#thinking about that “sorry i didn’t know you had trauma you can keep being mean to me now” tweet again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simpjaes · 6 months

Text

FRENZY ៸៸៸ part two

Jake is experiencing real love for the first time in his life. He’s so infatuated with you that he would do anything to make you understand. And you? Oh, you are in no place to argue with a man who appears to be perfect.

៸៸៸ part one here ៸៸៸ you must read the first part in order to understand this one!

៸៸៸ sim jake x afab reader

៸៸៸ minors dni

៸៸៸ wordcount: 14.2k

៸៸៸ genre: stalker au, dark fic, slow burn, smut

៸៸៸ content tags: switch!stalker jake, he is gross but on a plus side he’s got a big shlong, obsession, panty stealing/sniffing, toothbrush sucking, shower water tasting, jealousy, manipulation, past trauma involving sa of reader, reader is manipulated into being obsessed with him too, trauma, jake is very insane, he’s thinks you need him to fix you, reader can be lifted and carried by him.

៸៸៸ !WARNINGS! there is intense trauma, past abuse, and conflict in this fic. It’s dark with mentions of noncon and dubcon, and an instance where jake keeps going after reader faints. Everything is consenting between the two but only because he is manipulative and a bad person. if you can’t handle it, don't read it.

៸៸៸ a/n: sorry again for the way i had to post this in two parts, still i hope it was worth the wait!

៸៸៸ nsfw tags under cut

៸៸៸ nsfw tags for the whole fic, as in both chapters: masochism (jake), sadism (reader and jake), overstimulation, painful masturbation, praise, worship, dirty talk, blowjob, finger fucking, pussy eating, riding, missionary, mating press, standing up sex yayyyyy, huge giant fat cock jake, deep penetration, unprotected sex, implied breeding, choking, hair pulling, suffocation, cock warming, crying, begging, hate sex, hitting (m receiving), squirting

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The next morning, you were late waking up to log into your work account but Jake was still there, drowsy and smiling at you from the moment you opened your eyes.

You briefly remember the early morning pouting he gave you, hard against you and lips all over you, and in turn you remember how you made a promise to yourself swiftly after rejecting his needs.

Your face heated up the second he said good morning to you, flustered over the fact that not only do you want him, but you want him to want you like that again, despite your rejection. After all, you let him sleep over, and he didn’t try to take advantage of you despite sporting an intense boner through the majority of it.

He sees the way your eyes check him out upon waking up too, but you stay silent after he gives you his good morning greeting.

“Are you hungry? I can step out and pick up some breakfast so you can work.” He offers, stretching his arms out wide and tapping you to stand up. “I’m staying again today.”

Your eyes widen at him, but the smile on your face betrays that little red flag in your head that has forced you, up to this point, to struggle to give him what he needs.

“I’d like that.” You nod to him, cheeks permanently warmed at the image of your shining boyfriend. “Sorry about last night.” You blurt now, standing up and stretching yourself.

“It’s fine love, it's just hard to keep my hands to myself sometimes.” He says, intensely watching your reaction.

You lend a pause in your stretch at those words, having heard them before when your ex did things that made your body ache for weeks. There is a pull in your gut hearing him say that before you remind yourself that they’re just words. He just really likes you, and he did stop when you told him to.

He is not your ex.

“I wouldn’t have hurt you though,” He continues, seeing you deep in thought in front of him. “If you’d have let me, I mean.”

“Jake I–” You stop yourself, feeling a flood of words on the tip of your tongue. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” You confirm, now moving forward to hug against him. “I would have–”

“You would?” His eyes light up, smile brighter than you’ve ever seen before.

“No, I mean,” You stutter in panic, hugging him tighter. “I would have touched you if you asked.”

His eyes go dark instantly, making his smile seem more eerie than anything as you look up at him.

“I’m okay with doing the touching, we can work our way up to the other stuff…maybe? If that’s okay?”

“Oh, baby, that’s more than okay.” He coos out, now losing his appetite for actual food and wanting nothing more than to show you just how good he could really be for you. His arms hug you tightly before releasing you, and he ushers you across the room. “We can talk about this later though, you’re already late, right?”

You nod, feeling a bit better about initially rejecting him and doing just that, moving to the small nook that holds your desk and PC and listening to him slip his shoes on.

“I’m going to grab breakfast, and I’m gonna stop by my place to grab some clothes.”

He leaves before you can answer, which is nice because part of you didn’t want to hear your own voice accepting that.

Accepting that he’s leaving right now, accepting that he’s coming back to stay another night, accepting that you feel perfectly fine with all of this despite your inner demon advising you to run.

You don’t know who you are in this moment, but what you do know is that you’re safe. That’s what’s driving you to act blatantly against what your own brain is telling you.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You’re clinging and Jake is fucking devoted to the feeling of it.

Devoted to the way your fingers, so much smaller than his own, grab him to kiss him. Devoted to the way you kiss the bruise above his brow, and the way you ask him to stay for another night, and another, and another, up until he finds himself doing his and your laundry together just so he doesn’t have to go back home to grab more clothes to rotate through.

It’s been a week since he’s been in your apartment, rolling around on your bed with you in it, cleaning himself in your shower, washing himself with your soap. It’s like only the two of you exist in this space, where he is the only one to step out and see the sun, solely so you don’t have to.

Or, solely so you can’t. He doesn’t think he’d let you at this point, now that you’re his and you prove it with each kiss and hug. All you need to do is sit and look pretty, sit and love him. That’s what your purpose is in this relationship, he will do the rest.

Given, he’s also fucked his fist each second he can get in your bathroom. But goddamn do you cling. You whine when he separates himself from you even for a moment, and day by day he can see you come closer and closer to fulfilling his need to be loved by you entirely.

Your phone hasn’t received any unsavory messages you’ve noticed as well, they haven’t needed you to come into the office, and all you can manage to think is that…you’re in love with being in this apartment with him.

Only good things happen when Jake is with you and you’re growing so attached that you’ve thought more than once to just move him in with you. Your mother would scold you, your ex would kill you, and arguably, Jake would absolutely do it.

He waits on you hand and foot. Cooking, cleaning, doing your laundry, holding you and giving you some of the best sleep you’ve had in years. You refrain from considering it seriously though, because this relationship is still so new. You don’t want to freak him out or cause an uproar in your already fucked up and unsteady life. You’re throwing yourself in like you always do, but…is it so bad when he’s doing the exact same thing?

Until he’s not, anyway.

“Love,” Jake starts, tapping his chin with the tips of his fingers as he lounges on your bed. “I need to go home today.”

Your heart immediately sinks.

“What? Why?” You ask in a voice that plainly shows your panic.

“Well,” He taps on his chin again before moving his hand through his hair. “I’m pretty sure my mailbox is probably full by now, I need to clean out my fridge, and I should probably check my course work.”

“You’re…in college?”

Jake nods with a snicker, laughing at how he’s given up his entire life for you.

“Yeah, probably won’t be soon though.” He laughs, shaking his hair out and then looking at you with big, rounded eyes. “Just for the day, I’ll be back before sunset.”

You look down in a disappointed way before nodding to him.

“Aww, babe. Don’t be like that–” He mock pouts as he turns to you, grabbing both of your cheeks and squishing them up, forcing your lips to pucker before landing a harsh kiss against them. “I’m coming right back, I promise.”

You nod again, unable to keep a smile from forming on your face.

“You’re so cute, it’s going to kill me one of these days.” He smiles back at you, hopping up and preparing himself to head back to his apartment.

What you don’t know is that, while Jake wasn’t lying and that he should at least clean out his fridge, he needed to go home.

He needs to unload the footage onto his computer, he needs to watch it back, he needs to fuck something.

And so, he does just that.

The second he gets back to his apartment, it’s almost uncomfortable. Unfamiliar scents, no warmth, rotting food in the fridge, neglected pillows and bed sheets.

Even so, it’s like he acts on instinct when he walks past everything he needs to do and lands himself at the window. His mind takes over in an instant.

It felt like so long ago when he first saw you from here, knowing you were the most beautiful, the perfect girl for him. Knowing you would love him too, and that you’d never want to leave him. He smiles at his victory, knowing that you’re sitting in that apartment right now thinking about him too. If he knew where he would be now, he thinks his former self may have very well fucked himself to death. After all, he’s felt you, tasted you, and even seen parts of you based on the little image he sent to himself from your phone. Everything happened better than he knew it would.

If it weren’t for your ex, perhaps you wouldn’t have let him stay with you in your apartment. Perhaps you wouldn’t have clinged to him so immediately.

In a way, he almost wants to thank the man before he eventually strangles the life out of him.

He’s tasted almost all of you by this point, and each moment it happened is trapped within the files of that little camera there. All of it, for him to remember. Each kiss and makeout session he made sure happened in the view of this camera, and so badly does he want to watch over and over again the moments where you gave in to him. The moments where you needed him.

He’s quick to push the camera to his pc, uploading a weeks worth of files before placing it back onto the window sill and immediately shoving his hand down his pants.

Jake shivers at the first unrestricted graze of his hand against his cock, eyebrows falling into that of probably one of the most pathetic faces he could ever make in his life. The relief is so good, so painful.

He can’t fucking help it. After jerking off multiple times a day before finding himself in your apartment with you, it’s hard to only do it once a day within a short time span of a few minutes. He felt so restricted in terms of his release, and he has so much cum to give right now. He’s aching for it. He wants to bleed it dry.

He wants you so bad at this point, seeing you dangle yourself in front of him and not yet give in to at least going down on him– he needs this. He needs it now.

Even if it’s not you touching him, he needs to release before he takes it from you. Before he does something stupid and makes you hate him forever. Before he really does become your ex. It felt like he was going insane in your apartment, surrounded by you, only wanting to fuck you, and still not getting to.

God, the footage is so grainy but it hits his cock so fucking fast. He memorized each moment as it happened, and now watching it in third person makes him feel as if he’s some sort of ghost. Like he’s having an out of body experience and can see and feel you in a completely different light.

In more ways than he already has, even.

He releases within thirty seconds, barely holding his cock when he doubles over at the footage of that very first, harsh kiss you gave him. Sensitive and twitching, his raging length spilled all in his pants, drenches them through even, as his body shakes with the need for more.

And as if it never happened, he takes a firmer hold of his cock now, fast forwarding the footage to each and every kiss, wondering how good those lips of yours would feel elsewhere on his body. How pretty your moans would sound for him, how cute your hand looked gripping your tit in that little nude of yours, how–

He comes again, forcing him to let out a choked sob and drop his head to his desk. God, it hurts. He’s so sensitive, and still, he wants you so bad. His dick is still raging, aching, and begging, especially when he thinks of how you’ve been clinging. How your hands have fucked yourself, and how badly he wants them to stay on him forever.

God he wishes your fingers could slice him open, leaving painful and love-filled reminders of not who you belong to, but of who he belongs to.

When he thinks of how he’s only doing this right now because you have your claws buried into him already, almost refusing to let him leave you, he knows he could come another four or five times within the next thirty minutes solely because you cling, and cling, and fucking cling. Fuck..

That’s so hot to him.

He’d let you cage him up in a heartbeat, he’d let you fuck his entire life up and then laugh at him for it. It’s what you deserve. To have a man willing to do anything for you, someone willing to give up everything just to hear you breathe, to have him be that person.

Third release, forcing him to hold his breath to the point of feeling faint.

The veins on his neck protrude, sweat now dripping down his brow.

It hurts, it hurts, it fucking hurts.

But it doesn’t hurt enough.

And all day he does this. Until the sun is telling him that he needs to go back to you, until his hair is drenched in sweat and his arm is sore. Until his body feels weak and his cock feels spent, raw, and still throbbing for more.

It hurts when he puts on a new pair of pants, hurts even more when he forces himself to squat in front of his fridge to clean it out, opting to toss everything into a bag rather than sifting through what’s good and what isn’t.

Now more than ever does he want you against him, knowing that he’s fucked himself half to death solely to keep himself from scaring you, and still he isn’t satisfied.

At this point, nothing will satisfy him but you. He knows this now.

He’s quick to lock up, even quicker to toss his trash, and finds himself inside of your lobby at a loss.

Goddamn his libido. Goddamn this love for you.

He can’t stop wanting you, and he can’t just fuck the need away himself at this point. He needs you to fuck his brain quiet, only you can satiate this horrifyingly deep hunger.

Waiting, watching, waiting, waiting, waiting.

He’s waited enough. He’s done waiting.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake appears at your door right on time, and you were expecting to see his smiling face and big stretched out arms to greet you as you open the door for him.

You didn’t get that though. In fact, you found yourself frozen with the door half open as you stared at your boyfriend and the way his terrifyingly small pupils looked back at you before instantly growing twice the size. So different from this morning, heaving, lips shaking, eyes darker than they’ve ever been.

Before you can even ask why he’s looking at you like that, you learn exactly why.

“I’m going fucking insane.” Jake says shortly in a hot whisper, stepping forward and slamming the door behind him. You feel his hands on you instantly, slipping under your shirt and grabbing your waist tightly. “Can’t be away from you, can’t be with you, I can’t stand it.”

You just listen, feeling him walk you into the living room, fluttering his lips all over your face and neck, only to press you up and against the window with his entire body pinning you there with a slam.

You’re shocked, unable to do anything but listen to him and feel the way his hands grip and search your entire body for something to hold onto.

“All fucking day,” Jake seethes out angrily, pulling back from you and grabbing your face to turn it. Almost pissed that you simply exist in front of him right now. “Right there.” He says, pointing directly to his apartment. “I sat right there trying to deal with this.” He presses his hips against you, letting you feel exactly what he’s talking about. “And still, I need more.”

Your brain goes numb. Or maybe it goes hot, you’re not sure. You’ve only recently realized that he turns you on beyond belief, it’s difficult to decipher the difference between horniness and fear right now.

“Jake–” You turn back to him, now using your own hands to grab his face, forcing his eyes to steady and look at you, as if to bring him back to reality. “Do you need–”

He cuts you off with a harsh kiss, hands running up just to press you harder against the window, his hips chasing whatever he can get from you. Like he’s using you in this moment, as if you’re not real and simply a doll for him to release against and inside of.

He’s fucking gone. Outside of himself, and you, and the universe as a whole.

“What I need,” He says, pulling back and stating in an almost demanding tone. “Is for you to take care of me.”

You knew this would come sooner or later, and you’d been trying to work up the courage to do it. You’ve run his patience dry, and you guess it’s now or never at this point.

“Just tell me.” You whisper submissively, wanting to give him whatever he needs solely so that he won’t leave you.

You see his expression soften within a split second, his hips release their pressure against you, and he pulls his hands back.

“Fuck.” He lets out apologetically, demeaning himself for losing his control and being so blatant. Pointing out his fucking apartment to you. “Baby, I’m sorry, I–”

You’ve already made your decision, understanding exactly why your boyfriend broke his composure. This past week proved enough to you that he wasn’t in it to fuck you, and even though his needs weren’t being met, he still worked hard to meet yours, you feel…

Yeah, you’re happy he did this. Even the force didn’t scare you entirely. The only thing that scares you is him leaving you over this. And he watches as you do it, sinking to your knees and reaching out to hook your fingers into the loops on his pants.

“Baby,” He warns you, feeling you pull him straight to you. “Wait, wait.”

You don’t, knowing that if you were to stop now you might end up talking yourself out of doing this again.

“No,” You shake your head, lifting on your knees just to rub your cheek against the length in his pants. “Let me take care of you, I’ve neglected you enough.”

God, he fucking buckles. Dropping right to his knees in front of you, pulling you in by the face, and kissing you as hard as he possibly can. His entire body quivers, bursting in a euphoric sense of arousal as the hairs rise on his body at the very image of you on your knees for him.

“You’re so good to me,” He mumbles through kissing you. “So, so good to me.”

And you just let yourself feel it. Intensely, to the point that even your stomach flips at knowing what’s about to happen.

Strangely enough, it flips in a good way. You haven’t felt like this in years, and it brings so much glee to you knowing that Jake is right here, willing to let you make him feel good. Willing to let you feel these things again, willing to make you feel good if you work up the courage to ask for it. And most of all, he’s staying.

“Stand up then.” You whisper in a smile. “I’ll take care of you, so don’t run back home to do it yourself anymore.”

Jake shakes his head with a smirk, happy to get what he not only wants at this moment, but what he so desperately needs.

“I did that for you, and look where it got me.” He says, standing and staring down at you. “Nothing will ever satisfy me, only you can.”

You chuckle shyly, reaching up to fumble with his button only to have him take over for you, dropping his pants and gripping himself.

“Don’t be so sure though.” You swallow around a lump in your throat at the size of him, proving why you were always able to feel it and not quite ignore it. “I don’t have a lot of practice with this.”

Oh, could you be any more perfect? Any more fucking endearing? With those pretty eyes staring down what he wants to put in you so bad, not even knowing how he’s only ever gotten this hard for you and you alone. Fuck, he could give it to you so good, he could fill you until you can’t breathe, he could keep you forever.

You look so pretty like this, with your lips trembling as you wet them, with the way your smaller hands swat him away as if to ask him to let you try and hold it yourself.

He could shoot his load right now if you asked him to, looking so fucking docile on the floor for him. He needs to look away, he needs to prepare for this.

“I don’t know if I can, um,” You start, gripping him and noting that he’s thick, there’s no way it will all fit in your mouth without absolutely suffocating you. “Jake, I genuinely don’t know if I can fit all of it.”

He lends you a short chuckle as he takes in a breath, his fingers going down to tip your chin up at him. You feel it pulse in your hand as he looks at you, almost feeling his quickened heartbeat through the vein that runs up the underside of it.

“Love, I don’t need it to fit.” He smiles, pressing it harder into your palm. “Even this is enough right now.” He lies, pressing his hips forward as if to show you that he’s lying.

He needs it to fit so bad.

You eye him down, feeling the twitch release a little dribble of precum that rolls down and onto your circled fist. It’s been a long time since you’ve looked at another person this way, wanting to taste it, almost needing to.

Rubbing your legs together, almost uncomfortably, you swallow again as you keep your eyes trained on his before glancing back down. You pull your hands back just to see the way it drops. God, it’s so heavy. You can imagine he’s full of resentment for how long it’s taken you to simply look at it. His cock rages at you, darkened in color and glistening in the light of the setting sun through the window.

All you can do is stare.

And all Jake can do is stare too, watching you do math in your head of what you need to do with him. He’d take anything, fucking anything, from you right now.

“Mm,” Jake hums for a moment, grabbing your hand and squeezing it tighter. “Like this.” He instructs.

“I know how to give a hand job, you know.” You roll your eyes playfully, despite totally forgetting how to do it now that, you know, you want to.

“Yeah, don’t tell me that.” He warns, annoyed that you’d even say that right now. “Just, grip me harder–” He closes his eyes, pretending that you’ve never touched a cock that wasn’t his own, noting how your hands have always been gentle with him, save for that day you dragged him around by the shirt in a kiss.

You listen, trying to grip the girth of it as tightly as you can while dragging your hand forward and back, forcing little grunts out of him.

“Yeah,baby–” he encourages you, “Just like that.” He continues to lose himself to the feeling in soft moans, blinking down and now moving his hips in your grasp, fucking forward a bit harder. “Use your other hand too..”

You listen intently, never having to use both hands on a man like this before. You try to squeeze him, offering as much pressure as you can as he swivels his hips forward and back, slicking your hands up nice and wet with his precum. Unbelievable how much he has, actually.

You look up when he lolls his head back in a drawn out moan, staring at the expanse of his neck and the way it tenses when he swallows around the same moan. And then, suddenly, in a split second he hangs his head back down and looks at you as if he can see everything you are, everything you ever have been, and everything you ever could be. You gasp at his expression, feeling totally lost and in awe when you see that gaze go dead as he stares back.

His lips fall slack when his hips pick up pace, essentially fucking your fists rather than letting you do the work. And when you glance away from him, tuning in to the consistent pre-cum spilling out of him, he sees you lick your lips.

He watches, he sees you want it.

So, very gently, he places one of his hands on the back of your head, encouraging you to do it. And it’s like he can taste colors when you let him and instantly wrap your lips around the big, swollen head of his leaking length.

The half-moan-half-amazed-chuckle that falls out of him only comes from the fact that you instantly stretch your lips around it, lapping at his tip in an almost hungry way.

“God, fuck–” He keeps his head hanging forward, watching intently as you take him further and further into your mouth, up until you release one hand and grasp his thigh to hold onto. “I’ve dreamed of this.” He admits, shocked that you’re really going to do this for him.

You blink up at him, trying to smile around the heavy length pressing your tongue down. If you’re going to do this, the least you can do is make sure he fucking loves it. Not to mention, the fact that you’re also enjoying it only drives you to do more. Like the wall inside of you has been shattered and nothing could ever stop you from wanting him in any and every way possible.

He smiles through a deep groan at the way your lips still curl around him.

Never in his fucking life did he imagine you smiling while sliding his cock down your throat. Really, you did that entirely on your own and somehow, he feels even more insane than he did walking into your apartment earlier.

You’re making it fit, and all he can do is help you, now bracing that same hand on your head and pressing further into your mouth..

More, more.

And when he feels your fingernails dig into his thigh and his cock hit the back of your gagging throat, he chokes out, eyes tearing up, and he sobs out your name in a desperate attempt to compliment you for it.

That sound alone from him went straight through you, igniting a long awaited arousal within your belly. You feel the drip, relishing in the feeling of being wet for the first time in fucking years. He’s so big, and he’s so suffocating. You want to do this, you want to hear him cry out your name again.

Even when he tries to pull his hips back, you grab onto him and hold his hips in place, pushing your lips further down, depressing your tongue even more as the thickest part of him cuts off your airways. Your throat restricts around him, and you feel proud of it. Proud of choking on him, happy to keep doing it.

He stutters in awe, gripping the windowsill with his free hand and using the other to feel your hollowed out cheeks. Shit, you’re going to taste him, he’s going to give you all of it, he’s going to–

Shocked, floored, entirely drunk for you, all he can do is watch as you choke. His body did not warn him at all when his cum shoots into your throat, warming your belly with that first swallow around him.

Your reaction to it is immediate though, as he watches with half-crossed eyes the way you pull off of him and let his cum spurt out and drip all over your face. Down those beautiful cheeks, onto your plush lips, and down your neck.

It won't stop. He just keeps coming. His entire body trembles as he stares at you, and you stare back before closing one eye due to the fact that there is now cum in your eyelashes, and you fucking smile at him.

The image alone keeps him hard as his body finally stops twitching. You, there on your knees, smiling up at him drenched in him.

“Baby,” He soothes out with a raspy tone. “Fuck, you didn’t have to do–”

“I’m wet. Jake.” You smile, as if you’re admitting this to him to gain some sort of congratulations for it. And in a way, you are. He has no idea how amazing it is to you right now that you can feel your panties go sticky. It feels amazing to admit to him, actually.

It’s so relieving, it’s so warm, it’s something you never should have missed out on in the first place.

“What?” He asks with uneven breath, dropping to his knees in front of you again, rubbing the cum into your skin with his thumb as he caresses your face. “You are?”

You beam at him, smiling with a nod.

“Really?” He asks again, in disbelief because this was all it took?

You nod again, leaning back on your arms and watching him follow, hovering over you and slotting himself between your legs with a hungry gaze.

“Can I feel?” He asks abruptly, crawling over you to the point that your back hits the side table behind you, keeping you from lying all the way down.

And you nod before you think about it. Wondering if this is how it’s always supposed to be. Always willing, always wanting, always needing.

He stares at you when you nod, glancing down to your middle then back at you as if to gain another confirmation.

You nod again, this time wanting to hide your face in your arms. You anticipate it, wondering what it’ll feel like to be touched there again by a hand that isn’t your own after all this time. And when you feel his shaking hand dip into your sweat pants, you don’t even shutter. You don’t shy away.

You’re surprising yourself even, letting out a gasp when he cups your core and looks down at you with a cautious smile.

“You’re dripping, baby.” He smiles as he balances himself on one arm over you, rubbing his hand back and forth and memorizing the dips and folds he can feel through this flimsy fabric. Then, his more intrusive thoughts spill in an unintentional and needy groan. “Fuck, I bet you’re so tight.”

Words that would make you recoil are no longer scaring you. You can tell he wants to apologize for saying it too, but goddamn, you loved hearing it. In fact, your entire body pulses at the words, feeling his hand do nothing more than hold you there and gently rub. His eyes are pleading though, with his lips pouting as he relishes in thoughts of probably fucking his fingers into you just to see if he’s right.

Or maybe it’s just you hoping that’s what he’s thinking about. You can’t help the way you clench, letting out a strained breath as you lurch forward and hug him around his neck, squeezing so tightly as you whisper against the shell of his ear.

“You can touch me– if you want.” You whisper, physically feeling the goosebumps against his neck raise to your lips. “Just go slow.”

You still need to go slow, after all, you don’t know how your brain may react to this, despite loving it at the moment. Relishing in the fact that someone managed to make you feel horny again. You feared that you never could again. God, he’s amazing.

“I’ll go so slow for you,” He whispers back, twisting his hand in your pants to hook his fingers around your panties to pull them to the side. “Oh, baby, you really do want this, don’t you?” He whispers again upon really feeling you drip, trying to slide his fingers through the slick mess before rubbing circles around your hole. He’s lost his train of thought now, only able to feel one sense at a time so that he can fucking memorize how you coat his fingers entirely.

He moans again from deep in his chest along with you, despite knowing you’re the only one feeling the pleasure of his fingers. You feel his moan vibrate through his throat when you kiss him there, anticipating what it’s going to feel like when he slides a finger in.

And it’s like you see stars when he does, slowly pressing one into you as he wraps his other arm around your waist to hold you in place, sitting back on his knees and forcing you to stand on your own infront of him.

There he holds you as if he’s afraid you’ll start to fight, relishing the feeling of your wet walls hugging his finger all while you cling to him through it. He was right, you are tight despite how wet you’ve gotten. It’s almost like you’re a virgin despite knowing that you’re not.

Your body is reacting this way for him, and you’re hugging him, and your pussy is clenching for him. He just knows that if he manages to fit his cock into you, he’d fucking lose it. You’d squeeze him so tight, and he’d fuck it so deep. Fill you up, deeper, deeper, until the only name you know is his.

He’s losing it again, hearing your little whispered moans against his ear, hanging on him like a fucking pet, god, he wants you to squeeze the fucking blood out of him. You’re being so compliant, so submissive, so–

“Do you even know…” He starts babbling, trying to silence his thoughts by giving them straight to you as his finger slides out, eagerly shoving two back in at a much quicker, much harsher pace. “How much I’ve dreamed about this?”

You shake your head noting how he’s already mentioned dreaming of you once. The thought has you spreading your legs out to feel how deep his fingers reach inside of you. There’s no pain involved in this, despite his pace not being nearly as slow as he said he would go. You’re not upset, you want him to go faster, you want him deeper, you want to hear him talk.

“So many times, baby, so many times.” He soothes himself more than you through these words, losing himself more and more each second to the feeling of your core clenching his fingers. “You’re even prettier to me right now,” He continues to babble, listening to you hum in his ear at the pleasure you feel. “I want you to take everything from me.”

“I want you to wrap your legs around my neck, I want you to rub my nose in it, I want you to suffocate me, I want—”

“Shit, Jake.” You moan out his name for the first time at the dirty words. They’re a lot to take in only because you know it truly is a lot, or rather, it should be. But you fucking want that too. You want everything from him, you want everything he wants. Everything. “What else?” You urge him to keep talking.

“I want you to pull my hair,” He says, instantly feeling your fingers slide up his neck and into the thick of it, tugging immediately. “I want you to make it fit here too.” He continues, curling his fingers inside of you, thrusting his own hips against the dense air in your apartment.

You moan again at his hot words. You’re overwhelmed by how much you want more, how much you’d let him, right here, right now.

“Keep going,” You sing out, feeling it in your stomach and knowing that this familiar feeling is so much better than you’ve ever felt before. “Tell me, Jakey, fuck–” You continue, huffing at the way his fingers quicken even more.

“Sound so pretty saying my name, fuck,” He groans now, more level than before as he feels your legs close around his arm, fingers relentlessly hitting the soft spot inside of you. “Tell me that I’d never hurt you, that only I can make you feel like this.”

You nod aggressively as your brain hits a wall, unable to fulfill his request. Every muscle in your body tenses in pleasure as you begin to shake, moving your own hips against his fingers and tugging his hair harder without intention.

He moans out at how tight you hold him, wanting nothing more than to lay you out and bury himself into you, to feel your pussy jerk him off.

“Feels so good, baby, right?” He continues to talk, feeling your tight walls try to push his fingers out with each threat of your build up, his mind is spinning. “Say it–” He stutters, feeling his own body react the same way yours is. “Fuck, please, say that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” You whisper out of breath against his ear, the hot breath sending him overboard as he immediately pulls his fingers from you and grips his cock instead, ignoring your whimper of the lost build up.

“Yeah,” He cries out, thrusting his hips against his hand. “So let me– please, please let me.”

His face looks so broken when you stare at him in shock, eyes pleading for you to give him all of it. To give him everything right now. How could you fucking say no to that expression? How could you ever say no to him?

And still, with your orgasm half-fulfilled, you’re entirely enamored with the way you instantly want it too. As if you’re rushing head first into a brick wall with him, and you stop just to think for a moment.

Should you?

Do you intend to keep this man forever? Do you want him to leave? Would you be able to picture a day without him?

It confirms in your brain right then and there. You do intend to keep him. You don’t want him to leave. You could never picture a day without him at this point.

If he wants to have sex with you right now? Why not? You’re sure that if he is truly wanting to stay, sooner or later you’ll feel him pumping inside of you. Why should it matter that it happens now rather than tomorrow? Or next week? Or even next month?

Instantly upon your snap decision, you stand on shaking legs, watching him watch you. His hand gripping himself harshly to prevent a pathetic and untouched orgasm, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy.

You smile, dropping your pants, panties, and then lifting your shirt right up and over your head. All he does in response is wince, grip the base of his cock harder, and try to focus on not spilling and wasting his cum on your floor. Brain only slightly trying to distract him with the idea of grabbing those sticky panties to suck them clean.

“Really?” He chokes, out of breath and standing up, swiping your panties up quickly and crumpling them in his hand.

Then, you feel one hand on you after he drops his length, and the other rubbing those same wet panties against your skin, as if he has a death grip on them and you. Still, he walks you right back to the window and against it, speaking in that same, needy and shaking breath. “Baby, are you sure?”

You look away, feeling vulnerable and shy but so willing, so ready when you nod and throw your leg around his waist as if to tell him that you’re more than sure.

He gives you a breathy chuckle, pulling back just to lift his shirt off of him, hang your panties at the base of his cock, and then he grabs your leg and holds it in place. “Right here?”

He can’t tell if he’s even alive right now, with your pussy sitting spread open right up against him as you let him hold you here, your ass is probably looking great for the camera right now. Your panties feel so good in their rightful place, dangling just in front of his balls. You feel so good in your rightful place, right up against the wall with him trapping you here.

You nod again, pressing your hips forward, proving to him how hungry you feel for him right now. Finally feeling dirty and not hating yourself for it.

“Right here.” You confirm, tuned into his lips and leaning forward to lick against them. “That’s what you want, right?”

He’s stunned by how you take control while still being somehow submissive to him about it. Almost like you’re shaming him for wanting it, almost like you don’t want to admit that you want it too.

“Is that what you want?” He asks, trying hard not to think about how you’ve shifted entirely within the span of however long it’s been since the two of you started this. Is this how you act when you're horny?

“How could I not?” You confirm again with a confident tone, watching your boyfriend break in front of you. “Look at you.”

Jake can’t bear to look at himself, he knows he looks just about as pathetic as he’s always wanted. Never quite able to feel pathetic enough to satisfy him, only now understanding why he chased and chased the feeling to have you like this.

Controlling whether he can stick his dick in you, controlling whether he can fuck off and die.

That’s how it’s supposed to be in a relationship, but somehow it’s something else between both of you. For him, it’s like you’ve intentionally edged him for an entire week and for you it’s like you finally have control over your own sexuality again.

You feel powerful, and Jake wants to be entirely at your mercy.

“No one has ever wanted me this bad and waited.” You finally say to his intense and loving stare. “I want to give you anything you want.”

If he had a tail, it would be wagging so fast right now. It’s like he’s being given a treat for being exactly who you needed him to be, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop doing it.

“I could wait longer,” Jake mumbles, inching his lips to yours and letting his other hand cup one of your tits. “You could make me suffer,” He continues, whispering it right into your mouth. “Could lock me up and starve me of it.”

You lean your face back, a little shocked at his choice of words there.

“So you meant those things you said earlier?” You ask, remembering how he babbled on about wanting you to suffocate him, about how he wanted you to take everything from him.

“Do you want me to be honest?” He counters, now pressing his hips forward and letting his cock weep against your thigh.

You nod to him.

“I want you to take it all out on me.” He admits, gripping your tit in his hand tighter, hiking your leg up higher. “I want you to control every aspect of my life.”

Honestly, it shouldn’t be a thought that brightens your brain but it does. It sounds toxic, and you can’t even tell if he’s saying this just because he’s horny and is about two seconds from slamming you up and against this window with the force of his cock alone. Somehow, you love the thought of all of it.

“Every aspect?” You ask with interest. “What do you mean?”

He chuckles as he hangs his head, watching his length pulse constantly against your thigh and the panties hanging off of it. Only then does he release your tit and use your panties as a way to position his cock up, lining up with the wet of your core that is only for him.

“It means–” He starts, sliding into you with a paused moan, hiccuping slightly as he furrows his brows. “I want you to make me cry for you.” He continues with a tilt to his head as he watches the way you wince at all of the strength he has to hold you up like this, to slide into you like this. “I want you to hurt me, and I want you to love doing it.”

He bottoms out after that, holding you in place and feeling your walls struggle to adjust to the tight fit.

“It’s what you deserve.” He soothes out to you, kissing you once. “To take someone the same way you’ve been taken.”

You recoil instantly, pussy restricting in horror at the reminder of why you never do this with another person, but god the way he lifts on his toes just to plunge somehow deeper into you. The way his lips trap you even more, the way his force is nothing but fucking amazing to feel. All you can do is moan, bump your head against the window, and squeeze him.

“You said you wanted to give me what I want–” He slides out of you just a little bit. “So, can you?” He pushes back in, listening to you get wetter at his words and feeling your answer when you can’t seem to speak for yourself.

“I said I’d never hurt you, love,” He coos out this time, watching your body shift up against the window as he picks up some sort of rhythm, taking you the way he’s always wanted you. Right here, against the window. “But I never said that you couldn’t hurt me.”

Why the fuck is that so hot? God, why does a man like Jake offer you so much? Why is he doing this to you? Why is he doing it to himself? Why do you love it?

You find yourself nodding as you moan out, still not quite adjusted to his size and the way he made it fit into you in such a…pleasurable way. It doesn’t hurt at all, it feels good.

“Yeah, I knew you would.” He continues to talk as if he’s not internally losing it, but months worth of pretending, several orgasms today alone, and having your pussy hugging him just as tightly as he knew it would? That’s helpful.

And now, as your fingers grip at him through his harsh and deep thrusts, all he can do is hold your leg against him, lean forward, and stare directly into his apartment window. As if he’s mocking his former self, as if everything in the world has fallen into place. You wouldn’t leave him now, never, you’d be just as stupid as everyone else if that were the case.

He has faith in you, in himself, in this, and the way you drip all over him.

He knew you’d be perfect for him.

It doesn’t take long, really, for him to pull an orgasm out of you when he’s doing it this good. In fact, you don’t even have to reach a hand down to help pull it out of you by the time your body begins to stiffen up at it.

His pace is slow, his cock is deep, and fuck his entire body is on you. You couldn’t squeeze your hand down if you tried, in fact, you don’t think he’d even consider letting you do any of this on your own.

His grip is so strong, you can feel your sweat stick to the window as you slam your head down on his shoulder, sliding up and down the window with each of his powerful thrusts.

It feels so good to do this again.

“Jake–” You hiccup against his neck, listening to his heaved and choked breaths through each thrust. “I wish I had done this sooner.” You manage to get out, body tensing and relaxing by the minute with the threat of an orgasm. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

And honestly, you don’t know what’s gotten into you, nor do you fucking care. If you want to cry, you’ll fucking cry. It’s been too long since your tears hit you out of pleasure, or happiness, or fucking safety. At this rate, you’ll never let this man go.

“I know baby, I know.” He soothes you, arms shaking as he holds you up and thrusting in as deep as he can go.

You feel him stutter in his pace, his hips stopping as you feel his heavy cock pulsate against your clenching walls.

“Are you close?” He says, pulling back and looking at you. “Is that why you’re sorry?”

You look at him with glassy eyes, smiling dazed at him as you shake your head.

“No,” You smile wider, running your hands up and into his hair, remembering what he asked for before. You tug, forcing his head to tilt back so that you can attach your lips to him. “I’m saying it because I want you to always make me feel this good.” You whisper against his pulse point, kissing it hard.

You feel him lose composure at that, his hips immediately moving again, slamming up and into you so hard that you can’t even hold your head still enough to kiss him there again.

“Ah, fuck,” He whimpers out, “why would you fucking say that to me right now?” He continues, relentlessly fucking himself against the soft and sensitive spot inside of you. “You still make me feel so insane, only you could do this to me.”

You smile, having learned that he appears to love the torture anyway.

“You love it though, don’t you Jakey?” You say, loving the way he loses it for you, learning how badly he’s wanted this, seeing him intend to stay.

And at those words, he can’t take it anymore. Fuck the camera, fuck anything else in the world that isn’t you. He ignores that wince on your face when he slips out of you, ignores the way the panties fall from his length, and focuses entirely on the way you hug him as he carries you straight to the couch.

Right there, he drops you and watches the way your tits bounce at the motion.

“I’m fucking obsessed with you.” He says, feeling the arousal run through his veins, knowing you’d love to hear him say that while never knowing just how true it is. “How are you real?”

You smile, hiding your face as you feel his hands hold your thighs open. You know what he’s looking at, and you can’t force yourself to see him do it. Solely because you know it’s going to swell your heart so big that you’d only fear the day he wants to leave it empty.

And you don’t respond either, because you can’t. His fingers are spreading you open and you can hear him drop to his knees yet again for you. You wan’t to look so bad, but still, you fear the love in his eyes.

You fear and want all of it.

He hears the sharp inhale you give when he spreads you out, really inspecting the single spot on your body that no one on this earth should ever see aside from him.

“This is where it hurt the most, isn’t it?” He asks, staring into the hole he’s already fucked, watching it beg him for more despite his words that probably stab your soul.

You’ll never understand how he can take your pain and turn it into something you don’t mind hearing though. Yes, that’s where it hurt the most, and still, that’s where you want him the most.

“Yeah, baby?” He asks again, reaching an arm up and forcing you to look at him. “This is what you were so afraid of?” He continues, dipping down and rubbing his face directly into the folds and inhaling a deep breath.

“Y-yeah.” You choke out at the feeling, in awe of how you knew his eyes would make you terrified. He still stares up at you as he does it, pointing his glare straight through you and into your fucking spirit.

Only Jake can make you fear nothing else in this world aside from the thought of losing him.

“I’ll make it better,” He says, boosting his ego at the way your legs wrap around his head. “You’ll always want me here,” He continues, cooing out with each taste and lick of your budding arousal. “You’ll never want me to stop–”

No man has ever wanted you this bad while having you, even as you experienced the trauma of just that. Your ex wanted you physically, but something about the man drying to drown himself in your pussy right now makes you feel like he wants you on a level far deeper than what’s possible.

He’s eating you out like he wants to eat you whole. Like he could devour you, and never spit you out of his mouth.

“Shit, shit–” You moan, hands shooting down to his hair yet again, finding yourself loving the way his grown-out roots feel softer than the harsher dyed section of his hair. You tug harder than you have before, feeling his tongue search and yearn for everything you have to offer him.

“Mhm.” He mumbles with a mouth full of pussy, rolling his eyes back at how you do just as he suggested before. Rubbing his nose in it, letting him continue to lose himself in the point of all of his problems.

And it’s as if you forgot that this only happens to reach a point of coming. The experience alone feels like one long and drawn out orgasm already, it doesn’t take anything at all for him to get you there.

It’s like he already knows it too, because you go entirely silent with a held breath as he holds your hips and buries his tongue deep inside of you. He wants to feel it, he wants to taste it. And he suffers for it, really, neglecting his own cock and knowing he’s going to come through this alone anyway.

As expected, he does. Upon the first gush of your slick hitting his tongue, his cock pulses, his balls squeeze up, and he can feel it shoot out of him each time your pussy shakes against his suffocated mouth.

And your hands, so perfect in his hair, pulling without even knowing. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, this is more than he could have ever asked for.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By this point in your relationship, the two of you have moved so quickly that it doesn’t even scare you. In fact, if it slowed down at any point, you’d probably be preparing a suicide note simply because you don’t want to be in this world without Jake.

Since the first time you got intimate with him, it’s like it hasn’t stopped. You’re shocked at his thirst for you and even more shocked that someone so fucking perfect would waste his breath on you even for this long.

It hasn’t been that long, really, since the first time you touched him. A few days at most, but it’s like that moment solidified a lot for the two of you.

One, he’s not going to be sleeping in his own bed anytime soon or, ever, really. Two, you’ve learned through at least two more sessions of Jake’s mouth on you that he really does want you to live up to his requests. He makes it known how badly he wants you to make him suffer, how badly he needs you to give him everything he wants. Thankfully, he’s patient with your reluctance. And Three, your ex is no longer a threat.

Each message you receive, you just hand your phone to Jake and he takes care of it.

It doesn’t even translate in your head that you’ve been barred from answering your mother’s calls until the police show up at your door for a wellness check. Where, of course, Jake answers,

“Yeah, she’s here.” You hear his voice as you lay flat against your bed, heaving breaths as if he didn’t just have the tip of his dick in you. “Why?” You hear him question.

A few more muffled words and you hear the door close and his footsteps making his way to your room.

“Cops.” He dead-pans, “Your mom thinks you're dead.” he adds with an eye roll.

Your internal panic, a feeling you had once been so accustomed to that now feels almost foreign, takes over your body.

“Fuck, my mom!” You say in a fast breath, rushing onto your feet and throwing on a pair of his soiled sweatpants.

Jake hangs back but listens to your conversation from your hallway, listening intently to how you speak to other men, cops or not.

“Yeah,” You say, scratching your temple with shame. “I guess I didn’t realize she was calling me so much.”

Try five times a day.

“I’ll call her now, sorry for wasting your time.” You continue with that nervous chuckle that you used to use on him during your dates.

And then you’re back in the room, looking at him with a raised brow.

“Why didn’t you tell me my mom has been calling?” You ask, a little annoyed that it’s gotten to the point of freaking your mother out.

Jake shrugs, then looks at you apologetically.

“I don’t like when she forces you to talk about it.” He finally says, sulking his shoulders and huffing out. “I don’t like that she tells you to be careful around me.”

You roll your eyes, relieved that he’s just being himself and wanting to keep you happy.

“Still, you should have told me. She’s going to have a fucking heart attack thinking he showed up at my work place again.”

Jake’s entire brain stops working, his body going rigid as if the cold air outside is hitting him in full force.

Your eyes immediately widen as you slam your hand over your mouth. Fuck, you forgot that you told her in a hushed tone, explaining that it’s okay. That Jake wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

Fuck.

“He what?” Jake says, dumbfounded at the slip of your words.

“Jake, wait–” You try to get an explanation but he’s not having it.

“You haven’t been at work, what do you mean he showed up?” He glares, chest heaving as his heart rate picks up.

“It was from that day when you first stayed over,” You look at the floor apologetically. “I didn’t want to talk about it…” You trail off, feeling his energy hit you in the face at how he’s completely shifted from that loving, soft boyfriend you’re so used to.

“You kept that from me!?” He seethes out in disbelief. This whole time he thought he fucked your ex up enough to prove what would happen if he even fucking tried it. By you explaining that it happened just after Jake found him, that’s a direct insult.

A threat.

A fucking death wish.

“I didn’t–” You stutter trying to explain yourself. “I didn’t think it would matter since you were here. You were keeping me safe.”

“You lied to me?” He continues interrogating you, coming up to you and practically demanding an answer through his eyes.

You look away, nodding.

“You said you wanted me to keep you safe, what would have happened if you had to go to work again?” He drones on and on, seemingly stuck on the fact that you didn’t tell him. “What would happen if they called you to go in today?”

Already you’re starting to cry, feeling stupid for not making a bigger deal out of it. To be fair, not talking about it helped and you did intend to tell him at some point. That just…never happened.

“I would have asked you to stay with me at work.” You say, feeling numb as the fear of losing the man in front of you steals your every thought. “I’d have not gone. I’d have quit. I don’t know!”

Jake backs down at your words, only able to soften his rage if you’re the one who causes it.

“Baby,” His soft voice shocks you when you feel him come back to himself, as if to comfort the fear he just instilled in you. “I’m not mad.”

Yes he is, you know he is.

“Now you’re the one lying.” You argue, pushing him away only to feel his grip on you tighten.

“Am I?” He asks, urging you to keep talking. “Are you mad at me now?” He continues, intentionally pushing your buttons.

“Mad that I should have already known?”

“Mad that I didn’t let you talk to your mom?”

“Mad that I’m keeping you safe, while you keep putting yourself in the position to be hurt by him again?”

You stare at the floor.

“Mad that this is your fault?”

Yeah, you are mad.

“Fuck you, Jake.” You break, feeling his strangling fingers on your skin scratch and leave welts when you force yourself away from him. “Fuck you for all of that.”

“What else?” He presses, hanging on specific words. “Fuck me for what else?”

You just stare at him, and he can see the anger in your eyes.

“For not being there when it happened?” He asks gently. “For not killing him when I had the chance?”

When he had the chance.

“What do you–” You try to ask, but he just continues, closing back in on you.

Somehow, you need it, despite wanting to pull away every time.

“Fuck me for wanting this from you, right?” He says, much closer to you and dipping down to kiss you. “Fuck me for wanting you to be this mad, hmm?”

You break again, something deep within you spiraling into a different type of insanity you’ve never felt. You don’t feel trauma, you don’t feel scared, you feel…enraged.

“Fuck me for thinking you look perfect,” He whispers against your lips. “Fuck me to fuck me, fuck me to fight me, fuck me.”

The repeated words fit into your brain like they belong there. Like this anger is supposed to be filling you with pleasure rather than dread. Like you’re supposed to feel just as in love as you are mad.

“Just fuck me, baby.”

And god fucking dammit. How does he crawl into the depths of your brain, like a fucking roach, and kiss all of the areas you don’t know exist? How the fuck does he wake shit up inside of you that you never dreamed of having, or feeling, or wanting.

“I hate you.” You say, and meaning it too.

Because you don’t think you’ve ever loved someone more than you do now.

“Yeah, I bet you do.” He smiles, dipping his hand down into the sweats you put on and sliding into the same slick he had spilling out of you just before the pigs showed up. “I love it.” He chuckles against your lips when you refuse to moan at his touch.

You’re pushing against every good feeling inside of you right now, thinking only of how this rage spills out of you and against his fingers.

“So wet to hate me–” He says, pressing and pressing and pressing for you to just fucking– “Hit me.”

He sees your eyes shine at the very thought of how badly you must want to do that, unknowing of how much he wants it too. Needing it almost.

And oh, the moan he lets out when your weak hands raise to shove him back. He plays off of it, stumbling back to your bed just to fall on it. Waiting, knowing you’ll come take him for all he’s worth.

“Come on, love.” He encourages you. “Make me sorry.”

You hate him, and you hate that you love it. Love that he loves it, fucking adore that he wants this, he wants to let you do whatever you want to him.

To kick, cry, scream, release everything that’s been trapped in your head for years.

You don’t even falter, feeling it bubble up and overtake every thought. Dripping down your legs as if this is the only way you could ever fulfill your own pleasure again. Only now to you slide the pants back off of you, so horny out of your mind that all you can manage is to feel these emotions drip for him.

He watches you straddle him bare from the waist down, sees your breath shaking, and your lips quivering.

Jake knew you had it in you.

“Take them off.” You demand, rolling your eyes at the way he looks up at you with pure bliss.

“Hit me first.” He offers, feeling his cock strained against his own pants that he haphazardly threw on when he heard the knock at your door. “Hit me, and I’ll fuck the hate out of you.” He lies.

“Take them off.” You repeat, cold hands reaching down as you do it yourself, lifting just enough to shove them down far enough.

And god, the breath is knocked clean out of him with the way you just take him. You slide down perfectly, bottoming him out in one motion. He can see now that you need this perhaps even more than he does.

“God, come on baby.” He moans, feeling you just sit still on him.

“Jake,” You warn, running your cold hands up to his neck on instinct. “Shut up.” You squeeze.

The smile that forms on his face is pornographic at best, and drunk at worst. You see him love every instant of it, and you don’t want to admit that you do too.

You didn’t know it would feel so good to have a man’s neck in your hands, squeezing it just to shut him up. Releasing it just to hear him gasp out a praise.

“So good,” He praises, eyebrows knitted together as he loses himself to the way your pussy chokes his length. You’re not even fucking him, you’re just– “So perfect.” He continues, nearly wailing out at the immense love he feels inside.

And then, you do. You hit him. Power hungry and entirely at a loss for your own pleasure, you land a harsh and loud slap right against his face, only for him to moan louder.

Only for him to fuck up.

Only for him to grip your sheets so tight that you hear a rip.

Again. You slap him, feeling your anger slowly fizzle with each frantic moan he gives back.

Again, and again.

“Shit, you love that, don’t you?” He manages to say, feeling his cheeks sting with red-hot passion, only to be hit again, and again. “God, make it hurt.”

At this point, you know that you could never give him enough as the rage leaves your body entirely and it’s replaced with nothing but the need to just….fuck him. Never in your life have you ever been blinded by a need so badly, save for safety.

And you have that now, don’t you? You have Jake now, right where you want him, right he wants to be. He wants you to feel this, he made you feel this.

The first bounce felt like pure agony, slamming his cock into you by your own force, feeling him stretch you open, hearing it slap and echo against the walls.

“Make it hurt?” You finally say, pinching his cheeks together and forcing him to look at you. “I don’t think I could hurt you enough if I tried.” You admit, quite truthfully, mind you.

Jake gives you a crooked smirk.

“Try it anyway.” He coos, feeling the way you repeatedly arch your back just to ride him faster. “Could fill you up, right here, right now, flip you over and make you take it if you’re so worried that you can’t.”

It runs through you like a cold shiver. You don’t want to give up this power, you want to try.

“That’s big talk for someone asking to be choked right now.” You dead-pan at him, voice even and calm. You continue to move your hips, listening to his repeated moans with each breath. “So loud and needy for it too.”

Jake nods proudly and drunkenly, reaching his hands out to yours and forcing them back on his neck.

“I could be needier.” He says, pressing your hands against his airways.

You take over for him, choking his remaining words out of him and forcing him to moan.

“You said you’d make me take it?” You seethe out through your own pained moan, riding him so hard that you feel sensitive. “Like you think it would hurt me?”

He shakes his head rapidly, implying that you’re wrong to think that. Wanting to tell you that if he made you take it, you’d love every second of it. You wouldn’t tell him no.

“After promising you never would, Jake?” You question still, knowing he can’t answer. You squeeze harder as you watch his face darken, the blood rushing to burst in the whites of his eyes. “Is that it? You want to hurt me so that I hurt you back?”

He nods in a daze, wanting nothing more than to die like this now, or some other day. To hear your voice, feel your hands, and know that you’re fucking him through it.

“You don’t scare me.” You finally say, releasing the grasp and listening to the sharp inhale he takes in. “As much as I wish you did, you don’t.”

That’s all it takes really, knowing that he could work you like a puppet and you’d still love him. Why else would you say that? You wouldn’t fuck him like this if you didn’t mean it. Your mother long forgotten, the anger gone, it’s just a raw form of you and him right now.

Everything you’re saying is more truthful than he ever thinks you’ve been with him.

“Want me to?” He finally asks with a wet gasp as he continues to catch his breath. “I bet I could.”

“You can’t.” You say, now slowing your hips as your legs tire out, bracing yourself on his shoulders to take a breath.

“I can.” He says, immediately overpowering you. He sits up quick, flipping you right over and onto your back. “I can make you feel anything I want.” He whispers darkly to you. He grabs your legs and pushes them to your chest, lost entirely from this reality. “Anything you want.”

You just stare up at him, willing to accept his words even more when he slams his length into you, so deep that you feel nothing but the pain of it.

For the first time, he’s hurting you through pleasure alone.

“Could make you love it too,” He continues to dote on himself as he watches the sparkle in your eye dim. “You love it already, don’t you?”

“I’m not afraid.” You manage to mutter out through a guttural groan, wincing at the way he drives himself into you at such a speed that all you feel is pain.

“I can’t take you seriously when you talk like that.” He chuckles, feeling entirely in control of whatever entity is running his body right now. “I see you baby, you’re terrified to lose me.”

Your eyes die in that moment, because out of anything in this world, he’s pinpointed your biggest fear.

“So pretty when you’re scared too,” He hums out, not relenting at all with the force of his hips when he lets your legs fall around him, and he finds himself burying his face between your tits. “Maybe I should threaten to leave you.”

Instantly, you cry.

“Just so I can eat up these little tears you have for me.”

You wish he would shut up.

“So I can taste the way you come on me, and feel your pussy try and lock me here.” He smooths over your nipple at the words, slowing his hips and pulling out just to the tip. “Your body tells me more than you know, love.”

Your eyes roll up when his pointed thrust shoves your body across your sheets, your hands reach for his shoulders, clawing for any sense of normality to this moment.

“So quiet.” He lightens his own voice now, letting it fall against your collarbone in a tone just above a whisper. “So stubborn.”

Your mind awakens at the insult, hoping he’s right.

“To think I’d ever leave you.” He smiles, lifting up to meet your lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He tastes your tears and it’s just enough for him to forgive you.

To forgive you for not hitting him enough, for not choking him until he died. To forgive you for even thinking you’d need to talk to your mother, and for fucking lying to him.

And only now does he go quiet, fucking you will full intent now that he’s already in your head at every turn and corner. He can tell with the way you don’t even realize your previous orgasm.

With the way it bubbled out and down his balls, hugging his cock so tightly that all he could do was keep fucking with your mind, toying with threats only to silence them.

And then, you inhale a sob, and breathe out his name, so pretty to your ears, even more beautiful to his own.

“Don’t leave me.” You chime out, body numb and emotions threatening you into a panic attack.

“I’m right here, love.” He chuckles. “You’re shaking.”

You are. More than you can even comprehend, your body is shaking from feeling everything and nothing at once, all the way up until you do feel something.

“Ah, shit.” You cry out, hugging his body so tightly against you. “Right there–”

And Jake does it, angling his hips to repeatedly hit the spot inside of you. Knowing you’re sensitive, knowing you can take it, knowing that he can’t when he feels every drop in your body push him out of you.

Instantly he plunges back in, listening to the wet sounds of all that love you must have for him. He can barely move in this suffocating hug as your body shakes and quivers more than it ever has, even through your past traumas, even through the cold nights this city offers.

He has spent you and fucked you dry.

“There she is,” He echoes into your ear. “The girl of my dreams.”

The only energy left in you is enough to give him a smile before your tunnel vision fades into nothingness.

It feels calm in the darkness he gives you, and even calmer when you wake up feeling as if all of this was a dream.

It wasn’t though, because you can feel the way you’re still leaking all over your bed. Your own slick mixed with his, and you don’t even remember when or how he orgasmed because he certainly was taking his time before you initially fainted, but you’re glad he did. You think he is too, with the way he clings to you like a puppy, as if he didn’t just fuck reality straight out of you.

Lending you the gift of floating, and of pain you find yourself to love.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Waking up the next morning felt like you were a new person and you couldn’t be happier to see the saddest version of you die. The only fear you need to have is that Jake may some day choose to leave, and he said himself that he never would.

You trust him more than anyone, more than yourself even, considering he’s managed to force you into facing so many versions of yourself that you didn’t even know you had.

This is the first morning you’ve woken up without your skin crawling and you can’t help but shake him awake, destroying that blushed and sleeping face of his.

“Jake,” You shake him, feeling him stir instantly and lend you a crooked smile. “Wake up.”

You listen to his morning stretch as his body vibrates in a yawn, and then he’s nuzzling his face even further into your naked chest.

For what feels like hours, you find yourself engaging in pillow talk. Logging into work? Long forgotten. Calling your mother? Forgotten. The pain in your body? Ignored.

You tell him everything. Every detail of your life, your first memory, your first laugh and cry. All of the times your heart has been shattered, your least favorite colors and favorite words in the world. And he just…listens.

He nods, he smiles, he coos and kisses you throughout all of it.

And then–

“You know, a while back before we met, I came home and noticed some of my things were missing and messed with. I can’t help but feel like he’s known where I’ve been this whole time.”

Jake stiffens in your grasp before relaxing. It happened so fast that you don’t think anyone but you would have noticed it.

“Some of my panties were gone, and the batteries in my toys went missing weeks ago–not that it matters now or anything.” You continue, watching his face intently. “ At first I thought that maybe I was just forgetful but– now i know that it really was him.” You pause, smiling at him. “I’m just kind of waiting now, wondering if he’s ever going to try and do it again.”

“Do you want me to kill him?” Jake chuckles out as if to offer a funny little solution, one that he has genuinely considered more times than he can count. And he should have already, honestly.

You feel warmer at the way he makes jokes, but you know better than anyone that Jake jumps into action driven only by rage at times.

“He won’t come near you again, love, haven’t I proved that to you already?” He continues, imagining the blood of his man on his fists again. Imagining the way his bones would crack so beautifully.

You nod in an almost shy way to him.

“You’re safe with me.” He says, wrapping his arms around himself as you cradle him. “You’re safe with me.” He continues, repeating it more to himself because he feels as though he can’t fail you again, “You’ve always been safe.”

You haven’t believed words so deeply until you met him.

“He already fucking knows–” He whispers shortly, cutting himself off. “I’ll kill him.” He whispers a bit louder, uncaring if you heard that first slip of his words.

Something in your brain floods at those words. A confirmation that you’ve seen him break before, and it wasn’t your imagination. Your protective, loving, and sweet boyfriend has a side to him that you’ve yet to truly see. Those words were more believable than any of the sweet things he’s ever said to you.

And still, you almost want to encourage it, reminding yourself of the image of your ex the day he showed up, all bruised up. And then to the image of Jake with his own little battle scar.

Deep down you think you knew what happened.

And you still wonder how such a perfect man fell into your lap? Your bruised up, pain-loving boyfriend, breaking his soft persona and showing you a glimpse of something that feels….unnervingly beautiful to you.

Unsure, almost, you feel. As happy as you are that he lied to you, you try to not think of how Jake found your ex with nothing more than an out-of-context description of your abuse. You try not to think of the way he looked away from you when you mentioned the items in your apartment that went missing.

You try not to think about how close he lives to you, and how he always managed to show up when you couldn’t hang out.

How all of his interests matched your own, up until he never spoke about them again when he started staying with you.

How he only looks at you, how he only talks to you, and about you.

How he always knew what to say to you.

You try not to think about how you saw him toss his own laundry into your washer many nights ago, seeing a glimpse of what you thought could have been a pair of your own missing panties. Or how he always accidentally picked up your toothbrush rather than his own in the mornings.

You push those thoughts far into the back of your mind, knowing that you were just being paranoid, grasping to not trust a single person in this world as you fall into this life with him. Even if all of those instances were with purpose on his end, you know you’d simply accept them as normal. You’d accept him, you wouldn’t think twice.

Jake is your only safety. He would never do anything to harm you, he’s proved that.

You hold his head tighter against your chest, breathing out a sigh and accepting everything at face value, pushing back the slight doubt in your head that everything he has done for you, to you, and with you, isn’t normal.

“Did you tell him already?” You sigh out in a calmer tone, soothing him with your fingers in his hair. “That you’d kill him? Is that really why you had that bruise?”

Jake stiffens under your grasp briefly.

“What do you m–” He starts.

“I won’t ask how,” You cut him off. “But thank you.”

He relaxes, thumbs now rubbing hearts into your skin, stomach bubbling in butterflies.

“I did.” He now admits reluctantly, feeling dangerously close to a truth you don’t need to see or know about. “I couldn’t just let another person think that you still belong to them.”

You pause, then nuzzle closer to him.

“I knew from the first time I saw you that I wouldn’t let anyone else touch you.” He continues, spilling and spilling. “I knew that you’d be mine.”

You try not to think too hard about it, asking out gently and instead choosing to just love him harder.

“When was the first time you saw me?”

Jake goes silent and tries to read the air in the room, sensing how relaxed you are against him.

“Eighteenth of October at the supermarket. We both made spaghetti for dinner that night.” He lies, never intending to admit that the first time he saw you was through your window. Never admitting that he actually already knew you by that eighteenth of October. That he followed you to the market.

He says it so confidently, and the fact that he’s right about what you cooked should scare you. The fact that you must have seen him that day too should make you feel unnerved.

You choose to ignore that too.

“Was your spaghetti good?” You ask, allowing yourself to spiral into the safety that he offers you. The image of your bruised ex boyfriend bringing joy to you, the idea of Jake keeping his promises making your stomach tingle with even brighter joy.

“No.” He admits with a chuckle. “Yours was probably better.”

“You really would kill him, wouldn’t you?”

Jake nods.

You trust him.

He’s not lying.

He would never lie to you.

Him knowing what you cooked that night is a coincidence. Him remembering the date and month is just him being mindful. Your lost panties must have gotten tangled in his laundry, surely. He found your ex because you probably let sensitive information slip without realizing it.

He met your mother and uncle by coincidence.

He’s the perfect man by chance, and you’re lucky to have him.

“I love you, you know.” You say, feeling him immediately shift away from your chest to look at you.

The look in his eye when he’s immediately getting on top of you, it’s still as if he’s about to wisp away with you in his arms to another realm. You’ve already been there before, and your body warms at the thought.

“What did you say?” He asks, voice shaking and somewhat far away from your own dissociated reality.

“I love you.” You say again, watching his lips quiver, and feeling his hands squeeze you.

He did it. He’s won.

And at the end of the day, you don’t think Jake could ever lose. After all, you’ve never felt so safe in a grasp as tight as this one, as painful as this one. You’ve never wanted a man to leave his fingerprints on you so bad.

As you look at him, seeing him lose himself from reality, you follow suit. Losing yourself with him, feeling that painful grasp on you turn into begging hands. Swelling him under your palms, soothing his stinging skin with your lips, listening to him encourage you, knowing that if your ex ever tried to step into this room, he wouldn’t make it out alive.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

oh, the horrors, amirite?

this is the last of the fic. there is not a part three.

taglist: @skzenhalove , @taetaemylovie, @soocult, @nyanggk, @grilledbananas, @dneltrise, @becc09, @nielle002, @sjyfolder, @sd211, @moonmoongi, @sweetiewolfie, @ksnooppy, @woongkification, @laxatives4hre, @hiddensideofmoon, @mywaaw, @beomstarz, @multifandombtvh, @heeverseblog, @floclover, @elliesuh, @iloveleeknow, @crazydelulu, @dasa3040, @sluttyhee, @bethroedtojae, @cherryunie, @hiamlili, @seojunandsoju, @parksunghoonsgf, @jungwon-xo, @fxiryeon, @jwnghyuns, @juliesblogs

#enhypen smut #jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #jaeyun smut

2K notes · View notes

doctorbitchcrxft · 2 months

Text

Hook Man | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mentions of religious trauma/parental abuse

Word Count: 4869

A/N: Guys. We hit a bit of a milestone earlier in the week. Just wanted to say in celebration that I am so beyond grateful for all of your love and support. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it! Giving big big kisses to all of you!!! Taglist is open!!

Edit: Hey.... I suck I forgot to add the taglist when I published. So sorry!!! fixed now!!!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You and Dean were sat at an outdoor cafe; coffee cups in hand. He was clacking away at his laptop while you wrote in your journal. You wrote your excerpt on the shapeshifter next to a drawing of Dean’s necklace.

“Is that…?” Dean asked, pointing to your journal.

You nodded.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” he said.

“No offense, lovebug, but you don’t know much of anything about me,” you retorted.

He scoffed. “Will you take the compliment and be quiet?”

“I didn’t hear a compliment,” you giggled. “Well, maybe in ‘Dean Winchester Land’ it was a compliment.”

“Oh, shut up,” he responded playfully.

Sam hung up the payphone he was standing in and came back over to your table.

“Your, uh, half-caf, double vanilla latte is gettin’ cold over here, Francis,” Dean jabbed at his brother.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” you told him.

“So, anything?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam huffed. “I had ‘em check the FBI’s Missing Persons Data Bank. No John Does fitting Dad’s description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations.”

“Sam, I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t think Dad wants to be found.”

Sam looked disappointed.

“Check this out.” Dean turned his laptop around to you and Sam. “It’s a news item out of Planes Courier. Ankeny, Iowa. It’s only about a hundred miles from here.”

“Thank god, a short trip,” you sighed.

“ ‘The mutilated body was found near the victim’s car, parked on 9 Mile Road,’ “ Sam read from the article.

“Keep reading.” Dean nodded at his laptop.

“ ‘Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible.’ “

That last line caught your attention. “Could be something interesting.”

“Or it could be nothing at all,” Sam protested. “One freaked out witness who didn’t see anything? Doesn’t mean it’s the Invisible Man.”

“But what if it is? Dad would check it out,” Dean responded.

***

The one hundred mile drive concluded with the boys dropping you off at a sorority house.

“Remind me why I have to play barbies for the week again?” you asked.

“Because this is Lori Sorensen’s sorority house; the witness from the killing,” Sam replied.

“Great,” you mumbled.

“Have fun making s’mores and singing campfire songs,” Dean remarked.

“Bite me,” you snarked. “You’re going to a frat, though, Steve McQueen, so I wouldn’t be so cocky.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” he grumbled.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” you said and shouldered your duffel bag. You bid them goodbye and reluctantly marched up to the door of the sorority house.

A girl with long, dark curls opened the door. “Hi,” she said. “Can I… help you?”

“Yeah, I’m (Y/N),” you explained. “I’m your sorority sister from Ohio State. Do you guys have an extra bed I could sleep in? I just transferred here.”

“Sure,” she grinned. “I’m Taylor, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.”

She led you inside and introduced you to Lori Sorensen. She was a sweet girl; very naive and a little stuck-up. Taylor seemed a little more like a party girl, but still relatively tame. You decided you could gel with these girls for the time being.

They told you they were headed to Sunday service at Lori’s father’s church and invited you to go with them. You obliged.

In the middle of the introductory rites, you heard the heavy church door slam shut. Your head swiveled to find Sam and Dean frozen and looking guilty. You scoffed amusedly and rolled your eyes, turning your attention forward for the rest of the service.

Taylor invited you and Lori out to a party after the service, but Lori said she couldn’t. Her father had dinner with her every Sunday since her mother passed away. She and Taylor hugged and Taylor bid you goodbye before heading off.

Sam and Dean came over to you and Lori.

“Guys!” you said excitedly. “Sam, Dean, this is Lori.” You introduced her to them. “They’re my friends from Ohio. They transferred with me.”

“I saw you inside,” she told them.

“We don’t wanna bother you. We just heard about what happened and…”

Dean cut his brother off. “We wanted to say how sorry we were.”

You knew where this was going; he was cruising for another hookup.

“I kind of know what you’re going through,” Sam broke back in. “I-I saw someone..get hurt once. It’s something you don’t forget.”

Lori nodded slightly. Just then, her father came up to your group.

“Dad, um, this is Sam, Dean, and (Y/N). They’re new students.”

Dean shook the reverend’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon.”

“Thank you very much,” he smiled. “It’s so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied and began leading him away from Sam and Lori. “Actually, we’re looking for a new church group…”

***

Later that day, you and the boys were sitting together in the local library. Sam relayed to you what Lori had told him about the passing of the guy she was with.

“So, you believe her?” Dean asked him.

“I do,” he nodded.

“Yeah, I think she’s hot, too.” Dean smirked at him.

“You think almost everything with a vagina and legs is hot, Dean,” you remarked.

“Not you,” he jabbed back, still smirking.

You clutched a hand to your chest. “I’m hurt, you dick.”

He rolled his eyes at you.

“Can we focus, please?” Sam broke in. “There’s something in her eyes. And listen to this: she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car.”

“Wait, the body suspended? That sounds like the—”

Sam cut you off. “Yeah, I know, the Hook Man legend.”

“That’s one of the most famous urban legends ever,” Dean added. “You don’t think that we’re dealing with the Hook Man.”

“Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began,” said Sam.

“Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?”

“Well, maybe the Hook Man isn’t a man at all. What if it’s some kind of spirit?”

You had the librarian bring over boxes of arrest records. The three of you poured through pages upon pages for hours.

“Hey, check this out. 1862,” Sam said finally. “A preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes. Uh, right here, ‘some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh.’ “

“Get this, the murder weapon?” Dean was looking at another page. “Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. Had it replaced with a silver hook.”

You pointed to a page in Sam’s book. “Look where all this happened. Nine Mile Road.”

“Same place where the frat boy was killed,” Sam chimed in.

“Nice job, Dr. Venkamen and Annie Potts. Let’s check it out,” the older brother quipped.

The three of you headed to Nine Mile Road. Dean parked off the road in a clearing in the woods. He popped the trunk and handed Sam a shotgun. “Here you go.”

“If it is a spirit, buckshot won’t do much good,” Sam said.

“Yeah, rock salt. It won’t kill ‘em. But it’ll slow ‘em down.” Dean led the three of you through the clearing.

“That’s pretty good. You and Dad think of this?”

“I told you. You don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius.”

“Cool it, Winchester. You and your daddy aren’t the first people to think of rock salt bullets.” You loaded your own gun with shells of your own.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“They’re a bitch to roll,” you said.

“Oh, one hundred percent,” he remarked.

You suddenly heard rustling in the bushes.

“Over there,” you whispered to Sam. The two of you aimed your guns and cocked it.

The “ghost” came out from behind the trees. A sheriff.

‘Dammit.’

“Put the gun down now!” he yelled. “Now! Put your hands behind your head.”

“Wait, wait, okay!” Dean told him.

You immediately dropped your gun and put your hands up.

“Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!”

You three obeyed.

“Now get down on your bellies,” he commanded. “Come on, do it!”

“Are you just on a power trip or something? ‘Cause— ah!” you were cut off by a sharp kick to the shin from Sam.

The sheriff brought the three of you into the station. It was early the next morning by the time you were able to leave.

“Saved your asses!” Dean jeered. “Talked the sheriff down to a fine. I am Matlock.”

“How was it that you were left in charge of talking him down?” You raised a brow at him. “And how in the fuck did you do it?”

“Sweetheart, this may surprise you, but I’m good at my job. And I told him Sam was a dumbass pledge, you were his girlfriend we’d dragged along, and we were hazing you.”

You and Sam both recoiled at the idea of dating each other.

“First of all, ew,” you started, “No offense, Sam.”

“None taken.”

“But what about the shotguns?”

“I said that you were hunting ghosts and the spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know, typical Hell Week prank.”

“And he believed you?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, Sam looks like a dumbass pledge.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You stuck your tongue out at Sam.

Moments later, several officers ran out of the building to their cruisers. Barely needing to share a look with the boys, you hurried into the car and sped away to follow them.

You could see Lori wrapped in a disposable blanket in front of the sorority house you were staying in. You weren’t exactly sure what was going on, but you had no doubt that it was another murder. The stretcher carrying a body bag rolling out of the front door affirmed that thought seconds later.

Dean parked the Impala around the back of the house.

“Why would the Hook Man come here?” Sam asked as the three of you crept around the building. “This is a long way from Nine Mile Road.”

“Maybe he’s not haunting the scene of his crime. Maybe it’s about something else,” Dean suggested.

You pulled his arm back seconds later to avoid being seen by your “sorority sisters.” You used the fact that you had now pretty much pulled yourself in front of him to allow you to lead the way up to the second floor.

While Dean made a stupid joke about a naked pillow fight, Sam was busy giving you a boost before climbing up himself. You looked back down at the ground to see Dean struggling to find his footing.

“Need help?” you smirked.

“No,” he grumbled.

“I think you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

You waited patiently, leaning your head in your hands on the railing of the balcony and smiling down at him. He struggled for a few more moments before he conceded. All he did was open and close his hand he was extending upwards, similar to a toddler asking to be picked up.

“What’s the magic word?” you sing-songed.

“Come on!” he hissed. “Please?”

“There we go,” you smiled. You dug your heels into the ground and pulled him up.

You then realized the window you were entering was the one in Lori and Taylor’s closet. You hoped to god in that moment that Taylor wasn’t the one dead.

Your fears were realized, however, when you entered Lori and Taylor’s room to find the words “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?” crudely etched into the wall above Taylor’s blood soaked bed. You didn’t exactly get attached to people on hunts, but seeing good people die was never easy for you. It didn’t get easier. Your dad would call you soft, but you always liked to look at your compassion as a strength.

“ ‘Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?’ That’s right out of the legend,” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, that’s classic Hook Man all right.” Dean tapped his nose as he spoke. “It’s definitely a spirit.”

“Yeah, I’ve never smelled ozone this strong before,” Sam muttered.

“(Y/N), you okay?” Dean asked you.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah. Fine. It’s just… look at this symbol.” You were referencing the one beneath the writing. “Does that look familiar to you?”

Your head jerked toward the sound of footsteps approaching. You quickly shooed Sam and Dean back into the closet and out of the house. Thankfully, you made it back to the car without being seen. You pulled the copy you’d made at the library of one of the pages on Jacob Karns out of the backseat. That was where you had seen the cross symbol; on Karns’s hook.

You showed it to the boys. “Told ya.”

“Alright, let’s find the dude’s grave, salt and burn the bones, and put him down,” Dean said.

Sam took the page from your hand. “ ‘After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery. In an unmarked grave.’ “ He flicked the page with his finger, looking aggravated; as were you and Dean.

“Super,” the older brother muttered.

“Ok. So we know it’s Jacob Karns. But we still don’t know where he’ll manifest next. Or why,” Sam pointed out.

“I could just be spitballing here, but Lori definitely has something to do with it,” you said, looking up at the sorority house.

***

You managed to get into a party at the fraternity house Sam and Dean were staying in later that night. Dean had been busy mingling with thin college girls dressed in mini skirts while Sam stuck to the outside wall. You bounced around from talking to Sam and hustling some of the drunk frat guys in multiple rounds of pool.

The three of you reunited around the pool table you’d been dominating that night.

“Man, you’ve been holding out on me,” Dean told Sam. “This college thing is awesome!” He smiled and winked at a passing girl.

Sam looked intensely uncomfortable. “This wasn’t really my experience.”

“Let me guess. Libraries, studying, straight A’s?”

Sam nodded. You chortled.

“What a geek. Alright, you do your homework?”

“Yeah. It was bugging me, right? So how is the Hook Man tied up with Lori? So I think I came up with something.” Sam unfolded a piece of paper.

“1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage,” Dean read.

Your eyebrows knitted together.

“There’s a pattern here,” Sam explained. “In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out— get this— with a sharp instrument.”

“What’s the connection to Lori?” Dean asked.

“Her dad. Man of religion who openly preaches against immorality,” you pointed out. “Maybe this time, though, instead of saving the whole town, he’s just trying to save his kid.”

“Reverend Sorensen,” Dean tsked. “You think he’s summoning the spirit?”

“Maybe it’s like when a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place,” you suggested.

“Yeah, the spirit latches onto the reverend’s repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay.”

“Without the reverend ever even knowing it,” Sam chimed in.

“Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight,” Dean told his brother.

“What about you?”

Dean looked over to the opposite side of the pool table where the blonde you’d been playing with smiled at him. He reluctantly said, “(Y/N) and I are gonna go see if we can find that unmarked grave.”

“We are? I wanted to play more eight-ball,” you told him.

He looked back over at the blonde, back at you, and shook his head in disappointment. “C’mon. I’m not happy about it either.”

***

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go back?” you asked Dean as the two of you trudged through the Old North Cemetery. You were holding shovels and flashlights searching for the grave of Jacob Karns.

He shot you a look.

“I know, I know, I’m kidding,” you laughed. “But seriously. Now that we’re… acquaintances, we should go out to a bar sometime. Preferably one with a pool table.”

“That’d be cool, actually,” he said, smirking at you. “You’re pretty good.”

“What, at pool?”

He nodded. “I could probably still kick your ass, though.”

“You’re on, pretty boy.”

He stopped and turned to you. “Don’t objectify me.”

“What?” you asked, stopping next to him. “You know you’re gorgeous. You frequently use it to your advantage.” You marched on.

You smiled when you heard him mutter, “You are so confusing, woman.”

You walked for a few more minutes before your flashlight landed on a grave marked with that cross symbol from Taylor’s room. “Jackpot.”

You and Dean set to work exhuming Jacob’s corpse. Your back and shoulders ached more and more the deeper you dug. “How fucking far down is six feet?” you remarked breathlessly.

“I don’t know, but next time, I get to watch the cute girl’s house,” he replied.

“Aw, you don’t wanna spend quality time with this cute girl?” you asked playfully.

He eyed you strangely with a lopsided smile.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing. You’re just funny,” he told you.

You smiled back and got back to digging. Your shovel finally hit the wooden box lying below. You broke through it to reveal his corpse. Or at least, what remained of it.

“Hello, preacher,” Dean said. He threw his shovel aside and helped you out of the hole you had dug. After he had climbed out, you poured salt and lighter fluid all over the bones.

“Goodbye, preacher.” Dean threw a match down into the grave.

Your nose twisted up in disgust. “I will never get used to that smell.”

“What, burnt, hundred-year-old preacher? Me neither.”

You and Dean packed up and headed back to the car that was parked in the cemetery’s parking lot. Your body was exhausted.

“Um, weird question,” you started.

He turned to you and threw his shovel and duffel bag in the trunk.

“You think we could sleep in your car for a bit? I’m running on two days of no sleep.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It should all be over now and Sam should be layin’ it down with Lori.”

And so, you did. You stretched out over the backseat, and Dean laid down on the front. A few moments of silence passed between the two of you, and strangely, you no longer felt tired. You supposed it was the strangeness of the situation. You were now sharing a somewhat intimate moment with a man you despised just weeks prior. You weren’t quite sure where your relationship with Dean was heading, and that bothered you a bit.

“Dean?”

“Hm.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

***

Four hours of shut-eye later, you felt recharged. You awoke to the sound of Dean’s phone vibrating over which Sam told you to meet him at a hospital.

“Hospital? Why? Is he okay?” you asked Dean, climbing over the front seat to sit shotgun.

“I think so, but he said the reverend’s hurt.”

About fifteen minutes later, you were walking down a long corridor only to be stopped by two cops in wide-brimmed hats.

The sheriffs put a hand to Dean’s chest to stop him.

“No, it’s alright, we’re with him. He’s my brother,” he explained. “Hey! Brother!” he called, waving dorkishly at Sam.

“Let them through.”

“Thanks.”

You and Dean began walking toward Sam, who met you in the middle.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” sighed Sam.

“What the hell happened?”

“Hook Man.”

You looked incredulous. “You saw him?”

“Damn right. Why didn’t you torch the bones?” Sam responded.

“We did,” you rebutted, confused. “You sure it’s the spirit of Jacob Karns?”

“It sure as hell looked like him,” Sam returned. “And that’s not all. I don’t think the spirit is latching on to the reverend.”

“Well, duh, he wouldn’t send Hook Man after himself,” you remarked.

“I think it’s latching onto Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman.” He whispered that last part.

“Damn.” You gritted your teeth. “I could see how that could upset her.”

Sam nodded. “She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished.”

“Ok, so she’s conflicted,” Dean chimed in. “And the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching on to repress the emotions and maybe he’s doing the punishing for her, huh?”

“Right,” the younger brother nodded. “Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl, Dad has an affair.”

“Remind me not to piss this girl off,” Dean muttered. “But we burned those bones, buried them in salt, why didn’t that stop him?”

“We must’ve missed something,” you said.

“No, we burned everything in that coffin.”

“Did you get the hook?” Sam asked the two of you.

Realization struck you. “Fuck,” you grumbled. “No.”

“Why does that matter?” Dean asked.

“Well, it was the murder weapon, and in a way, it was part of him,” Sam told him.

“So, like the bones, the hook is a source of his power.”

“So if we find the hook—”

The three of you finished Sam’s sentence in unison, grinning. “We stop the Hook Man.”

“Well, back to the drawing board,” you said as the three of you began walking away from the reverend’s hospital room.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“Do you know where the hook is?” you raised your eyebrows at him.

He said nothing.

“Exactly,” you giggled.

***

Your next stop was the library for the second time this hunt. As much as you liked to read, obnoxious amounts of research was not your thing. Finally, you thought you’d found something. “Log book, Iowa State Penitentiary. ‘Karns, Jacob. Personal effects: disposition thereof.’ “

“Does it mention the hook?” Sam asked you.

“I don’t know. ‘Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner’s house of worship, St. Barnabas Church,’ “ you read aloud. “That’s where Lori’s dad preaches.”

“Where Lori lives, too?” Sam asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

“Maybe that’s why the Hook Man has been haunting reverends and reverends’ daughters for the past two hundred years,” Dean added.

“Yeah, but I think someone would’ve noticed a blood-stained, silver-handled hook hangin’ around the church or Lori’s house.”

Dean pulled out another book and slapped it down in front of you. “Check the church records.”

Sam pulled the book to sit between the two of you. You and he flipped through pages upon pages of records before he found something. “ ‘St. Barnabas donations, 1862. Received silver-handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged.’ “ He sighed. “They melted it down. Made it into something else.”

“Goddammit,” you grumbled.

Later that night, you and the boys returned to St. Barnabas Church. Dean shouldered a duffel bag and began leading you to the church. Sam followed close behind.

“Alright, we can’t take any chances,” the older brother began. “Anything silver goes in the fire.”

“I agree. So, Lori’s still at the hospital. We’ll have to break in,” Sam added.

“Okay, take your pick,” you told him.

“I’ll take the house,” Sam responded.

“Dean and I will take the church, then.”

“We will?” the older brother asked.

“Yup.”

You led Dean up to the church. He called back to his brother. “Hey. Stay out of her underwear drawer.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice and giggled.

You took the top floor of the church while Dean scoured the basement. The two of you, along with Sam, met up in the furnace room.

“I got everything that even looked silver,” Sam told you.

“Better safe than sorry,” Dean said.

Your head turned upward at the sound of footsteps. You could hear Dean taking his gun from his jacket as you grabbed yours.

“Move, move,” Dean told you quietly.

You crept up the stairs as quietly as possible. When you got back to the ground floor, you could see Lori hunched over, her shoulders shaking. You lowered your gun and lightly pushed Sam forward. He shot you a look, but headed over to Lori anyway. You and Dean went back downstairs to continue melting the silver.

“I feel for her,” you said quietly. “I know how much religion can fuck you up.” Silver clanked against the coals in the furnace as you spoke.

Dean turned his head to you. “You do?”

You nodded. “I’ve watched so many people go through crisis after crisis when their loved ones end up dead.”

“Me too,” he said earnestly. “Probably why I don’t pray.”

“Well, it’s a little difficult to believe in a higher power when all day, everyday is blood, guts, and monsters,” you remarked.

He chuckled. “Yeah. I don’t know if I’ve met one religious hunter.”

“I have,” you said. “My mom.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She was somehow still convinced of ‘God’s plan.’ “

“Catholic?”

“Oh, very.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied playfully.

“Yeah, me too,” you smiled. “My dad wasn’t, but, uh, he had his… other issues.”

Before he could ask further questions, you heard commotion upstairs. It sounded like running heading toward the opposite side of the basement.

“C’mon,” Dean urged, sprinting out of the furnace room with his gun in hand. You followed closely behind. You could hear the breaking of boards and slamming of what you assumed were bodies that practically shook the walls that got louder as you got closer. Sam was maneuvering himself behind the Hook Man’s clunkily-moving apparition.

Dean gruffly called to his brother, “Sam, drop!”

His brother obeyed and Dean shot the Hook Man, who disappeared.

“I thought we got all the silver,” you said.

“So did I,” the older brother answered.

“Then why is he still here?” Sam’s voice was frantic.

“Well, maybe we missed something!”

You looked around and noticed Lori’s cross necklace. “Lori, where did you get that chain?”

“My father gave it to me,” she responded nervously.

“Where’d your dad get it?” Sam asked.

“He said it was a church heirloom,” she answered quickly. “He gave it to me when I started school.”

“Is it silver?!”

“Yes!”

Sam ripped the chain off her and threw it to you. You caught it with ease and went to start running back down the hall when the invisible Hook Man started dragging his hook along the wall.

You threw Sam your gun and started running down another corridor you hoped would bring you to the same destination. You could vaguely hear Dean say to his brother, “I’ll cover (Y/N), shoot anything that moves!” before you heard approaching quick footsteps behind you.

You sprinted down winding hallways and thankfully quickly made it to the furnace room. You threw the necklace into the fire and watched as it slowly began to melt. “C’mon, c’mon,” you muttered anxiously. It took longer than you would’ve liked, but the cross broke off the necklace and burned into ash. As soon as it did, you and Dean ran back to the latter’s brother to make sure the ghost was gone. Thankfully, he had, but Sam seemed injured. He was clutching his left shoulder and wincing.

You called the police to the scene and urged them to send an ambulance. They arrived in no time, and Sam was able to get his injury patched up.

“And you saw him, too?” A sheriff was asking you and writing in a notepad. “The man with the hook?”

“Yeah, we all saw him,” you responded. “We fought him off and then he ran.”

“And that’s all?” The sheriff was skeptical.

“Yes, sir.”

“Listen. You and those two boys—”

Dean came up behind you and answered for you. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re leaving town.”

You laughed at his response. Sam and Lori talking near the ambulance caught your eye. You continued watching them in the rearview mirror once you’d gotten in the backseat of the car. Sam soon left Lori, who looked after him sadly, and stooped down into the car.

“We could stay,” Dean suggested.

You could tell Sam wanted to, but he shook his head. A deflated air had settled over the car, but you knew the younger Winchester wasn’t ready for anything yet. He’d been dating Jessica for a year and a half and had just lost her less than four months ago. You knew he needed more time. The best way you knew to comfort him was to wrap your hands around his shoulders gently, minding his injury, from your place in the backseat. He tensed for a moment, but allowed you to hug him nonetheless. He responded by holding your arm with his good hand. And for a moment, if you closed your eyes, it was almost like hugging Steven again.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernaturals series rewrite #spn series rewrite

249 notes · View notes

witchthewriter · 1 year

Photo

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warnings: mentions of characters’ trauma, minor spoilers??? I’ll try and keep them limited

a/n: I’ll try to stay as spoiler free as possible! I loved season 2, some bits were a kinda touch and go, but overall I think they made it really interesting. Also I’m not including Wylan, sorry! I love him but ... I just don’t wanna add him...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲: Going along with a plan that Kaz had created, your role was to help the Crows on an extremely difficult heist. But your job somehow ended up being linked with your crush; the very crow that makes your heart flutter. Your persona is their new wife/husband, who has a “rich father”. Meaning that you have to stay in a nearby hotel as a couple on their honeymoon.

𝐊𝐚𝐳

・His faked joyful smile dropped once the bellboy left the room

・Watching him, you saw his calculated movements - the way he rested his cane against the desk, and took two steps to sit down on the bed

・His gloves stayed on as he said, “I’m sorry there’s one bed. Too suspicious otherwise.” Kaz’s tone was even, but it hitched on the word ‘suspicious’.

・You knew Kaz hated physical contact, hells, he hated when someone stood too close

・In that moment, you didn’t know how to respond, surely Kaz, Bastard of the Barrel, wasn’t going to sleep on the floor. The absence of a couch was obvious, and you knew he had to sleep somewhere comfortable because of his leg

“Kaz, I can take the floor. I know physical contact isn’t an easy thing for yo-”

“No, I’m fine.” He cut you off, a sharp look in his eye. You could see that his mind was somewhere else. Somewhere dark.

・The night was awkward to start off with, like two magnets being pulled and pushed apart

・But then you asked about the plan - getting all the details. Well, what you thought were all the details.

・He loosened up when he was able to talk about logical subjects

・Once you realised that, the atmosphere started to ease and you could see Kaz start to relax ... (his version of relaxing)

・With each hour a piece of Kaz’s clothing was taken off. His jacket, his shoes. As if he was slowly getting ready for bed.

・There was always something heavy in the air though, like something was unspoken. It hung like grey clouds, ready to let rain fall

・But time ticked by, and eyes began to feel heavy

・At first you both laid down and kept a pillow between you, but then there was hardly any room to move.

・So you came up with the idea that you could sleep the other way. Instead of your heads at the top of the bed, they now rested on the sides. It meant your feet were dangling off the side, but it gave you and Kaz a lot of room.

“Do not tell anyone about this.”

“Kaz...you know I wouldn’t.”

・His voice was low when he said: “I know.”

・In the morning, when you awoke, Kaz was already awake. Already planning.

“I got you some breakfast.”

𝐈𝐧𝐞𝐣

・It was you who said you would sleep elsewhere.

・You were so close to falling in love with Inej, and she had no clue. The sore joke was that she felt the exact same. And neither of you thought the other even cared.

“It would be too obvious if we weren’t sleeping in the same bed. I have a feeling they’re already suspicious of something.”

・Even if that wasn’t the truth, you didn’t care. When was an opportunity like this going to arise?

・Kaz didn’t need either of you tonight, so you were both able to unwind. But past experiences meant neither of you could fully do so unless you were in your trusted homes.

・The room was quite spacious; painted white and pale blue, it felt completely different to hotels in Ketterdam (which were dark, dingy and usually had a weird smell.)

・This one had a balcony that overlooked the famous lake that ran through the clean city

・The bathroom matched the colours of the rest of the room, with a rectangular window that let in the morning light but was high enough that no one would be able to see in.

・It was a gorgeous room; airy, light and inviting. Exacly what you thought a summer holiday would be

“Nina would absolutely love this,” you called from the lounging room. Where stacks of books, games and other various entertaining devices lay.

“I almost feel bad...” Inej trailed off, appearing right behind you (scaring the sh*t out of you).

・There was a wordless conversation between the two of you, where you hinted at sleeping on the lounge. But Inej shook her head.

・Too suspicious. What if they walk in?

・You were glad she was okay with it

・And when the night was late, and you couldn’t stop yawning, Inej laughed and motioned toward the bed

“You don’t snore do you?” You asked, with a wry grin. You knew the Wraith didn’t snore. She barely made a sound during her waking hours.

“Of course I do-” she replied, catching onto the irony

・When you were in bed, Inej faced outward, but for some reason you decided to grasp onto this opportunity

“Inej, why are you a Crow?”

・From then on you kept talking. Face to face, her brown eyes capturing yours.

・You both spoke low, as if someone was trying to hear

・Neither of you wanted to stop talking, or to stop asking the next question. Like either of your lives depended on it, you kept trying to know more.

・It wasn’t until Inej stifled a large yawn that you both decided sleep was needed

・And the next morning, you found yourself in the same position - facing Inej, and she hadn’t moved either. But your hands must have drifted in the night, because they had clasped together

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐬

・Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to have the bed. And without a couch in the room, he offers to sleep on the floor - far away from you to be as respectful as possible.

“Don’t be stupid,” you retort, flinging yourself on the bed. You pat the space next to you and he blushes. Deeply.

・The giant of a man moved the bags out of the way and flared his nostrils

“Have we not established a relationship based on trust, dear Helvar?”

・He rolled his eyes at you. An occurance that happened all too often.

・But you knew him. More than he thought you did, however, you were always still blown away by his gentle ways. There wasn’t a time when he didn’t open a door for you, or helped you up or down from high places. But his kindness didn’t stop there

・He always stood in front of you whenever there was danger.

・And made sure you were never left alone in dangerous situations.

・If someone tried anything with you, Matthias was there to step in.

・Jesper started calling him your bodyguard

・And although all these things happen, you still didn’t think Matthias was attracted to you.

・You were never the traditional beauty. So you didn’t think someone like Matthias, who was this godlike man, would ever be interested in you

・And the fact that you were his pretend wife/husband, created endless flutters in your stomach. A feeling that was foreign, until you met Matthias.

“Are you hungry?” Matthias asked, dropping to unzip something from his bag.

“Oh no no, I’m okay-”

“I could hear your stomach rumbling from here.” Matthias grinned, and passed you some dried jerky that he bought from a vendor hours before

・He was always doing things like that. Thinking of you and what you might need...or want.

・You couldn’t help but blush. Even though you tried to keep up your jaunty attitude, you ... couldn’t

・And when he sat on the end of the bed, nibbling on his piece of jerky, and asking about you, your heart was beaming

・After an hour, Matthias still hadn’t moved and you realised you had to tell him what was okay.

“Move up here,” once again you patted the space next to you.

・You had wriggled underneath the blanket and watched Matthias take of his shoes and get into bed

・Your heart was in your throat. A thumping, fluttering mess.

・You started up the conversation, as he turned over to face you

・When your eyes began to droop, and Matthias started mumbling when he spoke, you two fell asleep in the King sized bed.

・You thought you were the first to wake, but you could hear the change in Matthias’ breathing

・However, you tried not to move as well. His strong arms had moved you onto his chest, and there you lay. Your head exactly where his heart was.

・At times you could feel him rub your back and those goddamn tingles never left your body

𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫

・You already know this cheeky motherf*cker is grinning like a chesire cat

“I guess even fate wants us together...”

“If by ‘fate’ you mean Kaz, and by ‘wants us together’ you mean doing our job. Then yeah Jesper, that’s exactly what’s happening.”

・Your exterior was hard, but inside you were melting. Ever since meeting Jesper your insides melted whenever he was near.

・Inside the room, you turned to put your weapons on the bedside table. Twin daggers, your personalised gun, a small knife you always kept in your boot (you put that one underneath your pillow) and small hatchet that you usually kept on your back.

“There’s something quite comedic about this-” Jesper said, with his legs up on the bed, boots gleaming, and his arms around his head.

“If you don’t take your goddamn shoes off the bed-” you countered, with a small fury.

“Ooh, yes boss,” Jesper complied with a grin.

・It was a battle, trying to keep that stupid smile off your face. Somehow Jesper was always able to bring it out

・You didn’t have ocd, but you did have problems with outside clothes coming into contact with inside items. Jesper was used to the Ketterdam life, so keeping things clean was always difficult.

・The room was cosy, and a fire was lit. A steady flame burned while you and Jesper talked about your next actions.

・But somehow the conversation took a turn and you were talking about yourselves, your backgrounds and lives.

・Time flew by as you spoke, and soon night turned into day.

・The once roaring fire had dwindled into ashes and it wasn’t until Jesper yawned that you realised.

・You were going to shout obscenities but there was a knock at the door

“Did we just...?”

“Yeah! Sh*t, Fuc-”

“Wake up call!”

𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐚

・She gave a hearty laugh before looking at you with a sly grin. But her attention was grabbed by the food menu

“Ooh, I hope they have waffles...”

・Completely unbothered by having to share a bed with you

・Behind her bravado is a heart that has been captured by you. She’s just very good at hiding it.

・You, on the other hand, are a bit more quiet. Well, anyone is quiet compared to Nina (with the exception of Jesper).

・So you are a bit hesitant when it comes to showing emotions. Especially since you’re afraid of seeming weird. Growing up, you had heard that word to describe you many times

“We don’t have to share a bed, it’s okay if you don’t want to,” Nina says after a heavy silence. Her eyes flick toward you, a half grin appearing on her face. It was almost ... sad?

・You shake your head, “no no, it’s fine.” Inside you are DYING. Nina?? Sad??? You would burn the world to the ground before you made her sad.

・Perking up (slightly, as she’s never truly sad), Nina moves through the room, looking at all the objects and items. Scowling at the lack of entertainment.

“Really, Kaz could have picked a nicer place...”

・Pulling out a waffle that you had saved from breakfast earlier, you turned around and held it high in the air.

“I have saved thy favourite snack. Please take this as a token of my friendship,” you bowed slightly and waited for her reaction.

・Nina bowed low in response, a large grin on her pale face.

“I accept thy token, with immense gratitude.”

・But the act was quickly forgotten about as she squealed and ran over to you.

・ “I don’t know how well it’s going to taste...” You mumbled, showing the crumbled waffle.

・Nevertheless, you were now her favourite person.

・And the night was one you would always remember

・Like a sleepover with your best friend, you felt like you had known Nina since childhood

・The next morning, you were the first to wake.

・Tangled together Nina’s arms were firmly wrapped around you, snuggling her form closer to yours.

1K notes · View notes

tragedybunny · 8 months

Note

I love how you write astarion!! Would love to see you elaborate on that part in Sated where it mentions astarion has a hard time when he feels like tav is mad at him and what would happen with that <3

Hello Hello. Sorry this took a bit.

Treading With Grace - Astarion x GN!Reader

Even with the one he loves, Astarion has a lot of trauma to sort through.

You don’t even remember what exactly what you said, but you knew your tone had been short. The day had been long, like every other day lately, and you hadn’t meant to snap at him. Astarion went silent and turned away from you, whatever his next quip was dying on his tongue. Inwardly, you groaned, now you would have to deal with him being angry at you on top of everything else. Despite the feelings you had for each other, Astarion still had a short-temper he let get away from him at times.

“I’m going for a walk,” he declared, stalking off even though everyone else in camp was settling in for the night.

Watching after him, you debated following him, hurt and frustration rising at the seeming abandonment. All it had taken was a couple of cross words to get him to walk away. After a few seconds you sigh and take off after him, not willing to let him revel in his anger and maybe even wanting to argue with him if he was going to be like this. To your shock, you nearly stumble over him not far from camp. “Oh, hello,” he says, glancing up from where he was seated on the ground, voice forlorn, not at all what you had been prepared for. “Are you still mad at me?” The mask of charm and confidence and fallen awaycompletely and this Astarion seemed almost wary of your anger.

“I-,” you took a seat next to him on the ground. Hovering over him didn’t see like the best way to talk this through. “I’m sorry I sounded cross, I’m not mad at you. Is that why you left?”

When he looks up at you with watery eyes your heart stutters, you hadn’t realized how deep that moment of frustration would cut him, and he sighs. “You know, I don’t think you’ve actually lost your temper with me once. But I just, I can’t stand the idea.” Without interuptting, you shift closer, putting a hand over his where it rests on the ground. “Somone else’s anger doesn’t usually end with pleasant thins for me, and when it comes to us, well.” He follows it with a shrug.

It’s like he doesn’t want to say, to even give voice to the thought, but you understand the intention, you could just leave him. With anyone else, you might be insulted they could even think about you like that, but he’s known nothing else but this type of petty cruellty for so long. “I can’t promise to never get angry with you Astarion, but I promise I’ll never try to punish you for it though.”

He smiles ever so slightly, leaning a head on your shoulder. “Thank you Love, those words means so much to me.”

Although he tries desperately to hide it, you’re learning just how much gentleness Astartion needs, a well-spring of love and kindness to support him.You lean a cheek on his head and let the quiet moment between you two keep going a little longer. You make a second, silent promise, to take care with his feelings as much as you can, so he never again walks away doubting if you’ll want him to come back.

#Astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x gn reader #x reader #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #my fanfic #my writing

442 notes · View notes

daydreaming-nerd · 3 months

Text

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 2

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: My toxic trait is that I'll read Eris fanfic all day and swoon but the second I work on this series I tear him to absolute filth.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, trauma from under the mountain, alcohol, Eris' hounds

Word Count: 3,754

The next few days fly by faster than expected and before I know it, I’m walking from my room to the foyer of The House of Wind. I don’t miss my reflection in the passing windows. Once again I had been poked, prodded and primped to perfection. My dress hugged my every curve, not that Eris needed an excuse to use his imagination more than he already was.

I step into the foyer and find Cassian there with his back turned to me. He hears the clacking of my shoes on the marble floors and turns around, the familiar red glow of his siphons both easing the and aiding my rapid heartbeat.

“What do you think? Do I look ‘wall ornament-y’ enough?” I laugh trying to hide my pain.

“No you don’t, you look like a princess.” Cassian laughs but I can hear the hesitancy in his compliment.

“Thank you,” I smile, ducking my head. “Is it just you and I today?” I ask, looking for a sign of my brother or Azriel.

“Actually it’ll be just us from now on. Rhys has assigned me to take you back and forth from the Autumn Court for the duration of your courtship.” Cassian says with a hint of annoyance.

“Oh I’m sorry, that seems a little below your pay grade.” I mutter as my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Cassian was The Lord of Bloodshed, not some personal bodyguard of mine.

“Don’t be, I could use some easy work,” he assures me. “Ready?”

“I guess so,” I reply, walking over to him so he can pick me up. Within an instant we’re airborne and I try to hold on to the sense of freedom that flying gives me before I feel suffocated under Eris’ gaze.

The first few minutes of flying neither of us speak. I can hardly think of anything besides the way his arms feel around me, and I almost wish he had the power to winnow like Azriel did to keep my mind from wandering towards places it shouldn’t.

“I hope you know I didn’t mean what I said the other day. You know, about you being a wall ornament. I was just trying to see Eris squirm.” Cassian confessed and I can tell by the tone of his voice that the subject had been plaguing him for a while.

“Don’t worry I rather enjoyed his squirming,” I laugh recalling the way Eris’ jaw ticked from Cassian’s sarcasm.

“Then I’ll be sure to do it more often,” he said with that knee weakening smile.

It wasn’t long until we reached the Autumn Court and from where Cassian meant to touch down I could see Eris’ fiery hair waiting for me. The second my feet touched the ground Eris was reaching out for my hand.

“You look ravishing my dear,” he said, placing a kiss to the top of my hand.

“You as well prince Eris,” I smile as he loops his arm through mine, leading me up the front steps of the palace.

“I see you brought your bastard dog with you again,” Eris chided, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where Cassian followed us.

“Don’t worry he’s potty trained, I even taught him to sit and stay,” I quip back as Eris leads me through the doors. I glance back at Cassian to give him an apologetic expression.

Eris lets out a hearty chuckle and I think it’s the first time that I’ve heard him laugh, “My dear you do have quite the sharp mind,” he says.

I glance up at the ornate ceilings above the foyer,“This place is huge, how many rooms?” I ask Eris, trying to change the subject.

“More than I’ve ever bothered to try and count, perhaps you can count with me today? I had hoped to take you on a little tour,” Eris answers, leading me down the hall.

Thick, lush garnet colored fabric covers the floors as ornate gold detailing lines the walls. The flames from the many chandeliers cast a warm light through the hall, and the colors of the Autumn trees can be seen through all the multi paned windows. I wanted to love this place, I wanted it to feel like home. Maybe it would have if Eris wasn’t such a viper.

We spent at least an hour wandering the halls of the palace, Cassian never farther than twenty feet from us. I was surprised to see that the place was near empty. My mind began to wander, was the place vacant because few people lived here? Or was it vacant because even the staff fears Eris? I suppressed the shiver that went down my back as I tried to turn my mind to other matters.

“I have something I wish to show you,” Eris says as he leads me outside.

The brisk air fans my face offering a breath of fresh air that I so desperately needed. His grip on me tightened as we approached a familiar looking barn. It didn’t take me long to realize that it was the same barn he had shown me earlier this week, the one where he kept his hounds.

We walk in through the wooden door and I’m greeted with the sight of at least a dozen kennels of dogs, all of them barking so loud my ears nearly rang at the sound. All of them, white, black and brown. As we made our way toward the back of the barn my gaze locked on a much smaller kennel where a litter of puppies played.

“Oh prince Eris! They’re so cute!” I cried watching them wrestle around with one another.

“I thought you might like them,” he smirked, leaning down to pluck one from the litter, placing it into my arms. The little puppy wiggled around licking my face, earning a giggle from me.

“What’s this one's name?” I ask, holding the puppy close.

“That one won’t get a name,” he answers, watching me and the pup intently.

“Why not?” I inquire, puzzled as to why such a sweet thing wouldn’t have a name.

“Because she’s a female and we don’t keep the females. They cost more to feed and keep than their worth.” He explains, like it’s common knowledge.

“But then how do you breed more?” I ask, holding the puppy even closer to my chest upon hearing its fate.

“She’s our breeder, and she has been for a couple of years now,” Eris replies, pointing to a fearful looking dog in the back corner of the kennel. “She always bears the strongest and healthiest pups, and most of them are male which is always advantageous.”

My stomach drops at Eris’ words. “Then why do you keep the female puppies alive for so long?” I ask, not sure I really wanted to know the answer.

Eris takes the puppy from my hands and puts it back in the pen where it begins to play with the others, “Because if we kill them right after their birth the mother gets lethargic and she refuses to nurse the males. We lost a whole litter once doing that.” he says once more, circling a hand around my waist.

My heart shatters at the realization of the poor puppy’s fate. “Oh,” I say in defeat, all thoughts from my head dissipating as I stare at the mother.

“I’m afraid we can’t all be pretty things for future High Lords to enjoy,” Eris smirks, nuzzling my neck. “Come, I have one last thing to show you before you leave.”

I nod, following Eris out of the barn, but I don’t leave without one last look at the mother dog in the back kennel. For a second I swear her eyes meet mine and there’s an understanding that we will both share the same fate, breeding vessels for higher powers.

We walk down along the river until we come across a large weeping willow. It appeared to have been there for years as its branches and yellow leaves cascaded down creating a large curtain around it. We had them all over the Sidra of the Night Court, but I had never seen one bear the colors of fall.

“That’s far enough bastard,” Eris curses at Cassian as he pushes back the leafy curtain to allow me in. I try to throw Cassian a fearful look but Eris closes the foliage curtain behind him before I get the chance.

I look up at the branches of the willow, doing my best to avoid Eris’ hungry gaze. The leaves are beautiful as the light of the setting sun shines through them, the slight breeze and the sound of the river flowing next to us made this place its own world.

“I can see why your family chose to keep you locked up for all those years,” Eris chimes, taking a step towards me.

“And why is that?” I say retreating a step, trying to keep my gaze on my surroundings.

“Because every legend I ever heard about your beauty is true,” he smirks, taking another step towards me.

My heart rate quickens and my palms go clammy as I take another step back, “and what do they say about me?” I ask, as if I don’t already know.

Eris chuckles, seemingly happy to recite the prose to me, “Eyes like a storm,” he starts taking another step closer to me.

I feel my bare back hit the bark of the willow and I realize that he has me pinned. He has been hunting me like prey this whole time and I was stupid enough to fall into the trap.

“Hair like threads of silk,” he continued, brushing a hand through my hair. “And skin as soft as rose petals,” he smiles, caressing my cheek. “The Jewel of Prythian and the weakness of every male.”

Eris’ breath fans my cheek as I feel his body press me into the willow tree, “It seems I have a lot to live up to,” I breathe, trying to keep my voice from quivering.

“Hardly.” he says, brushing a stray hair from my cheek. “You’re already the greatest temptation I’ve ever known and I think I’m tired of restraining myself from you.” he growls.

I don’t have a moment to think before his lips are smashing onto mine. My back scrapes against the bark and I know that there will be an angry red mark there when I free myself from Eris’ grasp. His tongue slides into my mouth and I feel my stomach burn. His lips taste vile, like they weren’t made for me, but he seems to be enjoying himself just fine. His hands wander my waist possessively, like I’m nothing more than an object for him to indulge in, though I suppose that’s exactly how he saw me.

Like a saving grace from above, the large bell atop the castle rang out, signaling that it was 7 o’clock, time for me to leave. I manage to push Eris off of me just enough for me to get a word in.

“Prince Eris, it's 7, my brother wants me home,” I say, placing my hands on his chest. My head casts down to where they spread over the expensive fabric of his shirt, the patterns being the only thing keeping me grounded.

“So punctual,” he tuts. “A frustrating quality now, but if things go well for us you’ll make quite the obedient little wife won’t you?” he smirks forcing my chin up so I can meet his domineering gaze.

“Yes of course my prince,” I say timidly.

“Good girl,” he praised, turning my chin to the side. The second the seventh bell chimes, a hand pushes aside the curtain of leaves and I’m relieved at the sight of Cassian.

“Princess it’s time to go,” he says urgently, the voice of a general making an appearance.

“You’re right,” I nod, trying not to look shell shocked. “Until next time Prince Eris,” I say as Eris kisses my hand.

“Until then my little flame,” he smiles.

I step out of the cover of the willow tree and Cassian wastes no time picking me up and shooting into the sky. I immediately feel better the second the wind whips my hair back and I can let go of the breath that I’m holding.

“Do you want me to take you to Rhys?” Cassian asks.

“No, just take me home please,” I reply, trying to hold back my tears.

As if he can sense my eagerness to feel safe in my own home he flaps his wings harder. We spend the entire flight in silence as I try to forget about the taste of Eris on my tongue but it’s impossible. The entire time we’re in the air I’m unable to think of freedom like I normally do. All I can feel is Eris' brand on me, and the second we touch down on the balcony of the House of Wind I feel every emotion I have come to the surface.

“Thank you for the ride,” I say to Cassian. My voice breaks as I turn from his gaze and make my way inside.

“Princess wait!” Cassian calls for me but I don’t turn around, whatever he has to say can wait.

I make a beeline for the kitchen. My tears are falling faster than ever and all I can think is, get his taste out of my mouth, get his taste out of my mouth, get his taste out of my mouth. I waltz over to the liquor cabinet and pull out the first bottle of whiskey I see. It spills a little as I frantically pour it into a glass and shoot it down my throat, the burn washing away any trace of Eris.

“Hey are you okay?” a voice drawls from behind me and I turn to see Cassian in the doorway.

“I’m practically engaged to a monster of course I’m not okay!” I cry shooting down another gulp of whiskey.

“Hey, hey hey,” Cassian coos, crossing the room to take the glass and the bottle from my hand. “It’s okay just breathe.” he says, pulling me into him.

The gesture makes me let go of all my inhibitions as I sob violently into his chest. I can barely breathe through my shallow breaths. I feel Cassian stroke a hand through my hair.

“H-how could s-someone be so terrible?” I sob through my ragged breaths. “Those poor puppies, and their mother? The way he t-touches me? A-and the way he speaks to you? I hate him.”

“Hey don’t worry about me okay? I can take it.” Cassian assures me. “Just take a deep breath for me alright?”

I listen to him and take a long deep breath, the smell of cedar and leather filling my senses calming me down instantly. He instructs me to take another one and I do, this time the heat of the whiskey warming my stomach helps calm me down.

Once I finally have my breathing under control he bends down to look at me, “Now, if we’re going to be drinking whiskey we might as well drink Rhys’ good stuff,” he smiles and for the first time that day I laugh.

“I suppose so,” I chuckle, wiping my tears away.

“That’s the spirit,” Cassian beams as he reaches for the large bottle at the top of the cabinet. He grabs two more glasses and takes them over to the living room.

I follow him and plunk myself down on the couch across from him. He pours us each a glass and raises his own in a toast.

“To old dogs that can learn new tricks,” he laughs referring to the comments made earlier today about him.

I roll my eyes playfully clinking my glass to his and taking a sip, “I’m sorry about that, Eris really is the worst,” I say.

“Then why are you looking to marry him? You know if you went and talked to Rhys right now that he wouldn’t make you do this.” Cassian asks, taking a sip.

I let out a long sigh while swirling the whiskey around my glass, “Because he sacrificed a lot for me under the mountain, I should repay the favor. Besides, he’s right. War is coming and if this is the only thing I can do to keep Velaris safe, and to keep you and Azriel safe then I want to do it.” I explain to him.

“You don’t have to worry about me and Azriel princess, it’s our job to keep you safe,” Cassian says leaning forward, setting his glass on the coffee table.

“I know, I know. You’re big tough Illyrians.” I roll my eyes. “But this is my duty, it’s what my father and mother wanted, it’s what I was made for. I don’t have earth shattering powers like my brother, or siphons and wings like you and Az. This is what I’m good for, and if it keeps my people safe then I’ll show up to woo Eris every single day with a smile on my face.” I say.

There’s a sadness in Cassian’s eyes and I can tell he wants to argue against me but he doesn’t, “You’re braver than most of the Illyrians I know. I think you could give Devlon a run for his money,” he says with sincerity, taking a swig from his drink.

“That might be a bit of an overstatement, though I bet with the right motives I could take him down,” I jest, sipping my drink.

“Now that’s something I would pay to see,” Cassian laughs. A moment of silence ensues before Cassian takes a gold mark out of his back pocket and twirls it in his fingers, “Have you ever played Marks?” he grins.

About an hour passes by and I’m thoroughly engaged in the game Cassian calls Marks. Apparently it’s a game he had been playing with Rhys and Azriel for years. The concept is simple, we both bounce gold marks off the table and try to land them in the glass in front of us. If I make it in the glass before he does, he has to drink and vice versa.

As simple as the game was, I couldn't lie that I was having fun. More fun than I have had in years. Turns out I was much better at Marks than Cassian had anticipated and throughout the hour I had him drinking like a fish.

That’s how Azriel found us, in a room filled with the sound of metal clattering against wood and laughter ringing out from both Cassian and I.

“Cassian, did you teach her how to play marks?” Azriel mused leaning over the couch next to me to watch.

“I did and it turns out she’s pretty damn good! I think the princess might be able to school you Az.” Cassian taunts.

I hear Azriel scoff beside me, “Oh please, move over and let me show you how it’s done.” he says sitting next to Cassian and picking up a gold mark. I don’t even have a chance to bounce mine before Azirel’s drops into the glass.

“Damn that was good,” I smile downing the last of my drink.

“Don’t worry princess, I'm sure you’ll be as good as me one day,” Azriel boasts proudly leaning back into the couch.

“Whatever Az,” I laugh standing up. “Well I think I’ve had enough to drink for one night. Goodnight you two.” I smile walking down the hall towards my room. I hear Cassian and Azriel bid me goodnight and for the first time in a long time, I go to bed with a smile on my face.

Cassian

A pretty little wall ornament for a future High Lord, just like you are…

You will bear me a son…

You’re already the greatest temptation I’ve ever known and I think I’m tired of restraining myself from you…

You’ll make quite the obedient little wife won’t you?

The things Eris’ said to y/n replay over and over again in my head causing my blood to boil. If it wouldn’t start an all out war I would out his head on a fucking pike and feed the rest of him to his hounds. I can’t stop replaying y/n’s face as she looked at the mother dog. It was clear that she knew that her fate would be the same as the animal. I was so blinded with rage I didn’t dodge Azriel’s punch fast enough feeling his fist connect with the side of my head.

“You’re off your game today brother. Any particular reason why?” Azriel taunts me from across the sparring ring. I didn’t want to admit he was right, but it was obvious my mind was clearly occupied today.

“I’m fine, I just didn’t sleep last night,” I told him, not entirely a lie. Azriel squares up again and I take my stance.

“You sure it doesn’t have anything to do with a certain princess you were sharing drinks with last night?” Azriel teases throwing a punch. I dodge it and throw my whole body into my next punch hating how he teases me about y/n. He dodges it and goes for the low blow knocking me down.

“I can assure you it has nothing to do with her,” I say from where I’m lying on the mat.

Azriel moves to unwrap his hands, seemingly calling it a day for the sparring ring. “Oh c’mon Cass, you’ve been pining for her for years.” he said, reaching out a hand to help me up which I took. “You need to tell her or you’re going to lose her forever.”

“I can’t. I won’t put her in an awkward situation like that, she already has enough on her plate.” I sigh, taking my own wraps off. “Besides she could never love someone like me, she’s a princess and ‘The Jewel of Prythian’ remember? Not to mention Rhys’ little sister. I’m nothing but a bastard born brute.”

“You really think she cares about something like that?” Azriel asks, wiping his face with a towel.

“I don’t have the guts to find out,” I answered sitting down next to him.

“Well if you’re looking for advice-”

“Which I’m not,” I cut Az off.

“But if you were,” he says, clapping a hand on my back. “I would tell her soon. Because if Eris decides that she’s worthy of bearing his sons he’s going to destroy her from the inside out.”

Part 3

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 , @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21,

#cassian x you #cassian angst #cassian smut #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #rhysand fluff #rhysand acotar #azriel angst #eris vanserra fluff #eris vanserra smut #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra

220 notes · View notes

mulansaucey · 2 months

Text

Azriel x Reader

I had a little scenario playing out in my head and so I decided to write the scene. If y’all want me to write the full story just let me know. Anyways this is so for fun so enjoy!

•••••••••••

I waited for my drink at the counter of the small tavern. I look around, soaking it all in as I think of my mate spending his youth here.

As I’m lost in thoughts of Azriel I feel a presence beside me.

“I know you’re not from around here. What brings a beautiful stranger to this part of Illyria?” A male with shoulder length curls and bronze skin marked with dirt and sweat says to me.

I look him over and can’t help but see the major superiority complex and possible daddy issues oozing out of him. I give him a polite smile and reply, “I’m here with my mate, just visiting his childhood home.”

I turn away as to dismiss him and end the conversation. Hoping the deterrent that Azriel is just across the room would help. But nope.

“That’s what they all say. I don’t see a male claiming you. In fact,” he leans in to whisper into my ear.

“It’s actually quite dangerous for a girl like you. Anyone could just pick you up and walk out of here.” He leans away with a smirk.

The skin on my neck stands up with the subtle threat of danger. I can tell he doesn’t hear “No” often. And if he does then he doesn’t take it as a valid answer. I smile sweetly at him and say, “Touch a hair on my fucking head and don’t even worry about my mate killing you. Because you’d be trapped with me.”

My drinks make their way to me as soon as I’m done speaking and I turn to walk away when the brute grabs my forearm making my drinks crash to the floor with the force he turns me towards him.

“You bit-“ he doesn’t even have time to finish the insult before Azriel appears through the shadows, grabs the arm gripping me, twists it behind the unfortunate Illyrian and slams his body onto the counter.

His screams make the whole tavern go quiet. Everyone waiting on bated breath to see what the Shadowsinger would do.

“I didn’t know she was yours! I’m sorry!”

Azriel leans down low, making sure the stupid brute hears every word.

“ONE word from her and I break your arm.”

Before I can even stop myself I say, “Word.”

Az looks up at me for confirmation and I take pity at the scene before me. The Illyrian being pinned to the counter looks like he’s about to piss himself.

I sigh before replying, “Let’s not ruin the night. But he’s buying me new drinks.”

And that was that. Az released him and told me to go sit down and not worry myself. I keep an eye on him but can’t help but giggle as the scared shitless man pulls out money and throws it on the counter to the barmaid, Az looming directly behind him. She smirks as she remakes our drinks and I just know she’ll be telling all her girlfriends what happened tonight. It’s not often a stupid drunk gets put in his place like this.

•••••

Aaaannd that’s all I got. I was thinking about Azriel having a mate who helps him learn to love himself, and that starts by addressing his childhood trauma and his inner racism (it’s canon he hates Illyrians) towards himself and his people. If I were to write more of this then that’s basically what it would be about. I don’t believe a romantic partner can just magically fix someone, it takes time and a lot of self reflection but having a stable support person can help. I want to see Azriel in a healthy and stable relationship and that means working on himself. Anyway if you like it let me know, thanks for reading!!

#azriel x reader #acotar #azriel imagines #acotar funny

124 notes · View notes

saerins · 6 months

Text

⋆୨ chapter four ୧˚ behind a box of reasons why

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter three - for a while, you were all mine <> next: chapter five - if not for this love of mine ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 7.3k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, jealousy/paranoia, third parties, abuse/gaslighting, some blood, trauma sharing | notes: sorry if there’s any mistakes !! rushed this out and had no time to proof >_< but heh i tried to keep angst minimal so enjoy <3

Tumultuous is a fair word to describe your honeymoon. Between being over the moon when Sae finally started acting like an actual husband to you and being down in the dumps when you realise that he’s still in contact with the ex-girlfriend that he had apparently promised to wait forever for, you’re still a little conflicted.

Still, you’re easy to appease, given how easily you believed him when he promised you he’d stay. You chalk it up to you being efficient—you’re not about to let your overactive imagination ruin your days. You’re just going to trust Sae, even with that little seed of doubt already planted in your mind.

There’s a part of you that believes he wouldn’t bother promising anything he didn’t mean; although you should know he could, given the day of your wedding, both of you lying through your teeths about loving each other. You’d like to believe that the present is different somehow.

It proves hard to do though, given how you’re achingly suspicious every single time a routine changes.

Like this morning, when Sae tells you he’s taken the day off and tells you it’s for no particular reason when you asked him about it. That paranoid voice in your head keeps wondering if he’s just using that time to meet with Mirin.

The chat messages you saw from her that day is an indication that they’re still on friendly terms, if anything. And somehow, it’s enough to make your stomach churn.

“Hey Y/N, you okay?”

Your coworker and best friend at work, Sumi, asks as she swivels her chair around to look at you, the concern lining her brows.

“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” you tell her, trying to brush it off as you offer the widest smile you can manage.

Sumi sighs, the scepticism clear on her face. “You’re always bottling things up to yourself,” she chides, with a hint of motherly affection your own lacks. “If you need to rant just remember I’ll listen to you anytime, okay?”

Days like this, you’re thankful for nice people like her who treat you normally despite knowing you’re the owner’s daughter. Even working in a subsidiary they own, it’s hard to escape the greedy ones who try to get close for perks.

“Thanks, Sumi,” you tell her, a genuine smile on your face this time. “Maybe I’ll take you up on it one day.”

You’re usually grounded, and you don’t usually allow stray thoughts to influence your mood or decisions. But somehow, it’s difficult when it comes to Sae, and you have to wonder whether it’s because this is the first time you think you’re in love with someone.

How would you know what it is, anyway? How should you know if it’s what you’re feeling? You’d thought Reo was someone you loved, but that felt entirely different. It was always comfortable, like a safe space that you’d rather keep stagnant than to try rocking the boat.

You think about it the entire trip home. Back home, where you’re wondering if Sae’s there, or whether he’s out with—god, you don’t even want to think her name.

When you open the door, you don’t see anyone there, and you feel a sinking in your chest. You’d been hoping that he’d be there and you can keep from overthinking, but maybe that’s asking too much. And just when you’re ready to give up and pour yourself a bath and hope to fall asleep while having one, you hear someone clearing their throat as you retreat down the corridor to your room.

Spinning around, you see your husband there, hair a mess and face stoic as usual, looking like how you first left him in the morning. You blink once, twice, wondering if you’re dreaming. Sae doesn’t usually like to stay cooped up in his room, which was why you’d thought he wasn’t home in the first place, but it looks like you thought wrong. (Yay!)

Sae’s about to speak when you cut him off.

“Oh! Right, dinner—let me put my stuff down and I’ll cook something up!” You’re already bounding down towards your room as Sae tries to call out your name, unfortunately falling on deaf ears.

But he doesn’t have to wait much to get a reaction out of you, your mind twirling a thousand possibilities in your head as to why the fuck your stuff are gone from your room.

Sae thinks it’s absolutely comical how the first things he hears out of your mouth are: “Sae, are you kicking me out? Where’d you send my stuff?”

Because in every single universe, that would be your first thought.

He doesn’t say a thing, only offering you a roll of his eyes and a sigh as he gestures with his hands for you to walk the other way.

So you do—slowly. You walk towards him, furrowed brows and eyes searching his expression for answers which, unfortunately, do not give anything away because he’s annoying like that.

Fifteen agonising seconds (for Sae) later, you open his bedroom door to find your “missing” items.

The books you’re reading are on one side of the nightstand, your clothes that you’d haphazardly collected on a pile on your chair are in a similar arrangement on the other side of the room where the study desk stands, and even your beloved Santa doll is situated on one side of the king-sized bed, sitting atop the pillow.

Turning around to face Sae again, you suddenly feel the guilt wash over you. While you were thinking that he’d go out and meet his old flame, he probably spent the whole time carefully moving everything over.

To his bedroom.

It takes you a while to really connect the dots.

Sae, on the other hand, is too impatient to wait for you to speak, your mouth slightly open and looking like a total idiot. For once, the expression you see on his face isn’t completely stoic. There’s a lilt in his eyes, and a hint of a smirk tugging on his lips.

“Okay, you figure out where the fuck your room is, and I’ll sit here and wait for you,” he tells you, the playful sarcasm dripping from his lips, his inviting subtle chuckle sounding like the signal of forever.

He sits down on the couch, idly flipping through the channels while you enter the bedroom further and take your time looking around. And by that, you mean to make sure you’re not dreaming.

You slap your face a couple times, you open the cupboard to ascertain your clothes are there, you peek into the bathroom to find that Sae is unexpectedly kind of corny because you find matching his and hers sets of toiletries.

A few minutes later, you find yourself at the doorway, Sae looking at you expectantly, brows raised. “Yes, wife?”

Now he thinks you’re kind of pathetic because he can see your face light up from just a little call of your title. But Sae thinks he might like that look on you. Maybe a little too much than he’s comfortable with.

Your excited grin dissolves into a sheepish one. “That sounds kinda corny.”

Sae shrugs, getting up off the couch, “guess that’s the last time I’ll call you that then—” But he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because you slap your hand across his mouth, and Sae can almost laugh at how different you are from the first time he saw you. Still as pretty, just a little less reserved, a little more happy.

“I take that back,” you tell him, giggling and skipping away to the kitchen, not giving him any time for a rebuttal. “What do you feel like tonight? Fish?”

He follows you, looking over your shoulder as you get the food ready. “Anything, as long as you’re cooking,” Sae says, as if it’s normal that he says shit like that and it takes everything in you not to make too big a deal out of anything he says. “Oh, I’m going out drinking with the guys later by the way, so you can get to bed first.”

Yeah, as if you can get to bed when you’re that happy and excited. Later that night you just end up tossing and turning in bed, grinning yourself silly. And who can blame you? It’s the first proper time that Sae is solidifying that he’s had a change of heart. Even if it’s in spite of all your uncertainties. To which Reo had told you to try talking to him and asking him about it because he’s your husband and you really shouldn’t have to be afraid of talking about the difficult stuff when you have to be with him forever.

Reo’s right, you know that. But you’ll hold off on it. Only because you don’t want to possibly ruin this right after it barely started. It’s foolish, but you really don’t want to go back to square one.

Even if it’s the right thing to do.

That night, Sae gets home only after three, to which he finds you peacefully sleeping on your side of the bed, phone still with its screen lit up. You must’ve been scrolling through it before you passed out.

If he was sober, maybe he would’ve allowed himself to think that this gesture of his was just a whim, that it was a moment of weakness. That you don’t really mean all that much to him. After all, how could you, when he just met you not long ago?

But he finds himself treading carefully, and he finds himself moving quietly, all in the name of not disturbing your sleep. And maybe he can’t convince himself you don’t mean that much to him anymore.

While he gently settles himself on the other side of the bed, your phone buzzes and Sae looks over, your text chat with Reo left open on your screen. The slept already? weak. message he just sent you would’ve been left at that by Sae, except he sees one message at the top, a night, stupid. call me if you need anything.

And so maybe he feels more for you than he thinks. Because there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that message especially because Reo’s your best friend but Sae’s stupid in relationships and he scrolls a little bit upwards and sees the previous message from Reo.

maybe i should marry you instead, sae who 😇

It’s irrational how much it can bother him. Even if it’s dated over a month ago.

When you wake up the next morning, you find yourself pressed up against Sae, his head atop of yours, his arms wrapped around your waist. His breathing’s slow and steady and he’s definitely not up for work, it looks like. And neither are you, because this moment feels precious and you’re not sure what spurred that on, to hug you to sleep out of nowhere, maybe it’s the alcohol, but whatever it is, you’re thankful for it.

At times like this, you’re grateful for the fact that your parents own the company. They’ll be fine if their daughter ditches a day of work. Especially since this was what they wanted from the start—for the marriage to work.

ok, i’ll pick you up later. see you, stupid.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

Frantically, you try to suppress your grin and lock your phone screen, but it doesn’t escape her—your reason for being happy.

“Meeting your husband for dinner tonight?” Sumi asks, looking like she’s been bored out of her mind for the past half hour anyway.

Deciding it’s pointless to act coy, you nod. “Managed to convince him to cook with me so we’re just gonna stop by the market later.”

“Wow, look at you guys,” she cajoles, nudging you playfully on the elbow. “You know, the first few weeks of your marriage you looked absolutely miserable, I was beginning to wonder if he was abusing you or something.”

You laugh awkwardly, because you can’t blame her for that. For the first few weeks you’d been spacing out at work, going home looking so downtrodden, and then going back to work looking like a zombie. It’s not that much of a stretch for Sumi to think so.

“If he ever treats you like shit, you tell me, okay?” Sumi tells you, looking as fierce as she can muster. Which is funny because she’s a small petite-sized girl, not any older than you and has such pretty brown doe eyes that it’s almost more adorable than angry. “I’ll beat the shit out of him.”

Later on, when Sae waits for you in his car at the lobby, Sumi follows you, curious to see what your husband even looks like because she wasn’t invited to your wedding despite your adamant requests to your parents to include her. Lucky for you, she’s understanding enough.

“Hey, from here your husband looks kinda handsome,” she whispers to you, trying to make out what he really looks like from behind the tinted windows, but it’s hard to see especially when Sae has his shades on. Still, Sumi tries to wear her cynical face, “but a husband who doesn’t even open the door for his wife? What a—”

As if sensing her cynicism, Sae hops out of his car at that moment, black Burberry wool coat shielding him from the cold. He looks straight out of a magazine that you can’t even blame Sumi for gaping as he walks over.

“Hey, ready to go?” He asks you, ignoring Sumi at the side who’s completely gone mute.

“Yeah let’s go,” you tell him, internally laughing at how meek Sumi turns, reminding yourself to make fun of her tomorrow for it until your mind goes completely blank as Sae plants a kiss on your cheek.

You’ve been able to process when his affections go on in private, or around strangers who barely pay any attention, but when he kisses you in front of your friend, you’re half-embarrassed and half-flattered.

Sae puts his hand on the small of your back, starting to guide you to the passenger seat before he turns back to look at Sumi. “Do you need a ride too?”

Sumi hurriedly waves both her hands, shaking her head. “No no, it’s fine I wouldn’t want to interrupt your date,” she tells him, and you snicker. She’s being a whole lot more polite than you’re used to her being but you suppose it’s not weird for people to be intimidated by Sae.

He nods curtly in acknowledgement before he goes around to the driver’s seat, Sumi mouthing a ‘have fun’ as she winks at you.

That’s exactly what you plan to do—you and Sae being at the grocery store together makes you feel like everyday life with Sae, even if it’s doing something simple like this, it really won’t be so bad. His initial cold shoulder and semi-hostile nature has completely gone, and he’s been initiating a lot of things too that you wouldn’t feel right doubting him too much over whatever you might’ve seen back in Korea. Or maybe it’s just your aversion to confrontation that’s speaking.

Either way, you decide to shove it to the back of your mind for the future you to deal with.

A flick to your forehead brings you back to Sae, his deadpan face unamused as he finishes the self-checkout.

“What’re you daydreaming about?”

With a cheeky grin, you shake your head. “Nothingggg.”

Sae clicks his tongue, brushing his card against the reader and doesn’t even wait for the receipt before he’s pushing the trolley full of dinner out to the car. “Mm, must be about me then.”

You feel the heat creep up to your cheeks, pouting as he raises a brow at you, taunting you to deny him. But you don’t, because you’re honest to a fault and Sae knows that.

He suppresses a grin, looking smug as he loads the food onto the trunk, earning a smack on his arms from you.

The ride back to the apartment is so different from the first that you can barely believe it. Sae’s cursing out everyone he had to deal with at work today and you know he’s only doing it because he’s comfortable with you now and it warms your heart. Compared to the first time where he barely spoke to you or even deigned to look at you, you’re impossibly happy right now, your playlist blasting over the speakers while Sae entertains your questions about his day.

“If you hate it so much, why’d you agree to take over the business then?” You ask, though quietly, because you’re not sure if it’s too sensitive of a question.

Sae goes silent for a second, like he’s considering whether he wants to tell you. “There was something else I wanted to do.”

He’s not really answering you, but he’s trying to give you something, and that’s all you really need.

“What was it?”

By instinct, he drives slower whenever he’s thinking. His hand on the joystick tenses up a little, gripping it slightly tighter before he ultimately releases it and shakes his head. He looks in your direction before looking back to the road ahead.

“I’ll tell you next time, okay?”

If he isn’t ready to share, then you’re not willing to press him either.

“Okay.”

By the time you reach home, the atmosphere between you and Sae has dissolved to normal, and you’re all for a wonderful date night in, happily thinking how you should torture Sae by giving him some insanely difficult tasks just to see how he would handle it—until you realise the world loves giving you bad surprises.

The moment you open the front door, your laughter dissipates, replaced by a perplexed smile as you notice the two guests sitting in the living room.

“Darling, there you are!”

Your mother bursts forward to hug you while your father remains expressionless, standing in the bright living room, black suit a stark contrast against the white walls.

Behind you, Sae sticks close, whispering an are you okay? in your ear, waiting for your nod before he relegates to the kitchen to put down the groceries.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind, we had a copy of the key since we were helping to furnish the place for you both and we just missed our baby so much that we wanted to drop by,” your mother announces, and you already want to gag from the amount of bullshit you hear.

This is definitely not normal parenting.

“Would you like some tea?”

From the kitchen, you can already hear Sae brewing something. You want to help him, but your mind goes numb, drawing a blank. It’s never good news whenever you see your parents. Their care has always been a ruse for some other agenda, and you don’t know if you want to know what they’re really here for.

Questions fill your mind. Questions like why must they come at such a time? or why are they here at all? and then comes the feeling of impending doom all because that since you’ve been young, you’d only ever been taught that your parents’ will are absolute and that you’d rather die than have to disobey and suffer the consequences.

But a warm hand on yours begs to differ. Before then, you didn’t even realise you were trembling.

“You sure you’re okay?” Sae’s right there, beside you, already made sure your parents are distracted by the tea. Calloused fingers intertwined with yours, a gentle squeeze—one, two, three times—to get you to calm down.

“Yeah, I’m fine, really.”

“Sure you don’t wanna just tell ‘em to go?”

“I can’t.”

Two simple words and Sae doesn’t ask any more. There’s a certain kind of comfort to know that he’s here with you, that he’s someone like you, that he knows what you’re going through and out of everyone, he would understand. Two older siblings who unfortunately have to obey their parents’ every wish for probably different reasons and yet suffer in the same way anyway.

“Let’s go,” he tells you, gently dragging you by the pinky. “I’ll take your side whatever it is, so don’t worry so much. We’ll get them out of here in no time.”

Sae makes it sound so easy he makes you nearly believe it. But you of all people know your parents are anything but easy.

About five minutes into small talk (and by that you mean that they’re skirting around, asking about all the pictures hung up in the house, asking why you two still looked kind of awkward when your pictures show otherwise, and last but not least a very awkward question your mum threw about asking for a grandson to which Sae had choked on his tea), your father wastes no more time trying to get to the point.

“So, Sae, how’s our daughter treating you?”

Caught off guard by the question, Sae clears his throat, picking his words wisely. “She’s perfect, sir. Why do you ask?”

Internally, you’re grateful he’s being more polite than he usually cares to be. Can he feel you stressing out beside him?

“Nothing, just curious.” Your father throws you a dirty stare before focusing his attention back on Sae. “So nothing’s been off, then? Everything’s all good?”

Sae’s just as confused as you are, but he keeps his cool, nodding. “Everything’s great. We were actually having a date night in before, well, we saw the both of you here.”

Your father doesn’t say anything much after that. Your mother does most of the talking, but you know this is all just part of their plan. That’s what they always do. Your father is the one who’s straight to business, doesn’t waste his time or energy speaking in some roundabout manner. But he’s not a businessman for nothing—you can’t get anywhere without establishing a connection, and that’s always where your mother comes in. She’s always charming to people who aren’t aware of the inner workings in your family. That’s why you’re immune to it. And after hearing so many negative things surrounding your parents, it looks like Sae is as well.

The next ten, twenty minutes are carried by your mother, talking about anything and everything in the world. Sae talks more so you don’t have to.

“It’s fine, you can pick that up, we’ll have some alone time with our daughter,” your father says after noticing that Sae’s phone has been vibrating for a while now. There’s a pattern—his phone vibrates, Sae silences it, it starts vibrating again. Like the caller either has some emergency or they know nothing about personal space.

Sae’s about to reject again when you put your hand over his, squeezing it in the same way he did. “It’s fine, just go.” And come back soon because I don’t want to be left alone with them for too long—you try to telepathically implant that thought in his head, anxiety gripping tightly onto you.

It’s not like he wants to leave you defenceless, either. He of all people know what toxic parents are like and yours are class A vultures. But he’ll get this call out of the way and then switch his phone off and help you get out of whatever this is.

But then he sees the caller ID and he stills for a minute before picking it up. “Mirin?”

Over the phone, he can hear her muffled voice, saying his name and then a string of words he can’t understand.

“Hey slow down, what’s wrong?”

Mirin’s just sniffling now, and maybe it’s because of all the years of friendship and relationship they had that she can still tug on Sae’s heartstring.

“Remember that you said you’d be there for me if I needed you?” She asks, half sobbing in between. Sae doesn’t know what to answer her, so he keeps quiet. “I really really need you right now.”

Sae hesitates a little. “How bad is it? Can it wait because—”

Mirin’s sobbing gets even louder. “No, please, I just… I really need you here, Sae.”

Maybe it’s because he rarely ever heard her cry like this. Or maybe it’s because of how it’s different when there’s someone crying and begging for him that the words just slip out of his mouth before he realises it.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Wait for me, yeah?”

Out in the dining room, you’re drumming your fingers nervously on your thighs, shrinking under the heat of your father’s gaze.

“So, have you been behaving, Y/N?” It’s your father speaking, and he’s as relentless as ever. The moment Sae is out of earshot, he’s back to his authoritative tone, the one that he used to ring terror on you and your little sister as children. The one he still uses to this day to assert his authority over you. To remind you that you’re being seen as his properties, that you’re just a cog in the machine that runs for him.

Even if you’re not sure what he’s referring to, you nod anyway. You haven’t done anything wrong.

Somehow, you feel like nothing you do can appease him, because the next moment, he’s heaving a deep sigh, getting up and sitting himself in Sae’s seat, flipping his iPad open and scrolling through something on the screen.

What he shows you next makes your heart sink to your ass.

It’s a picture of when you met Reo last, before you went to Korea, when you were confiding in him about Mirin. There’s nothing wrong with meeting him, you know that. In fact, your parents keep a good relationship with his for a reason. They just never pushed you to marry Reo because there are bigger fish; namely, the Itoshis. But what’s wrong with it is the angle from which it was taken; it’s from behind Reo, and the way he’s leaning forward and your eyes happen to be closed, it looks like you’re kissing him.

You can tell your father a thousand times that that’s not what’s going on and that the angle is misleading, but you know that’s not what he’s nitpicking about. It’s about how you carry yourself, you can recall from those lessons he tried to instil in you as a child. It’s about not giving anyone else anything to say anything about.

“We were just having—”

“I don’t care, Y/N,” your father sighs, rubbing his temples, entirely frustrated for god knows what reason. “I don’t care if you want to be a fucking tramp and fool around with someone else when you’re already married. But if you do so, you better make fucking sure no one sees you.”

There must be an art to how he can say words so cruel, filled with toxin and yet his face remains so straight. There must also be an art on how to not give two fucks because your mother’s in her original seat, sipping on her tea as though this is a normal evening as any.

“Dad, I’m not doing anything wrong with—”

“Do you know how hard it was for us to convince the Itoshis that you’d make an excellent wife?” He cuts you off once again, spitting words that could break your bones. “And here you are, flaunting around town with that Mikage boy.”

Is it bad to say you’ve lost all will to fight when you realise your parents don’t care one bit if you’re in the right or wrong? You want to ask how they managed to get such a picture too, but you doubt they’d entertain anything from you right now.

“You know, we thought you were finally useful after all this time,” your father ponders out loud, eyes fixed on the marble tabletop instead of at his own daughter. “But here you go again, making a mess of everything.”

You’re about to speak, but this time it’s your mother that cuts you off.

“Honey, I don’t think you realise the gravity of the situation,” she says, her voice silky smooth and calm even though what she’s saying is quite the opposite. “This marriage marked a wonderful partnership with the Itoshi company, the merger is almost finished and we don’t want you to ruin it all by wasting your time with some second-rate boy.”

That must be the first time you feel the anger bubbling up and threatening to burst where all other times you’d feel scared. To call Reo second-rate is uncalled for, and your fist clenches, ready to argue, when you hear your father chuckling beside you.

“Looks like this girl can’t control her temper either,” he says, as though you aren’t even here. “That Mikage boy aside, looks like our poor girl here can’t even control her finances.”

“What?”

By now you’re more than just a little confused. You’re used to them having a say in everything when you still lived with them. But now that you’ve already moved out, you’re already used to the freedom that came with not having to worry about them criticising your every move. Turns out, that was premature. Even after moving out, they still make sure to keep track of every single thing.

“Tell me why there’s barely any money left in your account,” your father demands, tone lacking any sort of sympathy and choosing to go full on accusatory. “Did you just go insane and spend it all? Did we bring you up to be a spoiled brat, is that it?”

There’s a dagger to your heart with every single syllable. Finally coming to terms with the fact that your parents never loved you nor cared about your wellbeing hits harder than you expected. They didn’t miss their daughter nor did they care about her happiness in the marriage. It was only ever about them them them.

“I didn’t—”

“Honestly, after all this time you still haven’t learned to control yourself. First it’s with Mikage and now it’s with money—”

“I’m afraid that was my doing, actually.” Sae cuts your father off, stepping in for you, reappearing at the kitchen doorway. His teal eyes are cold, staring straight at your father. “I told her to move it to a joint account since we’ll be sharing finances.”

Your father narrows his gaze, shifting his attention to your husband, your hands shaking under the table. Why does it feel like some bad confrontation is going to happen? One thing’s for sure: your father doesn’t like that rebellious tone of his.

“And what makes you think you qualify for that? What if you try to swindle my dearest daughter out of all her money? As her father I’m sure you can understand why I have my concerns.”

For the most part, it looks like Sae is unfazed, and why wouldn’t he be? From what you gather, it doesn’t look like he’s had such an easy childhood either.

“Then as her father, I’m pretty sure you’d want the best for your daughter, right?” Sae asks, more taunting than anything. “She’s chosen to put her trust in me, so I’m handling it. She doesn’t have to worry. Sounds like a good deal, no?”

Sensing the defiance oozing out of Sae, your father goes back to his favourite target: you.

“Is that right? You trust your husband over your father’s words now?”

The threat in his eyes is real. They’re daring you to go against him, like they just know you’re way too scared to. But then you catch the pair of eyes behind him—the teal ones that look at you gentler than they’ve ever been—and suddenly, it doesn’t seem so scary.

A single nod of affirmation from Sae is enough to give you that pump of courage that you need.

“I trust Sae a hundred percent,” is all you say, deciding that’s enough to get your point across.

But maybe you’d been obedient a little too long, and you’d been spared from how harsh your father could be for too many seasons that you didn’t see it coming. You’d forgotten how cruel he can be, both mentally and physically.

With his hand raised, you watch it go up the same angle like it always did back then, and you’re reminded now of just how much force is behind one of his slaps. You remember the way your little sister cried as she hugged her teddy bear, watching you take the blame for her mistakes and bearing the brunt of your father’s anger. Your eyes squeeze shut, the fear taking over.

You wait for it to land, but it doesn’t.

When your eyes open, Sae’s there, his hand around your father’s wrist, a vein appearing on his forehead as he stares him down.

“You may be her father, but I’ll have to tell you this: don’t you dare hit my wife.” Sae’s more menacing than you thought he could be. His knuckles are white, your father feeling the force before yanking his own hand away.

As always, he’ll look at you with all the hatred he can muster, unwilling to back down. “You ungrateful little bitch—” His words still hurt, but you catch sight of the pot of tea he’s thrusting towards you and you squeal, instinctively cowering backwards. Either way, either the scalding hot tea or the porcelain with which it’s made is going to hit you.

But once again, you’re proven right to trust Sae, because he’s in front of you in a heartbeat, shielding your body from any harm, letting the pot hit the floor, breaking into countless little pieces, some tea splattering onto your arm and you can’t even imagine how badly Sae got hit.

Still, he doesn’t wince even a little bit. He’s still staring at your father, but with his back facing you, you can’t really see him.

“Mr L/N, this is the last time I’m going to tell you nicely. If you dare to hurt Y/N again, I’ll personally stop the dealings myself.”

Your father bursts out laughing at Sae’s declaration, as if he doesn’t believe that Sae has that sort of authority. In all honesty, you’re not sure if he has. But you appreciate the thought. You’re still a little shaken up, eyeing all the little sharp pieces of glass all around the floor.

“Honey.” Your mother’s voice is soft but firm, and she’s only glaring at your father. It’s a look that tells him he needs to back off. It’s a warning, only because she’s his only anchor. She doesn’t care about any of this that’s going on, only at the fact that offending Sae might put their relationship with the Itoshis at risk.

Clicking his tongue, your father rolls his eyes and gets up and you can’t even wish for him to accidentally step on a piece of glass because he’s wearing his shoes in the house. Always prepared.

“Suit yourself,” is his last parting words before he strolls out of the apartment, banging the door shut behind him and leaving you two to the mess.

The first thing you do after they leave is get up and make sure Sae’s okay—although you’re quick to realise he’s not, because his pants are soaked with the tea and there are cuts on his feet and ankles, none too deep but they are still the result of your father’s temper and you feel only guilt. He got into this shit because he was trying to defend you.

But you find out that you’re always underestimating Sae when you feel his strong grip around your arm, preventing you from moving even more.

“Hey, careful, you’ll get hurt,” he tells you, harshly but only because he cares.

You manage a weak smile, “says the one who’s already hurt.”

Sae chuckles, ruffling your hair. “It’s fine, just some small cuts. But you really weren’t lying about your parents. Real piece of work.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are sitting on the couch, Sae letting you tend to his wounds. You have the first aid kit out, and the mess in the dining room is long gone, both you and Sae’s date night ruined because of it.

“Sorry about him. He’s… always been like that.”

There’s a sombre mood in the air, but Sae sighs and flicks you on the forehead. “It’s not your fault, don’t apologise.”

You smile at him, a quiet understanding falling into place. You don’t need to explain your father’s temper and Sae doesn’t need your apologies.

“For what it’s worth, thank you.”

Sae nods, though he feels there’s nothing to thank him for. It may have taken him a while, but he’s figuring this out slowly. If anything, he’s sorry it’s taking him so long. It’s just that since the longest time, there was only one person he’d thought of marrying and now… there’s you.

Your hand reaches out to his feet, dabbing alcohol lightly on the cuts, and Sae doesn’t even flinch. You slowly reach the cuts on his ankle until you freeze.

“It won’t hurt so don’t worry,” Sae tells you, as if you’re the one that needs consoling.

You furrow your brows, unsure, though you heed his words and dab on it lightly. There’s a big scar lining his ankles, and now that he’s changed out into his shorts, you see a similar one lining his knees. All on the right side.

“You can ask if you want to.”

Trust it to Sae to figure out what’s going on in your head.

“How did you get it?”

Sae smiles, but it’s filled with more melancholy than mirth. His eyes seem like they’re gazing into thin air. “Your father seems to use his own physicality when he’s unhappy with something,” Sae ponders, eyes focusing back on your face. “Mine tends to leave me alone. Until I leave him with no other choice but to hire other people to do the hurting.”

You listen to him as you tend to all the cuts, trying to be gentler with the red on his skin, burned slightly from the tea.

“I told you I wanted to do something else right?”

You nod.

“I was dead set on a soccer career instead of taking over the business.”

“You mean, like Rin is now?”

Sae nods. “Yep. Exactly like Rin. Taught that little guy everything he knew.” He chuckles a little, and you can see how fond he is of his little brother, even if he doesn’t express it all that much. “But once they found out both of us wanted nothing to do with their business, that’s when things got ugly. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say they have a certain vision that they wanted me to uphold, and this—” he gestures to the scars on his leg—“was a warning of what would happen to Rin if I refused.”

As an older sibling yourself, you guess you can understand why Sae quit. But going so far as to hurt your own children like that—both your father and his seem to be assholes in their own rights.

“Can you still play at all?” You ask, out of genuine curiosity.

Sae sighs, pondering. “Yeah, but I get tackled once and that’s probably it for me,” he says, trying to lighten the mood with a laugh. “Why? Wanna watch me play that bad?”

You grin. “Depends, is my dear husband gonna let me?”

Sae’s brows raise in surprise. “Oh, someone’s getting comfortable,” he points out, and you can’t stop grinning, earning a shake of his head. “Maybe next time, stupid. We still got dinner.”

“Okay since you’re hurt, I’m gonna cook, okay?”

“I got a few cuts, I’m not a cripple.”

“La la la can’t hear you,” you hum, winking at him before skipping over to the kitchen, intent on saving date night by at least cooking a decent dinner.

Back at the couch, Sae suppresses a smile as he looks at you, and he wonders what is it about you that he can’t shake off, that he can’t help but let in. He tilts his head in wonder; maybe it’s your adamant nature. In how you’re always nice no matter how much of an asshole he is.

After seeing what your father is like, he feels the guilt building up from the back of his head. If that’s what you had to endure everyday as a child, he doesn’t find your demeanour now to be all that weird.

Before he can even think of anything else, he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Fuck, it’s Mirin. It’s Mirin who he’d promised to go find because whatever it is she’s going through, it sounds like a lot and she’s sobbing her guts out, apparently. And now he doesn’t know what the fuck to do.

“Do you want spicy or garlicky?”

It’s something so small, so tiny—just your voice from the kitchen, the clanging of pans as you hurry to cook a dish for him, and the fact that he knows you’d let him go if he told you he has somewhere to be.

Just like that, the answer isn’t so complicated anymore.

He rejects the call and opens up her message thread, typing in a won’t make it tonight, sorry before he switches off his phone.

“Mmm, garlicky,” he says the moment he reaches you, standing behind you as he watches you mix the sauce together.

You bring a spoonful up to your lips, tasting it. “Think it needs some salt, what about you?” You ask, offering him the small concoction in your saucer pan.

But Sae doesn’t take it, instead he leans forward and presses his lips against yours, his tongue savouring every single inch of you he can taste, his hand on your waist, pulling you close.

When he pulls away, you can’t help but stare at him blankly, in a daze because is this really happening? Sae can tell what’s going on in your head, but he throws you a bone by not teasing you about it.

“I think it’s perfect.”

By the next time you see Sumi in the office, she can sense the radiant glow from your face, hurriedly rushing over to your desk.

“Wow, I take it date night went well?”

You nod, not being able to contain your surprise. “Very well.”

Sumi asks for the details, and you divulge, since at this point, Sumi’s the one you trust the most. Even if she’s a little loud most of the time, you’re sure that you can call her a good friend.

“I’m so jealous, your marriage sounds like a dream,” she gushes while the two of you are having lunch.

You hesitate a little, the mention of it makes you think back to the Mirin issue. So far, you haven’t seen anything else that are any red flags, so at least that’s a step in the right direction… right?

“Uh oh, I know that look, tell me!”

So you give her the bare minimum, about how Sae had an ex-girlfriend who he seemingly can’t get over, about her calling him during the honeymoon and your little stalking spree. Sumi immediately does the same, typing in her phone before scrolling through her posts, unimpressed.

“She looks like she’s trouble,” Sumi remarks offhandedly, thumb pressing on the story that she apparently just uploaded five minutes ago and you completely freeze up. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Her story seems completely innocent until you realise you can tell exactly where she is: in your own house, at your own kitchen, taking a picture where Sae’s hand is barely visible, no doubt in a bid to make it seem mysterious.

“She’s in my fucking house.”

taglist: @kimvmarvel @mxplesyrvp @yuzurins @futuristicxie @kiopanxp @k0z3me @y-sabell-a @sae1toshilover @xoxojisu @karmatiz @sagejin @minnieminnie00-got7 @hearts4heidi @shiinobu-x @n1uh @prepchuu @leeyzhuo @shidouryusm @tsukishiro-yue2402 @kaiserkisser @pookiebearcave @dcvilxswish @saeskiss @whtflrr @arminseas @raphsimp @saharei @danibxe @lectris00 @comet-kun @ishitam67 @gskill @sweet2wthsblog @astruoise @scaraslover @beaniedoodz @bersuadikotatua @idk-bro-gay @etoiile @sanzu-sanzu-sanzu @yourstrulyharu **bolded: means i can’t tag you guys because of your settings >_<

374 notes · View notes

justkending · 24 days

Text

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 5/7)

Mini-Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader (Enemies to Lovers) (Fake Marriage Trope)

A/N: I think we are staying on track for this to wrap up within two more chapters, but again, we are both in the dark if that's the case😂 Thank you guys for the love! If you are wanting to be tagged, please send me an ask. It's a lot easier for me to keep track of who's been added and who hasn't :)

_________

Y/N’s POV:

Okay, so maybe I blew up a little more than necessary, but I tried to chill out before he started chasing me, ordering that I didn’t walk away and talk to him. Let a girl try to get a hold of her emotions for a second big guy.

I’ve been anxious all day, waiting to talk to him about some deep seeded trauma, and then he comes and screws up all of it with a simple exception to an invitation. I know he didn’t mean harm by it, but he’s a trained professional. That was not a trained professional response. Plus, stepping out of my normal routine of being a bitch to him to keep him at a distance wasn’t just a switch I could flip.

Again, I could have handled that better, but now my brain is in mission mode, trying to reprogram what this night has set up for us. Considering the invitation was for tonight, it gave me little to no time to prepare.

“What time did she say dinner was?” I shouted from my bedroom, where I was going through our small, hidden arsenal of gadgets Tony had made for us.

“Six,” Bucky replied from his room down the hall.

Great, that was forty-five minutes from now… “Ok, I can do this.” Deciding it was best to keep some bugs on hand in case we could plant them in the house, and we would be planting them, I needed to consider sizes and placements.

“Should we bring over some wine or something?” Bucky’s voice was now in the doorway to my room, but I kept my back to him as I sifted through our tools.

“I made a pie earlier today. We can take that,” I answered absentmindedly.

“Why’d you make a pie?”

“Felt like it,” I shrugged and walked out of the closet with three small wires/ bugs in hand. When I looked up, I saw he had changed into a nicer button-up and was tightening a tie around his collar he hadn't been wearing earlier. “Why are you wearing a tie?” I examined him.

“Same reason you’re wearing a nicer dress. I want to make a good impression,” he shrugged, straightening pieces of his outfit.

“I’m wearing this because we were going to our ‘anniversary dinner,’” I made sure to put the lie in hand quotes. “I had a story that went with it, but this can pass as casual, too,” I motioned to my dress and moved toward him, placing the wires on the bed. “This looks like you’re about to give a sales pitch.”

Without thinking, I pop his collar up and loosen the tie to get rid of it. The whole time I’m focusing on untying it, I ramble about what the plan is for the night.

“I’m going to give you a wire to put wherever you see fit, and I’ll do the other two. I’ll excuse myself to use the bathroom and sneak it where it’s needed. I feel it’s important we look for cameras already in the house in case it’s a setup. We don’t need them having hard proof that we bugged their place. We want to come off as simple yet good assets if we want them to bring us on board for their work,” I struggle with a certain spot on the tie he somehow fixed in an efficient way I’d never seen. “Jesus, were you a sailor in another life? Might as well have knotted it.”

He doesn’t respond, but I get it off in the next two seconds and look at him to see he had been studying me intently as I invaded his space. I see my slip-up, push the tie into his chest, and take a step back.

“Sorry.”

“No problem,” he answers rather calmly, and I look at his eyes, seeing patience there. Always that damn patience. How did he still have it with me even with how I’ve treated him? “Listen-”

“About last night,” I say at the same time, and he seems shocked but gives a single nod to tell me to continue. “I want to say I’m sorry for being all over the place recently. From last night to thirty minutes ago.”

He seems frozen by my apology, and I became anxious enough that I start to word vomit.

“I took some time to think after last night and spent the day stressing, thinking how I was going to talk to you about it because I do want to. I want to get what I can out on the table if you’d be ok with that,” I look up through my lashes, and I see the most subtle turn of his lip as he watches me attentively.

“Are you hinting that there’s a chance I’ll get to see the side of you others are lucky enough to see?” he retorts, grin growing and taking a step closer to me.

His use of the word ‘lucky’ shortcircuits my brain, and all I can do is nod once, slowly, as my answer. He takes another step, and I match it with one back. I feel more vulnrable than I was expecting to.

“You can understand now why having our plans for the night changed made me slightly temperamental.”

“I think slightly may be an understatement.”

“I think you still should choose your words carefully,” I say, tightening my smile. However, it doesn’t shut him down like normal. Instead, he laughs under his breath, and the doorbell rings.

Both of our heads shoot toward the noise, and solemnity takes over the room.

“You don’t think that’s,” Bucky pauses as he turns back to me.

“How often am I wrong?” I take a deep breath in and smooth my dress out as I walk over, pausing beside him. “Hide the wires. I already did a sweep of the house while you were getting ready to make sure we didn’t have anything out of place. I’ll tell them you’re getting ready.”

I don’t need to open the door to know who it is, but when I do, the urge to yell, “I told you so!” in Bucky’s face is strong.

“Bethanne!” I smile kindly and immediately notice the dish in her hand. Reggie is behind her, holding two others, looking like he just got off work and had been dragged over here. “Did Beau tell me wrong? Are we not eating at y’all’s house tonight?”

She scrunches her face in a practiced motion and lifts the ceramic bowl up as she explains.

“I hate to ask this of you, but our oven is still the old rickety one. The new one had some faulty design, and we had to ship it back. Needless to say, it decided to give out on us today of all days,” she raised her shoulders. “I know we sprung the dinner on you suddenly, but would you two be willing to host if we provide the food?”

Not on the money of what I guessed, but pretty fucking close to the money if you ask me.

“Who is it, Doll?” Bucky’s voice carries from the hallway he’s now emerging from. The first three buttons on his dress shirt are undone, and he’s messing with the cuffs on the sleeves. “Hey, Bauers,” he smiles yet still holds shock in his features by the neighbor's appearance. “Did we get the time wrong?” he asks, looking at his watch before coming to my side, where I've now moved and am letting themselves in.

“No, no, no,” Bethanne shakes her head and hands off one of the pots to me as she takes one from Reggie, who looks more bothered to be here than happy. Long day human trafficking, asshole? “We had some appliance issues thanks to some of the renovations we were doing. I was just asking your wife if we can use your house as tonight's setting and possibly use your oven while here.”

Without hesitance, Bucky takes the dish from my hands and the dish Bethanne had swapped for and nods for Reggie to follow him.

“No problem at all. Let me help you ladies with that. Char," A nickname he had never used for my character before, but it seemed to work fluently. "Would you like to get some wine for the two of you while I get this organized in the kitchen?” he asks me, placing a kiss on the side of my head while his hands are full as he walks towards the other room.

I don’t know how he’s learned to play his role so well, but it’s convincing, even to me.

“Uh, yeah,” I almost stutter in my response as I motion for Bethanne to follow me to the wine cooler out in the garage. “Red or white with tonight's dish?”

"Do you have any more husbands like that in the back I can steal? What a gentleman," she coos, shoulder-bumping me.

___________

Half an hour of baking the food and getting it plated, and our conversation continued with questions mostly strictly about us, which would have been fine if not for the reason behind such invasive intentions.

They started off simple. How’d you guys meet? Who made the first move? What did we love about the town so far? What kind of hobbies and adventures did we take on before moving here? All questions we had prepared for, and if not, could easily improvise.

So far. No slip-ups. If anything, we sold the scheme far better than I’d imagined we would even when they became more personal. And our discussion on being the ‘prude couple’ last night seemed to affect Bucky’s actions a lot more than I was expecting.

An obvious hand on my thigh under the table and an arm thrown over my seat in a slightly possessive manner seemed to catch the eye of Reggie, who mimicked some of the moves as if it were a competition.

In addition, Bucky kept making small compliments about how I looked and how smart I was when they asked about my job. Dropping little comments about things I did (not my character) that he loved and appreciated.

“She’s always doing things like that. I almost never have to worry about making coffee in the morning because she has it all set up just to hit a button and go.”

“You should ask Charlotte about that! She’s the reason our house looks like a home. I’m sure she could give some advice on the kitchen backsplash.”

“She may not know how to boil an egg correctly, but her baking skills are unmatched. I've put on a few pounds now that we have a nice kitchen to spend time in."

I did my best not to act shocked every time he dropped a compliment, but the fact he could have made shit up for my character and used those details as conversation pieces, yet he went the honest way (although more convincing, of course), shocked me.

“Speaking of baking skills,” Reggie nodded his head back to the kitchen counter behind us and smiled at me. “I spied a pie on the counter. Any chance we can have that to finish off this dinner?”

I was still staring at Bucky from his last form of appreciation when I blinked out of my distraction and returned to our neighbor.

“Oh, of course! I was just about to offer,” I smiled, standing up, and Bucky quickly stood next to me, pulling my chair out. “Thank you.” I smiled at him and placed a hand on his arm as I moved around to the counter.

“How sweet. Oh, Charlotte, would you mind telling me where the bathroom is?” Bethanne asked, standing and giving her husband a look for not showing the same chivalry as Bucky.

I watched her, knowing that I would have used the same excuse to do what we planned to at their house. But I was two steps ahead of her.

“Of course! Beau, do me a favor and get some plates out for dessert. I’m going to show Beth-”

“Oh, I’m sure I can find it,” she waved off, coming around the table and moving to the hall promptly.

Yeah… Not without a chauffeur, honey.

“No problem,” I waved off, moving with her casually. “I need to grab some floss from my bathroom before dessert. I’ll show you to it.”

I can see the most subtle glaze of annoyance at my insistence, but she smiles and walks a step ahead of me.

I show her to the bathroom and make it seem I’m going into the master down the hall while she’s in there. And I do, but I keep an eye to make sure she isn’t snooping in any other room besides the one. We’ll have to survey it after they leave, but better that and the dining room than the whole house.

Once we’re back with the boys, no wandering to be done, Bucky helps me plate a slice of chocolate pie for each of us, and I offer to move the conversation to the porch. Any kind of redirection from the comfort of the inside of our home is welcome.

“I love how you’ve decorated your porch. It’s so cozy,” Bethanne notices, pointing out the colorful decorative pillows, hanging swing the size of a daybed, and loads of plants and decor that make the space more intimate. She and Reggie are sat on the two rocking chairs facing the front yard, and Bucky and I are sat close together on the swing, where he’s controlling the tempo we sway in.

“I always wanted a spot outside to escape. We didn’t really have that at our last home, and it was important for me to have this time around,” I replied.

My answer is actually very true. I loved being outside, especially when it was something as simple as sitting in the backyard or swinging on a porch. I had one requirement about this mission, one I’m not even sure Bucky knew about. But I asked Tony to supply a nice budget for the porch.

Call it cheesy, but growing up in such an unnatural and dehumanizing way, you crave a small part of that normalcy you see on the movie screens. For some reason, a porch I could escape on but still be within the comfort of my own home was a dream. And because it was, I thought I’d make this situation a little more bearable by granting that small wish I always had.

“Well, I may have to start budgeting for a new kind of renovation,” she patted Reggie’s back, and he gave her a tight-lip smile. "What do you say, Reg? Do you think we can get a swing like that one?” She smiled over at us just as Bucky pulled me into his side, his arm going around my waist and his hand resting on my hip bone.

“I have a feeling we might as well have built a home from scratch by the time you’re happy with the renovations we’ve taken on,” Reggie answered with a nod before taking a swig from his beer. “Get that recipe for the pie from Charlotte, and I’ll consider buying you a new porch,” he winked my way and turned back to the front of our lawn.

I instantly found Bucky’s hand tightening, and his thumb started rubbing in an up-and-down pattern along my hip. When I turned to him slightly, his gaze stayed on Reggie.

Before finishing cleaning up for the night, we said goodbye to our guests, and just when we thought we hadn’t made any headway in our conversation about work (mind you, we had dropped hints and notices about it all night, but neither of the two seemed to take the bait), Reggie stopped on the last step to our porch and turned to Bucky.

“You mentioned working in transportation, and by the sounds of your new job up here, if you’re interested in a more innovative place, I may have some ins for you,” he shook Bucky’s hand. “I have some coworkers around the states that could use some employees like you on their route.”

“I may take you up on that offer. It all depends on how this week rolls out,” Bucky answered perfectly. The Bauers said their goodbyes, and we watched them walk home before turning to each other.

In a silent celebration, we grinned at the invitation and then sent wordless glances to tread carefully when we got in before scoping the place for bugs…

_______________

Bucky’s POV:

I’m not surprised that the blonde sole cycle instructor of a neighbor was able to get a wire in our bathroom, but neither Y/N nor I were in the mood to remove it right away and give away our knowledge of it, so we each grabbed another drink for the night and debriefed subtly on the porch where the only bugs we had to mind were the crickets chirping their music for the night.

Bethanne was right. Our porch was nicely done, and I hadn’t even noticed Y/N had hung lights out here until she plugged them in.

“I feel like this spot is more put together than the rest of the house.” I noticed the details when we were out here earlier. Now, we both have taken up spots in the rocking chairs our neighbors had vacated.

“I may have focused more of my attention on this spot than the others,” she smiled as she brought a tumbler glass up to her lips. She had drank wine while Bethanne was here, but as soon as they were gone, the whiskey I had made a glass for myself was stolen out of my hand before I could take a sip. Now, we had each of our own.

“Was what you said about the porch a real thing? I mean, we have balconies at the compound,” I looked at her as I sat my drink on the small table between us.

“Balconies and porches aren’t the same. At least in my head, they aren’t,” she nodded, taking a deep sigh and resting her glass in her lap. “Did you mean what you said when you were complimenting me all night?” She lulled her head to the side to look at me.

I had been making compliments. It felt easier to use the ones I had picked up on than the ones I made up. Yet again, I think anyone should get the recognition they deserve when they excel in something. Y/N just tended to excel in more than I think she was aware of. And I was learning she didn’t seem to be used to people taking note of those things.

“Why lie?” I shrugged, starting to rock in a steady pattern.

“Because that’s this whole gig. A lie,” she answered, taking another pull of the hard liquor.

I considered her perspective and shook my head, looking out to the lights on the other side of the street. “I guess it gets tiring at points. Don’t really feel like doing it if the truth can be just as usable.”

She didn’t answer for quite a few seconds, and when I turned back to her, she was staring at me like she was waiting for another shoe to drop.

“How are you so patient? Seriously, is it a drug Tony made you before you had to deal with me on this mission? I don’t get it,” she laughs, but I can hear the genuine confusion in it as she sits forward and turns her body to me.

Honesty. I’m in a mood to be 100% honest.

“Want me to be real with you?” I asked, turning my own body.

“It’d be preferred,” she nods and rests both her arms on the armrest.

“I don’t know anything about your past, but I know most people have a reason for acting the way they do. It took years and a ton of patience before I felt like I was even close to who I used to be. I still struggle to come to terms with the fact I’ll never be who I was before the train incident,” I sigh and rest my head back against the chair as I look at her. “I guess I have understanding more than patience. I understand that you have a history of your own that I don’t know, and I can’t blame you for a lot of the things you do.”

“But you should. I’m an asshole to you,” she says, and the admission is kinda nice to hear, even if it is sad.

“Yeah, and I was hoping you’d be willing to share why that is,” I reply calmly.

She tenses some and sits back in her chair, pulling her legs under her to sit crisscrossed, the chair rocking with her movement and her dress overflowing past her knees.

“I guess now is as good a time as ever…” She looked at me sidelong before finding comfort in the view in front of her instead. “I didn’t really have a chance to develop a personality of my own because of my time in this lifestyle,” she motions around her, “started as soon as I could walk. So I had no identity to fall back on since I had to find it after I escaped.”

I had questions, but I found it best just to listen. Clearly, what she was talking about wasn’t something she brought up lightly, and being an ear to listen was what she needed right now.

“I was left behind by whichever no-good parent gave me up, and Adonis Hummel took me as his own and decided he’d try to recreate the famous assassin, The Winter Solider, from birth practically.”

The name drop came quickly and struck home. I didn’t know her whole story, but I had enough imagination and experience to believe where she was going.

“Wait, Hummel?” I started because the name sounded familiar, but…

“He was a low-level scientist who worked for Hydra when they were still using you under Pierce. He thought he had the brains and resources to create his own version of you. A version that would be more undetectable as a woman and a version he could tweak however he wanted,” she rolled her shoulders. “Lucky for him, I didn’t have to be brainwashed since I knew nothing besides the life of abuse, experimentation, and a shit ton of conditioning... "

"To clarify, I say that for context, not sympathy,” she straightened, and I could see her shifting back to her unbothered disposition, but the truth was shining through the cracks. She may not have wanted sympathy, but something about the vulnerability seemed to lighten the load on her shoulders.

“As for why I may have built a wall around you, an unhealthy and senile wall, I felt as though…” She gulped as if the next part was harder for her to say than the abuse of her past. “I felt as though you had been my competition my whole life, and a part of me, a young and in-need-of-therapy part of me, thought it was best to keep you as far away as possible and hold onto that anger instead of work through it. It felt easier than facing the fear that I didn’t actually equate to you in any way. So that’s another reason why I felt everything with you was to prove a point.” She lets out a short breath after using all the air in her lungs in one swift swoop.

I-

It’s a lot to take in…

She doesn’t move her head back towards me after her confession, and I can’t seem to break my stare from her.

“This is where you say something like, ‘Well, it’s your lucky day. I’m actually an asshole either way, so we can go on hating each other for completely understandable reasons!’ or I don’t know? Anything but silence would be preferred, though…”

Her hand is gripping the arm rest unconsciously like an anchor keeping her on earth.

On instinct, I reach across and pull her hand into mine, keeping my stare heavy, enticing her to look at me.

She closes her eyes at first and takes another short breath before turning.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel unworthy of being on the team.” I feel like I personally am the reason for her suffering, even if I had no correlation with her before I joined the team. "You are more than an asset to the team and are your own kind of weapon. It's incomparable."

“Ugh,” she sniffles and rubs an eye with the heel of her free hand as if to disguise a possible tear as allergies. “This would be so much easier if you were a piece of shit misogynistic asshole, but you're part of the few good ones out there. Steve, Sam, and Clint included, not Tony,” she noted.

I smiled, thinking about how I’d make a team like that even if she had me believe otherwise for so long.

“What I’m trying to get at, B, is you’re not the one I should be blaming for my past. You’re just as much a victim as I am, but I took the easy way out of making it more manageable for me, and I only made it harder for us both in the end. And for that,” she turned and stared into my eyes fully, the hand she held squeezing my own. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve an ounce of the kind of cruelness I tried to bury you in. You are the opposite of what they tried to make you, and you’re genuine in proving that to anyone who meets you. I've been envious of the strength you have, and I can say confidently that I deeply regret ever blaming you for that.”

I once again have to process yet another collection of words I’d never thought I hear. From her. Ever. A part of me believed this was a dream, but the part that Y/N had a grip on was practically pinching me into reality.

Without hesitating, I stood up, pulled her arm up with me, and yanked her into my body in a crushing hug.

She froze at first… The motion was quick and surprising, but slowly, she unhooked our hands, brought both of hers tightly around my waist, and laid into me. I rested my head on top of hers and pulled her shoulders in with my arms, wrapping both of my own tightly around her.

I wasn’t going to let go until she did, and by the looks of it… She wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @livstilinski @basicallylool @starryeyeseunbyul

My Lovelies Forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter1 @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk @billyseye @hallecarey1

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes @katiaw2 @aikeia @stopjustlovethemcu @enchantedbarnes

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt Series:

@jackiehollanderr @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @theroyalmanatee @wintrsoldrluvr @alexakeyloveloki @learisa @bxckybxrnes24 @lillianacristina @selella @heletsmelovehim @lovelybaka @heletsmelovehim @bubblegumbeautyqueen @mostlymarvelgirl @that-d-bitch @rabbitrabbit12321

#justkending #bucky barnes miniseries #bucky barnes x avenger reader #bucky barnes x reader insert #reader insert mini series #bucky barnes x reader #marvel reader insert #mr and mrs hunt #mr & mrs hunt

125 notes · View notes

dontworryihaveyourblorbos · 5 months

Text

Fuck it, King Peppy analysis.

I see a *lot* of Peppy hate, and I get it, but I also have to break my silence. I really do not think he’s as bad as people say he is. In fact, I kind of like him! “But he lied about the strings!” “But he didnt rescue the snack pack!” “But he lied about Viva!”. And to that I say ladies and gentlemen, let me cook.

1. He lied about the strings. OF COURSE he did. Peppy knew three things: one, like Branch said, the strings coming together leads to fighting. Two, if Poppy knew there were other trolls, she’d immediately apply the cupcakes and rainbows and hugs method until they were besties. Three, the strings and ensuing fight+whatever Poppy was cooking would be too much for the tiny tiny Pop troll population to handle. They can’t fight, so they do what pop trolls do best, hide. That’s exactly what Peppy was trying to do. Next.

2. He didn’t go to rescue the snack pack in the first movie. First of all, mans is ancient. Second, someone needed to stay behind and watch the villagers while they were in Branch’s bunker. He’s not built for long ass physically intensive adventures, but he can run a village and hold authority and keep everything from being trashed completely, which he did. We can safely assume that the bunker was fine after the first movie and not completely destroyed, likely thanks to Peppy. If he hadn’t stayed behind and kept everyone in check, the place would have been uninhabitable. But nah, Peppy kept everyone safe and stable. Hell yeah brother.

3. He lied about Viva. Can you imagine how devastated Poppy would be to learn that she has a sister, only for that joy to be crushed when he has to tell her that said sister is dead? Poppy wouldn’t be able to let it go, especially with her longing to have a sister. Why make her mourn someone she doesn’t know when she doesn’t have to? Why give her that trauma when she, in all reality, is fine not knowing? Because even if it was messed up because she found out, before she found out Viva was alive she was…completely fine. And he said it himself, he was heartbroken. Pop trolls don’t process their feelings, they repress and sing a happy song a little louder than usual. How was Peppy supposed to heal from his own loss and sadness, only to then turn and inflict it on his only remaining daughter, while still in survival mode? He couldn’t. So he didn’t.

Look, I’m not saying King Peppy is perfect or that he didn’t make mistakes. I’m just saying that he did his best, and he’s not a bad character, person, or dad. He raised Poppy to be the amazing Queen she is, he brought his people out of a horrific and dangerous situation and kept them safe, and when he couldn’t protect them anymore he knew his limits and passed the torch on to his daughter while still supporting her, and he went to therapy and began to change his mindsets and heal from everything. He’s definitely not as bad as some people say he is.

One last thing I noticed about him while rewatching TBT. When a Pop Troll is happy, consistently, their ears stay pointed upwards. When a Troll is sad, their ears droop down. And if they’re sad or gray for long enough, their ears droop down permanently. (Cough cough see my Floyd and Branch ear post cough cough.)

Peppy’s ears are the only ones that just…stick out flat. Forgive me, I couldn’t find any good screenshots from tbt.

Not sad, not happy. To me, this means repressed. He wasn’t just chilling in the background like teehee I’ve made no mistakes ever :3. No, he didn’t like that he had to do those things. He had major trauma and probably a ton of issues he was hiding or repressing, and is only just now beginning to work through them. Why only now? Because he’s not in survival mode anymore. Poppy is queen, strings are destroyed, bergens are chilling, okay, now he can begin the healing process.

Sorry for the novel, but I just really like Peppy and I think a lot of people don’t cut him enough slack or give him enough credit. He’s doin his best.

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #trolls world tour #King peppy #trolls king peppy #realizations #can’t hide anymore #I like peppy and I think he’s an interesting character #I don’t like how people bash him so easily but then immediately give veneer or creek excuses or babygirl-ify them #peppy is doing the best with what he had #he walked so Poppy could run and look how fast she is running #so. yeah.#go Peppy.

98 notes · View notes

dekus-naughty-dikon · 1 year

Text

You’ll kill for me?

Izuku Midoriya x Female Reader

TW:Mention of kidnapping, blood, sex, r*pe, murder, details of murder, and anything else I forget.

SMUT ONESHOT, mentions ‘daddy’ and other kinks. My first smut and oneshot Im sorry.

I don’t own this art and idk who did it I’m sorry.

Now imagine Izuku coming home late at night covered in blood that ain’t his. Some will say “I would freak out”, but you simply go

“Hey Izu, why are you covered in blood are you okay?” you go and check to see any injuries. You don’t see none but he starts to chuckle.

“I’m fine puppy, why are you still up?” he says as he pushes the hair in his eyes back. He’s looking at you with adoration but also concern as you never stay up this late, I mean it’s 3 am. Who would stay up that late when they have work in the morning?

“I- I was worried about you, and you know I don’t like sleeping without you,” you say quietly, still trying to find out where the blood came from. Little did you know, he knows why you aren’t asleep. Yes, you don’t like sleeping without and worrying about him, but you were kidnapped not even two weeks ago by an unknown man. He did terrible things to you trying to find out Izuku’s- the number one pro hero- weaknesses. His thinking it was you was a huge mistake on his part. You aren’t his weakness. You are his strength, and why he wakes up every morning. You’ve been having nightmares and suffering from PTSD since they found you. Izuku asked you to move in with him not even an hour after he found you- you all being together for two years, it was understandable. Now you’ve been living with him, and he’s been helping you through your trauma and nightmares. He is there to protect you, and it’s why you can’t sleep without him. You worry about him not only because he’s Japan's number one pro hero but because you love him dearly. You are a little obsessed, but you find it healthy as he is your hero and love. It is healthy- until someone gets in the way of you two being together- or until someone hurts you or him. You become unhinged and forget your natural morals as you don’t want to lose the only person you have left. You didn’t know he was the same way.

“Puppy, you know I’ll come home. Always. Tell me the real reason you are up?” he looks at you with a soft stern look, making sure not to scare you like he does others.

“I- I did tell you, are you hungry? Have you eaten?” you say, trying to change the subject and not get caught in a half lie. You haven’t eaten being so worried about him, and you barely eat anything due to your fear and anxiety due to your trauma. It has affected you greatly, but you try and hide it. You can’t hide anything from Izuku tho, though he is very observant. He sees right through you hiding your fear and pretending to be okay. He knows what that man did to you, and every second of every day since he found out you’ve been kidnapped, his anger grows. It’s like a hot flame that won’t go out even when you pour water on top of it. The only thing that can take out this flame is you being with him, safe and happy. You are safe and comfortable but scared and traumatized. You’ve been going through stages of depression for years now, and this has made it worse, even if you don’t admit it. He sees it all, though, and it makes him angrier at the people who have hurt you in the past and the man who hurt you recently. That man had no right to touch what was his, you.

“Now, puppy, no changing the subject. No, I haven’t eaten yet, but I was going to after I showered,” he says softly but sternly. “Have you eaten?” he looks at you up and down, seeing if any signs of malnutrition are there. You have gotten skinnier since the kidnapping, but you also became weaker physically. Do to the things that man has done.

“I-um…” you hesitate. You hate lying to him. You know if you lie, he will find out the truth. Even if he doesn’t get angry with you but tries and talk to you about why you should eat- sleep- or do anything to keep yourself healthy, you are scared one day he will snap at you as your past exes have. Like your mother and father did when you were a child, like your foster parents, or the kids you went to school with.

You look down at your feet, thinking of how to change the subject, but with your luck, your stomach growls. You go wide-eyed but quickly return to normal as you don’t want to give away what you haven’t eaten.

“I’ll take that as a no, baby; look at me, please,” he says quietly and softly. He tilts your head up by the chin and looks at you in the eyes. Your eyes help him see everything he needs, they help him calm down, and they are like stars in the night sky to him- beautiful. “Baby, why haven’t you eaten? What was the last thing you ate today?” he asked curiously and was full of concern.

“I- I ate some yogurt and fruit this morning after you left. I guess I just forgot to eat again,” you say. Your lips quiver in guilt as you hate doing this to him. Hate seeing him so concerned with you- and for what? Because you haven’t eaten or slept. “I’m sorry-“Before you could even finish your apology, he kissed you softly. It’s the only way to get you to stop talking when you are feeling like this. Kissing and holding you tight is the only way to help you see he isn’t angry or upset- he loves you with everything in him and wants you to be okay.

“No apologies, puppy. I’m not angry or upset, okay.” He looks at you softly and lovingly. “How about we go shower and eat something, okay? Then we can cuddle and try and sleep,” he says softly.

“O-Okay. But you never told me why you are covered in blood. Is it yours?” you say, wiping away the tears that were about to fall. You look over him closer and realize he isn’t hurt, not one scratch or bruise. You become concerned about what happened for him to be covered in blood like this.

“Don’t worry ab-“Before you can even finish, you stop him.

“No, tell me please,” you say desperately. You want to know, and curiosity is eating at you now. “I just want to know, Izu, you never come home this late without calling- even with your hero work. Let alone come home covered in blood,” you say. You start worrying more and more as he won’t tell you.

“Puppy, if I tell you- you might see me differently,” he says quietly and sadly. He takes his fingers off your chin, making you sad, but you ignore that for now. You are more concerned about why he thinks you might see him differently.

“What? You know I can never see you in any other way than I have- I always have. You know I love you.” you say with a small laugh. You are trying to help him see you will be okay with anything he tells you as long as he’s okay.

“You- you wouldn’t look at me the same. You might become scared of me and lea-“He starts the last part, but you shut him up with a kiss. You pull him closer, not caring if you get blood on you. It wouldn’t be the first time you were covered in blood for him anyways.

“Hush!” you say after the deep kiss. You say this loudly, which is very rare for you. It causes him to go wide-eyed and look at you in shock. You never speak louder than an inside voice- speaking this loud means you are serious about this and want to know. That or you got upset about what he was saying, if not both.

“I will never leave you, Izuku. I love you more than anything, and I will never be scared of you, understand?” You say sternly. Which is even more of a shock to him- and honestly, a turn-on. “Tell me please, I want to know Izuku,” you saying his name like this makes him want to kiss you deeply and never let you go, but it also makes him sad that you are getting upset with him enough to call him his full name.

“I.. I killed someone.” he whispered. He backs up and turns his back towards you. You look at him in shock- him killing someone? Never. You seen him get angry at villains before but never seen him at a point where you thought he would kill them. “I killed him Y/N. The man who hurt you. The man who-“ he stops for a moment to collect his words, “the man who kidnapped, tortured, and r*ped you. I killed him, happily. I was so happy when I did it. I was so happy when I found him finally. I would do it again for you- I will always do ANYTHING for you.” he says loudly and sternly. He tries and speaks softly with you always but right now he is so scared of what you might do he forgets everything.

You look at him, his back still facing toward you. You were shocked but had butterflies. Did he kill someone for you? All because they hurt you. You didn’t care he brought up what happened, and you didn’t care he mentioned what the horrible man had done to you. You just cared about him. The fact he killed someone for you makes you blush and have a belly full of butterflies. It makes your heart jump out of your chest with happiness and love. Sure, anyone would be scared hearing that, but you? You killed multiple people for him. The people that dared lay a finger on your man and get away with it. The women who try and get in between you, too- you don’t hesitate. Like him, you are happy when you do it and would do it again. You never told him as he is a hero, and murder is a crime.

You walk closer to him, which he hears and tenses up. He is scared of what you will say and do. He doesn’t want to lose you- he would go crazier than he already has. When he feels you behind him, he slowly turns around halfway but doesn’t look in your direction. His hands are in fists as he tries to control his fear tears.

“Look at me, please,” you say quietly and softly, which shocked him but made him more scared as you might leave him like this. He slowly turns his head towards you and looks you in the eyes. You see the fear and anger of mentioning that man again in his eyes. He, right now, is blind by fear and can’t tell what you are thinking or feeling.

“How? How did you kill him?” you say softly and curiously. This made him hesitate, but he was shocked. He isn’t going to hope you will stay because who will remain with a murderer? Yeah, who would stay with a murderer?

“I- I tortured him,” he whispered, looking done. He can’t make eye contact with you telling you this. “I stabbed him, choked him, everything someone does in a torture chamber. I got creative with some of it, but most of it was to see him in pain, like the pain he caused you,” he says, trying not to smile or smirk when thinking of that man’s face in agony.

“Oh, wow,” you say a little louder. What shocked him was you sounded interested- you had wide eyes and a slight smile, but he was still looking down, so he didn’t see this and got scared. “Did he beg?” that made him look up quickly. That’s when he saw the wide eyes and slight smile you were trying to hide.

“Yes,” he says carefully. Trying to examine your reaction, but he was too confused and blind by fear still to understand anything you were expressing. “Yes, he begged, like a bitch.”

“Good,” you say. He goes wide-eyed as your smile is clearer to see, and you hug him tightly.

“W-what? You aren’t mad or upset?” he says, still shell-shocked at what is happening.

You stop the close hug just enough to look him in the eyes. “No, why would I be?” you ask curiously. You see nothing wrong with killing someone for the person you love most.

“I-I killed someone-“ he says, wide eyes and shocked still.

“Yes, and I’ve killed for you,” you say quietly, like telling a secret.

He goes wide-eyed, looking at you. He never thought you, out of all people, could be capable of murder. It all runs through his head, and some things start to connect. The secretary that went missing after locking herself and him in the bathrooms at his agency, trying to have sex with him knowing he was taken. The couple of girls at the coffee shop grabbed his ass when he went in to check on things turned up dead- murdered brutally-actually. The villain who stabbed him during a mission in Tokyo died in his jail cell. Everyone who has landed a hand on him in a harmful or nonconsensual way- dead or missing still. You killed them- brutally. Tortured them just because they put their hands on your man. His shock suddenly goes into lust and love as he looks at your eyes and face.

“You- you have?” he questioned. That is a dumb question if you ask yourself. He looked at your eyes and lips, begging for an answer.

“Yes, and I would do it again in a heartbeat,” you say calmly. To anyone else, it would be creepy, but to him, it was beautiful and sexy. He quickly catches your lips with his- kissing you softly but urgently. Never would he thought you would kill for him- this isn’t the first person he’s killed for you. Won't be the last.

“Fuck,” he whispered after you two separated for a breather. “Tell me how, baby, please,” he says lowly and quietly, ready to kiss you again. He pulls you closer, not caring about a single thing- not his clothes- not the blood all over him- nothing.

“I mean, you read their autopsies, right?” you look at him, questioning. He smirks and kisses you again roughly, but it ends as he speaks again.

“Yeah- I wanna hear it from you. That beautiful mouth of yours, And I’ll tell you how I’ve killed the others that dared lay a hand on you,” he whispers in your ear. It gives you tingles and causes you to shiver. Has he killed more people for you? This turned you on more than you thought it would. You jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist and staring into his eyes, smiling.

“Izu, you’ve killed multiple people for me?” you say as you look at him, getting closer to his lips, “that’s sexy, baby,” you whisper as you kiss him, in which he grabs your ass to hold you up and pushes his tongue past your lips.

Now tongues swirling around each other, sloppy kissing, and him grabbing your ass with your legs around his waist and arms around his neck to have him as close as possible. It becomes heated quickly, as you two haven’t had sex since before the kidnapping- him wanting to give you time- and you being too traumatized to think of anything like this. But now, you two have found out each other's dirty little secret and are as turned on for each other as animals in mating season.

He puts one of his hands in your hair and deepens the kiss even more, walking slowly to the bathroom. When he sits you on the sink counter, you gasp, giving him more access to your mouth. Tongue deep in your throat, you moan when he tugs on your hair in the right spot. He stops to breathe but only briefly as his lips find their way to your neck- leaving love bites and his marks all over your soft sweet skin. He soon discovers the sweet spot and sucks like a leech; making your moan louder. You are a panting, heaving, moaning mess when he stops and rips off your shirt. Seeing you aren’t wearing a bra- as you were going to go to sleep when he arrived home safely- he latches onto one of your nipples and flicks his tongue rapidly. Squeezing the other and sucking on your other nipple, he moans onto your nipple when you start to grind against his dick. Oh, how hard he is for you and how you love it. He stops just for a few seconds to catch his breath.

“Tell me, baby,” he says, kissing your neck, “tell me how you killed those bitches.” He speaks into your skin and starts to suck, leaving more of his marks.

“I- I had to find out where they lived first,” you say, panting a little from the sensation of his lips on your skin. “Then I just waited till they were alone to sneak in. Dumb whores didn’t lock their windows.” You giggle a little remembering how the dumb ass girls didn’t lock their windows at night and how the men were so easy to find.

You hear him chuckle into your neck, “Oh? Now that isn’t very smart of them,” he says, licking over a new mark he just left.

“They didn’t know how to fight either. It was easy dragging them out of their soft little beds and tying them up. The men, not so much, so I just knocked them out.” you say as you are a panting moaning mess. He licks down your breast to your belly button sucking and leaving marks all the way, “I used things they had, like their knives and other things that can cause damage. One had a fun crowbar.” you giggle. “Most of them didn’t last long enough when I was cutting each of their fingers off and passed out, but the ones who did last had some interesting words to say to me. It was so funny and fun hearing them beg and curse at me,” you say, stopping and gasping as you feel your shorts being ripped off. Izuku lays you back to pull your panties off with his teeth. Sucking and licking each part he goes by. You were lost in his eyes as they looked at you, pulling your panties down.

“Awe go on, baby, I wanna hear what all you did to those son of bitches.” he says as he licks your pelvic bone down to your thigh. He sucks the inside of your thigh, leaving marks near your sweet little sex, stopping and hovering, waiting for you to start talking again.

“I-I stabbed most of them, but the ones who hurt you-“ you stopped and gasped when you felt his tongue run up and down your slit. Back arching a little and watching him lick slowly up and down against your sex makes you quiver and shake. “The ones who hurt you- I-I, fuck, I made sure they felt every inch of what I cut and sliced them with. Some passed out when I got to their toes, but some lasted till I cut off their hand. Chopping them up was-“ you stop as he starts to suck on your clit but then continue, “so fun knowing what they have done to you. Their blood made puddles, and they whined like little bitches.” you start to moan uncontrollably as he sucks and fingers you with two fingers rapidly.

He moans into your sex, and his tongue flicks up and down rapidly and skillfully. “Mm puppy, you taste so fucking good,” he says into your sex which causes vibrations. It makes your back arch even more and pant.

“Come on baby, cum for me,” he says in a low tone voice that causes more vibrations to your sex. When he sucks on your clit again and arches his fingers up to hit your sweet spot, you cum instantly on his face. Lose all focus on anything else, just the feeling of his tongue and fingers inside you. He licks up all the cum from you, sitting up and pulling you close to him.

“Good girl,” he says against your lips as he kisses you. You taste yourself as he roughly kisses you. “Such a good girl for me. Even killed people for me,” he says lowly into your mouth. You grip his shirt, letting him know you want it off. He smiles and pulls off his shirt showing his chest and abs. All those scars turn you on more than you already were.

“Come on, baby, how about we shower? I’m not saying we are finished, but that bastard's blood is starting to get aggravating, and I don’t want his blood anywhere near my girl,” he says, lifting you from the counter to have you stand on the floor. You pull him from the rim of his pants to the shower, which he happily follows. Getting to the shower, you undo his pants, which he slides off in a heartbeat with his underwear.

His length is seeping precum and hard, but he knows he can wait. He doesn’t want that bastard's blood getting on you. Starting the shower, grabbing a loaf to scrub him off, you can’t stop looking into his eyes. He hasn’t looked away from you once, and when you look at him, all you see is him looking at you with adoration and love. Finishing scrubbing the last bit of blood off of him, he starts to wash you with a different loaf slowly and softly. Being very gentle around you injures that bastard caused you. They are healed, but he doesn’t want to risk anything. When he gets to your sex, he puts the loaf down, knowing you are sensitive, slowing and sensually washing your sex but not without fingering you in the process. His chest against your back and your ass against his dick, he fingers your slowly, going faster with each moan you let out.

“Have to make sure every,” he thrust his fingers into roughly but not to the point it hurts,” part,” thrust,” of that body,” thrust, “is clean.” he thrust rapidly into you, now making your back arch and you moan and pant leaning back against him. “Right baby?” he asks knowing he won’t get an answer.

“D-daddy,” you moan, putting a hand against the wall and the other in his hair. You grind against his dick, making him grunt.

Right when you were about to cum her stops and takes his fingers out, making you cry out a whine. “Shh baby, you’ll get to cum. But does my good girl want to make daddy cum first?” he lowly says in your ear.

“Ye-yes, Daddy,” you say as you turn around to kiss him; he kisses back roughly and grabs your ass. You kiss down his neck, leaving marks and bites on his skin, licking the scars on his cheek and abs.

Getting onto your knees, you stare at his length, he is much bigger than average, and you love it. To you, it was a gut wrecker. You look up at him, seeing him look down at you and pet your hair. You start to do kitten licks on his head, which makes him grunt and groan.

“Don’t tease me now, baby. That ain’t nice,” he says lowly with a grunt.

You start to suck his head just as he likes, slowly going down and deepthroating him. He grunts in pleasure and grabs your hair just right. You bobbing your head up and down slowly and sucking ever so tenderly makes him wild. He throws his head back, feeling so much pleasure he can barely breathe right. You always know how to suck him right, and he loves it.

“Fuck. Good girl, so good at sucking my cock.” he moans. He grabs your hair tighter and starts to throat fuck you slowly and rough to the point it hits the back of your throat.

“Such,” thrust, “a good,” thrust, “cock sucker,” thrust. He thrust into your mouth, repetitively groaning. Tears start to run down your face, and all you hear is the slurping sound you make, sucking his dick. “Yeah? You like sucking daddy’s cock?” he groans. You suck a little hard to let him know you say yes. He grunts more and thrusts, becoming more sloppy, “fuck I’m going to cum,” he says, thrusting faster into your mouth.” Swallow it like a good cocksucker.” he says. Thrusting more, he then cums down your throat, throwing his head back and moaning. “Fuck.”

When he takes his dick out of your mouth, you show him all the cum you will swallow. This makes him groan and become more turned on by the second. He picks you up and wraps your legs around him putting your back against the shower wall.

Kissing you, he wraps his hand around your breast and squeezes them right. “You want daddy to fuck you now? Or do you need more time, baby? I understand if you do.” he says softly, rubbing his thumb against your cheek and looking you so lovingly in the eyes.

“Please,” you say. “Please fuck me, Daddy,” you say quietly. You want him as much as he wants you, and nothing will stop you from having your man.

“Mmm fuck baby,” he says and kisses you, “you sure? I don’t want you to feel rushed or anything.” He says sweetly, he cares too much about you to rush you into things like this, and he understands if you want to say no.

“Please, Daddy. I want you so bad,” you say louder but not too much louder than usual. He looks you in the eyes one last time until he starts kissing you roughly but tenderly again. He lifts you so he can line up his dick with your entrance. Slowly pushing you onto his dick, you both moan at the feeling. Inch by inch, you lower on his dick till it’s inside you.

“Fuck. You feel so good,” he moans. “Tell me when to start moving, okay puppy?” he grunts—kissing you sweetly and waiting for your okay. Once you give the OK, he slowly thrusts in and out of you, not wanting to hurt you. You both moan and look into each other eyes. Never would you think you would have sex with someone as yandere as you. You love that he killed someone for you. You love, he would kill for you. To you, it’s the biggest turn-on, and to him, it is too. Both of you think about how lucky you two are to have each other. You love each other more than life itself, and nothing can or will change that.

“F-faster, Daddy,” you moan. He then starts to thrust faster and faster. He was soon going as fast and hard as he could. You become a moaning mess as he hits your sweet spot repeatedly. “Daddy! Fuck!” you moan.

��Yeah? You like it when daddy fucks you like this?” he grunts as he fucks as fast as he can, “Fuck, such a good girl taking all-, “ he moans, “of my fucking cock.” he moans and groans as he fucks you. He loves watching your face twist in pleasure; he loves hearing your moans as his dick is deep inside you.

“G-gonna cum, Daddy,” you moan and arch your back. You moan as he pulls your hair and sucks your neck and breast.

“Fuck.” he is now pounding into you at an inhuman speed, gripping your hair and ass. Sucking on your breast as you moan for him and clench around him. “Good girl- cum for daddy- cum for daddy,” he says and moans throwing his head back as he feels himself getting close. “Be a good little cumslut and come for daddy,” he says.

That was your final straw as you came instantly clawing his back and moaning into his ear. He loves every second of you clawing and moaning as it makes him cum deep inside you. “Fuck, that’s my fucking girls, that’s my-“ he breaths heavily, “girl.” he finishes his compliment and kisses you sweetly and tenderly. Not wanting to take it out of you like it’s his favorite place to be.

You breathe heavily and lay your head on his chest. In which he happily accepts and kisses the top of your head.

“Good girl, I love you so much, puppy,” he says as he kisses your head and holds you tighter. He pulls out of you, saving you still in his arms, and putting you towards the water, he rinses the cum off and out of you. After he turns off the shower, he lays both of you down in the bed, not worrying about clothes.

You cuddle more into his chest, happy he is lying with you and finally home. You are worn out from worrying, crying, panicking, and loving sex. He is, too, but he is also worn out from dealing with an issue before coming home to you. He is happy you accepted what he did and who he is, as well as glad you are the same type of crazy as him. He never wants to let you go and never wants to lose you. You are His light in the darkness and will forever be that light that never goes out.

“Come on, baby, make some ramen and watch a movie. We can sleep when we are done eating, okay?” he says quietly into your ear—looking at you as you look up.

“Okie, can we watch a Marvel movie?” you ask with big puppy eyes.

He chuckles as he figures it would be Marvel or Godzilla. “of course, baby, what else would we watch?”

THANK YOU AHHH… okay it took me a couple of hours but I finished it. My god that was something to write right off the top of my head at 3 am.

708 notes · View notes

theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

A Fresh Start [7]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, medical trauma (nothing graphic, if you can watch a hospital TV show you can manage this), nightmares, blood and injury, think that’s it for this one

Word Count: 5,415

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Ch. #07: SORAN

Chapter Summary: Your past visits you in your sleep, but you find comfort in the Marshal’s bed.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep.

And miles to go before I sleep.

And miles to go before I sleep."

- Robert Frost

You stared down at the large vomit stain that covered the side of your white coat. With a grimace, you shrugged out of the item and held it in your hand not knowing what to do with it now. A sharp whistle had you glancing over your shoulder to see Lee making his way toward you. The Zabrak pointed at you with the holopad in his hand. “You just gonna stand there all day, doc?”

“Last patient threw up on me.” You replied sheepishly. “And I think my brain has short circuited.”

“You’re only on hour 7 of 12. If you’re losing it now then what are we all gonna do for the next 5 hours?” Lee questioned with a grin. Down here in the Emergency Department, Lee was, without question, your favorite nurse. He was good at his job, fun to work with, and he was intimidating looking enough to scare any of the patients who tried to cause trouble. The complete package. “How about this? I take the gross white coat,” He took the jacket out of your hand, “And you go to room 14.”

You took the holopad he was holding out to you and shot him a skeptical look. “What’s waiting for me in room 14? Is it worse or better than a vomit covered white coat?”

“Oh come on, what’s the fun if I tell you?” Lee smirked. He wandered away and you typed in your physician code into the holopad to pull up the patient’s intake information. As you read over the chart, you chuckled. Plain old sprained ankle. Much better than vomit. You made your way down the busy hall toward the room, but you were only passing room 6 when an alarm began to ring overhead. Trauma alert. Something big was coming in. That meant the ankle was going to have to wait. You hurried back the way you came and⏤

“Cyar’ika.”

You startled awake, but a hand on your shoulder kept you from sitting up. Mando was kneeling beside your bed and he was wearing his full suit of beskar. The room was dark. Moonlight spilled through your window, through the blinds, and it was the only reason you could see him. Your eyes darted to the nightstand where the alarm clock read ‘2:04’.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What’s wrong?” You asked and grimaced at your sleep laden voice. “Is Grogu⏤”

“He’s fine. I have to go to work.”

You sat up slowly and Mando pulled his hand back to let you. “Is everything alright?”

“You remember those pirates from four days ago?” Mando asked. You nodded. “They’re back. It’s okay though. I just wanted to let you know in case. Grogu’s been coughing more tonight than usual.”

It took a second for you to wrap your brain around all of that information at once. You nodded though as everything began to click. “Umm,” You rubbed your face with your hands, “Okay. I’ll walk you out. Grab the pram from the office and bring it in here so he can sleep close by⏤”

“Just sleep in my room.”

“Huh?”

Mando held a hand out to you, and for a moment you thought you had to be misunderstanding what he was saying. Still, you took his hand and let him pull you out of bed. He scooped an item off your night stand and led you out of your room⏤ your hand still in his gloved one. Mando took you into his room and when you entered you could hear Grogu’s soft snores. A little bout of coughing interrupted the snoring momentarily. Mando lightly took your by the arm and you focused back on him as he attached the communicator there. That must have been what he grabbed from your night stand.

“Call me if you need anything.” Mando said. He carefully maneuvered you backwards until the back of your legs stumbled into his bed. You fell into a seated position on his mattress and if you weren’t still so groggy with sleep you’d be mortified with embarrassment at the heat that filled your belly while staring up at him. Mando guiding you to his bed, standing over you at his full height. When the sun rose, you’d play this moment in your head over and over again.

You just sat there, blinking up at him, and Mando cautiously set his hands on your shoulders to guide you back. He squeezed your shoulder once then pulled the blanket over you. Before he could turn away, you reached out to catch his wrist. He glanced down at you, and this time you were the one squeezing him in reassurance. “Be careful, Mando. Come back safe.”

“I will.”

Slowly, your hand fell from his as he walked out. Mando’s bed was soft and warm. As you took in deep breaths, the smell of his sheets began to lull you back to sleep. You were too tired to pinpoint exactly what the scent was, but it was him. It smelled like him and you couldn’t help but associate that smell with safety. You were warm and you were safe. Grogu’s soft, rhythmic snores pushed you over the edge right into sleep.

“What do we have?” A senior physician asked. You had gotten to the nursing station just as a handful of other doctors and nurses did. All awaiting the same news as you. The transporter on the comm unit began to call out patients. After they began to describe the fifth patient, the senior physician of the emergency department cut in. “Whoa, whoa. What the kriff happened? Where are all these injuries coming from?”

“Starship collision. It rained down into the middle of the city, took out two buildings and we have three currently up in flames.” The entire crowd around you grew quiet at these words. This was a mass trauma. Oh Maker. “We got half the patients going to Grand Republic Medical Facility and the rest are coming to you guys.”

The senior physician immediately slipped into the role of team leader. He began to bark out commands of what to fill the rooms with and there was a flurry of movement as everybody began to prep. You helped clear out the main trauma bay which could fit four patients total and relocated the patients in the rooms closest to the transport door. There was no time to take a breath after getting things set up. The transport doors kicked open with the first patient and it didn’t stop. Back to back, screaming patients were brought in. You worked in a flurry beside your co-workers in a blur of blood and pain.

You didn’t even have the time to be tired. It was as if you shut down a part of yourself and just burned through the actions. One patient after another. It didn’t matter how many you saw, how many you saved, there was always another. Always one more.

“I dropped an order for the patient in bed 3.” You announced it to the nursing desk. “He needs to get to imaging STAT, please.”

“Yes, doctor.”

That one settled you moved toward the transport door where the next patient came rolling through. The transporters asked what room was open and you barked back that they could take the patient into room 5. It was the next one open. You paused to take a steadying breath. Just one thing at a time.

You hurried toward room 5 where a few nurses were helping transport get the patient from their stretcher to a hospital bed. As you entered the room, your feet stumbled to a stop.

Despite all the chaos, despite the flurry of bodies and flashing of monitors, you could only stare blankly at the woman lying on the bed covered in blood. The patient’s usually tan skin was pale and ashen. Blonde hair was matted from the blood oozing out of a head wound. Clothes were burned and torn, stained with red.

You drifted a step closer. Your heart was beating in your chest so hard you were sure you were about to go into cardiac arrest yourself. It was getting hard to breathe. People were shouting at you. Nurses were calling out for orders, but you could only stare.

“I⏤” You opened your mouth to try and help in some way, but only her name tumbled out, “Soran?”

This time you didn’t startle awake. A familiar voice was calling out and it brought you back to consciousness. “Buir! Buir!” Grogu was calling for his father. A few coughs interrupted him. “Buir!”

You rolled out of Mando’s bed and rushed to Grogu’s side. He stopped crying out when he saw you and held out his arms with a whine. “Hey, buddy.” You pulled him out of his hammock and he curled into your embrace. You slowly began to rock him. “It’s okay, you’re okay. Buir had to step out and take care of business.” Glancing over your shoulder, Mando’s clock in here read ‘2:47’. Not even an hour had passed but you still found yourself worried. “He’ll be back soon.”

As you hummed and lightly bounced Grogu, your dream lingered in your mind. Ever since his appointment you had been plagued every night. They weren’t nightmares. A part of you almost wished they were. No, it was a memory and knowing that made it so much worse.

Grogu’s eyes closed, but when you tried to place him back into his hammock he immediately woke up again with a fuss. This time, you pulled him into your arms then wandered back to Mando’s bed. You crawled back to where you were in hopes that the smell that had lulled you to sleep would bring Grogu comfort as well.

You laid back down and let Grogu shift around until he was comfortable. When he seemed to have settled you pulled the blanket over you both. You continued to hum a lullaby and scratched Grogu’s back. Every few minutes he’d cough, but it never woke him up. You hoped he wasn’t getting sick. His first day of school was in two days and you didn’t want him to miss out on that. Luckily, the dry cough was the only symptoms Grogu had and it only happened at night time when he was sleeping. Asthma was something that had worsened symptoms at night. You hoped it wasn’t that. Though, you didn’t even know if his kind could get asthma.

As tired as you felt, as cozy as you were, you kept your heavy lidded eyes open. You knew if you fell asleep your brain would put you in that memory right where you left off. You knew how that story ended. You didn’t want to relive it all over again. So, instead, you just hummed and rubbed Grogu’s back as he slept peacefully. Your eyes darted to the clock then to your arm band. You wanted to message Mando, check in on him, but the last thing you wanted to accidentally do was distract him. You’d reach out to him for an emergency only.

Your eyes were getting harder and harder to keep open. The hand you used to rub Grogu’s back now just rested over him protectively. Before you knew it, you had fallen asleep again.

“Soran?” You called out. You were at her bedside now. You scanned her injuries, but none of them registered to you. All you saw was your childhood friend. “Soran!?”

She still didn’t respond. Her vitals on the monitor beginning to fade. A nurse grasped you by the elbow, “What are your orders?”

“I⏤I can’t.” You took a step back and they stared at you wide eyed. You held a hand out. “Just⏤ Just keep her stable. I’m getting help.”

You stumbled out of the room before they could argue, and you began to yell out for one of your physician co-workers. All were in rooms. All had their hands tied. Someone grabbed you by the arms and spun you. You came face to face with Lee. He shook his head. “What’s going on?”

“The patient⏤” You pointed behind you. “I can’t⏤ She’s my friend. I know her. I can’t treat her. It can’t be me.”

Lee dragged you back into the room and his eyes widened at the sight of it all. He barked out a few orders to the others as the head nurse then turned to you. “You have to act.”

“Lee⏤”

“Everyone else is busy. We have four crashing patients, doc.” Lee held your shoulders. “Take a deep breath.” You listened to his words. “You’re a good doctor. You know what to do. If you don’t start now, we’re going to lose her. I’m sorry, but we have to start. She’s about to crash.”

Everything he said was true. Soran was wavering. Her vitals teetering on the edge of death. You took one more deep breath and then began to move. This was something you’ve done hundreds of times over the years. This was something you had already done a dozen times tonight alone. With Lee by your side, you were efficient. He knew every order before you could call it out and he was anticipating things you would call for.

Soran⏤ No. The patient was bleeding out from a laceration on her thigh. Cauterize it. Blood pressure was tanking. Push fluids wide open. Head wound was closed, not open. Needed imaging but only after stabilization. Femur was broken. Set it quickly to ensure no interrupted blood flow or further tissue death. Circle back after stabilization. The patient responded to all your treatments. Her blood pressure improved and her heart rate normalized.

“Good job, doc.” Lee clapped you on the shoulder. “She’s stable. I’m gonna get everything prepped to move her to imaging, alright?”

You just nodded⏤ still numb.

Lee filed out while other nurses rushed to other jobs. While you stood by the patient⏤ by Soran’s bedside, you held her hand and let out a breath of relief. A panicked and panting man reached the door behind you and when you looked back you saw him standing there staring at the motionless but stable woman on the bed. Red hair mused and face flushed as if he had been sprinting a long distance.

“Kurt.” You breathed and released Soran’s hand to greet the young man. Soran’s fiance was a good man. You didn’t know him as well as you wished you did, but that’s because you’ve just been so busy with training. Soran loved and trusted him though and that was enough for you. You trusted her judgment. Hers had always been better than yours.

“Is she?” His eyes filled with tears.

You pulled him into a short, comforting hug then helped him to Soran’s bedside. “She’s stable.”

“I⏤I⏤I was on the phone with her when it⏤it⏤” Kurt let out a shaky sob. “I heard her scream and then the call⏤”

“Soran is okay. She’s strong. Everything is going to be alright.” You rubbed his back. “I have to go, but call me if you need anything. Someone should come in soon to take her for imaging. You’ll be able to walk with her.”

Kurt nodded. You began to leave, but a worrisome chirp rang out in the room. Nervous, you turned and stared at Soran’s monitors. They chirped again. You watched in horror as her oxygen level began to slowly drop. With each decrease it gave out a bone chilling chirp. Then, Soran gasped for air, her back spasming off the bed. Her heart rate rocketed up and Kurt was yelling. You could only take one step in her direction before the rapid sound of her heart rate monitor was replaced with the shrill sound of a flat line.

Soran’s heart had stopped.

If Din never saw one of Pirate King Gorian Shard’s lackeys again it would be too soon. The problem had been taken care of, the pirates either killed or chased away, but they hadn’t gone without leaving him a party favor. As he limped into his house, he grunted as a flash of pain rocketed through him. A pirate got a lucky shot and a vibro blade had caught him right between a gap of his beskar. It was on his right side adjacent to his shoulder blade and he hadn’t even gotten the chance to look at it yet. As if that wasn’t enough a solid blow to his thigh left him with a bruise deep enough to keep him from being able to put his full weight on it.

He quietly made his way through his house and toward his room. He’d shed his armor there and hopefully be able to sneak out before waking you or Grogu. Din pushed his cracked door open and paused. It was a little before six in the morning which meant there was just enough light coming up from the horizon to fill his room with dim light.

You were curled in his bed with Grogu sleeping soundly by your side. Your hand rested on his back as you both slept in peace. Din felt his chest ache at the sight. When he woke you up this morning, he had pure intentions by recommending you rest in his bed. You’d be close to Grogu and oddly it just felt safer to him⏤ not that he had any evidence of that. However, when you sat on his bed staring up at him through your lashes, he couldn’t use the word ‘pure’ to describe any part of him. Din thought surely that mental image wouldn’t be beat out by anything else, but this moment was proving him wrong.

Seeing you in his bed, curled around his son, in the early morning light so safe and sound did something to him. Din had the overwhelming desire to shed all his armor and slide into bed behind you. Revel in this soft moment. If he wasn’t actively bleeding, and it wasn’t a blatant violation of your personal space, he may have given in.

Din let out a soft breath and walked over to his dresser to start unlatching his armor. He got halfway through shedding his beskar when he heard you gasp. Din whipped around worried he had woken you. He found instead that you were still sleeping, but your peace was interrupted. Your face was scrunched in pain as you began to twitch. He set down his chest piece and walked around his bed. He knelt on the side Grogu wasn’t laying to cautiously set a hand on your arm. You began to cry in your sleep, hyperventilating, and Din made up his mind then.

“Cyar’ika.” He shook you lightly. You thrashed under him, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you away from where Grogu still snored. You were on your back now. “Cyar’ika⏤”

“Soran!” You gasped, eyes snapping wide open. Din lifted the hand on your arm to cup the side of your face. He had already taken off his gloves so he could actually feel your flushed skin under hand. Your breathing was calming as you began to settle. You had called out your own name. Din wondered what that was about. He couldn’t focus on it long because your eyes snapped to meet his. “Mando?”

“You were having a nightmare.” He whispered.

Your hand raised to rest on top of his, squeezing it once, “Are you okay? What happened with the pirates?”

“It’s all fine. They’ve been handled.” Din replied.

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you hurt, Mando?” Your words were hushed but filled with worry. Din paused. He didn’t want to worry you, but he also didn’t like the idea of lying to you. The silence was answer enough for you because you immediately sat up with wide eyes. “You are, aren’t you?”

Din cleared his throat. “It’s not bad.”

“I don’t believe you.” You pointed at him and he climbed off the bed. “Bathroom. Now.”

Din chuckled at the authority that filled your voice. You carefully slipped out of bed and tucked his comforter around Grogu. Din watched you lean over to press a soft kiss to his forehead before padding out of his room. Din's heart ached. He took the time to stroke one of Grogu’s ears. Seeing the boy sleeping so peacefully settled his soul. On his way out, he stepped out of his boots, leaving them with his gear, and grabbed a clean shirt and pair of sweatpants from his dresser.

When he got to the bathroom, he saw you sitting on the toilet’s lid rooting through a first aid kit. Din tilted his head. “That’s not mine.”

“Nope.” You replied. “I figured since yours would probably only have Bacta and a Cautery that I should grab mine instead.” Din was amused, but he couldn’t argue. You were entirely right. “Can I… Can I see your injury?”

Your quiet question was the exact opposite of the command you had hissed minutes ago. Din wondered if it had anything to do with waking up further or being out of the dim light and in the bathroom’s bright ones. Din nodded and turned around. You stood from your seat and he felt you cautiously pull aside the torn edges of his flight suit.

“Dank farrik.” You hissed.

“Since when did you get a dirty mouth?” Din joked.

“It’s your fault.” You replied. “You’re rubbing off on me.” Din hated that the first thought he had at your statement involved a more physical interpretation of the word. Maker, he was the worst. “Alright, I’m gonna clean this, and apply Bacta.”

Din hummed. “Are you sure? I hear Bacta has some faults.”

“Funny.” You grabbed your kit once more. “How come you make more jokes while injured than not injured?”

Din shrugged, winching at the movement, “Blood loss maybe.”

He could hear you laugh under your breath and it brought a smile to his face. You bent over a bit before rising again. Din glanced over his shoulder to see you trying to find a comfortable position. He turned around and you raised an eyebrow at him. Din motioned to the bathroom counter.

“Oh. Good idea.” You mumbled.

You walked over to climb up, but he reached out to grab your hips. The quick, sharp gasp that left your lips sent a chill down his spine. Din realized he had acted without even thinking. “Jump.” He said. You listened, no hesitation, and he helped you settle on the bathroom counter. Din now stood between your legs and his hands were still on your hips. He pulled them away quickly. Maker, maybe he did lose too much blood. “Better?”

“Y⏤Yes.” You nodded then motioned with your hand for him to spin. Din turned around so his back was facing you and pulled half his shirt off so his right arm was out of the sleeve and his back on that side was exposed to you. “This might sting.”

The first thing Din felt was your hands and after the battle he just walked out of the gentle touch was intoxicating. His eyes fluttered close and he took in a slow breath⏤ melting under your careful hands. The first few minutes were spent in silence as you cleaned out the vibroblade wound. Just as you had warned, it stung something awful whenever the cleansing solution touched raw skin, but even with the pain Din found himself beginning to drift off. He had to lean back on the counter for support and rested his left hand on the counter’s edge on the outside of your thigh, trapping it in place.

“What happened?” You asked.

“Pirate got lucky.” Din mumbled. “It happens sometimes.” You hummed in acknowledgement and your hands left his skin. He missed the connection. Maker, he wanted more of it. The price he would pay to have you lean forward and just envelope his entire back, wrapping your arms around his torso, was absurd. Luckily, your touch returned and Din could tell from the gel texture that you were applying Bacta now. He sighed, “You said your own name.”

“Hmm?”

“The nightmare you were having. Right before you woke up, you called out your own name.”

“Oh.” You replied with no indication that you were going to speak further on the matter.

It didn’t bother him. Din had his fair share of nightmares and haunting memories that plagued him when he slept. There weren’t many he was willing to share with the world and he didn’t expect you to be any different with your own ghosts. You didn’t owe him that. He shook his sleep heavy head, “I’m not looking for clarification or an answer. Just…” Din paused. “If you need to talk, I’m available. I know what it’s like…”

‘To be haunted.’ He couldn’t physically bring himself to finish that sentence audibly.

You finished with the Bacta and he could feel you taping a large, gauze bandage over the wound. After another beat, you spoke up. “It wasn’t a nightmare.” Din wanted to turn around to look at you. “It was a memory. Just a really bad memory.”

He felt you begin to tug his shirt back down and took that as his opportunity to turn. Your hands fell back to your lap as he finished pulling his shirt back down in place. Din rested his hands on the counter beside you. He didn’t touch you again, but he was close enough that he could if he wanted.

“Those are worse, aren’t they?” He asked. You nodded, a small smile drawn on your lips, but nothing about your features screamed anything other than sadness and exhaustion. Din was sure that none of the sleep you got had been beneficial. He had those nights before.

You shrugged. “Sometimes I wish I had a normal nightmare. Some kind of monster or jump scare.” The chuckle you breathed out was lackluster. “Reliving your worst moment over and over again is… disheartening.”

“I know.” Din replied. Your shoulders were slumped in defeat, but the fact that you tried to keep a smile on your face anyways was admirable. Din’s eyes scanned over the features of your face, ones he had already memorized some time ago, and they trailed down the length of your throat. The shirt you wore to sleep in was a size bigger than you usually wore and the way you were seated had the scooped neckline pulled to reveal the skin of your shoulder. Any thoughts he had about sinking his teeth in, tracing the contours of your skin with his tongue, were interrupted as he took in the sight of your collarbone. There was a scar there on your left side⏤ as long as the collarbone itself. The jagged shape told him the wound had been deep once, and he’d guess a blade of some kind.

Din wondered if that was the memory you had been forced to live through last night.

“I’m really glad you came home in one piece.” You lifted a hand tapped your fingers against the side of his helmet. Din loved hearing you call this home. Obviously you lived here, what else would you call it, but after seeing you sleeping in his bed with his son it felt like the word had a different meaning. Din would be honored and blessed to come home to you and Grogu every night.

A soft cry startled both of you. Din leaned back, not even realizing how much closer he had drifted toward you, and glanced over his shoulder. Before he could make his way out, you set a hand on his arm and slipped off the counter carefully.

“Wash up a bit. Change clothes.” You squeezed his arm. “I’ll get him.”

Din watched you step out, closing the door behind you, and let out a sigh. Grogu’s cries stopped a second later. He wanted nothing more than to go see his son, but the moment he entered his room he was going to pass out. He just knew it, and it’d be nice to fall asleep in his bed with fresh clothes. As quick as he could, Din pulled his helmet off to wash his face and clean up. His entire body was tired, but he barreled through the routine in record time. The only thing he paused to do was rub some of the Bacta you had laying on the counter onto the ugly, dark bruise that decorated his outer thigh. Satisfied that he was successfully cleaned up, Din grabbed his helmet and held it in his hands for a hesitant moment.

He didn’t have time to ponder and pour over thoughts about his identity right now. Din just wanted to settle into his home.

“You don’t have to fight sleep, kiddo.” You mumbled to Grogu in your arms. It seemed the sleep he got last night was just as restful as yours. Waking up alone in bed must have spooked him because he was still tearfully rubbing his face against your nightshirt as you tried to reassure him. “Your buir is home. He’s safe.”

The words were meant to reassure the child, but they felt like a relief to you as well. Thankfully, his injury, though large, wasn’t too severe. Nothing needed suturing and the bleeding had stopped on its own by the time you saw it. You went back to softly humming and rocking the child in your arms. Every time you glanced down you could see his eyes began to drift close, but he’d open them again without fail.

“Ad’ika.” Mando’s warm voice said from behind you. Grogu’s eyes widened and he sat up in your arms with a startling speed. He began to fuss and cry again. You turned around so Mando could cross the room to scoop him out of your arms. Grogu immediately buried his face on his father’s shoulder, mumbled a few soft words, then passed out. He had been fighting sleep just to see Mando. You didn’t blame him one bit. “How was he while I was gone?”

“He woke up crying for you once.” You whispered. “I got him back down, but he was restless. I don’t think he got any good sleep after that.”

“That seems to be the case for all of us.” Mando replied.

You chuckled then motioned past him. “I’m gonna go. Grogu’s probably gonna be passed out with you for a while so I was gonna start on some laundry.”

“You need to sleep, cyar’ika.” Mando shook his head, aghast at your suggestion.

“I’m not tired. I⏤” You began, but the tilt in Mando’s helmet told you he wasn’t buying any word coming out of your mouth. Yikes, did you really look that rough, right now? You sighed and decided on the truth. You were too exhausted to come up with an excuse. “I could go to my room and try to sleep, but I’ll just… The outcome won’t change. It’d probably be better for me to just chug some caf and hope for the best.”

Mando was rubbing Grogu’s back and his helmet’s modulator made his whispered words sound huskier than they usually did. “Stay here.” You blinked in surprise. “The bed is big enough. I’m a light sleeper. If you start to toss or turn again, like before, I can wake you.”

“Mando, you need to get your own rest.” You said. “If I stayed... you’d have to leave your helmet on.”

“I’ve slept in it before.”

“But⏤”

“Lay down, cyar’ika.”

Too tired to argue, you laid furthest from the bedroom door so he could have his usual side. Mando walked over to his room’s window to draw the blinds so the only sunlight coming in was through the thin slates. You curled up under his blankets as Mando climbed in on the other side. He carefully laid Grogu between the two of you and once again the boy’s rhythmic snoring was like calming, white noise. Mando laid on his side so he could watch his son. You faced toward them so you were witness to Mando’s bare hands rubbing Grogu’s back like you had done much, much earlier.

“Thanks, Mando.” You breathed, your heavy eyelids already fluttering closed. Sleep was already starting to envelope you so you weren’t able to fully grasp the words that Mando whispered to you. You registered it was entirely in Mando’a, but you were unconscious before you could question it.

This time, your sleep wasn’t plagued by memories or nightmares. There was only peace.

mando’a translations:

cyar’ika: darling, sweetheart

buir: father

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #reader insert #Female reader #star wars #mandalorian and grogu #grogu takes a break from being a menace #he's a sleepy angel in this #mando x reader #mando x you

548 notes · View notes

livelaughlovesubs · 4 months

Text

Study about leviathan

Thanks to the people who replied to my post!

Trigger warning: the things I’m going to mention include child trauma, sexual abuse and other. The language I’m going to use is direct. I do not share that experience, which is why I tried my best to do valid research. I’m not trying to offend anyone, and I’m really sorry if I get things wrong.

My opinion, it could be totally wrong so take it with a grain of salt~

So, right of the bat, I think we can all agree that Levi probably got sexually assaulted as a child.

‘Rough, oppressive hands. Filthy sounds of breathing. Humiliating violence that ensued’ this is probably the biggest hint I’ve found to my previous statement.

Now, I think most of his actions can be understood from his past and if we make some claims. On the surface, he seems like a cold, strict and violent person. Also very mean and rough, and an asshole if you want. Many people weren’t a fan of his ero scene (I think). That scene also made things more complicated, cuz he said that he wanted the mc to hate him. He dislikes people who hate him or love him for no reason. Levi was a dominant bottom, has agoraphobia (fear of leaving their save place), is obsessively into breath play and prideful, jealous but also insecure.

It’s a lot to unpack and he really is complicated, but I’ll try to explain what I found/ what I think would make sense for his character.

Levi got experimented on and assaulted as a kid, got beaten up and tortured while in the company of other children with the same fate. This is important to understand him. The story (chapter 5, towards the end) mentioned that the beating included strangulation, force injection/ in take of chemicals, getting punched etc. and there’s been that speculation (which is true), that trauma can turn into kinks. The reason why trauma can turn into kinks… cuz the brain is weird. Your brain can’t forget that traumatic experience and keeps replaying that scene (cause of ptsd), and your body remembers that feeling you’ve felt. Even if your body feels ‘pleasure’ it doesn’t mean you actually enjoy it, but then your brain does some weird shit and you get a specific kink towards that situation.

I think the reason why Levi is into chocking could be due to that, due to being strangulated by those angels, having his air snapped off from experiments, chocking on his vomit from the aftermath. His ero scene, including how he insulted minhyeok and made mc mad was all planned. Mc also noticed how even though he was the bottom, he was always in control. He also was a huge masochist and wanted mc to whip him or hurt him. You could just brush it off as his kink, though maybe it has some connections like before.

I read that victims of sexual trauma tend to seek out people that are similar to their abuser, actively or subconsciously. Or they are into bdsm cuz they want to role play that experience, this time with a consenting partner. They would never want to relive that experience, but they want to role play it because now they do have control over the situation. It’s as if they are reclaiming the control that they didn’t have. This is comparable with what Levi is doing, wanting his partner to hurt him and treat him horribly like what the angels did. He wanted mc to hate him to recreate the scene with the angels more similarity, while still being in control of everything. He had completely control the entire time, could stop whenever he wanted or overpower you. Also, for him who knows how to lie and betray, who isn’t so naive to trust everyone, it’s easier if they hate you. Then their actions will be easier to understand.

About why he isn’t fond of people who hate or love him for no reason, maybe comes from the angels who hated him for existing and the other ill fated children who lost their lives for him for the same reason. He definitely feels guilty for the children who chose to sacrifice themselves for no reason. He probably thinks it would make him feel less guilty if the people had a good reason for their deeds. If they had a good reason for torturing him, for loving him, he would feel less bad and guilty.

Fear of leaving places he considered safe, that probably came from the trauma as well. He knows he won’t end up in that cage again, but it’s a trauma, his brain won’t forget. Another reason why he might not want to leave his safe place could be because he considers himself different from the other devils. He knows how to lie, be suspicious and fear their own kind. If the other devils think they are agents of heaven, he won’t have a place to call home anymore. Levi had to be strong and build his own nation to protect himself as well as other orphans, he won’t want it to crumble now. He had to live a good life for his comrades. That could also explain why he is so stoic or serious. He doesn’t have the luxury of fooling around, he had to make sure no one would ever get suspicious over them and chase them away. No matter how much you reassure him, he won’t be able to change. Even so there are times where he feels safe enough to smile and be chill. But that’s only when he is in hades, his palace and with his closest allies. This fear of his must also be the reason he is a shut in.

Some people said that having agoraphobia feels like no one understands you. It feels like everyone judges you or is about to hurt you. It fits Levi, who is so wary of other devils.

Many of his personality traits indicate that he is a narcissist. Prideful, insecure and jealous. There are different types of narcissists, he is the kind that is secretly insecure and puts on strong airs. He probably compares himself to others due to that and has a frail ego. That must also be where his jealousy comes from or the fact he can’t take critique well. Being a narcissist doesn’t only mean you feel like you are the worst when you are alone, it’s also actively talking yourself into believing you are better than everyone else. This could be another reason why he’s a shut in, because it’s so much easier, then you don’t need to compare yourself to others.

I also feel like he needs to be the best because the kids told him to live a cool life in their stead. He also had a day where he gets especially horny, right? It had something to do with his trauma and angels, more conformation that his trauma turned into kink. Being hypersexuell is also one of the symptoms.

With such circumstances, it’s no wonder he grew up cold and distant. Anyway, I wrote this on a whim, I don’t know if my thought process even makes any sense, maybe I forgot some aspects too. Just ask for my opinion of anything if you want.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb levi #what in hell is bad levi #leviathan whb #leviathan what in hell is bad #sub leviathan #whb leviathan #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#what in “hell” is bad?

113 notes · View notes

notinmymovie · 1 year

Text

SAFE AND SOUND

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x gn!reader

Word count: 1k

Summary: After a chance encounter at a bar, you and Sam’s one night stand becomes habitual. You’re content to let her keep her secrets in exchange for her company that you’ve grown fond of, but one night changes things.

Warnings: Mentions of sex (no actual smut), nightmares/ptsd, mentions of death/murder, dealing with trauma

A/N: Not requested, a bit of angsty hurt comfort to soothe the soul??

The first time you meet Sam Carpenter—it’s in a tiny hole in the wall bar in NYC. You shared a similar humor and well, she was undeniably stunning. It didn’t take long before an exchange of sharp wit turned into flirtation. And eventually you went back to your place and shared a night together (a pretty memorable one too, you might add). You didn’t expect much after the fact, oftentimes a one night stand was a one night stand, and the other didn’t seem too keen on sharing a lot of information about herself.

But, to your surprise, she calls. You don’t believe this will go anywhere, you hold no preconceived notions about any of it. And first, you’re sort of right. At first, it’s just hooking up and her leaving early the next morning. You didn’t mind it, she was good company and it wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy it. You did hold curiosity about her though, this you couldn’t deny. But you didn’t want to push or invade her privacy, she didn’t owe you anything and you figured she had her reasons for not being open.

But one night things change, one night you wake up to her tossing and turning and mumbling in her sleep. You wake up startled and half groggy, she seemed…distressed. “Sam,” you say quietly, gently trying to nudge her awake. When her reactions get more frantic, so do yours. “Hey—hey. Sam, wake up.” you reach out to touch her again, to jostle her awake, when she bolts up screaming in a panic.

You notice her terror, checking her surroundings, breaths heaving. You don’t know what else to do so you simply try to get her to focus on you, an attempt to ground her. “Sam, hey,” your voice is soft, a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s me, you’re okay.” She still seems so on edge, seemingly refusing to look at you. “Can you look at me?” And when she does you can see the tears in her eyes. “You’re safe here.”

It seems like the words only induce more tears, so you simply pull her into your arms, letting her cry. “It’s okay,” you mumble. “You’re okay.”

The next morning, you don’t say anything—almost a little afraid to push it. Eventually it’s her that breaks the silence, “I’m sorry,” Sam says. “About last night. That was probably a bit weird for you.”

You shake your head, taking a sip of your coffee. “It wasn’t weird,” you say. “A little worrying maybe, that’s the word I’d use. You just seemed so—scared.”

Sam chuckles, an awkward and quiet sound. “I was…I guess sometimes you think you’re dealing with things so well and then something just—wrecks that thought to hell.”

“I’ve really tried not to like—overstep boundaries,” you start. “You don’t have to tell me anything, you really don’t. But if you wouldn’t mind, I’d maybe like to understand, I mean…” You pause, trying to collect your thoughts. “You had a panic inducing night terror in my bed last night, if you’re gonna be around this much—at least let me care a little.”

Sam looks almost a little surprised at that, “okay…I guess I owe you that much.” She sighs, clearly nervous. “Last year, I returned to my hometown for the first time in five years because my sister was attacked by a—masked psycho.”

Your eyes widen, “jesus christ, okay…”

“She survived, but there were other attacks. People who didn’t survive.” She continues. “And it…all came back to me.”

“I doubt you’re to blame for some nutcase wanting to get stab happy,” you say.

“There’s more to it…” She seems hesitant. “You’re probably never going to want to speak to me again after this,” Sam says.

“Try me,” you counter.

And it was like once she started she couldn’t stop, like she had been bottling it all up and now it was all flowing out over the top. She weaves her tale, the murders, the terror, and even her biological father. And now, the rumors that surrounded her because of it all.

If you were honest, yeah—it was a whole fucking lot to take in and part of you wondered if you were living under a goddamn rock to not know about at least some of this, but you were surprisingly calm.

“Say something please.” She says in the wake of your slightly stunned silence.

“Fucking hell,” words blurted out.

Okay, so maybe not that calm.

“Maybe say something else,” she adds, uneasy.

“That is…I would probably have nightmares too.”

“You’re not nearly as freaked out as I thought you’d be,” says Sam.

“I mean, I’m a little freaked out. But if you were going to go all Micheal Myers on me—I figure you probably would have by now.” You realize that was probably not the best response, but you were still just a bit overwhelmed. “Sorry,” you add haphazardly.

“I—it’s fine,” she says, shaking her head a little. “I didn’t do it, for the record. What everyone’s saying.”

“I don’t think murderers typically wake up in a panic after their killing sprees,” you say. “I get it.”

She sighs, “I really am sorry. I didn’t tell you or try to get too close because I didn’t want to drag you into anything.”

“I doubt anyone wants to open up to the stranger they’re hooking up with,” you say lightly. “And I can handle myself too by the way.”

“Yeah, but I do actually like you,” she says. “And I clearly should have told you that too.”

You grin a little at that heart squeezing. “That’s a relief, I didn’t want to be the cliche of falling for your friend with benefits all on my own.”

“I can assure you, you’re not alone.” She says, a soft smile that matches your own.

“Okay…good,” you say.

“Great,” she responds. The two of you were giggling now.

And for once, she doesn’t leave and suddenly the sunlight streaming in through your kitchen window feels just a little bit brighter and warmer. It all felt—hopeful.

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x gn reader #sam carpenter fanfic #scream fanfic #scream 2022 #scream vi #sid's writing

407 notes · View notes

gvtted-ratz · 3 months

Text

read all our tags/ratings. they r important n give u all u need 2 decide if u wanna actually read or not. do not like the tags/rating? do not read.

FEM ALIGNING/IDENTIFYING PPL (unless mutuals/friends) DNI WITH OUR MLM WORKS. fem ppl can still request tho. respect our wishes or get blocked. yes we do read/check everything. we tag appropriately/use tags that go with our posts.

want 2 request? find the rules: here!

want 2 see all the fics? find em: here!

Mission Failed

Simon “Ghost” Riley x M!Reader x John “Soap” MacTavish

Last Edited: 17/03/2023

TW: slight angst, foul language, violence, blood, gore, gunshot wound, death mention

@denzellovehazelnuts: Hi! hope you have a good day! Can you do a poly "Ghost x male reader x Soap" (if you comfortable writing poly relationship) with slow burn, angst and fluff at the end? Where Ghost and Soap already in a relationship until the reader came into their team The two male thought the reader wasn't talkative around people but few weeks later, things change at first Ghost seems interesting in the male skill using gun and how fast he can run and Soap like the male sense of humour. Both of them thought it only a friendship type of things. Until the male save Ghost from the enemy on the battlefield and him laughing at Soap jokes. That when the two males known what happen to them, they weren't sure if M/n would comfortable in a relationship with them, so they start doing small things for him like making coffee or helping training,.. And M/n notice it, he even started to fall for the both of them. But he keep denying the things they did for him because he thought that what friend do. and M/n don't think he is ready for a new relationship, he wasn't sure he is good enough for them (the male got trauma from the previous relationships) (more angst please, I would like to suffer for a little bit) (・∀・) After a while, the three of them got into a mission together, everything went good until the male got shot. He thought he going to be de@d soon (only to find out that he only got shot at his leg) so M/n confessed how he feel about the two of them. (andddd I don't know what to do with the ending cause I'm ran out of idea. I would want to see how the treated each other when got into a relationship. Sorry about the grammar, English isn't my first language)

Word Count: 2,654

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes: hiiii! i dont do heavy angst but i did do some u know? slow burn it is!!! srry it took so long! irl things hold me back a lot. N since u wanted slow burn, n with all that uve put (about 350 words of things i can work on/with 2 get this drawn out as a full-on fic!! yay!) i had 2 like. try n put all u wanted in there so yea! hope u enjoy!! also! i threw in some other characters like gaz n roach. hope u dont mind em being in here since this is like, a mash of cod n codmw2 (canon? what cancon?) cause i rlly do wanna put some other characters in here that i find interesting n build some sort of character/personality 4 the reader. reader deserves some cool friends-2-brothers!

At first, you hadn’t wanted to join Task Force 141. You were comfortable with your position as the quiet, but light on your feet, knife specialist. Well, that wasn’t truly your title. You were just good with knives. You weren’t too shotty with a gun either. Either weapon being in your hands meant blood was going to be shed. KorTac needed those types, especially those who could use it to get in as well as out; you also couldn’t forget about using your skills to get information. Torturing the prisoners wasn’t something you particularly liked, but you were good at it too. Combining your skills with knives and guns, it truly was hell for anyone on the opposite side of your team. You also couldn’t forget that, out of the others, you were much faster. Sure, some could still beat you at times but that didn’t mean you weren’t good. Bets had been constantly taking place with you, along with others as it was one of the few things any of you could do to pass the time in a less-than-bloody manner.

The transfer from KorTac to Task Force 141 wasn’t smooth. Horangi, or Kim Hong-jin, didn’t let you go for weeks. You were part of his team, one of his men. The leader of KorTac is what most of you saw him as. He knew many of you like the back of his hand. Not to mention, a tiger can be cruel but would never devour its cubs for no reason, well, as some say. As far as you knew, because you were all together, you were a team and therefore family. While there were others who didn’t get along, out in the field, all of you had each other’s back. Very rarely did anyone get left to perish to the enemy.

With all that in mind, it took weeks for him to let you go. More or less, Laswell was the one to convince him; that is if you call bringing each plus every person in KorTac to ruins as “convincing”. She wanted you on a team she could keep tabs on you; doubting her power and skills was out of the question. Which meant leaving KorTac to ensure that everyone else was free from possible imprisonment or death was necessary.

Fitting in wasn’t too hard considering most of the people there were from all over the place. While it’s odd for a member from another team to suddenly appear on another, it didn’t bother most of the others. Just from a glance, you could tell who was into who; as well as who exactly was in a relationship. A man by the name of Ghost including another called Soap, you knew were together. Soap flirted with almost everyone, though it was more teasing and lighthearted. With Ghost though? The flirting went up by twenty percent. His dial for teasing went up tenfold too. Meanwhile, Ghost hardly looked at anyone else, nevertheless, stare at them unless they were the Scottish man. Frankly, you didn’t mind. Who were you to judge the two? Especially when they were good at what they did.

It takes weeks before you’re comfortable enough to so much as talk to anyone 141. Gaz, or Kyle as Soap tended to call him when annoyed, is the first to so much as approach you. While the others are interested, you coming from KorTac had put them off for a bit. Gaz on the other hand treats you like a brother. He’ll throw his arm around your shoulder, dragging you around as he laughs about the past or even at your jokes. At meals, he always throws a raised eyebrow at those who look at you oddly when you’re quiet or sitting with the man. He treats you like you’re part of the team, furthermore, that truly means more than anything to you.

The man is just as bloodthirsty as you are. His stories of falling out of planes along with taking out enemies only lead to you looking up to your new teammate and brother. His tales of meeting Captain Price, past missions, a few tidbits of him being with the SAS, together with some metals he’s earned, only makes you want to pry more stories from the man; not like you don’t have to try. Simply asking about his stories leads to at least an hour-long spill of them from the guy.

And with his stories comes a few of your own. You don’t share much of them, knowing Gaz spreads them to the rest of the team with more dramatics to try to get you to interact with the others. Something you do learn about him that you always keep in mind from his stories is that his blood type is B Negative and shooting any dog, wild or not, makes him feel a bit guilty; he had to shoot one a while ago and apologised to the poor mutt after having to put it down to finish his mission.

With all that he’s shared and how the both of you see each other as brothers, it’s only fair that you let yourself talk to the others in the team. Though your words are short, along with your jokes being told quickly to distract yourself from the stressful situations, you allow yourself to slowly relax with the others. Gaz’s constant support helps you finally allow yourself to bond with your new team and family. It’s only after a mission that things change.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“Take the left! Keep your heads down and keep movin’!” Captain Price’s voice rings out in your earpiece. Everything has gone to shit. The intel you’ve been getting was entirely a trap. You’re running through an underground tunnel, Ghost and another man named Roach is running in front of you.

Roach is a quiet man, never talking or letting out a sound, but semi-friendly. From his actions and what you’ve been told of him, he does his best to complete the missions to the tea. The few interactions you’ve had with him were silent but nice. Whether or not he’s mute has crossed your mind time and mind again but you don’t ask; you’d rather leave the man be. After all, he has become something like a friend maybe even another brother.

“Copy. We’re nearly out. Roach and [Redacted] are with me,” Ghost responds, quickening his pace. The rifle smacks against your back as you speed up to keep up with the other two men. Despite the situation, the three of you remain as calm as you can be.

“You’re bein’ tracked like a rabbit is by a hound, Ghost! Move it!” The captain’s orders are clear and the worry is read between the lines. If you three don’t get out, it’s a huge blow to 141. Not only that, but Soap loses his boyfriend, Gaz loses two of his best friends as well as brothers, you three lose your lives, and Task Force 141 loses three of its members. Dying isn’t an option here.

“We have company,” Your words are muffled by your gear but the two soldiers in front of you hear them in their own pieces.

“Fuckin’ hell-” Ghost’s sentence gets cut off by gunfire from behind. Turning around, you fire the Lachmann Sub in your possession.

“We gotta go! They’re gaining!” You clip one of the enemies in the shoulder and another is hit in the stomach. Picking up the speed, the three of you try to beat them out of the tunnel. You cover the back, hoping the two get out before you. If you get surrounded, it’s over.

Thankfully, they haven’t reached the other end of the tunnel as the three of your burst out of the exit. You grab a grenade, pull the pin and throw it in the tunnel. As soon as it leaves your hands, you’re running faster to get to Roach and Ghost before anything else can; one arm wraps around each of your teammates’ necks, dragging them down to the ground as the little metal bomb goes off. Debris flies everywhere, looking for an area to land after being shot out of its place.

With the tunnel exist now collapsed along with no more flying rock and metal, you release the men. “How copy?” Crackles through each of your earpieces. You knock your forearm into Roach’s upper arm, eyes crinkling from your smile. He gives you a grateful nod, standing. You smack Ghost’s arm as he stands, glad to have escaped the enemies for now.

“Tunnel’s collapsed. We’re good. Ready for extraction, Sir,” Blunt and straight to the point are the skull-masked man’s words.

“Good. Heli’s close by. Move to the edge of the town.” With the three of you alive, you can practically feel Captain Price’s relief.

“Copy that, Captain,” Your muffled response comes before Ghost can send in his own. He scans you from the corner of his eye but doesn’t give you a retort. You do, however, hear a small huff of air leave him. You throw your arm around Roach’s neck again, puffs of air leaving you from happiness, meanwhile, his arm comes around your back. Seems the three of you live another day.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

After that mission, Ghost tends to lurk around you more than he originally had. It didn’t help that Soap tends to tag along as well. Thankfully, he finds your jokes hilarious if the loud, boisterous laughter he lets out all the time tells you anything. His teasing ends up piling onto you as well. Before, it was light as well as spread out. Now, it’s almost like he’s talking to Ghost with all the teasing and flirting he now does with you. His boyfriend hardly seems concerned but rather encourages his behaviour. Of course, that doesn’t mean he goes easy on you when the two of your spar together. He’s dead serious when it comes to sparring; it’s only a reminder that while he does good off, he’s just as dangerous as the rest of them.

The two men seem to be fixated on wanting to help you out in training as well. More pointers plus tips are thrown your way when you practice with either of them. Sometimes, they’ll even make you coffee for those sleepless nights. Mentioning such things to Gaz and Roach only leads to your sworn brothers giving you knowing looks or a few teasing words; Gaz is the one with the teasing remarks while Roach pats your shoulder in a mocking but teasing “you poor man” way. Neither seems keen on wanting to spill the tea on why the Scottish and British men have been more affectionate.

While you enjoy their kind gestures, including their company, you’re not sure if you’re ready to admit to yourself, or them, about such feelings or relationships. On the surface, you truly do want to ask them if this is some sort of flirting schtick they have going on. Deep down though, the idea of being with anyone again makes your stomach fill with the lead. How could you enter another relationship? After the last one ended with your soon-to-be fiance’s brains splattered all over a brick wall. How can you move past that? How can you allow yourself to find someone like them? Or even better than them? The answer to that is a sigh alongside a bitter smile. The ring hiding under your tactical gloves seems to burn your skin. Truly, how can you let your first love go? After all, if you weren’t good enough to keep them alive, how can you keep these two from meeting the same gorey end?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“To think I’d find myself here… How fuckin’ funny,” You mumble. Another mission, this one just like all the others. Well, it would have been if you hadn’t been shot. The blood leaking from your leg alongside a knife wound to your side leave you in pain. Feeling weak isn’t something uncommon but neither is it constantly happening. Words are being spoken to you through your headset. You were to be the lookout but ended up being the enemy's first target.

“How copy?” Rings in your ears. Your eyes stare blankly in front of you. You feel pathetic. Too tired to talk. Too tired to get up. You just sit, popped up against a tree in the heavily wooded area. You’ve failed, failed, failed.

“C’mon, Mate, how do ya copy?” Soap’s voice is worried and winded. He and Ghost are the people you’ve been teamed up with and you’ve failed.

“[Redacted], how copy?” The next tone is Ghost’s. It sounds slightly strained.

“Mission Failed,” You croak, head tilted back and against the tree.

“Status report, Mate. Where are ya?” He’s rushing, possibly panicked now.

“Got two wounds. Gunshot to the thigh. Knife to the side. Bleeding pretty bad, Soap.” You close your eyes, sighing.

“State your location.” The Brit seems to be just as worried as his Scottish counterpart.

“Dunno. Woods. Against a tree… There’s a lot of blood. Feelin’ woozy.” When you open your eyes, your sight is blurred. You’re losing too much blood.

“Keep talkin’ to us then, yeah? You’ll make it out. We’ll get out together,” The Scot’s words, though hopeful, only make you scoff quietly.

“You know… If I get outta here… Think we can go out sometime? Bourbon and whiskey? The three of us?”

“When we get out, [Redacted]. There’s no if here,” The masked man makes it sound final like there’s no way you’ll die on them.

“Yeah… Yeah..” You don’t say anymore, everything slowly hazing away. It’s like your floating in winter with how cold you feel.

“[Redacted]? Don’t sleep! C’mon! Keep ya eyes open!” Soap’s words fade away along with everything else. All that waits is cold darkness.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“So… Think you can handle our drinking date after this?” Soap perches on the side table, messing with a lighter he took from Ghost.

“After he’s healed, Johnny. No alcohol before,” A semi-scolding is all the man gets from the brooding Ghost. You laugh slightly, jostling your wounds. You wince but wave off the concerned looks you get.

“After I’m no longer full of holes, Johnny-boy.” You take a sip of water afterwards, making Soap frown playfully.

“And to think I was gonna bring out the good shit fer ya. A shame. A damn shame.” You gently shake your head. It was a close call but Ghost got to you before you completely bled out. From what you’ve been told by Gaz, who yelled at you for an hour after you woke up from your four-day sleep, Ghost and Soap dragged you back to the helicopter. Both refused to leave your side. Captain Price ended up having to yell at the men and bribe them with a bit of alcohol to get them to even go to their own rooms. You made sure to apologize to Gaz, hugging him tightly after his blow-up. He thought he was going to lose a friend and family member so you couldn’t blame him.

Roach gave you the cold should for a while before appearing in your room with a cup of coffee. He made sure to smack the back of your head for your stupidity as well, though it was hardly rough. You grabbed the man before he could so much as bolt though when he saw you getting up to hug him. He hadn’t pushed you away though. And the captain? It felt like you were a kid again with how he pinned you with his stare. He made sure to tell you exactly how he felt, going from angry, to disappointed, to angry again. Another guy you couldn’t blame anything on. But you get to live another day at least. And you get to have that date with the two guys who were able to grab ahold of your heart after a long-time of heartache and loss.

#x male reader #x reader #my fics #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #cod x reader #cod x male reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 x male reader #poly ghoap x reader #poly ghoap x male reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x male reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x male reader

92 notes · View notes