. Was hoping to get me up and walking around to get some movement in, too."

"That's a good idea. Let's go on a walk later." Wooyoung says as he sits on the chair by his bed. You nod in agreement, watching as Papa continues to eat away at his oatmeal and fruits.

"Do you need to go home?"

"Mm." Wooyoung looks at his phone. "I was going to just to make some food for us."

"You should go. We'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes." You give him a look, and he can't help but return the look in a playful manner.

"I'll go in a bit, but I'll be quick when I do." He tugs on your hand. "Come sit and relax." You sit in the empty chair next to Wooyoung. You continue to ask Papa about his night and if the doctor visited this morning. He says yes, sharing the optimism from the doctor despite the fact that he'll have to make a few lifestyle changes moving forward. You share in the excitement, agreeing that Papa looks way better and seems to be progressing back to his old self. You and Wooyoung let him know that you'll be there every step of the way, making sure those changes are implemented smoothly. Papa starts to tell you about his dream, and how he was hiking up a tall mountain without any issue. At the end of the trail was a beautiful view of a city, but he couldn't pinpoint where exactly. He describes all the pretty flowers blossoming on his way to the top, the sky clear and blue. He jokes about how he hopes he can make it come true soon, even if its a local hike. You chuckle, telling him he needs to take it easy for awhile until he fully regains strength and he remains stable for a good period. Wooyoung chimes in, volunteering to join him when that time comes.

When the conversation settles, Wooyoung takes this as an opportunity to head out so he can come back right away. He heads back to his apartment to whip up a good lunch and dinner [along with whatever snacks are lying around] to pack up for the two of you to grub on. While he occupies himself with food prep, he calls San to check on him and to ask him how the night went. As expected, his bestfriend is hung over as shit at work, groaning and complaining about how he drank too much and should've paced himself knowing he had work. Wooyoung laughs at him over the phone, giving him his own version of an 'i told you so' before San lowly cusses him out. He asks about you and Papa and if everything seems to be better. Wooyoung lets him know that Papa's improved, and that he was able to talk everything out with you. There's another silence that falls between them and it's because San simply isn't used to this Wooyoung. He's used to the Wooyoung that was a 'lil shit, playing his game and being up and about no matter what the time or day was. He's used to the Wooyoung that wasn't messing with serious relationships and the Wooyoung that had to give the 'i think you should go' talk after every fuck. Or the 'it was never supposed to get this serious' talk when the girls would find themselves talking to him about feelings.

It's just been a long, long time since San has seen this Wooyoung, and quite frankly, he wasn't sure if he would ever see it again. But, don't get him wrong. He is happy for you two, and it's almost like fresh air hearing Wooyoung talk about you the way he does. He's gonna have to get used to seeing less and less of him, and that's fine— as long as Wooyoung was genuinely happy.

RIP to those days, though. It was fun while it lasted!

Once Wooyoung finally finishes whipping up some food and packing it away, he grabs a few other necessities; fully expecting to be with you tonight so that he can help you with Papa's potential release tomorrow. He's glad he told work he'd be out for the week. Even though it was a bit last minute, he does have a shit ton of PTO and sick hours accumulated that he doesn't mind using if it meant he'd be with you.

God, he really fucking likes you.

So much that Wooyoung finds a 'lil pep in his step walking back to his car, plopping the bag of food right onto his passenger's seat— buckling it up to keep it safe and steady. He blasts his music out of the parking lot, Mr. Donnell Jones coming through on his speakers with U Know What's Up. He sings along until he's rudely interrupted by a call coming through from his sister.

"Damn, Jiwoo. You couldn't call any other time?" Wooyoung clicks his teeth. "What is it?"

"I just got back to my apartment from the airport, jeez. Can I swing by?"

"No. I just left."

"Then do you think you can stop by really quickly? I got you a few things from Japan." Which, as we've learned, is Jiwoo's way of apologizing without having to flat out apologize to her brother. Wooyoung rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh, shaking his head as if she can see him.

"Can't either."

"Why not?"

"Because. I'm on the way to the hospital."

"Uh. For what?"

"Well, while you were too busy being all upsetti-spaghetti, Papa's been in the hospital."

"What? Why didn't Y/N tell me anything?! Oh my god—"

"Jiwoo, if I were her, I would not be thinking about you first either." Wooyoung furrows his brows as he continues to drive off. "Besides, you being the good ol' bestfriend you are, kicked her outta your place, remember? I don't think she necessarily feels like she can come to you right now."

"Fuck." Jiwoo whines, feeling guilty about everything. She knows she was a tad too harsh, and she knows she should've come to you first. But, she was waiting until she could see you in person to apologize for the way she acted. "Which hospital?"

"SNU."

"I'll be there soon with Joong."

"Don't come if you plan on yelling some more."

"I'm not! I need to see my bestfriend, Wooyoung. You can't have her to yourself."

"Can't hear you—" With that, Wooyoung abruptly ends the call. He drives into the garage and finds a spot on the third level, carrying the bag of food he made in his hand before making the trek over to Papa's room.

"You're back." Your eyes twinkle when you see him walk in and he can't help but smile.

"That, I am." He presses a kiss to your temple. "I made some food for lunch and dinner. Or else my groceries were gonna go bad."

"Wow, okay chef." You laugh. "Thank you, Woo."

"Mhm." He responds in a sing-song tone before turning to Papa, who is now coming out of the bathroom with his nurse. "He's up."

"He is!" She answers.

"Am I allowed to take him on a walk and get some steps in?"

"No, please. Go for it. Thank you." The nurse steps aside to let Wooyoung guide Papa and the IV pole out into the hallway. The nurse watches them until they head out, returning her attention back to you once they leave.

"Is that your boyfriend?"

"Mm. A friend that's a boy?" You tease with a small laugh. She gets it though, and she knows. You didn't even have to say it because she can clearly see it through Wooyoung's actions alone.

"Well, he seems to care a lot about you and your grandfather. It's very sweet."

"He is." You give her a toothless smile. "Thank you for taking care of him. I really appreciate it."

"No problem. He's been good, so I'm more than sure he'll be out of here tomorrow." You nod, watching as she walks out of the room. You sit back and look through the bag Wooyoung brought, giggling to yourself when there's a whole bag of sour punch straws and other random snacks surrounding the tupperwares. You pick at the tiny bag of biscoff cookies, nibbling onto one as you sit back and catch up on one of the podcasts you actively follow.

Just as Wooyoung and Papa come back into the room about 30 minutes later, you scurry off to the bathroom down the hall. At this point, Jiwoo and Hongjoong barely miss you as they turn the corner and approach the room. Wooyoung is helping Papa get situated properly back in the bed post-walk, the two talking about the episode from his cooking show that's currently playing on TV. When he turns towards the door and catches Jiwoo'a figure, he gives her a small nod of acknowledgement.

"Joong, I think an intruder snuck in with you." Jiwoo rolls her eyes while Hongjoong laughs it off, the two of them formally greeting Papa and checking in with him. Jiwoo looks around the room, making sure she hasn't missed you before turning to her brother.

"Where'd she go?"

"Bathroom." Wooyoung gives his sister a particular look.

"Don't give me that look." She pouts a bit and he shrugs.

"What else am I supposed to do?" Is all he says before you appear in the doorway, pausing in your steps when you noticed the additional visitors in the room.

"Oh. Hi—" Jiwoo comes rushing over, pulling you into the biggest bear hug known to man. At first, you're caught off guard even though this has happened during silly little one-off fights with Jiwoo in the past. But, once you've gotten over the initial feeling, you slowly wrap your arms around her and rest in her hold.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I really am so sorry. I shouldn't have done all of that, I shouldn't have yelled and kicked you out— I'm so sorry." She mumbles against you. "You must've felt so alone. I'm sorry. I wanted to wait until I saw you in person again but Wooyoung told me Papa was here so I had to come. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so angry and said those things—" She continues to repeat until she's basically sobbing in your arms, the three men in the back minding their own business and giving you two space.

"It's fine, Jiwoo. Stop apologizing."

"No, it's not." She pulls back and looks at you with a pout, brushing your hair back. "I treated you so poorly and unfairly and I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. I probably would've reacted the same way if I was in your shoes. It's fine. We're okay."

"Are you sure we are? I promise I'll make it up to you."

"Stop that. You don't need to, okay? I promise we're fine." She lets out a sigh and examines your features, somewhat relieved you don't seem too exhausted or stressed from everything going on.

"Are you and my brother good? Did you talk it out?"

"We did."

"So, is this a thing now?" She points between you and him, and you nod timidly.

"Y-yeah. It is. I hope you're not mad."

"I'm not. I'm only slightly grossed out just cause it's Wooyoung, but I'm not mad. You just let me know if he messes up ever again, okay? I'm sorry, Y/N. And wait, don't think about replacing me with him either." You snort, shaking your head at her. She hugs you tightly again before holding your hand and bringing you to the gift bags she set aside at the corner of the room. She hands you and Papa a gift bag, while shoving Wooyoung's his way. Her and Hongjoong tell you a little bit about the trip, but they don't go into too much detail before they start asking about Papa and how he had been feeling. As the conversation continues, Jiwoo notices the way Wooyoung completely changes around you [in a good way]. He's got you on his lap, hand gently caressing your arm. It looks so natural and so.. meant to be [and so not out of place] that Jiwoo can't even be mad or find a reason to justify her past actions. He cares about you, and you with him.

All she's ever wanted was for you to be happy, for Wooyoung to be genuinely happy. She's not gonna lie— it does melt her heart a bit to see it live.

They hang around for a good hour or so before Jiwoo and Hongjoong give Papa some time to rest; Wooyoung offering to walk them back to the car while you stay behind and sit with him as he falls into an afternoon nap. Hongjoong quickly runs over to the bathroom, leaving Jiwoo and her brother alone momentarily.

"You really care about her." Jiwoo says softly.

"Yeah, I do." He stuffs his hands in his pockets and kicks at the imaginary rocks below his feet.

"Don't fuck this up, okay?" She looks at him. "Seriously, I'll beat your ass if you hurt her."

"I won't, Jiwoo." He says, slightly annoyed. But, he knows she means well and is just being your bestfriend. "Could help if you had a little more hope in me, you know?"

"Okay. I'm sorry." She sighs. "So, what are your plans with her? You haven't asked her out officially, right?"

"Well, that's why I'm gonna take her out on a date once Papa's out and better."

"To where?"

"To mind your own business, that's where." He looks at her with a brow cocked up and she rolls her eyes.

"Idiot." He snorts.

"Actually.. I have a few ideas but there's this one I really like. Think she might have fun and enjoy it with me."

—TAGLIST: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @heyitsmetonid @ldysmfrst @intaksfav @wooyoungsbrat @hyukssunflower @yunhoswrldddd @gotthicbish @thespiffynerd @jaytheatiny @yoonrixx @aurorajoye @i-love-ateez @starrywoo @bitejoongie @thedistractedwriter @dalsuwaha @huachengsbestie01

#wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #kpop imagines #kpop #wooyoung x y/n #jung wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung smut #wooyoung angst #jung wooyoung fluff #jung wooyoung angst #jung wooyoung smut #hwaslayer: vivrant thing

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demonpiratehuntress · 2 months ago

Text

anxious

Portgas D. Ace x F!Reader

summary - you're very anxious and prone to panic attacks, and your boyfriend seems to forget that after a bad mission.

warnings - a little bit of angst, mean and kind of toxic Ace, hurt/comfort, panic attack triggers (or at least they are for my anxiety, idk about you guys but a warning anyway), implied but not confirmed cheating (Ace)

You were just trying to be thoughtful.

You hadn't known his mission had gone so sour.

It was a harmless surprise, and you hadn't known that he felt so strongly about it.

"SURPRISE!"

His expression went from anger, to shock, and back to anger in the span of ten seconds as he realised what was happening. One look at the decorations and the cake confirmed it.

"(Name), what is this?" Ace's hard gaze turned on you.

You shrunk back a little ,not used to being on the receiving end of that look, "You never celebrate your birthday, so I wanted-"

"There's a reason I don't!" He raised his voice, making you flinch.

"I-I'm sorry-" You started, panic flooding your body. "I didn't-"

"Think? No, you didn't," he cut you off harshly. "If you were thinking, you would have asked me first!" Small flames flickered on several parts of his body as he stepped closer, glaring menacingly.

At the first sign of your body trembling, Marco stepped between the two of you, "Ace, stop."

You felt humiliated. The rest of the crew had seen everything, and your face burned with embarrassment. You shook slightly, the panic growing until you became unsteady and stumbled, catching yourself on the wall.

You turned and fled, hot tears streaming down your face.

You barely made it into the room before you couldn't take it anymore, your entire frame shaking so violently you couldn't keep your balance. You fell to your hands and knees, unable to breathe as you sobbed.

Someone came in behind you, and you made out a figure trying to help you up, but you couldn't tell who it was before you passed out.

You woke up in your bed, but with an empty spot beside you. You frowned deeply - Ace hadn't slept here with you last night. He was never that upset with you, he always craved your touch regardless.

You sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You felt horrible, not just emotionally but physically too. Still, you got up to get ready.

Your first action was to find Marco, because if Ace hadn't come back last night then it must have been the doctor who put you in your bed. Which you were grateful for, but embarrassed about.

"(Name)! How are you feeling?" He offered you a warm smile when you eventually found him.

"Better," you admitted, "But..."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's not you who needs to apologise," you sighed. "But anyway, thank you for helping me last night. Have you seen Ace?" The moment you saw Marco's expression, your anxiety returned. "What?"

"(Name)..." He sighed. "I shouldn't tell you."

"Why?" But even as you asked, unease gnawed at you slowly and made you uncertain you wanted to know the answer.

Before Marco could answer, someone's shout from outside made you freeze up.

"Ace, there you are! Finally made it back from the bar? With all those pretty women that were surrounding you, we feared the worst!"

It was a harmless joke to the crewmate who'd spoken, but those words crushed whatever hope you were holding onto that you could talk to Ace about what happened.

Marco quickly went to close the door, "You can stay here if you'd prefer not to see him." He eyed your trembling hands, then added, "I think it would be best if I go talk to him."

All you could do was nod, before you had to force yourself to sit down. The anxiety you felt increased tenfold, making your head spin. The dizziness worsened, to the point that you felt as if you were going to faint again. You tried breathing in and out deeply, but that failed and the tears came before you could stop them.

How could one small issue, that could have been talked through rationally, cause this much hurt?

When you eventually ran out of tears and stopped shaking, you decided you'd had enough. Ignoring Marco's suggestion to stay there, you left his room and left the ship, going onto the island it was docked at.

Acting as if you didn't hear the confused calls and shouts of your concerned crewmates behind you.

A hand closed around your wrist before you could get too far, and without thinking you swivelled around and punched your assailant square in the nose.

Ace let go and stumbled back, a surprised and pained grunt leaving his lips as he covered his sore appendage, "I deserve that."

"What do you want?" You asked emotionlessly, arms crossed.

"To apologise," he looked up at you, guilt clear in his eyes. Hurt and panic joined it when he reached for you again but you flinched away from him. A first.

"For insulting me or for going to be with other girls on your birthday?" You snapped, crossing your arms.

His guilt worsened, "I...both."

"This is the worst apology I've ever heard."

"Look, I'm sorry," he pleaded, "I'm really, really sorry. You didn't make me upset, you never do. I was just...the mission went bad, and I barely got out of there and I was just so frustrated that I couldn't see or think straight. And I ended up hurting the person I love the most because of it." He stepped closer slowly, shoulders sagging in relief when you didn't move away. "I know it's not an excuse, and I feel so, so horrible for being the cause of a panic attack...But please let me make it up to you, I want to celebrate my birthday with you. You're the reason I want to celebrate it now. Please..."

The sincerity of his words and the pain in his eyes were enough to convince you that he was truly sorry. You sighed, finally letting your guard back down and taking his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I forgive you, just...don't do it again. If you do I will throw you into the ocean."

His eyes lit up and he engulfed you in the tightest of hugs, "Deal!"

He sucked up to you hard the following few days, doing anything and everything you asked. He knew the crew took advantage of that and asked you to tell him to do certain things, but he never protested because he knew he had a lot to make up for.

He brought you breakfast in bed, forcing himself to wake up earlier than he would usually just to get you food for when you woke up. He made the bed and cleaned the room, organised your clothes and attended to you every need.

Because the thing about Ace is that he cares deeply, and loves even deeper. If he hurts someone he loves more than anything, he doesn't forgive himself easily and he grovels, hard. Even if you've already forgiven him.

But that's what you loved most about him, his passion for and commitment to the ones he loves.

#one piece #op #one piece x reader #one piece x you #ace x reader #ace x you #portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x you

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arachine · 1 year ago

Note

*slides a big fat twenty your way* uh how about a part two of that non traditional family dynamics with gojo

dinner and a disaster . . .

synopsis :: when your oldest daughter is at that age where boys are starting to become the focal point of her universe, you bring out the big guns — which in this case, unfortunately happens to be her father (who is not exactly the best when it comes to disciplining his little girls).

or, in other words, you and gojo play good cop bad cop.

genre :: fluff

contents :: co-parent!gojo, mentions of alcohol, heavy dialogue, time skip (the girls are 14 and 12 respectively), gojo is in distress !!!!

note :: link to part 1 + link to part 3

it's 10 pm when you text gojo about the latest happenings going on in your household.

it's also 10:01 pm when you answer his incoming face time call.

he's wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, laying down on his bed with a pillow under his chin and a hand propped up to support his head—he's comfortable, to say the least, and 100% tuned in to hear about whatever it is that you just texted him.

"is this what you've been doing all day?" you query with a laugh. there's a brief look of confusion etched onto his face before he picks up on what you were implying. rolling his eyes, he scoffs.

"it was my day off," he pouts, "can't a man relax in his fuzzy blanket?"

you squint teasingly at the screen, then nod slowly before mouthing an 'uh-huh'.

"i didn't call you to get berated about my choice of blanket!"

"okay, okay! i'm sorry," you grab a napkin from your nightstand, waving it like a white flag of surrender. "such a baby..."

"says the one who could never take...you know what, i won't finish that."

"smart man," you smile. "i want to be mad at you sometimes but it's almost kinda impressive how easily you can change the atmosphere...i mean, wow! it's record-breaking, truly."

"ha...ha. alright. i overstepped my bounds, i get it. can we just...can we just get back to our daughter? i'm starting to regret calling you on my day off—which, by the way, was going so great."

"great, love that we're on the same page," you give him a thumbs up through the screen. before you can get into the nitty-gritty of the situation, you take a brief pause to prepare yourself for the dramatics about to ensue—because if you know anything about gojo satoru, you know he's definitely one for the dramatics.

"when i tell you this...i want you to stay calm, keep a level head, and most importantly, i want you not to scream," you say, opening your mouth again to emphasize the last part, "and it's important that you especially won't scream, okay?"

gojo mulls it over before committing, "i don't know...it depends on what you're gonna tell m-"

"just—just promise, gojo," you interrupt, clearly agitated.

"alright, i promise."

"okay, so there's a boy..."

you're mid-sentence when gojo's eye starts to twitch.

"and she's expressed to me that she wants to go on a date with him." when you finish, you're half expecting him to yell, and half expecting him to end the call. but he doesn't.

in fact, he's so still, you're almost convinced he's frozen, but then he begins to smile. slow at first, and then all at once. it's creepy, you think, something straight out of a horror film.

"i know this was a lot of information to process, are you...okay?"

"pfttt, what? of course, why wouldn't i be?"

"well, you look scary. maybe i shouldn't have told yo-"

"SHE WANTS TO WHAT?"

and there it is. gojo satoru, king of dramatics.

"my little girl, my baby, my princess. she's only 10!-"

"she's 14."

"same thing, how could you let this happen?!"

"what happened to not yelling?! you promised!"

"oh be serious, i made a vow to you 14 years ago and look where we are now," he whisper-yells, trying (and failing) to contain his voice.

"dammit, you're right...well, at least we're on the same page! we both don't want this date to happen." when you take another glance at the screen, gojo's no longer laying down on his bed, but up and pacing around his room like a mad man.

you watch him for awhile, and when he doesn't seem to be coming back any time you soon, you call his name, "satoru."

"what?!" he turns to the phone. glaring at him, you wait for him to check his tone. "sorry, what?"

"i was thinking tomorrow you could come over for dinner? it'd give us a chance to talk to her about it...so that it's not just me telling her no."

"so, what i'm hearing is that you want her to hate me too?"

"no, i'm saying i want us to be a team. so, can you come over tomorrow? can you do that?" you ask, raising a brow.

"yeah, i'll be there."

at the same time the oven alarm goes off, gojo arrives. you can see his car pull into the drive way from where you are in the kitchen, and you mentally curse yourself for not getting ready sooner.

"fuck, uh okay," you throw your oven mitts, "hon, can you get the door for your dad? i need to go upstairs and get changed."

the youngest gets up from her place on the couch, "sure, wait...dad's staying for dinner? what's the occasion?"

you're halfway up the stairs before you stop, "enough questions, please. just open the door, thank youuuu."

ambling from the living room to the foyer, she opens the front door. gojo smiles, and immediately lifts her up into a bone-crushing hug that only a dad could give.

"hey bug, missed you," he squeezes her, much to her behest.

"ugh, dadddd, put me down," she drawls, pawing at his chest. gojo frowns and puts her down, putting a hand over his heart as if he were shot.

"you used to love that, you know."

"yeah, when i was like five."

"are you not?" he teases, but she's not amused. he nudges her arm annoyingly until she begins to smile. "there we go, punk. now can i have a real hug? you're hurting my feelings."

like a true pre-teen, she rolls her eyes and reluctantly trudges over to him, then opens her arms up for a hug. at this stage, you've noticed that hugs are okay, but only when it's on their own terms—and you especially can't initiate them when their friends are around (you learned that the hard way).

when they pull away, gojo takes his shoes off and wanders through the house. "where's the other brat at?"

"upstairs."

gojo nods, "uh-huh...where's your mom at?"

"right here." gojo hears you before he sees you, and then he lifts his head up to see you at the top of the stairs standing behind the banister. before you make your way downstairs, you waltz over to your daughter's room and knock on the door.

"hey, dinner's ready. come on downstairs. somebody's here to see you." as you begin turning around, the door flies open and out comes your moody teenage daughter.

"who is it?" she queries, following behind you like a duckling.

from where he stands at the bottom of the staircase, gojo raises a hand and waves.

"hey, scrub."

"dad? what are you doing here?" your oldest questions, but still goes in for a hug.

"your mom invited me over for dinner, that cool with you?"

she nods, then turns to her sister. they exchange a knowing look that, if translated, would be: something's definitely up. they wait for you and gojo to head to the kitchen before having a quick debrief.

"you definitely did something," the youngest side eyes.

"wha-why would you think i did something? you're the one failing a class," she rebuttals.

"ok well...this isn't about me! they only get together when one of us does something. don't you see? they're teaming up...this is an intervention."

the oldest pinches the space between her brows, "i can see why you're failing english now, because the way you just jumped to conclusions like that is actually insane."

dinner goes by without a hitch. for majority of it, you spend the time talking about work, school (which seems like a sensitive subject because the youngest wouldn't look either of you in the eye), and the plot of this hbo show with adult kids who're trying to take over their father's company.

gojo brings it up, of course, and jokingly says that the show was written with him in mind. he asks the girls if they'll fight over who'll inherit the company when he dies, and it turns into a i'm the better daughter debate.

when it gets a little too rowdy, you have to remind them that this is all hypothetical and that their father is a menace who likes to cause chaos whenever possible. gojo pouts and says you're no fun, but quickly fixes his face when he sees your pointed glare.

"come help me with the dishes," you say, and then disappear into the kitchen.

the two of you fall back into old habits. you wash the dishes, he dries and sets them on the rack. it feels like it did in the beginning, only this time, he'll be leaving when the two of you set out to do what you originally intended.

"dinner was nice," he says after about 10 minutes of comfortable silence. he doesn't look up, doesn't even make a joke about your cooking (which, you were totally expecting him to do). instead, he just continues drying the plate you handed to him.

"you know, you're welcomed to come again. you don't always have to be away in that apartment all by yourself," you start, choosing your words carefully, gently. "the girls like eating with their dad."

"i like eating with them too. i guess i'll start coming by more often then."

you almost miss it but there's a smile on his face, and it's genuine. instead of pointing it out, you savor the moment.

your reasoning for his coming here was to talk to your daughter, but it was also to get him out of the apartment. see, you were sneaky like him too, and what he didn't know wouldn't kill him. to you, this was just hitting two birds with one stone.

when you finish up, the two of you discuss the plan over for what seems like the 100th time.

"so, we're gonna go in there and be cool about it, okay? we won't hound her. we're just gonna tell her like it is, and then let her down gently. got it?"

"got it."

"after you," gojo extends his arm.

"wha-ugh, fine."

as you lead the way, gojo has to keep a hand on your back to keep you from turning back around. so far, you've attempted to retreat five times—you're two feet away from the kitchen entrance.

"will you just go?" there's irritation laced in his tone.

"okay, just stop pushing me."

"no promises, keep walking."

you sigh, but heed his request. with a hand still on your back, he guides you all the way to the living room. the girls are watching tv but quickly avert their focus when they notice you standing next to the couch with a freakish smile plastered on your face. gojo whispers in your ear to be cool and you immediately gather your wits.

"mom...your face...dad what's wrong with her face she's scaring me," the youngest pauses the tv.

"sweetie, will you go upstairs for a minute? your dad and i have to talk to your sister."

seeming to be catching on, she gets up from the couch and says a 'told you' to her sister before running upstairs. you and gojo share a look.

"what's up?" she asks, still weirded out.

"you see, well...we've been talking and..." you start, "your father has something he wants to tell you!"

gojo snaps his head towards you, gasping in the same motion. "hey, what the hell happened to being cool?"

"no promises, remember?"

"oh, you litt-"

"dad."

"sorry, uh, shit. i wasn't prepared for this. this wasn't the plan," he begins, "so, i heard there's a boy...and...you're at that age where boys are cute..."

she looks at the two of you in abhor and groans. gojo pauses briefly, but you encourage him to continue.

"and i've come to understand that you're interested in one and want to go on a date?"

"yeah."

"oh...okay well, i—we just don't think that's a good idea. you're 14, in school, and honey, you're so young...you have your whole life to be interested in boys."

"wait, what do you mean 'we'?"

"your mom and i talked about it and-"

"mom said she was fine with it."

gojo smiles in shock and then blinks, once, twice, three times.

"we'll be back," he announces, pulling you by the arm to the kitchen.

when you get to the kitchen, he releases your arm and pinches the skin between his brows. it takes all of about five seconds before he erupts.

"'we're a team, satoru', 'we're in this together', bullshit! you wanted me to be the bad cop, didn't you?"

"not initial-"

"didn't you!"

"okay, sorry! i may have...gave in when she asked, but i figured you'd be able to tell her no!"

"why would you think that!? she's my little girl!"

"she's my little girl too!"

gojo walks over to the cabinet and pulls out a glass. "i can't right now, i need a drink. what do you have?"

opening another cabinet, you pull out a bottle of pink whitney. gojo sucks his teeth. it was such a girl drink, but it was all you had so beggars couldn't be choosers. shrugging, he raises his glass for you to pour the drink into.

grabbing another glass, you sit down and join him.

"we've been had, huh?"

"how is that?"

"because we both can't say no to her."

gojo raises his glass to his lips and swallows it all down in a few gulps.

your daughter goes on a date the following week, and gojo starts looking into trackers.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #:: — LEXI WRITES !

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frickingnerd · 10 months ago

Text

friends with benefits with leo valdez

pairing: leo valdez x gn!reader

tags: suggestive / implied smut, best friends to lovers, awkward leo & reader, angst to fluff, happy ending, wholesome fluff

you were more than a friend for leo ever since the two of you first hooked up

but he felt like he had to keep his feelings for you to himself and play the part of the guy who you'll eventually mess around with and nothing more

after all, you had asked him after your first time together how he felt about you

"this doesn't mean anything, right? we're still just friends… with some added benefits now!"

leo could've sworn that he heard uncertainty in your voice, as if you were scared of his answer

he wasn't sure what you wanted to hear, if he should confess that he was head over heels for you or if he should pretend like he didn't care about you

he chose the latter, which caused those occasional hookups between you two to happen for more often since then

every time they happened, leo tried to keep you around afterwards; suggesting he cooks you something, that you two take a shower together or that you just talk a little

but no matter what he suggested, you always ran off afterwards

the only times leo got to be with you was when you were in his bed, but despite how close you were to him in that moment, you felt further away than ever before…

your relationship started to become less of a friendship and instead focused more on the benefits

and while leo certainly enjoyed those benefits, he just couldn't help but long for more

he'd do anything to go back to the way things were before, to have you back as a friend, not just someone to hook up with

eventually, he couldn't take it anymore

as you were collecting your clothes again after a session with leo, he gently grabbed your wrist and stopped you for a moment

"can you stay a little longer today? you always run off afterwards and i'd just like to be with you for a few more minutes…"

leo had this pained expression on his face and seeing him like this was breaking your heart

"i can't… i just… really need to…" but you couldn't come up with a good excuse

"you've been like this for weeks now. please, i want my best friend back…" leo's grip on your hand tightened and he slowly pulled you towards him

"we're not friends anymore…" you mumbled softly, not even thinking clearly as you said those words

"what's that supposed to mean?" leo was clearly hurt by your words, his brows narrowing as he looked at you. "am i just the guy you fuck now? why? why can't i be your friend anymore!?"

"because i love you, you idiot–!!" you snapped at leo and pulled your hand away. "but you don't see me like that…"

"you… love me?" leo still had to process what you just said.

"…i do. i said it, are you happy now? can i go now?" you couldn't stand being in the same room as him anymore. you knew you'd surely cry if you had to say another word or look at him again

"no…" leo still seemed to be in a trance-like state, slowly shaking his head. "no, you can't go. you expect me to just let you leave now?"

you were close to crying now, lowering your head and just trying to keep it together, as you pleaded with a shaky voice

"p-please… just let me–"

but before you could finish your sentence, leo had wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug

"i've been in love with you for months! i thought if i told you, i'd ruin everything we had. but to think that you felt the same way all this time…"

leo quietly sobbed against your body, before beginning to laugh through his tears

he felt relieved. all this time, he thought his feelings were unrequited. but he was wrong. thank gods, he was wrong!

"you love me too…?" you couldn't hold back your tears either, smiling as you wrapped your arms around leo as well, as he nodded quietly

"i've always loved you…"

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hamsternella · 3 months ago

Text

Second part of this one

Bill Cipher x Fem!Reader

cw: gore, bill is a warning by himself, mdni, yandere and obsessive behavior

''She's my wife! You're talking about my wife, Cipher!'' Ford ran his hands through his hair, feeling desperate. Disgust was driving him mad; fury was blinding him. ''You've crossed a boundary! You're a…''

''A monster, a madman, a sick man,'' Bill interrupted him lazily. ''Yeah, yeah. I get that a lot, thanks, Fordsy. Anyway, what do you say? Do we have a deal?''

Ford backed up a couple of steps, colliding with the edge of his desk behind him. His hand brushed against a statuette of Cipher himself; a figure of pure gold that weighed between his fingers as he lifted it into the air, eyes fixed on the demon. The latter shook his hand in denial. 'No, no. Don't even think about it.' But he did it anyway. He didn't even get to hit him—Bill had disappeared.

"Come back here, Bill!" cried the investigator in despair. "Don't you dare lay a hand on my wife again, Cipher!"

But all he received in response was a shrill laugh, and the blow of a warm breeze that made him stagger. The lights went out, and in the gloom the only thing that enveloped Ford was silence barely interrupted by his own breathing.

"My God," he whispered, "what have I done?"

After your talk with Bill, and the forced kiss that sealed an implied deal, your life becomes confusing and uncomfortable.

The demon had not stopped possessing your husband until the day you decided that enough was enough.

The limit was to have found him on you, forcing your petticoats with the hands of the man who was supposed to be your companion.

How were you supposed to know when it was Ford and not Bill? How could you let him kiss your lips with that sweetness, sometimes interspersed with the awkwardness of a need that already seemed alien to you?

When Ford found out about the situation you were acting so strange about, his fury is such that even you find yourself terrified of the human as you were of the demon.

They felt like one and the same entity. At this point you didn't know what to think about it.

Your relationship with your husband deteriorated considerably. It was easy to see how uncomfortable it made him to know that you and Bill had been intimate.

"Aren't we ever going to talk about it, then? Ford, I'm addressing the word to you..."

"I know," he interrupted you, the frustration palpable in his voice. "You've been saying the same thing every day, throughout every week; it's a regular thing come this point."

"Because we need to talk about it! For God's sake, Ford, you can't even stand to be in the same room with me anymore. Do you think this situation hasn't affected me too?"

You heard his footsteps coming towards where you were. You felt him in front of you, with his scent and his breathing altered into a choked growl. "Be honest with me, didn't you suspect at any time that that imitation wasn't me?"

"Ford, not again with this..." you sighed.

"Not again, you say? Not again, as if it were something upsetting to you," he exclaimed. "Oh, well, perhaps it is—perhaps because things happened there that I don't know about. More things I don't know—I don't want to know. Terrible things, lots of secrets hidden from me, your husband!"

"Are you serious, Stanford? You're coming at me with such audacity!" You had risen from your seat, colliding immediately with your husband's chest. His hands took you by surprise; a shove brought you back to the world as you hit the table at your side. "Ford! What's wrong with you, God..."

"This is all wrong! This is all terrible!" he shouted. Moments later there was silence. It took your husband some time to regulate his own breathing. "Whole weeks... being possessed by a creature I thought was my friend, my companion. Days believing I was falling into madness; the darkness of a confused dream enveloping me, devouring my senses... all of me. All of me! My works, my researches, my wife! He dared to possess my woman!"

"So that's what I am to you," you hastened to add. "Just your woman. That's what this irrational outburst of yours is all about, Stanford."

"It's everything! This is about everything! For God's sake, woman, understand. He's taken everything from me—he's trying to make it, and he's closing in on me by leaps and bounds... He's wanted to ruin my life completely and you don't understand! You can't be so selfish!"

"Who's being selfish here, when you were the scoundrel hiding a demon under our feet! This was all started by you, Stanford! And you never told me the truth!" You covered your face for a moment, sighing faintly. "You let him take your body and walk around the house; you kept me ignorant of your true plans while to him you built a shrine."

"How did you..."

"He told me," you interrupted him coldly, "as usual. Because of course I have to find out what's going on in my own house from a demon. Same demon who, by the way, got into our room to try to molest me!"

"You could have told me that in the first place! Things don't magically escalate."

"Excuse me? What are you trying to tell me?"

His silence confirmed the shame that had overwhelmed him by his own words.

"I'm talking to you, Ford."

"You should have told me. You allowed him direct entry."

"I don't think I gave him that much power," you shook your head. "Not like you gave it to him, Ford, with your portals and your 'insignificant' studies."

"I didn't mean to."

"And you think it was my intention to have him on top of me?"

"For God's sake—this is not about you!"

"It's never about me! Nothing is ever about me, your very wife, Ford!" You held back the heart-rending cry in your throat, until the other words snatched it from you. "I could have been raped that night and you didn't care! That thing has kissed me, touched me while in your body, and what affects you most is losing your portal! Please, Stanford, please, I beg you to understand!"

You stretched out your arms in a desperate attempt to cling to your husband's shirt. You knew where he was when you brushed against his body; there your hands rested, fingers digging like daggers into his arms. Your voice was barely a whisper corrupted by pain and despair.

"I gave up everything for you," you continued, "even my hobbies, my friends and my family. I believed in you like no one ever has; I sacrificed time, sweat and tears on your journey to glory... All for you. Always for you. When will there be something for me? When will I have a family of my own? When will I have a nice home? When will I feel safe?" you weighed a couple of raw ideas at the back of your mind. "When will I feel safe with you, Ford. You're supposed to be my husband..." you sobbed.

"I need you to understand," he whispered back. "Please, honey. I need you to."

"I'm tired of understanding things I don't know," you shook your head, possessed by crying. "You let that thing into this house. You gave your body, your mind... your wife."

"I would never allow him to lay a hand on you!"

"He's done it already!" you shouted back. "He's already done as much damage as you have, Ford! You're just like that! Unsatisfied, cruel creatures; eager to carry more than your arms can carry. He may be able to make it. Not you, Ford. And that's your problem—yourself. You're selfish, self-centered..."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"... and I begin to believe that I have been a victim of that victorious perversity that consumes you when you get something that others want and can't. But you could! And now you want more! More of what you shouldn't, of that which you can't have."

"I can have it! I'm capable! You know it; you've heard me achieve it."

"Thanks to him. And everything has a price in life, Stanford. Who says I'm not that now?"

The laughter that your husband dismissed hurt your soul.

"It's not that simple. He couldn't want you for... I don't understand. Why would he want you for something like this? I don't get it. Why would he want you in exchange for something like this? What do you figure here, but a sack of meat like me?"

"I don't know, you tell me," you shrugged. "Why do you want me, Ford? What do you think I possess, beyond a hole for you to fuck when you're stressed? Do you consider me to have value? Maybe you think I'm a stupid bitch—"

"Don't talk about yourself like that!" he interrupted you, sounding hurt. "One thing has nothing to do with the other here, right now."

"I think it has a lot to do with when your pride outweighs your wife's honor and safety. Does that title do any good? Perhaps the term 'maid' paints a better picture, considering how much you hold me in high regard as a person."

"Stop it."

"And that's all you have to say."

Life feels empty when your marriage suddenly seems like a sham.

You no longer consider Ford a company that provides you with security; now you are truly on your own.

The world is scary.

And this is where he comes to save the day.

More or less, let's assume.

Bill takes this opportunity to start filling your head with hallucinations. You can't escape them.

Your husband is a nightmare that whispers lies in your ear, which later become truths the more you think about them.

Cipher doesn't show up in your dreams until months later, when your husband is at his worst peak of stress and paranoid episodes.

The demon is much more kind, caring and receptive to you than ever before; even manipulating your brain to reproduce his figure in your mind.

At last you meet Mr. Cipher.

"But look who it is! The protagonist of this beautiful story of bloody, forbidden visceral romance from...! Oh, forget it. The title is too long."

The triangle levitates around you with its golden glow. Its edges are sharp; it has only one eye, and it wears a galley and a staff that seems to have a life of its own, far away from you, circling in the air. It is black, just like the galley and the slender limbs of the beast.

The laughter is as loud as ever. For a moment it brings you peace. It's the same—nothing has changed nor is a lie. It's just Bill.

"That's me! Yes, ma'am." Its figure reappears in front of you, with one of its small hands resting on your cheek. "My pronouns are call/me/Bill; but I also go by he/him."

"Are you reading my mind?"

"Oh, you little bag of muscle and nerves! We're in your mind," he laughed. "By the way, you should be nicer to me."

"I don't have to be nice to you," you replied. "You've ruined my life."

"Ruin your life, you say! Oh, no, my dear, but I haven't done anything!" His hand moved away from you, returning to his back as he entwined it with the other. His eye narrowed for a moment; he was fascinated. "But didn't you mean, rather, your husband's life? Isn't it the same as yours?"

"Is that, you suppose, a comment to hurt me?"

"Hurting you is one of my last thoughts when I think of you," he said. "And believe me: I think about you a lot."

"I don't want to know what kind of things."

"And you do very well not to want to!"

Another shrill laugh pierced your ears like a needle. The sound settled painfully in your brain.

"Oh, my dear! So beautiful and so pitifully silly," he sighed. "How I've missed you."

"I find it rather disturbing the way you address me. Especially after the accident..."

"That night!" he interrupted you; so fascinated that his yellow color darkened into a kind of still luminous blush. "Perhaps I was a little thrilled by the tenderness of your flesh—how your heart throbbed! An organ pumping warm blood, under that weak skin."

The triangle was suddenly in front of you. His eye wide open.

"The way your muscles tensed in your face," he continued, "with each eye wide open, as if you could just see me. No need to when you can feel me, little one. And how did that feel? How did you feel under the rough warmth of hands on the smooth skin of your belly?"

"While you were using my husband!" you cried out in shame. "You forced yourself on me with my husband's body. You are a..."

You bit your lip, holding back the string of insults that were about to hang from your mouth. Bill narrowed his eye, humming an unfamiliar tune.

"I'm a... what? Say it, come on!"

"Just shut up," you growled. "Shut your mouth—whatever you use to talk. Shut it."

"A little bird told me something very interesting. I'm sure you want to know! I know you do!"

You covered your face, using your hands to stifle a frustrated scream that could barely overshadow Bill's animated narration. His voice was penetrating your head, which was funny to think about considering the two of you were in your mind; there was no way his voice wasn't getting through to you being in a place like this. There was no escape possible.

"Oh! Yes, that's right," he pointed out with his cane. "You can't wake up until I decide."

"That's crazy!"

"I guess... Whatever! You want to play a game of chess for which you might lose something very valuable to you when I cheat?"

"Of course not!" You rubbed both hands together, trying to stop the trembling all over your body. "Ford will notice I'm not in the kitchen; I always make breakfast. He'll notice, won't he?"

"Dear, are you asking me or are you losing your senses?"

"Isn't it the same?" you turned to look at him, narrowing your eyes. "Wondering something to you, losing my mind—isn't it the same thing?"

Bill rolled his eye, dropping his cane in the air again. "What a mood! Too many gentlemen on this world for so few ladies—"

"What do you want?" you interrupted him. There was no answer. You took a deep breath as you met his gaze upon you; too much intensity, with his figure levitating slower and slower. "Bill, please, is there something you want? Because I can't give it to you. You should talk it over with Ford, like always" you muttered.

"Something I want," he repeated. "Maybe I wasn't very clear with you. In the olden days new romantic prospects used to murder the current spouse. You want that? So freaky, grr—"

"What the fuck are you talking about! My God," you swallowed the string of insults hanging from your throat. "Cipher, let me go right now. Go and talk to my husband and do together whatever it is you have in mind. Leave me alone!"

"I tried to talk to Fordsy about you," rushed the demon defensively, "but I don't think he liked certain details... My bad, I admit it! There are always second chances—although with him we'd be going for number three hundred and twenty something, I think... I don't know, I don't care! Hey, you really don't want to play chess with me?"

"You told him about that night," you whispered. Tears began to tickle your cheeks without your noticing them. "You told him first and he never... Ford never told me—he never told me about it..."

"And then he made you feel terrible about it," he laughed. "How crazy is Fordsy. And what's with all that pushing and shoving this last week? Didn't you see it coming? Ha! Get it? Because you're totally blind—"

"I can't wail and cry if I hear your shitty voice."

"Oh, come on! It's not my fault your husband is a deranged madman. There are lots of fish in the ocean, did you know that? Lots and lots... Lots, really... Then there's me, who's better," he pointed to himself, shrinking his eye in a smile. "I mean, uh, a god, technically."

"A demon."

"Very soon a god," he corrected you.

You frowned, forcing a smile as you said, "But you're still a demon. One trapped far away from our world, aren't you? What assures you that you're going to be anything more than that, when Stanford no longer believes in you?"

"The last thing I care about is your husband," Bill narrowed his eye. "Beyond that, could it be that you're testing me?"

"Testing you?"

"If I can get out of here, if I can catch you anywhere, anytime," he continued, "does that mean I win?"

"For you everything is a game. A demon at the end of the day."

Bill's shrill laughter pierced your ears again. This time you found him in front of you in the blink of an eye; closer, more attentive.

"Does that mean I win?" he whispered. "Because I believe I can have you whenever I want, wherever I want—this is just a taste of my power."

"This is a sign of what a monster you are," you replied in kind. "Ford will not allow you to go beyond your dimension—"

"Fordsy couldn't stop me all those times I messed with you," the demon interrupted you, suddenly surly at the mention of your husband. "It's almost like he doesn't care. Anyway, that brainiac is going to fail sooner or later, and there's no corner of the universe where you can hide your head. I'll be there, in your dreams; and I'll be here, where you don't see me. Everywhere I'm going to be, dear little flesh bag."

"Don't fucking call me that!"

"Nuh-uh!"

You opened your mouth, ready to pour over his expectant eye a couple more insults, but the lack of your own voice led you to wrap both hands around your neck. You thought you were piercing flesh with your fingernails; you caressed muscle, you smeared yourself with blood. You wanted to scream, terrified, alone in the middle of an empty, dark space, but the only response to the nervous silence of your panic attack was another thunderous laugh.

Everything was suddenly red. Red and painful. A sharp stab of pain shot through your body from your throat, and with a shocking jolt you fell to your knees, drowning in your own blood. Warm, viscous, thick. You closed your eyes, too disgusted with the spectacle of intense sensations assaulting your senses, and let yourself be carried away by the spasms that seemed to go on forever. You barely felt him on you.

When you opened your eyes, overcome by another intense, hot sensation, you found Bill leaning over you. His yellow color had migrated to a deep black; red edges like your blood, glowing, and with the same wide-open, watchful eye. You noted with another kind of horror that same morbid charm in his gaze—the ravenous hunger of a natural hunter.

You shook your head, barely moving your lips in a faint 'please'.

"I missed this," he said. "I missed you. It's strange... this feeling, I mean—it's kind of weird. It's unpleasant. But when I finally have you again, when I can touch you, I can see you, I can hear you, that awful feeling goes away; it disappears and I feel good again. I feel better. It's strange, like I told you."

One of his limbs brushed against the bleeding wound on your neck. The nightmare was compounded by the pressure of his fingers playing with your flesh.

"You're beautiful," he whispered. "If you could see yourself. I don't think you'd understand. It would be fun, anyway. See you cry, make you scream," he laughed. "You know, the usual. Stanford makes you cry a lot, doesn't he? He hurts you."

It took you a while to respond, but you were able to give him a nod.

"Everything he does is a product of my own genius," Bill continued. "I'm better. A hell of a lot better. This is just beginning; there's more to this than I've shown you now. A lot more. But that's all right! We have all the time in the world. Lots of nights, lots of dreams. Opportunities, my pretty little bag of nerves."

His limb moved away from your wound, wrenching another spasm from your body. You couldn't take your eyes off the way the demon was spewing a long, slimy tongue from the strip below his eye, starting from the socket. Another repulsive limb. The flesh of your body disappeared in what was a light taste of your own flavor. You noticed the fascination in his small figure; the tremor of ecstasy bursting the moment.

"Fordsy would be delighted to know this," Bill said, squinting his eye. "You think we should tell him?"

'We?' Your own mind gave you away.

"I'm asking for your opinion! That's what couples do, right?"

Silence. Bill let out a sigh; his yellow color back with a particular glow.

"Whatever," he shrugged, "I don't think he'll mind. This may be our little secret." He approached you, levitating gently. "As for you, beautiful little waste, I hope to see you in a better mood soon. There's so much to do! So many things to talk about. Our plans ahead, of course—the big moment. What a thrill!"

Your eyes began to close. The pain gradually, gently subsided. It was getting harder and harder to hear Bill chattering.

"... portal, and the... But maybe a crazy... you and me, of..."

Before you faced the impending total darkness, Bill's intense gaze invaded your mind. This time you stopped listening to him. In spite of that, a new sharp pang of pain pierced your head; it upset you completely, as one who feels disarmed at the discomfort of their own body, and made you wake up again. This time there was no yellow demon in front of you. There was nothing, directly. Not that nothing of one whose eyes are covered—but that kind of empty expectation, typical of the blind.

'Returned home,' you thought with a sigh.

The morning was quiet, but not calm. Bill's nightmare had left you jittery, with tremors and a nagging itch in your neck. A sick kind of paranoia kept you standing between the bedroom and the bathroom, unable to go any further. It was the murmur of timid footsteps downstairs that made you make the decision: tell Ford, give him the chance again. Who else did you have in the world but him?

You walked down the stairs with the itch in your neck increasing as your husband's silence to your calls did. At a certain point, and with madness tearing tears from your eyes, you ended up tripping over an obstacle on the floor where you thought the living room was. You rested your hands as soon as you felt the blow of the air like a whip; the pain came seconds later, along with the roughness of a jacket.

Ford did not wear such jackets.

You pushed your fingers against the leather, dragging your nails along the inner fur. You felt the coolness of some pins, and maybe found a couple of holes.

"Ford?"

"He's not here."

A man's broken voice took you by surprise. You jumped up, fell back down, and began to crawl backwards across the floor. You forgot about the pain and itching in your neck.

"Who are you?! What did you do to my husband—"

"Just... just a moment! Please!" The voice broke even more, as if choked with an inevitable cry. "You said husband—you must be her, I mean, his girl. His wife. Logically, isn't it?" an unfunny laugh broke through his words. "Please, I'm not here to do anything bad..."

"Who the fuck are you?!"

Silence. A long one, interrupted by a couple of accelerated breaths.

"Stanley," the man replied. "I'm Stanley Pines. I'm Stanford's brother."

"He doesn't... No, because he doesn't have a brother. You are lying to me—"

"Are you blind?"

This time the silence came from you.

"I didn't think... Sorry, I didn't get a good look at you," he rushed back. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

"Stanley Pines," you said, "is that really your name? Stanford never told me about you." You craned your neck, gathering as much air as you could. "Stanf—"

"He's not here."

"What do you mean? Did he go out or something? Again," you sighed.

Silences were commonplace at this point. You had time to stand up with the help of the supposed Stanley. You let him guide you to an armchair, allowing him as much freedom as a tired woman could allow a man this robust. You tried not to let fear blind your senses.

If he was inside the house, it meant he hadn't set off any traps. Was he telling the truth?

"Did Ford tell you where he went?" you insisted in the absence of an answer. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"I don't think he..." a heavy, shaky sigh. "Sorry, but I think Stanford—I don't think he can come, today, at least..."

"What do you mean?"

But you didn't need a clear answer. Stanley was still talking, saying things very unimportant to you; and yet there was something special that leapt into your mind along with the memory of a thunderous laugh. The word 'portal' throbbed in rhythm with your heart, leaving in its wake a trail of horror from which a couple of tears were born. Only then did you return to the world—along with Stanley's hand caressing your back.

"I'm really sorry," he continued in a soft cry. "I didn't mean to, I swear..."

"Through the portal?"

"It was too fast, and... and then we pushed each other a lot, and there was screaming—"

"Then I guess he's not coming back," you sighed shakily, interrupting him. "Ford's not coming back. My God..."

"I'm going to fix that thing. You have my word."

The image of Bill in your dreams quickly jumped into your memories. You reached desperately for Stan's hands, taking them in yours. You stared into the void, hoping to behold his face of -possible- intrigue.

"You can't touch that thing!" you exclaimed in warning. "Stanley, you can't go near that portal, please. You have no idea what's in store for us on the other side."

"My brother is trapped in there! God, woman, your own husband!"

"This is beyond him right now!"

His hands released yours; a push let you know that he had risen from your side.

"You're crazy," he growled. "As crazy as he is. Just a crazy couple!"

"You have no idea what this is, Stanley Pines... You have no idea. You haven't the faintest idea. Am I crazy? Do you think I've lost my mind? I think you saw Ford very well; I'd like to think there's something of him in you—that you understand why I'm this way. Whose fault is it!"

"Your husband could be dead and you just go around attributing blame!"

"Our lives are at stake! Good Lord, Stanley, you have no idea what it was like to live with him!"

The image of Bill wouldn't leave your head. At this point you didn't know if you were thinking of Ford, or the triangular demon.

"I'm going to fix that fucking machine," Stanley spat angrily, "and I'm not going to let some crazy woman stop me over a couple of superstitions. I've had enough of that with Stanford. I want my brother back, and I'm going to get him. Whatever it takes."

You heard his footsteps walk away from the room, and seconds later a slamming door vibrated through your bare feet. Until then you hadn't felt the cold seeping into your sensitive flesh. Nothing seemed to matter enough to you.

It wasn't about Ford anymore; now you had to deal with the nervous insanity of his so-called brother. Could it get even worse?

Maybe.

#fanfic #reader insert #reader #obssesion #yandere #angst #horror #dead dove do not eat #gravity falls #bill cipher gravity falls #gravity falls bill #bill cipher #bill cipher x reader #bill cypher

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago

Note

you know your last zemo piece RUINED me I think about it at least once a day 😭 what about zemo/reader + 41? 👀 if you feel like it of course! I would read even your grocery list probably

okay well then eggs, milk, greek yogurt--

just kidding c: (not kidding that i need to buy greek yogurt tho. i ran out the other day)

41: "don't do that. don't act like you don't feel this too."

warnings: smut (18+ only, ever so slightly dubcon because of all of the denial?), fingering and overstimulation, glove kink, angst, enemies to lovers, descriptions of injuries and violence, reader is very generally implied to be an avenger?

100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!

"What are you doing here?" you asked sharply, pretending to be focused on your book even though your heart had been beating too fast to let you read another word as soon as he stepped into your room.

"I just wanted to speak with you," he said. You knit your brows together, because obviously you just want to talk, what the hell else would we be doing in here alone? but you didn't say anything. "About what happened today--"

"It doesn't mean anything," you insisted, rather dramatically flipping the page of your book. "You're an asset to the mission, my job is to keep the mission on track. That's it."

He didn't react, really. "I... never said it meant anything," he explained, "I simply wanted to thank you."

You cursed yourself internally, staring blankly forward at your book, trying so hard to ignore his dark form in your peripheral. Did he have to keep staring at you like that?

"So, thank you," he said.

"That's not necessary," you insisted, "I would've done it for anyone."

"You'd take a bullet for anyone?" he pressed.

You closed your book in frustration, finally looking back at him; you wished you hadn't. You couldn't even begin to react to everything you saw on his face, the way he was looking back at you... you stopped yourself before you even thought about trying to describe what emotion that could be. It took you a moment to even remember what you were going to say: "I didn't take a bullet," you corrected him, standing up off the bed, "I had Kevlar on. I just blocked it."

"Yes, Kevlar-- not magic," he clarified. "It must have still injured you."

You shrugged. "I'll live."

"May I see?" he asked softly, stepping forward until he was uncomfortably close to you, and you nodded slightly. You couldn't look at him as his gloved hand slowly pulled up the bottom of your tank top, until the massive bruise on your stomach was revealed. "Christ..." he whispered under his breath.

You shoved the fabric back down and wiped under your nose, trying to act normal and stern again.

"I didn't know you were wearing a vest," he explained. "The feeling that went through me when I thought you were really hit-- that you might..."

He trailed off, but you nodded, knowing what he meant.

"I haven't felt that feeling in a long time," he continued soberly, his gaze a little darker. "I never wanted to feel that again."

"Well, I guess I'm sorry if I... distressed you," you mumbled.

"Surely you know I'm not here asking for an apology," he scoffed.

"Then what do you want from me?!" you snapped.

"Don't ask me a question you don't want me to answer," he warned, and your heart jumped.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you mumbled, crossing your arms tightly and looking away.

He didn't answer, just stepped closer to you-- you wanted to step back, but the bed was in your way. Damn these insanely tiny rooms...

You looked back at him, trying to keep a straight face, hoping he couldn't hear your racing pulse somehow.

"Ask me again what I want from you," he ordered darkly, "if you really want to know."

You stammered a bit but eventually choked it out, almost a whisper: "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to promise you'll never do that again."

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it wasn't that. "What?"

"Never put yourself in harm's way like that again," he demanded, "I can't take it-- if you were really hurt, or even killed--"

"It's my job," you reminded him. "If my orders put me in harm's way, that's where I go. And my orders come from Bucky, not you."

"James doesn't care about you," he interjected sharply, and your eyes went wide. "And you don't care about James-- not in that way, at least."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," you blurted out, not sure what else you were supposed to say to that.

"Don't do that," he pleaded lowly, shaking his head. "Don't pretend that you don't feel this, too."

You tried to step away but he grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you back into him-- closer than ever; his other hand came up to hold your face, a gloved thumb tracing over your cheek as you looked back at him.

"I can't watch you get hurt again," he breathed, "least of all for me. Just let me protect you."

"I don't need your protection," you assured, "I can fend for myself."

"But do you want to?"

When your mouth opened with a little gasp of denial, he took the opportunity to kiss you-- hard and passionate, pulling your body close to his.

You put your hands on his chest like you were going to push him away, but you found yourself melting into it instead, and your fingers weakly clutched at the fur lapel of his coat.

"Fuck," you mumbled against his lips, kissing him back with more intensity than either of you expected. Weeks of tension finally broke as you clawed at each other, falling onto the bed and struggling with a mess of bulky clothes.

His kiss moved to your neck, his teeth digging into your skin until you whined. "Would it be wrong of me," he wondered, "to be responsible for another mark on you?"

"Shut up," you hissed, 'cause how the fuck could he be all poetic and shit right now? You could barely even think straight-- clearly you weren't thinking straight, because you were in bed under Zemo of all people. "I can't fucking stand you sometimes."

"I know," he mumbled against your skin, his hands moving down your waist until he could start opening your belt.

"But I wanted you so fucking bad..."

"I know."

He slipped his hand into your pants, cupping your sex for just a moment, before roughly shoving two fingers inside you-- with his fucking leather glove still on. You moaned low and loud, tossing your head back as he stretched you on those fingers, the intrusion thick and sudden and making you insanely desperate.

Your back arched as he thrusted those fingers inside you, your legs spreading naturally as your body craved more. He pulled away from your neck to stare down at your face, mesmerized by the way you responded to him.

"O-oh my god," you gasped, "fuck--"

"Right there?" he assumed as he curled his fingers against your spot, making you shudder and hold tight onto his arm.

"Yes, yes!" you whimpered.

"Quiet, draga," he cooed, "James is only one room away--"

"Fuck, j-just fuck me," you begged, "I need you-- just fuck me, please."

"No," he denied flatly, though it clearly pained him to say it. "One of us has to stay in control."

You whined in frustration, amazed at how much he could say in so few words. I'm in control right now. I wouldn't be able to control myself if I was inside you. I wouldn't hold back, and everyone would hear us. You couldn't pick which underlying meaning was the one that made you that much more wet all of a sudden.

He purred through a smile as he rubbed harder against the spot inside you, moving his covered thumb to press to your clit as well. "I can feel how badly you need this-- it must have been so long since anyone pleasured you, hm? And you must have known I could take care of you."

Your legs were shaking already, your hand reaching up to hold onto his shoulder, then weaving into his hair. You tried to pull him down for a kiss, but when his face came close to yours, he stopped and stared right into your eyes-- and his other hand grabbed yours and pinned it down roughly beside your head. You bit your lip, hating how much you loved the helplessness you felt right then.

"I just need you to come for me now," he explained with a growl. "I need to watch you give into it."

"I-I'm close," you nodded, and he smiled again.

"I know," he said, making you feel a little stupid for even saying it. "Show me. I want to see what it looks like when you let go."

With your one free hand holding tightly onto the sheets, your hips started to rock up into his touch-- or maybe trying to get away from it, the feeling was so intense. Either way he had no trouble keeping you where he wanted you, shoving his fingers deep until your eyes rolled back. You knew you were saying his name, you heard it echoing around the walls, but you refused to believe that it was really you begging for him like that. You would've given him anything he wanted right then, just to get through that feeling and let ecstasy wash over you: thankfully, all he wanted was exactly that.

It was actually quiet at first, you were holding your breath without really meaning to; only when you just barely started to come down from the high did you make a sound again, a moan going out along with a big exhale of everything you'd been holding in.

Except the feeling didn't stop, because he didn't. Actually, he started going even harder.

Your eyes shot open and your body rocked. "F-fuck, fuck!" you yelped, both your hands tightening into fists before the unrestrained one grabbed at his wrist to try to slow him down-- which obviously didn't work.

He was biting his lip and flaring his nostrils from the force of it, staring down at you with fire in his eyes as he kept going.

"Oh my god," you sobbed, "I-I can't-- fuck, I-- oh!"

You wouldn't really call it a scream... he would, but you wouldn't. You might have said it was more like a high-pitched moan or maybe just a loud whine, but really, to anyone else who heard it (which may not have just been Zemo) it was definitely a scream. A scream of overwhelming, painfully-perfect pleasure. And only when your whole body was a shaking, useless mess did he stop moving his fingers inside you and gently pull them out.

You were so exhausted, going limp against the mattress and fighting to blink your eyes open, that you didn't even really notice him bringing his soaked glove to his mouth and getting a taste of you, humming contentedly.

It was only when he let go of your wrist and stopped hovering over you, sitting on the bed with a sigh, that you really noticed him again and (mostly) came back to reality.

His hair was messed up, and his face was flushed-- and you'd tugged his shirt to the side and exposed more of his chest. Only now did he look even a quarter as affected by this as you were. "There will be a time and place for more, draga," he promised you with a sigh, "soon."

"When?" you asked, and he smiled a bit deviously at you before wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and kissing you again-- sweeter, slower, but with a hint of dominance as he gently bit on your bottom lip.

"Whenever my patience runs out," he answered with a grin.

#baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #zemo smut #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel bruhl smut

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annwrites · 4 months ago

Text

—exactly what he needs | nate jacobs x classmate!reader

tw: use of a firearm for intimidation purposes, threats of suicide, mentions of domestic violence, implied rape, victim blaming

When you turn on your bedroom light, your body, as well as your heart, both jump in fear as you let out a small scream.

❝Sit down,❞ Nate commands quietly, gesturing toward your bed with the revolver he holds tightly in his grip.

❝N-Nate, what're—❞

He rests an ankle over a knee while leaning back in the chair you have shoved in the corner of your room, facing your bed.

He lowers the pistol as well.

❝I didn't come here to hurt you. I came here to talk, and I'd like for you to listen to what I have to say.❞

He nods to the bed.

❝Sit down,❞ he orders once again, more firmly this time.

You swallow thickly, and fight back the tears that're brimming in your eyes as you pad over to it, then seat yourself at the foot.

He glances down to the gun and shrugs lightly. ❝I knew that this was the only way I'd get you to listen. You refuse to even look at me in class now. I'm being treated like a fucking pariah by everyone because of that goddamn play...❞

He shakes his head while slowly trailing his eyes back up to your own. ❝You were the one good thing in my life. And I did everything I could to make you happy—to make sure we stayed together. Everything was fine before Lexi got in your fucking head that day.❞

He leans forward while sliding the pistol along his thigh. ❝These are the lengths you drove me to. If you had just given me the time of day at school, or when I texted and called you hundreds of goddamn times, this wouldn't be happening right now.❞

❝N—❞

❝I love you. I still love you, despite you walking away from me so easily when I gave you everything I fucking had to give. I told you before that you're the one I'm supposed to be with—that you're exactly what I need to make me happy after all the shit my family, and my exes, have put me through.❞

He stands and takes a few steps closer until he's towering over you.

You scoot back a little, wanting desperately to get away from him.

But in doing so, you've given him exactly what he wants incase you don't act accordingly when he makes you his next offer.

❝I'm giving you one last chance to come back to me. It'll take work, but in time, I think we can forgive each other and get back to where we were just a few weeks ago. My life has gone to shit without you in it. I...❞

He shakes his head, while rubbing his thumb against his forehead—that silver pistol glinting against the light before he lowers it again.

❝I don't know how to fucking do any of this without you anymore. I feel like I can't breathe unless we're together. I don't eat, I barely fucking sleep. I don't talk to anyone, and when I do, I'm just constantly pissed off. All I do is think about you and what I've lost. So, I'm begging you: please.❞

You ball your hands into fists to try and hide the way they're shaking, even if your entire body is trembling in fear of him.

Your chin wobbles and tears begin to slip down your cheeks. You know you have to word things carefully. Don't make him angry, or the white walls of your bedroom will soon be painted red.

❝Nate, this isn't love. This is... It's obsession, I think. I don't... I'm so scared. Please, please just go. I won't tell anyone, I prom—❞

He shakes his head again, glancing away. ❝You don't get it. You still don't.❞

His eyes flit to yours again. ❝Maybe I can make you understand another way, then.❞

He suddenly crawls on top of you and your breath hitches in your throat while your heart flips in your chest—beating unevenly.

You press your head back against the pillows while his heavy weight settles on top of your own, completely caging you in.

This was how it had felt being with him, too: suffocating.

Trapped.

No escape.

Dangerous.

Deadly.

❝Please,❞ you whisper.

The revolver makes a reappearance and you still while you stare at the weapon in terror.

And then he presses it to his temple before brushing a kiss over your forehead. ❝I love you more than anything, but if we can't be together, then I don't want to be. Not without you. I can't anymore. I won't.❞

He cocks the lever back, pulls the trigger, and the gun clicks on an empty chamber.

You begin to sob violently.

❝Please, please, please, please! Don't!❞ You shriek.

He presses his lips gently to yours, despite you cringing away from the intimate gesture, cocks the lever yet again, and pulls the trigger.

Click.

You feel like you might wet yourself.

You've never felt so terrified in your entire life—had not thought feeling this sort of fear was even possible.

Not even when he had hit you those couple of times, then convinced you afterwards that it was an accident, but also still somehow your fault.

He cocks the lever back again.

❝Stop! Stop! Okay, we're together, just stop, please, I'm begging you!❞

His eyes open and flit between each of yours that're wide with fright and filled with glassy tears.

❝Tell me you love me, then.❞

❝I love you,❞ you whimper.

❝You won't ever try to leave again. If you do, I'll kill myself. There won't be any empty chambers next time.❞

❝I w-won't. P-promise.❞

❝You belong to me. Forever. The rest of your fucking life. You'll do what I say.❞

You nod fervently while squeezing your eyes shut, and tears slip along your temples before wetting the pillowcase beneath your head.

You hear him settle the gun on your bedside table then, and you let out a ragged breath of relief while opening your eyes once more.

And then Nate tugs his shirt off over his head.

Your brows furrow when he reaches down and begins undoing his belt. ❝Wh-What're you doing?❞

❝Get undressed,❞ he mumbles.

❝N-N-Nate, n-no. I... Not n-now, please.❞

His eyes meet yours again. ❝You promised to do as I say.❞

Your body is freezing cold and you can't stop shaking. ❝This i-isn't r-right.❞

He throws his belt to the side, then pushes his pants and boxers down past his knees before kicking them off the bed. ❝It's exactly right. This is the only way.❞

❝We... We don't even have—there's no c-condom.❞

He slides his fingers through your hair while gazing down at you. ❝You never had a mother, and grew up with an absent, workaholic father. You won't allow your own child to grow up without both parents. You told me that once. So, like I said: this is the only way I can hold onto you.❞

You feel like you're in a nightmare, like this isn't actually happening. Your mind feels disconnected from your cold, trembling body.

Maybe you're having a mental break. This isn't real. He's not actually here.

Nate reaches under your dress and begins tugging down your panties.

❝No, wait! I can't! I can't!❞ You shout, desperate to get him off of you. Desperate to go far, far away where he'll never find you again.

He slowly drags his gaze toward your bedside table and you turn your head, following his line-of-sight.

He reaches for the gun.

You resign yourself to your fate.

❝I'll do it.❞

With numb, shaking hands, you remove your panties.

Just like always, he's lied yet again. He'd told you that he didn't come here to hurt you, but that's all he's ever done.

At least he's consistent in that, if nothing else.

You should've let him keep pulling the trigger.

a/n: the linked story at the top is what this scene was meant to one day be part of, but i struggled a lot with continuing said story once i published chapter 6, so it's on hiatus until further notice. however, i've wanted to write & publish this scene for months, so here it is!

#gifset: nate jacobs (exactly what he needs)#nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs x y/n #nate jacobs x oc #nate jacobs x fem oc #euphoria x you #euphoria x reader

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shooting-love-arrows · 1 year ago

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A villian yandere? Not like those cartoon villian but the one that actually make the reader feel fearful, not because the villian is physicaly scary or something but the villian is so cunning, sly and manipulative like the knave from genshin or fyodor from bsd

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 x reader (gender not mentioned/specified/implied) TW. manipulation, isolation, holding reader against her will, stockholm syndrome, dark yandere, flag so red my eyes hurts, unhinge, yandere behavior. A/N: Inspired by manhwas I've read so far. I'm on a roll guys. I didn't expect it to be this long too but man, he's one crazy creation.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Who isolates you to the point of insanity. It is widely known humans are social creatures and we need social interactions. However, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 used this fact to his advantage. Knowing that after a while people go mad when they don’t interact with other people, he decided to do just that. At first his manipulation is subtle: hidden suggestions about who is right to hand with and who's not. Little yet meaningful words weaved between innocent sentences. Then when he saw his tactics working, he began to get bolder. As the group of people becomes smaller (thanks to him) 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 starts to outwardly say they aren't people you should associate with. They are a bad influence and did you know they said this and that behind your back? Real friends don’t do that! He doesn’t do that! That's when comments about how you don't need anyone but him, who always stays by your side and was right about what he told you, each and every time. Your family isn't safe from his doings either. He never fails to drive you away from them. Suddenly they are people who lead you on and make a fool out of you. A black sheep of the family. You just had to see! Before you know it, you are completely alone with only him to talk and listen to.

"I'm just looking out for you like a best friend should be doing." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 wanted to vomit when he said those two, blasted words.

Who snaps and ends up locking you up. Now that you're completed isolated and you happen to start living with him, he locks you up. In a bedroom with a bathroom attached who only has necessities and nothing you could harm yourself with. You can bang, scratch and kick at the door all you want but those doors won't budge. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 is fully prepared. Those doors were expensive but it was worth it. Those locks could be opened by him and the material it was made of could not be so easily destroyed without certain tools you didn’t have. And you're yelling, begging and crying? It is like music to his ears. He'll often sit at the door and listen to you, basking in your voice, and when you're quiet (either pass out from exhaustion or too tired to continue), he'll pick up from where he ended the last time, manipulating you again. His sentences are repetitive and he wants to drill those into your head. He'll tell you how no one is looking for you, how he's all you need, how he'll take care of you and so on...

"Those people want to hurt you. I am doing this for your own good. If you want, I can bring you something? I was thinkng about tamagochi! They are so cut, aren't they?"

Who has to show you some tough love. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 didn’t expect you to realize just how much he loves you. That’s why he tried to be an understanding partner and be forgiving towards your rash and childish tantrums. But he has his limits too. For example, he notices how you don't eat meals he oh so lovingly has prepared for you. If you don’t want to eat, then he won’t force you. He just doesn't bring you food for the next 2-3 days. Only water. And on the fourth day, he'll bring you a proper meal again. Of course, like he expected, you ate it all. See? It’s not hard to act your age. You don’t see it but 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 smiled in glee when he saw an empty plate. It's a good sign!

"I'm relieved you like the food I prepared for you. I cooked it for the first time but when I saw the recipe I knew you'd like it."

Who you grow to not only fear and love. He is your captor, the one who took away your freedom and cut all ties with society, who manipulates you and ends up breaking you. Who you feared, despised and cursed like he was the source of all evil. But the longer you stayed in the little room that became your whole world, the lines between hater and love began to blurr. Not that you realized it. At some point something switched in your brain and although you feared him, you began to ponder over his words. Maybe he's right? After this period of time, no one ended up looking for you. No one cared enough to do so. And you do only have him. He always makes time for you, brings you delicious meals, and sometimes even gifts you a little trinkets when you act good. Not to mention you live in a nice bedroom with a bathroom too. He never touched you without your consent or forced you to do anything. You could make a choice to bathe whenever you want, pick one of the books he brought you and read and so on. Your brain was suggesting that he is a caring best friend who takes care of you and protects you from all those monserts that want to hurt and bring you down. Soon enough his actions made your heart speed up.

"I knew you'll love me..." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 teared up when he heard your confession. It was worth the waiting becaouse now he can bulit a perfect life he always imagined having with you. "I love too. So, so, so much sometimes it hurts."

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

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bratdotcom · 1 year ago

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Baby I'm Yours ♡

( RE2r!Leon Kennedy x GN!reader || baking cookies but not getting much done because ur bf is very very sleepy || this rookie is trying his best ♡ re2r fluff for anon ♡ )

“Leon,” you chuckle, smiling as your eyes peer down at the bowl of batter he was supposed to be mixing. “You're mixing the air, not the bowl.” You point out, gesturing down to the bowl. He was still mixing the air, spoon not near the batter. Not by a long shot. Leon seemed out of it, head in the clouds all droopy eyed. Just what was he thinking about?

“Hey! Hey! Leon, I'm talking to you!” You say, waving your hand in his face. You knew working at the RPD was stressful, endless amounts of paperwork, and all that, but was it really that stressful enough to make Leon sleep while standing up? In the kitchen? Of all places?

Leon blinks, realizing your hand is in his face. “Oh shit, sorry.” He quickly apologizes, yawning softly. “The senior officers are just…too much for me.” He says, his focus on mixing the batter in the bowl in front of him. He sounded tired and looked tired, too, if it wasn't evident by the sleepy look in his eyes. “They're just peachy, aren't they? Been in the force too long?” You joke, trying to lift the mood.

“Don't worry your head, Scotty, they're just old geezers too long in office - probably rode dinosaurs or something to school.” You add as you shrug. Leon snickers, almost dropping the spoon he was holding in his hand.

“If Chief Irons heard ya you'd be dead meat, one of those stuffed animals he has in his room - it isn't the stuffed animal you're thinking of, by the way.” Your grimace at what Leon was implying, whatever it was, it didn't sound too pretty. “Oh god, do you mean..?” You trail off, looking at him with slightly wide eyes. Leon seems to brighten up, amused by your reaction. “Not the cute kind, definitely.” He chuckles, placing the mixing bowl to the side.

“The type you'd find in a museum. I don't know why he likes those things so much. He sure is peachy.” Just like you said, Leon agreed wholeheartedly. He didn't want to admit it, but he had a habit of soaking in whatever vocabulary you threw at him. Leon was regurgitating whatever you said in a sweetly, somewhat mimicking way. Like the way he quoted movies. Lucky you, even if you didn't notice it at all. Leon remembered the little things, or, at least, he tried.

“I finished mixing the batter…” He trails off, staring blankly at the bowl of dough like he was trying to see his own reflection in it. His blues gazed into the wheaty dough like he was trying to peer into a mirror. He, of course, couldn't. “What are we making again?” He asks as he peers into the bowl. He tilts his head. Maybe if he looked at it sideways, it'd make sense?

“Raspberry danishes, your favorite, remember?” You reply, taking the bowl from him. “Just sit pretty on the couch, okay bubba? You deserve a break.” You say, kissing his cheek. He looks up at you, eagerly nodding his head. Leon kind of wished he had a mirror now. He could feel his cheeks heating up as soon as your lips pulled away from his cheek. Bubba? That was new.

He glanced at the living room, then back at your face. You looked as though nothing had happened. As if you didn't just kiss him on the cheek.

Leon turns around, padding to the living room without saying a word. Besides a small mumbling ‘thank you’. He wasn't a monster, after all. He had manners.

He traces over where you kissed him, still the green behind-the-ears rookie he was back at the station. Even when it came to love. Especially when it came to loving you. You seemed to remember the little things, too.

#꒰͡ ♡ re2r leon ♡ ͡꒱ㅤ #₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ re2r!leon ily !! ♡#leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fluff #leon scott kennedy x reader #re fluff #re x reader #resident evil fluff #resident evil x reader #re2r leon #‧ ₊ ﹒ ୨ ♰ ୧ ﹒ ₊ ‧#dividers by pommecita

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myfairstarlight · 8 months ago

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Alright, let's talk about Colin's entrapment line and why Penelope offering an annulment was significant, shall we? Arguably the most controversial part of this season, isn't it?

I'm not going to delve too long on the entrapment line again actually, but to summarise, Colin has been traumatised by a similar situation before, and right now, he's hurt. And the thing about being angry with your best friend is that you know what to say to hurt them the most. We see it in Eloise's and Penelope's fight, as they threw each other's insecurities in the other's faces. Colin, two episodes ago, was defending Penelope against Portia, who was accusing her of entrapping him, so yes, his mind will jump to that first. But also note that the whole time he refuses to look at her, because he knows his words are cutting and will hurt and he knows his resolve would break if he looked at her, which is contrasted by Penelope directly looking at him to tell him she loves him and did not mean for this to happen like this. He does not look because he knows she loves him, this is not Marina's situation exactly who only wanted a way out and did not see him as much else than a means to an end, and that's why it's so much more difficult to deal with for him. Penelope loves him.

And he's already almost lost her once, as angry and hurt as he is, he cannot fathom the idea of letting her go, when he remembers how empty he felt without her letters, or at the idea of her with Debling. So he's still here, determined to marry her.

So now we get to e8. The marriage was not technically consummated, and the Lady Whistledown business is finally settled. So Penelope offers the annulment, to set him, and his family, free from her mess.

They never directly address Colin's entrapment comment again, but with Penelope offering the annulment, it is now implied she's been thinking about this the whole time. It is a very real possibility that by that point, Penelope already knew she was pregnant, and it's been speculated if she told Colin in that scene after Francesca's wedding or not (I personally don't think she did, to not add to his guilt at that moment, and perhaps to not influence his decision, knowing she would be offering the annulment soon) and it parallels Marina's situation again, except in this case, Penelope does not wish to trap Colin with a baby, even if it is his. She knows how much Marina impacted Colin, and does not wish to do the same thing she had prevented Marina to do. The best part about this though? Colin is stunned (Edit: I changed the adjective here as someone rightfully pointed out I was exaggerating by saying "flabbergasted" when his reaction is more on the subtle side the English language is the bane of my existence). Frankly, he probably forgot he even said that, the same way he forgot about his "I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington" comment - those were words said in the heat of the moment he never actually believed. Not once has Colin thought of either breaking the engagement, or get an annulment even after the betrayal.

He could have still eloped with Marina even after learning the truth, but he didn't because she was not honest with him from the start. He learns Penelope has been living a double life this whole time, and yet he stays.

It is significant that Penelope listened and acknowledged Colin's point of view, the same way she asked him to simply stand by her side and support her. Also note that she never says "our family", she says "you or your family".

Despite already being married, this whole time, it did not feel like they were, and she knew that as long as there was still this barrier between them, she could never truly be part of that family, but it's alright, she could live with that, she has mended things with her own after all, and she can support herself. Whatever the outcome, she'll be alright, she believes.

Fortunately for her, she does not get to find out what that future would entail because Colin absolutely hates the idea of letting her go.

Because after all, she's a mess, but she's his mess.

#bridgerton #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton thoughts #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #polin #star.txt #you know i'll defend colin on this site to the ends of the earth #however i am still upset he never did apologise for that #i appreciate he went straight for the love confession though!

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peggyao3 · 1 month ago

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Relic - Pt. 18 "Universe"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: This chapter is dedicated to the quantum spirits.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 5k

A/N: It's a Christmas miracle! 🎄 The final chapter is ready just in time. And, my God, I'm so emotional about it 😭 It hurts to let it go.

After finishing this chapter, you might want to re-read a certain part of a certain other chapter, because of reasons 🤭

If there ever pops up a 19th "chapter", don't be surprised! If it happens, it's going to be a bit of art for this fic 💖💖💖

My biggest thank you goes to @/ClockworkSiren, once again, for beta reading this whole thing and letting me borrow our lovely babies Alyth and Michael and turn them into Lilia and Mikhail ❤️😭

Reposted from my Ao3💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter

"So, this is it?" She gazes out the window, engines rumbling under their seats. "The Maldives of Giedi Prime?"

"What was that, darling?" Feyd's hand is heavy on her knee, the coolness of his wedding band seeping pleasantly through her gown. His bald head thuds softly against the back panel as he follows her gaze.

The black, oily waves of the svart valta lick at the pale coast of the peninsula below. White sand stretches between tall, chalky cliffs that stand out of the landscape like the unearthed bones of an ancient beast. According to her interface, they're still 150 meters above the ground.

"The Maldives," the relic mutters pensively. "They were an archipelago on Earth, a popular honeymoon destination. Never been there. They were flooded around the time I was born."

"Honeymoon," Feyd repeats the foreign word that lacks a proper translation in Galach, but with the individual words grafted together, it sounds cute. He likes it. "M'gonna drink your honey as soon as we touch down. Until the moon comes out?"

His wife snickers warmly and her breath fogs up the window. Feyd's hand slides to the inside of her thigh, squeezing the soft flesh above her knee.

"Not if I drink yours first," she teases, though her musing gaze remains on the lurid landscape below, abyssal wave hungrily trying to scorch the peninsula of Telkel. From the tasu aurinkosesti, they had flown east to reach one of the most remote Harkonnen settlements on Giedi Prime. Looking at the undulating mass of radiation, she wonders: "What color do you think it'd have under a yellow sun?"

"Don't know," Feyd hums. "You're the scientist. Green, maybe? Or brown."

He had explained to her earlier that the settlers had tried to reintroduce fish to the sea here in Telkel. The giant, corroding basins along the shore remain, but their filter systems have been shut off for decades. To cultivate fish that can not only survive but thrive in the heavily polluted waters would take some serious scientific effort that the late Baron Harkonnen didn't think promising enough to chip his budget for.

"We could have gone to Lankiveil," his woman briefly pouts, though her eyes betray her fascination as the village below increases in size. "I would die to dip my toes into an ocean without having them singed off. Or for some fresh air and a walk among pines. I never had much of that on Earth either."

Feyd hums, contorting his torso to press his cheek against hers as they both gaze out of the same window. Long, pale fingers play along her ribs. "The waters on Lankiveil would freeze your toes off, but… We'll go there," he promises with a low whisper. "Or any other planet you want. The universe is practically ours now."

Practically. Perhaps after a week of writhing on top of each other in damp sheets, their thirst for revenge will return.

The conversation between Feyd and his brother after the ceremony had been brief, but Glossu had formally invited the both of them to Lankiveil, the snowy, tranquil home of Feyd's early childhood and a place full of emotional debris. But he would rather not elbow his way through the wreckage on their honeymoon.

The aircraft touches down on a bleak landing pad between low buildings that look like matchboxes among the unforgiving landscape. A small committee of a dozen Telkelis awaits the daunting visitors from Barony, their massive aircraft ink-black and shiny, factory new, among the dusty grey architecture and pale hills. The sharp wind of rotor blades makes the Telkelis' drab trousers whip around their legs.

Lilia quickly maneuvers to the other side of the passengers' cabin after prying the hem of her Lady's travel mantle out of Glugo's many finger-toes. The garment has the same functionality as her wedding down, but simpler and more practical.

"You'll get your plushies back when we're inside," the handmaid tries to soothe the wistfully glugging creature. "They're in the suitcase— Oh! Not that one."

But Glugo has already wrapped four out of eight hand-feet around the handle of Mikhail's personal suitcase that the guard had refused to deposit in the cargo department because old habits die hard. As a former resident of the slums of Ganpolis, he prefers to have his belongings where he can see them.

Feyd-Rautha clicks his tongue while Lilia helps his wife into the shiny mantle and gloves, concealing her from head to toes.

Outside, scalding wind carries the sound of distant, crashing waves and the scent of bitter salt. The relic has to hold onto her husband's arm as she sways on the iron footsteps of the aircraft. Behind them, guards spill out of the second cabin, half of them heading straight to the cargo compartment where her cryo pod is stored. She is quite like Mikhail in that regard.

The committee bravely keeps a stoic face and doesn't flinch at the disturbingly cute sight of an eight-arm-legged creature toiling away with a too heavy suitcase and refusing a desperate guard's help.

Leaning towards his wife, Mikhail whispers: "My chair's inside that thing!"

Feyd's nostrils flare as he struts towards the gathered dozen with heavy, leisured steps, clutching the hand of his wife. His other hand lifts to shield himself against the glaring sun and the tip of his thumb subconsciously slides against his ear where an inconspicuous black button pierces his antihelix. To the unsuspecting eye, it looks not too different from a regular transponder with an unconventional placement, but what it really contains is a tiny loudspeaker and a chip with just enough memory to run the script that detects the voice.

"Welcome to Telkel, my Lord, my Lady." The committee bends their knees and salutes. The clumsy tension in their limbs gives away that they didn't have to salute to authority often in their lives out here in the godforsaken wilderness.

"Thank you for having us."

If it weren't the young Baron's very own raspy drawl speaking, the Mayor of Telkel would have never believed that 'thank you' would be the first words coming out of Feyd's mouth. The Mayor's daughter had cried in the morning, certain that Feyd-Rautha would behead her father for something as mundane as the driveway to the villa being too crooked or the bad condition of the weather-beaten landing pad.

"It's an honor. The entire village is ecstatic, my Lord." Still hunkering down on one knee, the man's smooth brows suddenly shoot up in horror. "Congratulations!" He blurts. "On your marriage!" He'd meant to say this in the very beginning. Helplessly, his pale eyes snap from Baron to Baroness.

"Thank you," the Lady speaks from behind the curious veil and her voice sounds kind and human. "Why don't you stand up. Don't hurt your knees."

Feyd-Rautha casts a threatening glance at Mikhail, so the guard doesn't blurt out that 'the Lady could print y'all some chairs.'

The Mayor and his people shuffle, straightening their bodies into the sharp wind.

"Oh, my Lady, our knees and backs are used to it." The older man points a scarred thumb behind his shoulder, where the inkvine plantations are beyond the village border. This is how Telkel gets by now, hovering over the maws of poverty at the whims of Giedi Prime's rocky soil and erratic volcanoes.

The Lady lets out a sympathetic sound and the Mayor can't help himself. The next words just come tumbling out. "It'd be an honor to show you around the plantations and the old basins, if you'd like. Never seen them in action, but my father did. For a year or so, they had a relatively stable population of Tilapia in there."

"I'd love to see them. Actually, if I could have some water samples, maybe I could—"

"Not now, sweetling," Feyd's grating voice chastises and he squeezes his wife's gloved hand, compressing her wedding ring between her fingers. "The villa is prepared?"

"Yes, my Lord. The maids and workers you sent have been very thorough. Radiation-proof window panes, fresh paint. Even got some imported plants. My daughter picked them." The renovated villa is now considerably more homely than the Mayor's own residence. "Shall we head there?"

Despite its forlorn ugliness, the relic finds Telkel and its grey, flat buildings among chalky hills oddly charming. Even if she'll be covered from crown to toe in her lead-painted mantle, she swears she will go to the beach — if Feyd lets her out of the bedroom — and feel the sand underfoot, hear the massive waves trying to swallow the shore. Compared to Barony and the roiling industrial trenches that stretch across most of the northern hemisphere, this is a natural paradise.

"Guess we won't be seeing ya for a while, eh?" Mikhail leers, freshly painted teeth brilliant in the glaring sun as he leans lopsidedly against the grey pillar of the villa's roofed porch. Lilia harshly pinches his side, between the plates of his armor, but the apples of her cheeks round up with laughter. Sometimes it still scares her how openly her husband jests with Feyd-Rautha, a man who used to be known first and foremost for his quick blades and unstable outbursts.

The welcome committee has left them ten minutes ago and the guards currently come shuffling out of the building, having deposited the Baroness' priceless sarcophagus in the room adjacent to their honeymoon suite.

"You may join us for meals," Feyd concedes, grinning.

"Meals as in…?" Mikhail cocks a hairless brow.

"Oh, absolutely not!" The relic gasps and her guard breaks into raspy laughter, lungs expanding in crunchy hops.

"Dun' worry. I wouldn't share my woman anyways. Not even with you, m'Lord. Aight then, see ya in a week, eh?"

Wiry arms curl around Lilia's thighs and the scrawny guard hauls his wife quite easily over his shoulder. She calls him a prat between giggles, and a mongrel, but Mikhail already makes a sprinting beeline for Glugo who still stubbornly drags his suitcase down the freshly paved pathway to the guest house.

"They'll be fine," Feyd-Rautha soothes his wife's veiled, lingering glance. "Look at me." His gravelly timbre demands for her undivided attention and her eyes follow his magnetic pull.

Pale fingers sprawl across her sternum, urging her backwards. Even through the lead-painted layers, she feels his possessive touch singe her skin and bones. Unwittingly, her feet pass the threshold of their holiday abode and the door closes at her husband's back.

Inside, silence embraces them. This place is only for them, where they need to be nothing but lovers. Color provided by golden glow globes fades into Feyd's pallor, the softest notes of pink on cheeks and lips, and blue framed by dark blonde lashes.

The building is brutalist in its arches and pillars, but less suffocating than the palace. The welcoming range of non-colors and sharp angles creates actual depth and contrast, not like the bulbous pyramid interior that reminds of a termite burrow, or the innards of a giant insect. Bright daylight streams through the thick windows, fading into glowglobe haze.

Something about this place evokes… Nostalgia.

"You're blushing, husband," she teases, though her hammering heart under his palm betrays her own butterflies.

"Off with that thing." Feyd-Rautha has already mapped out the buckles that keep her mantle fastened and strips it off her frame quicker than she would have ever managed. Her gloves land on the same shiny pile and she hooks her bare fingers into Feyd's belt loops, turning her husband around his tall axis to walk him up the curved stairs. Those pretty eyes could eat her alive, oozing lust like blue honey.

Neither of them take note of the gentle, green fern that line the staircase in tasteful pots.

"Off with that thing." The woman's fingers glide under Feyd's lapels and over his smooth shoulders, slipping his ornamental jacket off his arms. The expensive garment flutters over the banister and he remains in a sleeveless tunic and trousers.

"So, now that you're my wife, will you stop taking that potion?" Feyd leers at her stomach once they've reached the top, his tone playful. The hand that lunges to smack him atop the head is one that he had predicted, and so he dodges it masterfully and dances behind her. Hard, strong arms curl around her middle, lifting her off the ground until she breaks into gasping giggles and demands to be let down with kicking feet. The hem of her gown slides up her shins.

Feyd grins, feeling the plushness of her breasts against his forearms. "What a rare pleasure to have you in a gown, my darling" he purrs.

"For this special occasion, I thought I might as well," she huffs with laughter, accepting her airborne fate.

"I like it. It's practical."

"Practical for you, not for me."

The garment is a classic cut worn by Harkonnen noblewomen, flattering and intricate in the way it curls around her bosom and hips in obsidian black, nothing like the stiff latex and see-through plastic of the former Baron's palace servants.

"Don't worry, you won't have to wear it for the rest of the week, my darling. You'll wear nothing but sweat and cum on your pretty skin. Or maybe some blood. I didn't bring a coffer full of toys for nothing."

"I hope some of them are for you."

"More than you'd think," he purrs, pink lips pressing against her neck. "And some of the blood will be mine."

"Oh? We could start now." The woman twists out of his grasp, turning and grasping his lapels. Her lips find the crescent scar on his clavicle, pretending to delve for a kiss when she really pinches the thin layer of skin over the bone between her teeth. Feyd grunts, shamelessly pressing his confined erection against her navel.

"Let's go, my darling." He seizes her hand, his whole universe, and opens the door.

🎶🎶🎶

"Look, doesn't this remind you of something?" His wife's voice whispers to him excitedly and Feyd-Rautha tilts his head, brows furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"Look!" Her ringed hand slides out of his grip and he chases after it viscerally, nearly overwhelmed by the sudden discomfort of having no soft palm against his own. She shouldn't be slipping away from him at all on their honeymoon.

But then, recognition carves into him, serrated blades that tear his guts open with a monstrous sense of deja vu. His head spins as he advances into the room.

Feyd's feet step on polished parquet and his gaze swivels around, scanning the surroundings which he thought he would never see again. There are white curtains fluttering by the window, a king-sized bed carved out of white marble, a black comforter tucked around the mattress and blue pillows are lined up against the headboard. A real fern grows in a terracotta pot in the corner.

Horrified, Feyd's head snaps back to his woman, suddenly recognizing the Harkonnen gown wrapped around her curves. He finds her eyes brimming with meaning.

She clutches his wrist hard, nails digging into tender skin, and it is like some sense of frantic, mutual understanding settles upon wife and husband. Her features soften and she looks at him, seemingly confused.

"I don't recognize this place," he lies. His heart clamors like a captive beast.

"Me neither." She pulls her hand away and takes a step back, her cheeks hot and her head dizzy as the universe's mysterious gears rotate around them. But she masks it well.

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?" Feyd rumbles, tracing his fingertips over the cool, smooth marble bedpost. It feels so real. It is real and always has been real.

"I don't know. I feel so awake."

A flash of warmth blossoms in Feyd-Rautha's chest as he regards the woman he has seen so many times before, in visions and reality. Curiously, she moves around the light-flooded bedroom. Sunlight filters through the curtains, temporarily robbing her flesh of color. A frown decorates her brows and she turns back to face him. Years of comfort reside in the way she moves and Feyd chases after her with measured steps.

"What's your name?" He asks. She tells him only a forename, no House, because she has none, unfamiliar sounding, because the name was given to her 24,000 years ago. "I've never heard that name before," Feyd confesses, standing mere inches away from his wife. Her pretty face is craned upwards to meet the alluring gaze of his eyes. She would describe the color as baby blue. The prettiest shade in the world.

"And what's your name?" She breathes. No matter what this is, she has no reason to be nervous. It already happened.

He hesitates at that. Feyd-Rautha Rabban. But ultimately, he stays true to the script. "Feyd."

The name sparks no judgment on the woman's features and he remembers the flood of immense, stupid relief and how he had concluded that there is probably more than one person in the universe named Feyd, that Harkonnens all look the same to foreigners. To talk to a person who only knows Feyd, not Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen had been his lifeline out of the gluttonous maws of death.

"Feyd," she repeats, suddenly giggling.

He too is in the mood for giggling, but he didn't giggle then, so he doesn't giggle now. Feyd leans an inch closer, eyes rapidly dancing across her mirthful face.

"Feyd as in you will fade away when I wake up?" She covers her mouth now, still laughing. Something compels him to laugh as well because all things considered, this is still a funny joke, even though neither of them will wake up.

Or will they?

No. No, they won't.

The pressure against the apples of his cheeks doesn't feel so unfamiliar anymore, as the corners of his mouth lift into a wide grin. His lips part and what escapes him is a small haha.

Suddenly, the woman flinches and her smile drops. Perhaps she had the same thought as he did. She catches herself quickly and remembers: "Sorry! I just—"

"What? Oh, the black teeth? People usually find them very pretty where I'm from, desirable even.” Feyd closes his mouth. He's still unsure if laughter suits him, but his woman seems to like it. Always has.

"Oh, no, please keep laughing!" She wraps her hand around Feyd's wrist. So smooth, every part of him. She wants to curl against his body and rub her cheek against his pallid flesh. Even now, his features are still outlandish to her, strikingly pretty. The pale skin, so light that it almost looks translucent, the entirely bald head and lack of brows.

She should have always known that he's not a figment of her imagination, because she couldn't have imagined someone so pretty.

Encouraged by her touch, Feyd smiles once more and it has never been easier. It feels so good. He looks away from his woman who still holds his wrist and finds a mirror on the far wall. He looks foreign to himself, his cheeks not in the right place, but he's gotten more used to it.

"If I pinch you, will you wake up?" She teases, pinching his skin without waiting for his answer. She seems fascinated by the small blotch which decorates his wrist where she poked him with her nail, twisting and turning his wrist and hand like he's an interesting specimen. Of course she would look at him like that — his little scientist, life saver, love of his life.

Even though this is not a lucid dream, Feyd knows he doesn't have to worry about what he does, not with her. She has loved even the most unlovable parts of him. He feels compelled to do things he would have never done before her, such as dismantling the walls around his soul with laughter.

Even though this is not a lucid dream, she knows she doesn't have to worry about what she does, not with him. She also feels compelled to do things she would have never done before him. Such as getting married to the apocalyptic soundscape of an erupting volcano and adopting a lovely freak of immoral genetic engineering.

"So, Feyd…" She purrs his name like an exotic, amusing thing. "What would you like to do?"

Feyd pretends to be taken aback by the question, because no one ever used to ask him that. Not like that. "What would you like to do?" He coos, slinking closer with rolling gait and a small smirk on his serpentine features. He knows the way her pupils dilate well.

"There's a bed in the room, so…"

Feyd leers, smile turning wolfish. Yes, he will fuck his wife senseless. He might even fuck her so good that his own climax jostles him awake and out of whatever the fuck this bizarre simulation is. Which, upon second thought, would ruin his life.

She speaks again, moving her lips closer to his, pretty lashes lowering so they almost kiss her cheek bones "...So perhaps that means we should sleep."

Feyd acts baffled, then rumbles: "I won't sleep in my sleep."

"I meant sleeping with each other."

Of course she did. Feyd's hairless brows shoot up and something light flutters in his stomach when she starts giggling again, attempting to turn away as if suddenly bashful about her own words.

"To the bed, you confusing woman," he orders with a low growl and there is not even an ounce of resistance when his hands wrap around his wife's shoulders, nudging her backwards, so her knees bend around the mattress of their honeymoon bed and she sinks down.

Her husband's face hovers directly over her and she admires the dip of his cupid's bow and the soft curve of his jaws. So pretty. She reaches up and cups his cheek and the way his bone structure slots against her palms feels just right, always has.

Feyd pounces on her like a tiger and the strength and weight of the hard muscles concealed by a black tunic and slacks becomes evident. Heat pools into her abdomen instantly, caged under the man of and from her dreams who is made of flesh and blood, smells like it too. A familiar note of something leathery and metallic clings to him.

There is no need for a prelude, because they've loved each other a thousand times, in the past and the future. Feyd's lips kiss her decolletage before they find her throat and by the time they've found her lips, the hard ridge of his cock is pressed against her core which is only covered by the fabric of her dress, ridiculously easy to access.

Practical for him, as he said.

Why not, she thinks. It's not like the world is going to come collapsing down on them. Right?

Why not, he thinks. Even if the world comes collapsing down on them when they're done, it would be worth it.

Her hands curl around the back of his head gently and Feyd wants to weep at how soft her touch is, almost like she's worried of hurting him. He loves her nails in his scalp as much as he loves the loving dance of her fingertips.

She rolls her hips against his pelvis, ever amazed how hard his body is. A small grunt escapes her husband's mouth and mingles with the sloppy kiss which is all soft lips and saliva, leaving her open-mouthed and softly moaning for more as her core yearns for friction.

Feyd-Rautha is ever amazed by how soft and pliant her body is, breasts and stomach like a pillow for him to snuggle. And her little cunt is already grinding against his crotch. Under different circumstances, he might have had his fun right away, but that's his wife and her squirming hips are too tempting not to spoil her rotten before he fucks her. He reaches down, long fingers gliding up the curve of her thigh where the dress has pooled around her hips. Instinctively, her leg curls up higher, knee pressing against his ribs. Feyd works her underwear halfway off her rear, needing to get up to slide it off fully.

"If this is a lucid dream, I should be able to make myself wet with a thought," she muses as Feyd scoots down and freezes halfway, before he can settle down between her thighs, hard cock straining against his trousers.

The brief moment of hesitation is all it takes to throw him off the track of time that has carved its way through the universe.

"But it's not a lucid dream. They were visions all along, weren't they?" Feyd blurts, deviating from God's wicked script. For a moment, they both stare at each other in terror, as if expecting the universe to disintegrate and crush their souls into one smoldering singularity in space-time.

But nothing happens.

Nothing at all.

The relic shuffles up slowly, tugging her dress down her legs and sitting back on her haunches.

"What is going on?" Feyd hisses, scared that the quantum spirits in the walls are listening. "What the fuck was that?"

He has never been so grateful to see the spark of knowledge in her eyes.

"That was our past, present and future."

"So, are we in a— a fucking time loop? Are we gonna wake up and go through hell again? Will I have to wait another eternity for the Guild to pluck you out of space?!"

"No!" She curls her arms around his shoulders and lays her forehead against his. No, my love… But it is a loop of sorts." Rapt fingertips glide slowly to the crescent scar on Feyd's pallid clavicle, inflicted by herself a few months back, first noticed by her 24,000 years ago, when Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was not even a spark among the stars. "We could have never ended up together if we hadn't already seen us be together in the past, but what we really saw back then was our future. Weren't we the greatest actors? We were so good, we convinced even ourselves."

The terrible, beautiful Ouroboros has finally come to devour its own, cosmic tail and a shudder of awe passes through the two souls who straddle the starry serpent's undulating neck. From the macroscopic cosmos to the microscopic one within their bodies, it makes even their molecules tremble, even the quantum particles that make up the endless void of every ounce of matter, every brain, every soul.

"But I messed it up," Feyd insists. "I said the wrong thing. Why didn't we see ourselves having this conversation during our first dream? Why didn't we wear our wedding rings then?"

"There's never just one future." She kisses him on the lips, stealing his anxious breath for but a moment.

"How many?"

"Many." The engineer laughs, hands trailing up Feyd's neck to cradle his jaws. Panic fades from his gaze and flows into blue-eyed petulance. "Are your scientists aware of the many-worlds-theory?"

"Do I look like I know?" Strong hands hold his wife's face in a gentle vise.

"In quantum physics, a particle always has two states at once until it is observed. Then, its waveform collapses and it becomes one of the two states. But what happens to the other state?" She pauses, closing her eyes. "It exists too, but in another world. That is the many-worlds-theory.

With every decision we make, every beat of a butterfly's wing, every quiver of a molecule brushing against another, a new world branches off. That makes a tree with infinite branches or a delta with infinite rivers, rolling onwards and onwards since the birth of the first atom. Among this… infinity—" Her breath shudders in trembling reverence. "—there are branches in which we said it just right, because we knew what to say. Branches in which we saw exactly this conversation, or never found each other at all."

"So, why are we in this one where every vision of us acting was aligned perfectly? How probable is that?"

"As probable as any other nexus of visions. One infinity can't be bigger or smaller than another." A small smile plays around her lips. "Some say, the entire universe in itself is a simulation. For all we know, we could just be figments of someone's imagination, or pixels on a computer screen. Perhaps it would have been a less exciting story to tell, if it happened any other way."

The relic briefly turns her head to look at you — yes, you — quantum spirit in the walls.

"And why us?"

She is so happy that her husband's spark for science has finally been ignited, even if just for a few heartbeats — or a few beats of a butterfly's wings.

"When I was with the Bene Gesserit, they called it prescience. They said it's genetic and that my genes allowed me to survive millennia in cryo sleep." She sighs with bitterness. "If my own family has an aberrant sequence in our DNA, we might as well be the ancestors of— of everyone versed in prescience."

And the cause for so much suffering.

Feyd sees it in her eyes, that flame of intrigue followed by the need to explore and sink into the inland empire of her mind and the ancient technology that's fused with her, a place where he can't follow. So, he tilts her face upwards in both loving hands and kisses her hard before breaking away with a coy grin.

"Are you saying you're my great great great aunt?"

"Yeah!" She blurts out laughing. "I think I am."

Giggling, she goes back in, throws her arms around Feyd's neck and topples him on his back, tangling her legs with his like their threads of fate.

In their angry daydreams, they have pictured themselves in red and gold as the king and queen of a new, better empire, handing out guns and bombs to the revolution.

But in their hearts, they're just a girl and a boy. An astronaut lost in space and a man who has yet to discover his destiny beyond being the unwilling prince of a noble House.

From now on, their future is theirs, and despite all the rights and wrongs, it boils down to a single question.

What do they want? A war to make the universe anew as they see fit? Or maybe just a universe as big as they are. Maybe just—

Peace.

Caught in the riptide I was searching for the truth There was a reason I collided into you Calling your name in the midnight hour Reaching for you from the endless dream So many miles between us then Now you are always here with me Nobody knows (nobody knows) why (why) Nobody knows how, and This feeling begins just like a spark Tossing and turning inside of your heart Exploding in the dark Calling your name in the midnight hour Reaching for you from the endless dream So many miles between us then Now you are always here with me Oh, inside me I find my way Back to you, back to you Calling your name in the midnight hour Reaching for you from the endless dream So many miles between us then Now you are always here with me Two words In your hands, in your heart It′s one (whole) universe You are always here with me

- Here With Me (Two Worlds) by Susie Suh

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst, @gravesdiggergirl

A/N: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for accompanying me on this writing journey ❤️ I'm a little heartbroken that it's over 😭 I had expected to be more relieved, but I'm actually so sad right now. Proud and happy but sad 😭

If you enjoyed reading this labor of love of mine, please do let me know in a comment, if you can find the time 🫶🏻 No matter if you have or haven't commented before, I'm going to be so grateful about every thought, every reaction. Comments are genuinely the most rewarding thing when publishing my stories, much more so than hits and kudos, because fanfics (in my opinion) are to be relished and not consumed 🫶🏻

I'm not ready to say goodbye to the Dune universe. I have more stories in mind. The idea that I've been mulling over would be the largest, longest and most complex work that I've ever written. I'm talking about heavy world building, an entirely original planet and population, a much more depraved Feyd-Rautha and female protagonist. I've already been teetering at the border of an OC with the reader character in this one. For the next one, I would cross that line for the first time and go for an OC, make the FMC as fleshed out as Feyd is. The story would have a heavy emphasis on religion, corruption kink and cannibalism. It'd be a dove that's almost dead. Basically, all the world building would be my excuse to write deranged, blasphemous, messy smut. It definitely wouldn't be everyone's cup of tea. However, I wouldn't wanna start posting before I've written the entire thing, which might take a long time, so as not to put too much pressure on myself. Can't disappoint anyone if I'm only writing for myself for the time being ❤️

I also have a smutty F/M/M threesome oneshot cooking in my brain, one of the men being Feyd, the other being a surprise 🤭

Annndd I also have two other Feyd oneshots (that have been on ao3 for ages) to upload here, which I'll probably do within the next weeks.

If any of this sounds like something you'd enjoy, feel free to subscribe to me as an author on ao3 to receive email notifications, or follow me here on Tumblr 🫶🏻 I would be so happy to see you again, all of you 💕

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd #feyd rautha x reader #austin butler #feyd x oc #feyd rautha x oc #peggysuave fanfics #peggysuave;relic #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd fanfiction #feyd rautha fanfiction #feyd smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd imagine #feyd rautha imagine #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune fanfiction

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