c0wb0yenthusiast

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

My Lady

Feyd Rautha x Fem!Reader

Word count : 6.5k

Warnings : SMUT! let me know in the comments if I’ve missed anything

Summary : You’re being married off to the mysterious Na-Baron of Giedi Prime. Feyd Rautha is a strange man, but his confusing mannerisms frustrate you throughout his stay in your planet. However, how do you supposed he feels about you?

.

Feyd Rautha is a leader.

Feyd Rautha is a prince.

He has a whole nation willing to submit to his every request. He does not have time to be waiting for his alleged ‘bride’.

So why is he standing in the hallway like a lost child? It only heightens his anger, his frustration.

You must be making him wait out of spite, since it’s so obvious you harbour no reason to appreciate this marital alliance. He’s already drafting up wicked ideas of what his witch for a wife will look like; clearly you haven’t shown yourself until the last moment to be spared from any chances of spending time with your new husband.

Of course, it’s no secret that the Reverend Mothers’ breeding program may seem ‘unfair’ to some. Like pairing such a worthy, well-bred prince such as Feyd with a young woman who hasn’t been raised right - this must only benefit the alliance of nations and different species.

His posture can only be described as perfection. His shoulders drawn and broad, hands tucked behind his back in an orderly manner to appear more powerful - after all, first impressions are important for alliances.

Even in thought, he cannot call this a marriage. The very thought of it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, one that he desires to get rid of as quickly as possible.

However, with perfection comes sacrifices. Since the moment he stepped foot onto your land - your territory - Feyd braced himself as if he were walking straight into an ambush and you were the enemy. His muscles strained against the plain, dark cloths he’d adorned today instead of his usual armour. He was vulnerable to his surroundings now, unshielded and alone.

He pays close attention to the hallway he finds himself dawdling in. It’s dim, built with smooth bricks that are cool to the touch. But that is no distraction for what is to come any moment now.

In mere moments, the two of you were to meet for the first time and officiate your marriage. You were to be his wife, provide him with children and continue the Harkonnen lineage. That is what a successful alliance was, as well as what was expected of by the Reverend Mothers who set up this marriage in the first place.

Feyd forces any kind of hesitation out of his mind, why should he be unwilling? All you needed to do was perform your marital duties and live with him. You don’t even need to be in the same room with him after that. It was simple enough for Feyd to understand after it had been instilled in his head ever since he’d been born.

Feyd was ready to commit to making this alliance work out for both of your nations. As for his own martial duties? It would be as easy as his fights in the arena, entertaining even. You’re just another enemy he needs to fight off in another way.

He doesn’t flinch when the door next to him opens slowly and your father comes out, inviting him in to meet his newly wed.

Then he saw you.

He cannot begin to explain the flood of unfamiliar emotions that crashed once he caught sight of you. He knew you wouldn’t look like his own kind - but this is something entirely different. You are unlike his Darlings back in Giedi Prime, unlike any kind of princess or woman who has come to witness his battles. His feelings towards you deviate from the usual ones he’s been indoctrinated to feel. You’re beautiful in a way that aches.

You are the beginning of his newfound hunger for something new, something he simply doesn’t want to understand.

Feyd Rautha is smitten. So profoundly smitten, it causes him pain that he doesn’t enjoy for once. It gnaws at his bones as he continues to glare at you while entering the room.

“Please, My Lord, have a seat.” You sound mostly unaffected, he isn’t able to piece together what is forming inside your mind. But he can already tell. You’ve probably studied him before this, obvious from your lack of surprise which surprisingly pains him. He wants to know what you’re thinking.

Deep down, he craves to know if you’re experiencing the same feelings as he is now.

Even if he can’t decipher them.

He opts to stand by the chair you’d gestured to, but it only brings a small hint of confusion as you rise out of your chair to greet him.

“Feyd Rautha Harkonnen, you are a mighty warrior and prince. I am glad to become your wife and unite our nations.” You’re dressed for the occasion; your pure white gown flows while you move, practically making your face glow as if you were the only significant thing in the room. And you were to Feyd.

You were his bride.

You were his and that is what mattered to him. Having possession over the finest woman in all the land, it was like a blessing in his honour.

He ignores your suspiciously dull tone, overcome by the sheer beauty that he is currently facing instead.

“As am I.” Feyd struggles to force these words out, he could almost choke on them. His raspy tone seems to shock you, your eyes widen for a split second.

But then you relax just as quick, crossing your hands over one another as you look up at him to talk.

“In my culture, we commemorate marriage with rings. A symbol of our union. We took the time to forge a pair for the occasion.”

He’s too busy watching your lips to pay attention to the servant holding out the rings, but quickly takes one and entraps it inside his fist.

“My Lord? Will you not wear your ring now?”

He almost felt himself falter at the sight of your concern - it seems genuine. The gentle frown on your lips as you wait for an answer tugs at his chest. You wanted him to honour your nation, you wanted him to honour his own marriage.

Feyd doesn’t answer, only unclenching his fist slowly and then sliding the ring onto his finger. It fits perfectly, prompting him to examine it for a couple of moments before being interrupted by you again.

“I made sure to choose the most special designs for us. We both have a gem sacred to our culture in the centre of the ring. Look.” You guide your hand towards his cautiously, observing his reaction for any kind of surprise or aggression.

Feyd stays as still as a stone, allowing your tender hand to gesture to the gem encrusted in his wedding band. Although the jewel is a deep, crimson colour it has a small glint that catches his eye. It looks rather simple compared to his Harkonnen style ring, symbolising his lineage and loyalty to his own nation.

Now he had to balance two kinds of priorities: his marriage and his clan.

“When will the ceremony take place?” He finally manages to muster up something showing any kind of intelligence, but it doesn’t phase you. You’re probably already thinking about the rest of your life with a cold, barbaric sadist.

“Well, right now we have just officially married. This was represented by the rings. Tomorrow, we plan on hosting a dinner before I leave for Geidi Prime. Is that all?” Your question isn’t intimidating or full of anger, rather more curious. He’d like to think that you wanted to know more, but now Feyd is mentally batting this newfound want to please you, have you smile or praise him. He is too busy to consider what your true intentions could be.

“Yes. I want to be shown to my chambers.” He nods, placing his hands behind his back once more. To you it looks polite, whereas Feyd sees it as restraining himself. He can’t shake the urge to touch you, claim you properly as his own and see if you’re any different from his own kind. Is your skin softer? What does your hair feel like? All of these questions rush through his mind continuously, pushing his boundaries further and further.

You have no time to respond since Feyd has already left the room, practically charging out with a servant trailing behind him. He cannot bear to look at your face any longer.

It will only feed his delusions of the possibility of love in this alliance.

-

Feyd is no stranger to the nighttime, but the peace that comes with the loneliness is new to him. When he usually stalked the halls in Giedi Prime, tension was thick in the atmosphere, so thick it could’ve choked him. But that wouldn’t have deterred Feyd’s other senses. There was always some reason to have his guard up.

Yet, as he stared up at the moon from the courtyard, there was only the sound of his quiet, quick breaths. He was still dressed in his cloths from earlier, hesitant towards the idea of becoming any more vulnerable if he let himself adorn his nightclothes. The breeze presses against his face gently, gliding off of his skin and clothes as he absorbs the new sensation of the cool air. Your planet was almost as mysterious as you, so many things unexplained that he surprisingly cannot say a bad word about.

The soft patter of gentle footsteps on the cool stones disrupt his solace, prompting Feyd to whip his head in your direction. You’re making your way towards him slowly, holding up the hem of your nightgown to prevent it from getting any stains from the damp grass of the courtyard. His eyes glaze over your figure highlighted in the moonlight, but only more dramatised from the thin, white fabric of your gown. He quickly averts his gaze before you’re able to get close enough to notice, pretending that he hasn’t even bothered to look at you.

You don’t say anything as you approach. Your hands lie limply by your sides once you stand beside him, tilting your head up to look at the moon.

“Do you not have a moon in Geidi Prime?” It’s soft and cautious, as if you’re treading water and trying to see if you’ll sink.

“We do. It isn’t like your planet at all. Hardly anything is similar.” His sentences are short and unintentionally as sharp as his posture.

“That is why we’re married, is it not? To bring together two nations who could benefit from each other.”

He nods in agreement and watches you out of the corner of his eye; he can see the subtle curve of your lips and how it changes your entire face tremendously. Feyd can’t tear his attention away from you.

“I’m glad that you came to my planet, my lord. I’m sorry if this isn’t how a princess should speak… but it will help my people and that is my sworn duty. Thank you.” You add, bowing your head to him shortly. It’s an embarrassment for a princess to be acting so informally when unchaperoned, you scold yourself.

He nods again, and you can feel a hint of amusement bubbling within your chest.

“You don’t talk a lot, do you? Are all Harkonnens like this?” You’re trying not to faint at the possibility of getting shut down or even attacked, yet it hasn’t unnerved you entirely. You don’t know enough about your husband to know what to expect for your honeymoon in Giedi Prime - which can have consequences for the better or worse.

Finally, he tilts his head in your direction. His eyes linger on your face as his mouth opens to respond.

“No.”

You chuckle, putting a hand to your mouth as you smile and look up at him with those bright eyes that Feyd is beginning to grow some kinds of strange feelings for.

“One of my warriors was sent to Giedi Prime when I found out who I was to marry, so I could understand who I would spend my future with. He saw you fighting in the arena - you were much more talkative then.” Your tone is playful as you wait for an answer, shifting closer to him.

Feyd is biting his tongue, letting the molars press deep to the point he feels some kind of pain that brings pleasure. His usual way to cope with complex feelings.

But he’s not even sure of what these current feelings are.

Feyd usually categorises ‘complex’ as a mix of emotions he’s used to. As if it’s a formula. For example, anger and confusion can lead to frustration, which is something he’s been feeling a lot since he’s laid eyes on you.

But that is not the case this time. He is having an irregular formula that could lead to disaster.

One part of his mind is primal, downright carnal as his gaze flickers to the low neckline of your dress. The way your collarbone is illuminated in the moonlight, how little of your body is covered by this ‘gown’ as his eyes roam your shoulders and neck.

The other is unknown. He cannot piece together why you’re like this, why you’re doing these horrible things to his mind and body. What they could cause him to do if these games go on for too long.

“I am very excited on the battlefield. Like a little boy.” He scolds himself, crossing his arms as he reflects on his last time in the arena.

“Well, I don’t think that’s a bad thing. You are just enjoying yourself.”

“So you understand the pleasure of winning battle?”

You’re a taken aback at his direct question, almost shrinking as he peers deep into your eyes.

“I am not usually involved in warfare, but I do find there are other ways to seek this kind of pleasure you speak of.” You’re a little flushed now, nervous of where this topic of ‘pleasure’ could lead to. It’s midnight and you’re alone in the courtyard with your newly wedded husband - what could go wrong?

“I am no child. I understand what you speak of when using the term ‘other ways’.” He’s much closer now, glaring down at you with such an intensity that you feel as if he’s searing marks into your skin from his gaze.

“I am so sorry, Na-Baron. I- I should not have brought this topic up! It is very shameful, so I must depart now.” You turn to leave, about to grasp onto your nightgown when his sudden grip on your wrist makes you gasp.

“Why did you call me Na-Baron?” His tone is low, intimidating and sending sparks down your spine that shouldn’t be there.

“Because… because…” you find yourself at a loss for words, too nervous to attempt to form a response.

“You say that I am your lord, so you are my lady.” His voice comes out raspier, every word has an edge to it as he speaks. You cannot help but feel as if this is a command.

As you’re about to retort, state that he’s never called you ‘his lady’ so far, he leans in closer. His plump lips are parted, allowing his hot breath to fan over your skin. It spreads a sweet, hot sensation that brings up a fever in your mind. Suddenly, your judgement is a little more clouded, intoxicated by his presence.

“You have not said that I am your lady yet.” You whisper, exhaling shaky breaths as your eyes dart from his gaze to his lips. Then again. It’s a battle that you’re losing as you’re too focused on the subtle movement on his lips as he lets out shallow breaths.

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow, at the meal, I will make sure everyone knows you are mine. My lady.” He adds, letting go gently and backing away. His expression remains stern, but there is some kind of mischievous glint in his eyes. A warning of the true nature of this prince.

You try to make out any kind of smirk now spread across his lips, but he’s completely blank. You’re unable to figure out if he’s teasing you or genuinely took your word. You can only assume the best of your husband and what he seems to be planning as you trudge back to your room confused.

-

Your father knows how to celebrate - whether it is marriage, birthday, or even a funeral he has never failed to plan the most suitable occasions.

You are hitched into a tight, colourful gown that was made specially for you. This explains why you don’t complain when the strings are pulled in a slightly painful way, when the emergency embroidering needle pokes you a couple of times or even when you’re beginning to feel a little self conscious. What will Feyd think?

At that moment, you catch a glimpse of your reflection - why are you so concerned about him? At the beginning of the union, you were so well versed in how to be a good wife and princess that you had no time to consider your own feelings. You could only follow the schedule. Yet in such a short time he’s managed to chip you down into the scared little girl that you’ve always been and can never deny. It’s embarrassing. You’re embarrassed for yourself.

He’s given you too many different kinds of signals to allow you to consider his true motives, which completely throws you off after the short encounters from yesterday.

This morning, he greeted you swiftly before going to prepare as if last night never happened.

You scoff, looking down at your ring and brushing your thumb over the jewel now. He’s playing with your feelings. Clearly this is just a honeymoon stage for him: prepare you to continue the Harkonnen line, and then leave you in Giedi Prime to fend for yourself with a whole new nation awaiting you.

You’re just a prize to him.

“Your Royal Highness?”

You turn around hastily. Your handmaiden awaits with shoes in her hands, looking up at you with concern.

“Are you okay?” She continues, handing you the shoes gently.

“I am content. Why shouldn’t I be? I am married to the Na-Baron and joining our nations in the process, which will benefit everyone.” You can’t see how hasty your answer was, how automatic it seemed. It was the only feasible reason to marry the Na-Baron, since true love was not a possible idea anymore in the Reverend Mothers’ breeding program.

Your handmaiden nods feebly, allowing you to sit down and hand the shoes back to her. She’s slipping them onto your feet before a much more quieter question hastily escapes her mouth.

“Are you sure that’s all?”

You blink.

You’re about to open your mouth to speak, to try and organise your emotions with someone who isn’t your unpredictable newlywed.

The door opens and your father strides in cheerily, much to your frustration.

“Come on, dear. The table is set and everybody will be seated soon.��

You don’t say anything. You don’t do anything but what you’re told.

Right now, you just need to listen to your previous training and avoid Feyd Rautha. He’s only trying to follow his own rules too.

You walk with your father, arms linked firmly as the two of you approach the large dining hall. It has been decorated top to bottom in lavish jewels that shine, ribbons that wrap around the entire room and lanterns hanging in corners, feebly illuminating the already bright room. However, when it darkens, they will provide a dim light for a more relaxed atmosphere. You’re not phased by any of this, your father has been planning this ceremony since you could walk. Even though some believe your planet is more ‘backwards’, there is still one similar goal - providing heirs to the throne. You shouldn’t be standing alone once your reign starts, as believed by all the Reverend Mothers who have also instilled this idea into your father.

Along comes Feyd Rautha, the Na-Baron, looking for a suitable wife to continue the Harkonnen lineage and help him rule - it’s almost too perfect. The Reverend Mothers’ were onto this completely.

You only look around, a blank expression pasted onto your face. It’s clear as day how bored you are, which prompts a remark from your father.

“Has he said anything to you?” His tone is deep with suspicion. He eyes you carefully, his brows furrowed in concern.

“What?”

“The Na-Baron. Has he upset you, my dear?” You abruptly stop in your footsteps, meeting your father’s gaze.

“No, father. It’s fine. It’s nothing at all.” You shake your head dismissively, sighing and wringing your hands together now.

“You will get used to it - that’s the part that strengthens your marriage. Getting through the hardships and coming to face your situation with a heart of gold, the one that I’ve raised you to have.” He smiles at you fondly, pinching your cheek gently.

Although his words don’t seem to comfort you, you still smile back and nod goodbye as you walk down the long hall to reach your seat.

In the traditional manner of your nation, the bride and groom sit on opposite ends of the large, winding table that stretches from one end of the room to the other. This gives you plenty of time to enjoy the lack of the Na-Baron’s presence, as he seems to trick your mind everytime he is near you.

You take your seat, sitting upright in the grand, wooden chair. It’s hard to get comfortable, forcing you into position for the entirety of the dinner.

Feyd has now entered the room. His stride is intimidating, emitting solidity and power. He’s dressed in an all black uniform once more, but his ring is clear on his finger as he pulls his chair out from across the hall. You’re able to see the subtle glint, which almost makes you want to change your mind. Maybe you’re just assuming the worst.

However, you never knew what to expect with the Reverend Mothers and their underlying sinister motives. For now, you choose to avoid him and carry on with your marriage as calmly as possible. As if it were simply just a business negotiation.

He acknowledges you carefully, nodding towards you before settling himself in his own chair. You only nod back clumsily and cease all contact from there.

Guests arrive slowly. Friends from aristocratic families and governors are the majority, but there are still many people who were invited due to their hard work and contributions to society recorded recently. You make sure to greet them all grandly, smiling and allowing them to shower you with compliments. The Na-Baron stood beside you, watching you intently as you interact with everyone in sight. He doesn’t say a word, his jaw tense and teeth grind together as he watches with lidded eyes.

You falter under his gaze for a moment, but stiffen and keep your composure. If this is how he was going to play, then you were just going to trap him in your own game.

For the rest of the celebration, you avert your gaze away from the Na-Baron. Right now, your main focus is the people and celebrating your nation as well as the marriage.

The meal goes swimmingly - empty courses and platters of food now litter the grand table after such a long feast. So long that by the time you’d finished, the sun had set. You focus on swallowing oddly shaped lumps of food, trying not to choke on even the smallest crumb from the searing gaze of Feyd Rautha.

Although, even when you turn to the most obscure corners, seats and groups of people - Feyd’s eyes are glued to you. His dark eyes blend with his pupils, creating some kind of animalistic glint when the lights reflect in his enlarged pupils. You can almost feel two bruises forming into your back from the intensity of his glare.

-

Feyd isn’t hurt, he’s not injured or scratched - but he’s been cut deep. So deep that he’s been searching from the origin of this seething pain since this morning; he almost destroyed his room with the pure frustration bubbling within. He knows it has to do with you. You’re the only woman who’s managed to sway him so strongly that his defences have been drawn back in hopes of some sort of victory.

However, tonight is leaving him with anything but victory as he can’t psychically tear his eyes away from you without feeling tortured. Even if you seem to feel the opposite.

You’re so carefree; you talk to the guests with ease and float around the hall in your gorgeous gown that he just wants to rip to shreds. He can’t bear with his facade of yours.

That’s when he decides he’s going to end it. Right here, right now.

-

You’re in the middle of a conversation when, over the chatter and laughter, you hear it.

Charging footsteps across the hall. You cannot deny who it is, and you’re grasping for any idea of what to say when he now stands beside you.

“My wife.” He declares, unbothered by the concerning throttle filled charge from seconds ago. His voice is sudden, hoarse like usual and rough around the edges.

You’re at a loss for words, smiling timidly at the couple you were just talking to as he now takes your arm firmly and links it around his own. When you finally look up at him, he’s not smiling. He’s unreadable right now.

The cool fabric of his black cloths rub against your skin, barely covered by the sheer fabric of your sleeves.

“My husband.” You nod at the couple, who hastily bow to him.

For the rest of the night, he’s attached to you like a bodyguard. He doesn’t talk, doesn’t smile and does not look at you once. The only sense of security seems to be the arm still linked with yours.

-

“Why did you do that?”

He pauses when you tear your arm away from him, staying still in his position as you create distance between the two of you.

“Who do you think you are? Do you think you can- can give me so many different ideas about you? Is that okay? Is it, my lord?” Your voice trips and stumbles as you struggle to even consider what you’re saying as the words fall out of your mouth with no regard for the Na-Baron.

“I don’t understand you! I know it’s been such a short time- and you cannot seem to talk to me- but I just need to know what your intentions are! I am married to you! I deserve to know!” You continue, pausing to gasp for air and let your shaky breaths fill the large, empty room of yours.

The celebrations had died down and the Na-Baron had decided to walk you to your room. Yet on the way there, your tears seemed to form and burst the minute the two of you were locked away in your room.

“My lady..” he murmurs, approaching you slowly. You’re crying, sniffling and backing away with every step he takes.

You’re so desperate to get away from him, but at the same time you’re dying to just throw something at him.

With too many thoughts rushing through your head, the thought never occurs to you of where you were actually going with your unsteady backwards footsteps.

“My lady.” He’s much closer than you realised. You attempt to back up further, but meet resistance with your wardrobe. A strong arm now blocks your last method of escape, caging you against the wardrobe.

He has you cornered. His eyes watch you intently, plush lips parted slightly as he breathes hard.

“You have bewitched me, changed me for what I am. I am no longer a warrior, no longer the Na-Baron since the moment I saw you. I knew that I was to be your husband, but I also knew that as a woman so capable and beautiful - I did not deserve you.”

His face has contorted and twisted into something entirely different; jaw tense with anticipation, eyes soft and pleading as they look at you directly. He’s waiting for you to say something, anything.

You’re in utter shock. This must be the most words he’s said since meeting you, but you’re hanging on to every word. Looking up at him with so many emotions swimming through your eyes that it’s like a turbulent sea.

He exhales, before continuing to speak.

“But I want you. I want you to be mine - my wife.” He sucks in a breath after saying this, as if it pains him somehow to spill such a secret. His brow line furrows in frustration as he attempts to explain, “We barely know each other, but all I know is that there’s been something about you that I ache for. Do you understand? You play with my feelings, my lady. You confuse me, anger me and entice me all at once. A warrior like I shouldn’t feel this way, he shouldn’t let his guard down for a woman. But that is what I’m willing to do right now in order to make my intentions clear.”

As he whispers this, he offers a hand to you carefully. Feyd now watches you intently, waiting for your response.

The room is dim, slithers of moonlight drag across the room in strange rays, casting a glow on the Na-Baron. He’s utterly pitiful in this moment, the moon now bringing to light his vulnerability.

You let out a jagged breath, desperately searching for words to say. When you can’t seem to find any, you bring your hand to his slowly. Your fingers intertwine and clasp each other firmly - an invitation. His hand is cold, calloused and engulfs your own.

You look up to him only to find that another layer has seemed to vanish, his dark eyes now gaze at you longingly. They trail over your dress, and you can almost hear the cogs ticking in his mind.

You swallow thickly, before letting out a hushed murmur, “Are you attempting to undress me with your eyes, my Lord?” There’s a bit of humour to it as a ghost of a smile graces your lips, but it’s overcome by that suddenly dry feeling in your throat and newfound, carnal want for Feyd Rautha.

“If I wanted to, your dress would be in ruins by now, my Lady.” He may banter with you, but there’s also some concern hidden beneath. Do you want him to touch you? What if you don’t like it?

Yet, with a small shrug, you respond.

“I won’t stop you, if that seems to be what we both want.”

His eyes widen slightly, the rush of giddiness that he would usually feel after winning a battle seems to flood his senses. It’s shameful how he now lets go of your hand to run both of them down your waist. It’s deliberately slow. Teasing, even.

“The ties are in the back, Feyd.” You urge, prompting him to move his hands to your back and begin to remove your dress. He’s still lightheaded from the rush of sensations encapsulating his mind, but he’s able to force out his question.

With his arms wrapped around your waist to reach your back, his face is buried in the crook of your neck now. His hot breath sends shivers down your spine as he speaks.

“Do you like this dress?” You can feel his lips against your neck now as he talks, but sense him holding back. He’s waiting for the right moment.

You shake your head.

He instantly rips the drawstring of your corset, it’s deliciously animalistic as he tugs it off and allows himself to get a good look at you. His eyes wander hungrily across your body, glancing up at your face as he searches for any reaction.

You’re completely frozen, overwhelmed by the different sensations rushing through your mind: the cold air on your bare skin, his warm, shallow breaths as they leave patches of heat on your body and his intense, unrelenting gaze.

“Do you want this?”

There’s a pause as you attempt to muster any words out of your dry throat. You finally swallow any anxiety, before answering in a whisper.

“Yes, I do.”

His lips are so soft as they push against yours, plush and comforting in contrast to his rough grip on your waist and back to pull you in as close as possible. You don’t retort, arching yourself into him and reaching a desperate arm to wrap around his neck. His hands are large, calloused and cool to the touch as they press into your skin hard. It only pushes you further into him, moaning into the kiss at the pleasurable pain.

Suddenly, you pull away to gasp for air only to be met with dark, pleading eyes that seem to beg you to stay.

“I.. I want to..” you’re a little out of breath, flushed and nervous as you place both hands on his firm chest. Your fingertips trace over the cloth lightly, but ultimately reach his buttons and claw at them hungrily. Your efforts are futile as you’re too enveloped by lust to register how to unbutton his clothes, leading him to place a hand on yours to guide you slowly. Button by button, he reveals himself to you.

His skin is pale, smooth as you run a tentative hand over his chest. His heartbeat is rapid, his breathing is strained as his gaze is fixed on you. He’s got a chiseled body, unscathed and untouched for a warrior. You can only let out a shaky breath as he begins to guide you to the bed, a hand cupping your face.

You’re not thinking straight, your mind finally coming to a halt when you realise your situation. He’s on top of you now, on both knees as he leans over to stroke your face, which has been frozen with shock.

“My lady..” Feyd murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He’s surprisingly gentle, but you can feel is erection pressing against your stomach as he’s worshipping your beauty.

You squirm under his grip, strong hands gliding over your neck and shoulders attempting to make you wait. But you’re becoming greedy, you want him now.

A small whine escapes your lips as you try to create some kind of friction, which causes him to smile. It’s a smirk. Cocky and teasing as it spreads across his lips.

“You’re desperate, my lady, aren’t you?” His voice is still low, hoarse as he tries to not lose his focus from the slight tingles of pleasure the friction is providing him. He wants to engross himself in the moment before ravishing you, no woman has been so vulnerable in his grip like this before.

He leans in, his gaze trailing along your features as he searches his prey for weak spots. His mouth lands on your neck, sucking on the delicate skin hungrily. You can’t remember what he’d said before, plagued by the newfound sensation of his wet saliva cooling the hickey tainting your skin.

You don’t even want to answer, a sigh escaping your lips at the pop of his mouth as he pulls away from your neck. A small, desperate whisper is all you can force out before you try to move your hand down to your thighs. It’s grabbed by his own and pinned back into the mattress.

“Don’t over-exert yourself, my lady.” He’s still smirking as he begins to steady himself at your entrance, but is just as desperate as you are to get his fill.

Your thighs are pushed apart with his spare hand, allowing him to let out a satisfied groan at the sight of you. Without warning, his hand lets go of your wrist to find your clit. His fingers brush against it softly, caressing a soft moan out of you which only prompts him to continue much harsher. The sounds are obscene as he toys and teases you, only aiding his own pleasure as he watches you clench around nothing.

The tip of his dick presses against your entrance, forcing you to attempt to push out your hips in hopes of fulfilment. You’re unable to move properly, his cold hands tighten around your body. As you writhe in his grip, your gaze flickers up to meet his. There’s a suspicious glint in his dark pupils, paired with the subtle upturn of his parted lips.

Suddenly, sharp sensation erupts within your body, one that tries to push your thighs together to only have them wrap around his firm waist. You can feel the pleasurable stretch as Feyd only savours you inch by inch as he pushes himself in as far as he can. Your skin prickles with heat, spreading across your body like a rash as you find yourself flushed and gasping for air as he pulls out suddenly.

It’s not for long, pushing his dick inside quickly again just to hear your staggered cries. Your body seems to move on its own, rocking yourself against him as he pushes in and out. He’s intoxicating, altering your mind to primal instincts.

His movements become sloppier, his climax becoming more inevitable with every thrust. Feyd begins to lose composure, plump lips parted and panting as his thumb still rubs your clit forcefully. You’re both growing impatient, his begging now becoming audible as the words stumble out of his mouth.

“Please.. please…” you’d never known the Na-Baron to be the kind of warrior to say ‘please’, but you’d driven him over the edge.

You’re also growing louder, whimpering and whining for your climax to come quick and hard. You want it, and you want it now.

You’re the first to come, crying as your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your back arches into him as an explosion of pleasure races through your body, tingling through your lower abdomen. However, as the waves of climax subside, you become increasingly more vulnerable to Feyd Rautha still pounding into you.

It only takes him a few more thrusts, but your arm is released from his grip as you cling onto his back. Your nails tear at his skin, the pangs of borderline pain bringing tears to your eyes at the sheer ecstasy of it all.

You hear his breath hitch in your ear, his mouth opens with a gasp as he buries himself inside you for his release. His cum is searing hot, filling your insides hastily as his chest rises up and down rapidly. Feyd doesn’t move for a moment, processing what just happened. But after a few seconds, when your hands loosen and droop down his spine as they’re overcome by fatigue, his arms wrap around you slowly.

He’s embracing you.

You’re both hot to touch, skin slick with sweat as your bodies press against each other. Yet, both of you don’t find any disgust in this. Instead, it’s replaced by a sense of comfort. The certainty that you’re his Lady, as he is your Lord.

#feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #austin butler #smut #dune 2 #dune 2024 #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune fanfiction

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

EVERYBODY!!! I’M POSTING IT NOW!!!

Do people still care about Feyd Rautha anymore? I’ve got a 6k smut fic in the bank if there’s actually an audience for dune 2 still 😭

#feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha #dune 2 #dune 2024 #dune part 2 #dune part two #dune movie #austin butler #feyd rautha fanfic

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

Hello 🙂 Can I read somewhere your smut fanfics with Feyd Rautha?

Hi! I honestly did NOT expect that previous post to blow up, so this is an update to everybody who liked or commented on that previous post (thanks for the encouragement!!!) HOPEFULLY I can finish it over the weekend or even before that to post it on tumblr! And I also do occasionally post on ao3 (@/JacobLover69)

Long story short I’ll try and finish it tonight!

#feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha #dune 2024 #dune part 2 #austin butler

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

Do people still care about Feyd Rautha anymore? I’ve got a 6k smut fic in the bank if there’s actually an audience for dune 2 still 😭

#dune part two #dune part 2 #dune movie #dune 2024 #feyd rautha #austin butler #feyd rautha harkonnen #fanfiction

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

happy birthday!!! :D i hope you had a great day <3333

Oh my gosh, thank you so much! I genuinely appreciate it and I did have a really good day 💝 love your writing too 😚

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

My 2nd birthday on tumblr 🥹 I didn’t realise I’ve been on here for that long

#birthday #happy birthday #to me

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

Country Boy - Part II

Phillip Graves/Fem!reader

Summary : There’s a little tension between you and Phillip, but surely you can avoid it? Not when you get tipsy at your welcome party and share a rather intimate moment, revealing some feelings in question to each other.

Word count : 3.4k

A/N : was about to post this earlier then realised a funny glitch had happened and the whole beginning had been deleted…. So I had to redo it and I PRAY it’s not choppy or anything!! Anyways thank you to everybody who read part 1, I appreciate all of your support and hope this part lives up to your expectations! :))

All morning, your mind seemed to be preoccupied.

You prepare your tea in utter silence, finding peace in the soft clank of utensils on plates while your parents eat at the table. Your shoulders are hunched and your back is to them, which allows a little more privacy to let the events of earlier sink in.

Phillip Graves.

Phillip Graves was on your porch. He teased you.

And you let him.

You’re busy pouring hot water into your mug, now attempting to recover everything about that meeting that your mind allowed you to.

It was almost horrible how good he looked, prompting you to keep your head low as you approach the table with your mug cupped in your hands.

He was so tall, so broad and so much more handsome. However, now he brandished a scar sliced deeply into his cheekbone from what you saw. It contrasted his tanned skin and stood out among the small nips and marks he’d collected on his skin since seemingly forever.

His hair fit perfectly under his hat, small dirty blond strands peeking from underneath. You felt as if he was teasing you. Look at me now, look at what you missed out on.

You blow on your tea quietly, hiding the fact it’s actually a deep exhale to comprehend the sight you saw this morning.

Leaning against the arch of your porch, he was wearing a red flannel which managed to hug him in all the right places. His broad shoulders were now defined and so were his arms. The plaid flannel pulled up to reveal his strong, muscled forearms wasn’t warding you off at all.

It’s embarrassing that you remember these features from such a short meeting, causing you to raise your mug to your mouth slowly in an attempt to cover the sheepish smile appearing at the memory of how he used to hold you back then. The way his warm hands cupped your face perfectly, as if they were two pieces connecting in a jigsaw puzzle. You now wished you could’ve gotten a better glimpse at them this morning.

“Is something wrong, dear?” Your mother takes notice of your silent routine, which makes you eye her nervously.

“Nothing. Just.. Phillip-“

“What does that boy want?” Your father interrupts, facing you with an accusatory glare.

“He said your fencing had arrived, wanted you to pick it up.” You mumble awkwardly, wishing you could sink into your mug of coffee and never return. It’s barely been a day and the city seems to be calling your name already with open arms.

You would’ve happily embraced it again, but now you’re here. No regrets, right?

“Oh. Alright.” He shrugs, stretching and getting out of his chair.

Alright?

What is going on?

Ten years ago, your father and Phillip’s rivalry seemed to be unmatched. It pretty much was the talk of the town - the love-struck teen and the unmoved father.

You don’t respond, draining your mug and sitting there stock still. There’s a lot to process this morning.

Like the way Phillip barely looked at you. His eyes only grazing over your face for a split second before directing his attention to his truck or the front door. It’s a little obvious if you say so.

But you can’t help but mourn over the way his gaze would tenderly trace over your figure, how he took his time to memorise any scar or beauty mark somewhere across your body. He’d always run his thumb over his gently at first, but as the two of you got more comfortable in the relationship he learned how much you loved it when he kissed any of your birthmarks.

You stop yourself; you have a husband, you can’t be thinking like this. You’ve moved on.

And clearly Phillip has moved on too. Probably for the better, you reassure yourself. It’s been 10 years, everyone seemed to have given up on chances of you returning.

You’re rinsing your cup in the sink when your internal argument seems to be intercepted by your father.

“I’m heading into town to pick up some equipment, would you like to come, dear?” As he finishes his sentence, his warm hand pats your shoulder gently.

You try not to give off any startled reaction to this sudden touch, you don’t want your family catching onto your mental battles with the memories flooding back so quickly and harshly into your mind once more.

You watch him for a second, he’s pulling a very hopeful yet playful smile, raising his eyebrows in invitation.

“Sure, Pa. I’ll come along.”

He cracks a grin, clapping your shoulder happily before turning away.

“Be dressed by 10!”

You’re overthinking this.

They’re just clothes, you reassure yourself but can’t help shrinking from the intimidating way the assorted pieces of garments glare at you from their position on the bed.

It never used to be this difficult, or at least you don’t remember it like this. Maybe it was because you were a teenage girl and wore all the cute little dresses and cropped items you could get your hands on. You never used to worry like this.

Probably because of Phillip.

You tense a little at the thought of him again. Yet you do remember how he’d savour every outfit you wore, even if you’d worn it before.

“You look great, honey.” He’d whisper to you at some point in the day, his hands comfortably stroking your waist as his eyes would examine every inch of you.

You caught yourself smiling fondly at the memory, but it’s countered by the sudden remembrance of his coldness this morning.

You don’t waste any more time, grabbing whatever catches your eye to throw together an ensemble. It’s not like anyone will care.

The town is sure lively. You’re trying not to act surprised at the influx of new faces meshed with old ones and little children running around, sharing old traits from former classmates.

Just a reminder of how far you’ve seen to have gotten in your marriage with Louis. The only success being his job - you’re just working in his office so he can keep a very inattentive eye on you. You groan and lean back into your seat, trying to shield yourself away from prying eyes that throw cursory glances at your father’s large, quite obtrusive car.

Thinking about Louis and the city was enough to completely lower your mood, including the past memories and flickers of Deja vu when one of your senses encounters something vaguely familiar. It’s like a magic spell of some sort, fleshing out your life 10 years ago and how it may have affected you if you’d stayed.

The car reverses into a parking spot and you hear the thud of the drivers door slamming shut.

“Sweetie, hop out. I’m sure uncle Jimmy will be shocked to see you.” He adds, grinning and patting the car firmly. It seems playful but in reality it’s a bit of a threat.

You slip out hesitantly, allowing the beams of the full sun to encase your body with warmth as well as the now very noticeable sounds and voices flowing around you.

It’s so much quieter than the city yet very distinct, while on your painfully slow journey to the entrance of the shop you overhear someone reciting their shopping list, gossip between two old ladies and complaints about the weather.

This all leaves your mind the minute the shop bell rings as you push open the door.

“Finally, what took you so long?” It’s a rhetorical question. Your father stands by the counter expectantly, looking eagerly to you then to Jimmy at the counter.

He’s not really your uncle, just a saying.

Just a neighbour who used to bring his daughter around, then stopped frequenting after an ‘incident’ broke out at your school and realised it would be a hazard to bring the bratty 13-year-old over again.

He’s not a bad guy, you reassure yourself. Sauntering up to the counter with a smile across your face, he returns it and chuckles at the sight of you.

“You’re all grown up now! I remember when you were just a small thing, hon.” He gestures with his hand, amusement clearly visible on his face at this ‘rare sighting’ of the girl who finally came back.

The city mouse becoming the country mouse she used to be.

“Just what I said! She’s all big and successful in the city, you see, Jim? Even married too!” He exclaims.

Your dad has a habit of doing this, which you’ve grown used to - showing off in front of any other middle aged man. Maybe they’re competition? Who knows.

You’re smiling very calmly, nodding and chuckling lightly just to ease the time and escape from this conversation. The words only begin to sink in once you hear a very specific sentence. More like a word.

A name.

“Yeah, how’s your nephew Phil doing? He an errand boy now? Came round this morning to tell me about those fences.”

“Oh yeah, he’s doing just fine. Pretty damn skilled too, if you need some help with those fences I’ll send him over later.”

You almost freeze.

You can’t interact with him more than once today. You need a break from his painfully pretty face, silky smooth voice, breathtaking blue eyes-

“No need for a later, Jim, I’m right here.”

It’s coming from behind you.

No time to shrink or hide, but that would be futile anyways. It’s almost silly how worked up you’re getting.

“Speak of the devil, Phillip. Sorry I missed you this morning.” Your dad turns and greets him happily, you can hear the clap as their hands collide into a hearty handshake.

You also turn to face him, forcing a smile as his gaze lingered on you.

“Nice to see you back in town, Y/N.” He comments, his hands drifting to hold onto his belt rather than shaking your hand. Or touching you at all.

You think it’s because of the tension, the unresolved problems left behind 10 years ago that are apparently prevalent now still as you can’t seem to look at him for too long.

From the way his hand tightens around his belt loop, he’s feeling similar to you.

“Phillip? You mind coming round sometime to help an old man out?” Your dad interrupts this strangely intense moment, as Philip’s face seems to ease to his usual soft smile and attentive manner.

“Sure can do. But I don’t want to interrupt that party you’re having later with the neighbourhood.” He adds, probably an attempt to weasel out of seeing you again today.

“Nonsense! You’re practically family so don’t give me any excuses, just get your ass over there.”

And with that, your father lets out a hearty laugh and claps a hand on your shoulder. You try not to look as winded as you are from the utter force he exudes.

“I’ll see you soon then. Tom. Y/N.” He addresses the two of you with a fairly civil tone, but it’s hardened at the edges.

He walks out and you desperately drag your wandering eyes away from his form fitting flannel and jeans.

The party is civil.

That’s all you can say about it, because there’s not much else to really pay attention to other than the small, seemingly riveting conversations everybody seems to be having apart from you.

Obviously people come and ask how you’re doing and what your current life goals are, but you just throw out a few repeated phrases you’ve found reassures them the best from the masses of people who flocked to you when walking around town earlier with your father.

It’s not exhausting, but more nerve-wracking. Not everyone wants to see anybody apart from their own family achieving something more in their lives. At least, that’s what you look like to them.

You’re just tired.

So, so tired.

You’re observing the overall party from a swing in the backyard. Your dress delicately spread across the seat and hanging off of the seat a little. It’s a bright pink, which your mother insisted didn’t ‘wash you out’ whatsoever and was the perfect choice for a party.

That is if you’re attending a five year old’s tea party. Which you would rather.

Kids don’t tut at you when you explain your job to them, neither do they spout vaguely critical comments when they believe you aren’t listening.

“It’s nice to see her back after so long, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes, she’s definitely… blossomed… into that beauty of hers.”

“Exactly!”

You can only sit and watch, unbothered at this rate. You’re married and have your life together; people just want to pick at anything they can.

Everything seems to change when the familiar honk of a horn rings from the front of the house. You’re practically leaning out of your chair completely to catch a quick glimpse.

However, you instantly relax once more as your father comes into the backyard accompanied by Philip Graves.

White button up, soft blue blazer thrown on lazily and jeans. You don’t want to linger on him, it’s not right. It’s not fair.

So you get up and do something about it.

You stumble out of your chair, walking down to where everybody seemed to be congregating and looked around for the bowl of your mother’s special punch.

Maybe if you drowned yourself in punch it would avoid having to look at his pretty face. His infuriatingly beautiful face.

Your movements begin as careful, long pours of punch with the ladle into your glass as you throw around polite smiles and chatter. As you refill your glass more and more, the familiar sound of punch swishing in the cup begins to ring in your head. And so do the conversations around you.

You don’t know how long you’ve been idly sipping punch for, but it’s enough time to let the effects of the rather strong beverages -mixed in by your mother- take effect.

You forget that you’re a grown adult now who probably shouldn’t be drinking like a party girl on a weekend. But that thought slips out of your head too quickly to develop into rational feelings, so you just laugh it off and sloppily place the glass on whatever stable surface is the nearest to you.

Wandering through the groups of people, sometimes barging past and almost tripping headfirst into the grass or just walking right in the middle of a conversation just for the convenience of it.

At this rate it’s only to justify why your head feels like it’s melting. God, what was in that punch? It’s not like you’re the biggest lightweight on Earth, but it’s been awhile since you’ve drank that hard in such a short period of time.

At least, that’s what you realise looking back on the situation.

Right now you’re just trying to get back to your seat. Solace away from all the faces you keep bumping into. Somewhere that isn’t spinning, and spinning and spinning.

And spinning.

You slump back into your chair, utterly drained from the strenuous journey of climbing three steps while drunk. It’s such a huge achievement that you smile to yourself, satisfied with your efforts.

You’re busy taking a moment for this newfound quiet to settle into your raving brain when a blur of blue and brown seems to appear in the corner of your eye.

“Here’s the girl of the hour.” He’s suddenly next to you, leaning against the wall of the house with his arms crossed over his chest.

Now that he’s here, you’ve been dying to get a better glimpse at his muscles than this morning.

You only smile passively at him, letting the words flow into one ear and out of the other as your eyes are now fixated on his strong arms.

Phillip isn’t offended by your lack of response, more so concerned at the blankness in your expression.

“Sugar? You alright there…?” He questions, a little amused at your wide eyed, careful examination of his muscles.

Without thinking - which you seem a little bad at doing right now - your hand reaches out and your fingertips glide over his bicep. It’s solid, sturdy and hugs against his blazer in a flattering way.

Now you’re smiling even harder, fondly remembering how he’d carry you home when you were too tired to walk after a date. Or his joy when you’d run to him and he’d instantly wrap his arms around you and spin, your dress would almost float.

You don’t know why these memories seem to flood back at this very moment, but it furthers this euphoric state that you’re slowly slipping into.

“Remember when you used to hold me like a princess?” You murmur, looking up at him with a tenderness evident in your gaze.

He attempts to hide the way his eyes widened at your question, or how he’s beginning to falter or look away. You’re not very aware of it in that moment - but it haunts you afterwards.

“I do. Because you were. Are.” He adds, almost firmly as his hand moves to yours and his fingers brush against your knuckles. It’s funny how he seems to instinctively slow his movements purposefully just so he’s gentle with you, as if you were a doll.

“I’m not.. I’m not a little girl anymore..” you sigh, accepting his fingers intertwining with yours now. His rough, calloused fingers that always seemed to soften in your grasp. The hands that always seemed tense or even clenched in fists most of the time, but were always laid out for you to touch to your liking as your relationship progressed.

He doesn’t initially notice something nudging on his fingers, but glances down at your hands out of curiosity.

There’s two rings on your hand. One on your ring finger and another on your middle; it’s easy to tell which one was made by a lovestruck boy professing his dedication to a high-school sweetheart, whereas the other is flashy, decorative and unthought of. It didn’t strike him as something you used to wear, especially when it clashed with the other ring. His ring.

The ring he saved up for and pleaded for ever so desperately as he handed over his wages to his uncle, asking him for advice on what to make for his girlfriend at the time.

But that didn’t seem to matter anymore. Not when this ring was clearly an engagement ring.

I was planning to come here when I got married, the statement rings in his mind.

“I know. You’re a big girl now, hm?” He chuckles dryly, using humour to cope with the fact you’re touching him. Even after your tense conversation this morning; the conversation that mostly consisted of him speaking and you watching, mouth agape as if you’d just seen a ghost.

He thought he’d been dead to you anyways, especially with your sudden disappearance and lack of communication. Was he that insignificant?

Clearly not, he interrupts his doubts. Clearly not when you’re touching him the exact same way you did like 10 years haven’t passed and you weren’t already taken by some lucky bastard. Engaged. Basically married at this rate if he’s lucky.

His hand slips out of your grasp seamlessly. Deep down he’s berating himself, practically begging himself to hug you, hold you, kiss you so hard his lips bruise and he cannot possibly breathe anymore.

But he doesn’t do any of these things.

You’re looking up at him plainly, waiting for his next move. There’s no animosity or embarrassment clouding your face like the way it was in his uncle’s shop or your front porch.

It’s just you.

The dreamy, doll-like girl he’d happily mapped out his future with while she listened attentively, chirping in her thoughts about what she wanted to do in the future alongside him.

“Sorry, sugar. I’ve got to go to work now.” He whispers, turning away and walking off again. Walking away from the one thing he craves. He’d lost his chance, so what was the point?

He may as well just watch you succeed from afar, living a life that doesn’t involve a country bumpkin from her past ruining her plans.

His footsteps become a little forceful, digging into the dirt and kicking any little stones out of his way.

God, he probably looked so stupid.

He drives off without another word, leaving you a little dazed as you lay back into your chair. You don’t want to even try to think about what just happened, so you just sit there for what feels like forever until people begin to disperse.

Slowly but surely, the crowd grows smaller and smaller and the minute everybody is gone, you run up to your room.

You run as quickly as you can, not waiting to hear your parents’ questions or concerns. This was all a mistake.

A really confusing mistake.

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #fanfiction #cod mwii #phillip graves x reader #cod mw2 fanfic #call of duty #warren kole #call of duty fanfic

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

Oh my god you have my heart with "Country Boy" please don't stop I love it

Aaaaaaaaaaa

Lots of love!

So sorry for replying so late but thank you anon!!! <3

Appreciate all the love and support from everybody and part 2 is in the works it should be out soon 🎀🎀

#anonymous

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

Country Boy

Phillip Graves x f!reader

PART ONE!

Summary : it’s been 10 years since you packed up and left your small town for greener pastures, but after recklessly deciding to come back after so long you’re reunited with the former love of your life - Phillip Graves

Word count : 3.4k

A/N : as metroman would say, ‘my death was highly exaggerated’. Sorry for taking so long to put something out but hope that everyone enjoys! Yearning part 3 is also in the works <3

“One day, when we’re out of here - just you and me - I’m gonna ask you out real nice, darlin’.”

It’s August, 1994, nearing the end of high school. It’s a humid Friday evening and the both of you are sitting on the edge of the dock that only the town fisherman knows about. But he’s not here tonight.

You chuckle at him, “Thought you said you’d never consider leaving, Phil.”

He’s got that dorky grin plastered on his face, his dimples visible.

“If it were with you, I’d leave in a heartbeat.”

“I knew you’d say that!” You hit his shoulder playfully and he can only laugh.

It’s your usual thing; sitting together on the docks after school until late as possible. As late as it can get before your papa considers reaching for his rifle to find the troublemaker keeping his daughter out till ‘God knows when’ as he said. So you cherish these childish yet heartfelt moments, even if you’re both 17 and have big lives far ahead of you.

“What? It’s the truth, hon.” He smiles, wrapping an arm around you.

“I wouldn’t have guessed otherwise. I’m not the kind of girl you lie to, Phillip Graves.”

“So does that mean you would?”

“I would what exactly?” You cock an eyebrow at him, expecting a dirty joke of some sort.

“You know.. go out with me. Real fancy, too. I’ll dress up and everything, just for you.” He adds, his hand now reaching for your face.

Your breath hitches at the way his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. You stole your mother’s lipstick for moments like these. Leaving that little red stained mark on him.

He withdraws his thumb slowly, squinting in the dark. You could see the way his smile grew as he examined the smudged rouge on his fingertip.

“That’s pretty, darlin’. That for me?”

What comes out of your mouth is a whisper and you couldn’t explain why; maybe it was the glint in his eyes as he said it, the way his lips were parted slightly as he looked back up at you from his hand.

“Yes.. Yes.” You swallow thickly, your gaze fixated on him and what he could do next.

“Really? Well, I think that answers my other question then.” He’s beginning to get up now and your eyes widen as you frantically get on your feet to follow him.

“What does that mean?”

He stops in his tracks, turning to face you again. He’s still smiling but his arm is now concealed behind his back.

“It means that I know it’s the right time to give you this.”

It’s a small box.

You approach him slowly, your bare feet not making a sound on the wooden boards of the dock. Once you’re finally inches away from him, he flicks it open.

A ring. A beautiful ring is now before your eyes; a small, golden ring with a big, shining gem in the centre.

You could cry, and you almost do as you let out a choked sob but Phillip quickly wraps his arms around you.

“Don’t- don’t cry, sugar.. unless they’re happy tears, I hope.” He murmurs into your ear, hand caressing your back gently.

“They’re happy. They’re so… so happy, I swear.” You catch yourself between your gasps for air.

He waits a moment, taking the time to memorise the way your bodies align. How perfectly they fit into each other. But when he pulls away, a hand comes up again to wipe your tears.

“I just thought… even if- you know, you go to do the amazing things that you’re meant to and I end up staying here or there… That I’ll always be with you. Just a little part of me you can carry around forever. Now, why don’t you try it on and see if I got the measurements right, okay?” He prompts carefully, allowing you to hold out a shaky hand as he slots it into your finger.

“It fits like a glove, Phil. I can’t believe you did this..”, you take a deep breath, trying not to cry.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re the only girl I’ve ever want to cherish like this.” As he brings his finger away from your cheek, he leans in.

You share a kiss that you could’ve never imagined happening with any boy in that wretched town.

Except, Phillip Graves was the only thing that made staying there worth it.

-

You must have been daydreaming again, playing with the ring still on your finger after all these years.

You run a completely different ship now; miles away in the city, married and thriving.

You would’ve never believed your future turned out like this. Not without Phillip.

A business all to yourself and your husband, and hopefully for your future kids too. A display of pride and joy that you’ve managed to work for and build with your own hands.

You attempt to direct your focus to the ring that your husband gave you instead. It’s silver and covered in small little gems, always sparkling in some way. A way to represent how your husband’s love seems to be only visible in objects. How they won’t stop pestering you at this rate.

Five years have gone by since this much flashier ring was presented to you on your summer vacation.

And now you’re here - surrounded by bustling trains, people and business that you can’t seem to escape.

The rush of the city never seems to alleviate, even if you’re a day away from your vacation that you’ve been planning for weeks now.

No husband. No business or constant phone calls. Just you and the countryside.

Obviously, you weren’t entirely sure on the idea of going back there. Not after that charming rascal Phillip Graves.

But your ma and pa kept calling which made you realise you just needed a break from the city. You needed the hot, dry days and cool, breezy evenings back at the family house. When your pa used to come back after work almost covered in sweat and you’d still run up to him and hug him like he’d just come back from war. The fresh pies you’d try to eat even when they were too hot and you still kept the piece in your mouth because you were so hungry. Those foolish nights when Phillip would knock on your window after hours and you’d sneak out to the wildest places imaginable - it was all such a daydream that you never would’ve wanted to leave.

But, this is where you are now.

You place your coffee cup down a little suddenly onto your desk, raking a hand through your hair.

“Louis? Louis, honey?” You get up and charge out of your office, looking both ways down the hall.

“Louis?” You repeat, calling out to him.

“Yes, baby?” He’s walking towards you at a leisurely pace, phone pressed up against his ear as he lowers his voice to talk to you.

“Do you uhm.. need me here right now?” You bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for an answer - a finger held up to your face.

Wait.

Your whole face seems to scrunch at the sight of it, frowning as he laughs and smiles at his phone.

“Right- yeah, I’ll call you back. No, it won’t be long.” He ends the call, putting his brick phone into his suit pocket.

“What’s up?”

“I said, do you need me to be here?”

“Well, it’s nice to have you around. Always helpful to have a spare hand.”

“Yeah, I understand. But-“

“Is it about your trip? You’re not going?”

You sigh.

“No, I am going still. I just want to get ready now since it’s going to be a long drive and I don’t want to waste time tomorrow.”

“If you say so. But what if I need you here right now? You’re going to be too busy packing for the hillbilly hellhole.”

Okay, your marriage isn’t the most functional. Or romantic.

Louis isn’t horrible - just a little less emotional than you would’ve hoped. Maybe even a little manipulative. But who’s psychoanalysing that, because it’s definitely not you.

It’s very obvious that you’re the only one that notices this behaviour.

You try not to dwell and take another deep breath.

“Well, my parents live in that ‘hillbilly hellhole’ and I’d like to pack all my extra things so I will be going now.”

“Alright, if you say so.” He waves a hand carelessly at you. Dismissing you.

You don’t say anything back, you can only bite your tongue and grip your suitcase handle like it’s about to fall off.

It was never this bad at the beginning, but that’s what they always say, isn’t it?

Recently, he’s just been so out of touch with you and your love life but you don’t even want to know why. It could probably break you, or worse.

So now, here you are, packing frantically for that ‘hillbilly hellhole’ that you call home. You don’t even know why you’re so excited, the items seem to fly into your suitcase as you run around the house to grab anything else you might need. Even if the majority of it is still in your old room, waiting for you expectantly.

That morning felt like the beginning of something big.

Getting up at the crack of dawn, brushing your teeth and getting ready for a holiday that you’ll never forget.

Jumping into that car felt like a breath of fresh air as you rolled down your window hastily, not bothering to bid goodbye since you’re too busy hitting the road.

It’s a nice feeling; being able to have your music turned up as loud as you like as you get to look out for all the wonderful sights to see on the journey. It’s a sense of accomplishment, that’s what you declare to yourself as you rifle through your CD album to choose the next one to play.

It’s even a shock when you find some hidden CDs you burnt when you were younger, the sound of nostalgia bringing back memories of your childhood.

The hum of the dingy, flickering bulbs in the gas station seem to be the only thing you can focus on as you slowly prowl the aisles, waiting for something to catch your eye. Colourful, fluorescent wrappers seem to jump out of their display and into your hands as you collect many sugary delights that would make your husband cock a brow at you. But he’s not here, so you pay no mind as you take them to the register and pour them all in the passenger seat before you get back on the road once more.

The roads seem to blend into each other as you continuously drive for what seems like days, when in reality is only a couple of hours. It’s much more tense when you consider what awaits you back home.

It’s been at least 10 years since you’ve left, and you never looked back.

Sure, family would come to visit the city and you’d enjoy that; it was easier being able to forget about what was left behind. Yet it still doesn’t seem completely buried, as if it’s dormant and waiting for you to release it once more.

It wasn’t long until you’d arrive soon. You were beginning to recognise the trails and overgrown trees arching over each other as you drove through what felt like a leafy tunnel, snippets of sunlight peeking through.

The breeze cleansed your skin, airing out the car along with the gentle way it soothed your skin as you drove at a leisurely pace.

As much as you were content right now, you knew it may not last for long once revisiting everything that was abandoned years ago. It’s definitely not ruining the atmosphere nor making you now more nervous than ever.

You’ve made it.

You almost want to stop your car in front of the town’s welcome sign, but decide against it and instead drive even slower to encapsulate the same old views that you used to.

As you look around, nothing has changed.

It’s still the same old town, with only minor adjustments to keep up with the times. It’s as if someone’s polished it ever so slightly, while keeping the same ‘look’.

You could turn back. Nobody has seen you yet, it could be your chance-

No. You’re here now, there’s just no point in cowering away.

Pulling up to the familiar drive of your family home, the fresh scent of washed linen and lavenders waft in the air. Your mother has clipped the washing up in the front yard, just like you remember, and your father has clearly been tending to the garden like he’d promised you.

Ten years ago.

It’s beginning to form a pit in the bottom of your stomach. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea from the start.

Just and you’re about to turn to your car, a voice suddenly shrieks.

“Honey!? Is that you?” Your mother’s hands tremble, the basket of sheets toppling to the floor as she brings a hand to her face.

You didn’t realise she would’ve had this sort of reaction, but you didn’t want to question it at all.

“Mom, don’t cry!” You walk over to her, wrapping an arm around her reassuringly.

“I’m- I’m not, baby..” she inhales shakily, “Oh, maybe I am. Look at me.. crying like this..” she murmurs, wiping her eyes gently.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” You whisper.

“It’s okay, dear. Just wait until your father hears.”

Your father was absolutely enthralled seeing you, almost as emotional as your mother as he hugs you firmly.

It’s been too long. Why did you leave them behind like this? That’s the main question running through your head, even if you had the rightful reasons to leave you couldn’t help but still feel guilty for what you did.

After a heartfelt moment of hugging and exchanging ‘I missed you’s’, you finally get to come inside the house.

It’s barely changed, still your dreamy childhood home. The floorboards still creak in the exact spots they used to, reminding you of the way you practically jumped over them when it came to sneaking out at night.

The furniture stayed quite similar, even the new items still referencing to the old ones that used to be there. It felt as if you’d walked into a time capsule.

“Oh, honey, it’s so good to have you back. Maybe we should arrange a small get together. Just to celebrate.” Your mother chimes, smiling as she follows you, still entranced by the same childlike wonder that seemed to come back after all these years.

“We kept your room just the same.” Your father adds, smiling at your excited grin and haste to run up the stairs to what used to be your room.

You almost shriek at the sight of it when you push open the door hurriedly.

It’s just the way you’d left it. Feminine, soft pinks decorate the room as your antique vanity catches the corner of your eye.

“Wow. Wow. Wow- it’s just- so..”, you sniffle and take a deep breath. You can’t cry again, it’ll wear you out at this rate.

You practically topple onto your bed. Relishing in the threatening squeak of the mattress as you sink into your duvet. It’s the same duvet, but smells fresh.

Knowing your parents, they probably washed it while you were away in hopes that you’d come back.

Your mother stands by the doorway, watching with a warm smile as nostalgia floods both of your senses.

“I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll invite all the neighbours, even that Phillip boy-“

You whip your head around, eyes wide.

“Is- is that necessary, ma?”

“Why? Did something happen?” She frowns.

Your father calls from down the hallway, “Do I need to get my rifle back out?”

“No… it’s okay, pa.” You get up and walk over to your mother, who takes your hands in hers with concern.

“What is it then? I don’t have to invite him if you want.”

You shake your head slowly.

“It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

You nod.

-

The next day had began to eat at you with anxiety before it even began.

You woke up earlier than you were supposed to, waiting under the covers as you listened for any movement of some sort.

Clear.

You get up, open the curtains to meet a dreary ray of sunlight slowly enveloping your whole body as you push them open further. It’s warm, almost welcoming as you smile to yourself.

However, beneath all of this was a growing fear now seeping into you.

It had been years since you’d heard the name ‘Phillip Graves’ and you were hoping you wouldn’t have had to hear it again. But it was clearly inevitable.

You splash a little water onto your face and wrap one of your dainty silk robes around yourself, it’s too early to properly get ready for the day.

This prompts you to sneak downstairs, tiptoeing slowly as if you were in a mine field. You didn’t want to disrupt your parents right now.

It’s almost instinct when you turn towards the front door and unlock it, breathing in the fresh summer breeze. Your shoulders relax and somehow you feel at ease.

Now on the porch, you ease yourself into the familiar swinging bench that used to be your favourite spot as a teen. You vividly remember waiting in this seat when Phillip promised to pick you up for a date in his daddy’s worn out truck.

Memories.

You lean back, wistfully closing your eyes as you sink into the cushions and let the memories take over your mind.

That’s why you’re almost sure you’re hallucinating when an oddly familiar revving of an engine blares in your ears as this clearly imaginary car halts to a stop.

You snap up, blinking drearily as you immediately look in the direction of the noise.

“Sugar, what are you doing here?”

No way.

You don’t move, you can’t move.

It’s Phillip Graves, the former love of your life.

He’s hopping out of his truck, staring in disbelief as he saunters towards you. He’s chuckling, placing his hat firmly on his head as he steps cautiously onto your porch.

“Am I dreaming? Or is your dad reloading his shotgun at this very moment?” He smiles, now seemingly unfazed after a few seconds of processing the sight before him.

You, on the other hand, are not responding very well to this. You wrap your robe over your chest in sheer embarrassment while still looking up at him, slack jawed, from your seat.

It finally takes a second for you to shake your head and say something. It comes out a little quiet, shaky even.

“They’re… uhm- they’re sleeping. Right now.” You respond, swallowing thickly and watching his every move like a hawk.

“Hm.” He nods, pursing his lips.

“It’s just you and me then, huh?” Phillip leans against one of the wooden beams of the porch railing, eyes scanning up and down your body.

“Yes.” You whisper, tempted to get up and strangle the cocky smirk that spread across his lips.

“It’s been awhile, didn’t think you’d show up again.”

“No.. no- well, yes it has- but- but I mean no I didn’t really think so either… not so soon..”

“How come?” His responses are snappy, he doesn’t look at you anymore as his eyes dart over to the front door.

“Uhm, I was just going to visit when I got married but.. changed my mind.” A weak chuckle escaped your lips, which you mentally berate yourself for.

“Well, sugar, this has been nice. Tell your daddy that those parts for the fencing have arrived for me, okay?” He questions, cocking a brow at you.

You nod once more, still so shaken.

“I need words, honey.”

“Yes..”

“Good. I’ll see you later. At your little ‘get together’.”

And with that final farewell, he’s turned away and seems to already be starting up his truck when you’ve blinked.

You would’ve thought he’d changed, maybe even softened after your last night together. But it’s shocking how he managed to sober up a few seconds after seeing you.

You can only watch limply as his truck fades away in the distance.

Was he hiding something?

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #fanfiction #cod mwii #phillip graves x reader #cod mw2 fanfic #call of duty #phillip graves x you #warren kole #Spotify

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

Check out this amazing lovely artist!

icon for @fraudcommitter - Zagreus from Hades! Thank you, I loved drawing it

#zagreus #hades game #hades #fanart #artists on tumblr #commission open #digital drawing #digital art #drawing #art

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

it's the last day you can rb this

#2023 #new year #🎏

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

SARAHHHHHHHH!!! 💕

Good to see you girl 🤗🤗🤗 hope you’re all well and good now 🥳🥳

heyyyy people……. long time no talk! 😸

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

While you were Sleeping

Part II

Word count : 1.3k (just a short one to get you all prepared 🫣 I definitely wasn’t feeling lazy)

Summary : Christmas Eve with the Hotchners! You’re getting to know a bit about them and are beginning to fit in with the family. Even if Aaron seems to be questioning you every second.

A/N : I’m actually so sorry it’s shorter than the first part but I hope you all can still enjoy this, if you have any prompts or suggestions that you think would be really cute for this ongoing series I’d love to hear it! Just comment below or PM me if you want <3

Taglist : @rousethemouse @lunaoieoie @angelmather1 @barbwirewalk @jxvipike

(Comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist!)

“Oh, that’s just Y/N, honey. Sean’s fiancée.” Mrs Hotchner adds, whispering into his ear while still hugging him. She says it like it’s common sense; oh, here’s the fiancée we’ve never met.

Aaron cocks a brow, throwing another suspicious glance at you before presenting his mother with a small present.

She grins up at him and kisses his cheek excitedly, “Aaron, you shouldn’t have!”

“It’s Christmas, mother. I had to.” He seems genuine. His tone seems to soften when speaking to his - presumably - mother.

Aaron.

It’s the Aaron they were talking about at the hospital.

In your mind, it seems to be much more of a rebellious name in comparison to what you’re being face with right now.

Polished, pressed and perfect; his suit doesn’t have a fold out of line. Everything seems to be tailored to fit just right - his cuffs were neither too short nor too long, his buttons were sewn on firmly unlike the ones hanging onto their threads on your jacket.

He’s not intimidating, you try to convince yourself.

Your feeble attempts to catch his attention and wave aren’t noticed as he’s too busy being coddled by his mother and dragged inside.

He doesn’t seem to mind it, though. It looks more welcomed instead, like he’s been waiting for his all holiday.

As Mrs Hotchner is just about to shut the front door, she turns to look at you.

“Y/N? You’ll want to come inside soon, dear. I heard it’s going to start snowing soon enough!”, she smiles, beckoning you inside right now instead.

You comply meekly, not wanting to insult her and also since you’re not intending to become a popsicle.

The door clicks behind you, blocking off any heat that wants to escape from this absolute dream of a house.

Everywhere you look, there’s some sort of subtle decoration or rich furniture. It’s like you’re being lured in, ‘stay with us, Y/N. We’re the functional household you could’ve never dreamed of.’

It’s definitely not working as you drape your scarf over the coat rack and sink into the nearest armchair.

It seems to hold you perfectly, encasing you in soft, cuddly goodness as you try to hide your surprising comfort concerning this antique armchair.

Everything is telling you to stay, live out your life as Sean’s fiancée and not think about the consequences that will eventually catch up to you.

But, you’re somewhat sane as there’s still the little voice of reason telling you to be wary.

Especially of Aaron.

He greets everybody in their own special way. You can already tell he’s well-liked from the way he laughs and pats his dad on the shoulder.

He doesn’t seem like much of a happy guy from what you first saw, but this isn’t exactly the most predictable day you’ve had.

You can only sink further into the armchair as they share their gifts, laughs and joy with one another in excitement of Christmas Eve.

Everyone seems to have bought Aaron a present, and he’s seem to done the same thing.

“Here, Todd.” He hands out a present to the younger man, chuckling at the gleam in his eyes.

He shakes it, but gets a critical glare from Aaron and falters before placing it next to the tree.

It’s like you’re in a film; a big happy family curled up by the tree, sharing laughter and jokes like usual.

You’re caught off guard when Mrs Hotchner hands you a present.

“Here you go, honey.” She smiles, urging you to take it.

You hesitantly accept the box, looking down at it and trying to hide your shock. How did they come up with this so fast?

“Santa has his ways, doesn’t he?”, Mr Hotchner grins.

“Yeah.. sure does..” you mumble, smiling back at them and tracing your fingers along the ribbon tied around it.

Time seems to fly as the festivities continue; it almost seems like they’re compensating for Sean’s ‘accident’ today. However, it was getting far too late for your liking and as much as you loved being around the family already, you were prepared to drive back to your cold, dull apartment and go to bed.

You can’t seem to find a moment where the energy stills and you can bid farewell to everybody, so you begin to rise out of your chair and twirl your car keys in your hand.

Mrs Hotchner immediately notices, following you outside into the hall.

“Y/N?” She inquires, looking up at you with concern. She glances at your keys, then back up at you.

“O-oh.. I’m just.. I was gonna.. it’s really-“

“It’s too dark! You shouldn’t drive in that sort of atmosphere, sweetheart, it’s very dangerous.” She adds with a certainty, nodding and patting your back now.

You’ve already grown to like her motherly nature, but now you’re in a bit of a situation.

“Where would I sleep? I- I don’t want to be a bother..”

“Nonsense! You’re practically family, even if Sean didn’t let us know about you yet. Why don’t you settle down here for tonight, have some breakfast - my treat - and leave in the morning?”

You may have had no choice, but it wasn’t a bad thing for you - they genuinely seemed to like you.

You hoped Sean was as accepting as his family.

“Okay.. thank you.” You nod your head tentatively, smiling and unbuttoning your jacket now. A sigh of relief escaped your mouth, possibly content knowing you didn’t have to be alone for Christmas.

“Lovely, dear. It’s so late already! I’ll go pick out some blankets for you.”

-

The festivities had finally ended; everyone was either leaving or getting ready to go to sleep.

You were also sorting yourself out, even in borrowed pajamas that Mrs Hotchner had so happily lent you. They were frilly, pink and surprisingly soft and you weren’t one to complain.

As you left the bathroom, your clothes folded up and held against your chest. The house was dead silent and dark, the only light visible were the string lights scattered around the place.

Your feet pattered against the mahogany flooring nervously, trying to retrace your steps to the living room. You’d only reached the hall when a sudden whisper almost made you drop your clothes.

“They’re a lot at first, huh?”

It’s Aaron.

He’s sitting on the steps, looking at you expectantly in the dimmed lighting. He’s also clad in pajamas, seeming to have gotten more comfortable.

He’s leaning against the stair railing, waiting for an answer.

“Oh- oh, yeah- I mean no, not in a bad way. I think they’re all great.” You seem to stumble over your words as they charge out of your mouth clumsily. This is probably the most you’ve said this whole night.

“They all love you so far. But I’m not convinced yet.” He adds, chuckling wearily.

You don’t know whether to laugh or break out in a huge mess and confess the truth. You choose to muster an awkward laugh.

“I think you’ll get used to me.”

“I seem to be already. I just wonder why Sean didn’t introduce us sooner.”

“Yeah… I know.” You want to leave, grab your keys and go home now. Aaron is really trying to get under your skin, and it could be working.

“Living room is on the left. Good night, Y/N.”

And with a sigh, he gets up and leaves you. The stairs creak quietly as he ascends to his bedroom.

You’re left staring at his blurry silhouette limply.

Does he like you? Should you be worried?

Has he already completely doubted you?

You try to shrug off all these questions - he could be trying to get you mixed up, play mind games and twist your perception.

Obviously he could just be protective of his brother.

Lying on the sofa with a thick blanket draped over you while hugging your pillow, you try to will yourself to sleep in this new environment.

#fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #thomas gibson #while you were sleeping

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

Elle Greenaway 🫣

(The reference picture + the sketch )

I’m still trying to master digital art so I can hopefully open up my commissions soon! So I’m just trying to try new things and experiment so I can draw all the requests and commissions properly if my drawings get enough attention 🫣

I also did give her another eye in the final sketch

Also I’m always open to constructive criticism!

#digital artist #digital art #digital sketch #elle greenaway #lola glaudini #criminal minds #procreate #artists on tumblr

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

Thomas Gibson sketch 🫣

constructive criticism is welcome!

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #procreate #digital artist #thomas gibson #aaron hotch hotchner

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

Sun, Sand and Graves

Part II 🏖️

Pairing : Phillip Graves x fem!reader

Word count : 1.6k

Summary : The two of you hit the town, drinking and laughing. But it all seems to fade the minute you get back to the safe house and suddenly feel a little too hot for your liking.

A/N : sudden little bursts of creativity drove me to GET THIS DONE!! I’m definitely doing a part 3 but I want you all to know that I haven’t forgotten about Yearning I’m just too intimidated to write a 3rd part in case it’s not up to anyone’s liking 🫣 but I’ll get to it soon as my Christmas treat for everybody

His idea of a night out isn’t actually bad.

The two of you wander along the bustling streets, stopping by any club or bar that catches your eye to try and intoxicate yourself further.

You deserve it, after all.

That’s what you keep saying to yourself while his hand strokes your back as you heave into the toilet because of a sketchy shot you’d just downed.

It’s what you repeat while he tucks your hair behind your ears, struggling to even aim for the strands of your hair with his wobbly hand.

He’s drunk. You’re drunk.

And it’s fun.

It’s been so long since you’ve been able to let loose and act like some sort of teenager intent on making bad decisions.

It’s been so long since you’ve been able to just let go and laugh, leaning into his open arms as he laughs with you.

It’s definitely been a successful night out.

You’re not too far from the safe house, which makes you feel better looking back on it, both of you were so drunk you couldn’t even walk straight.

You always thought Phillip was a very sober man; being a commander must straighten him up, you thought.

Today seemed to prove all of your suspicions wrong.

He’s fun.

He knows how to party, how to laugh and how to spread shivers along your skin when his hand accidentally runs down your arm.

The tips of his fingers scrape softly against your skin, calloused from combat over the years. It leaves a tingling sensation that lasts, almost snapping you out of your drunken state to wonder why he was making you feel like this.

You’re too busy smiling and giggling about the events of the night that you haven’t realised you’re right outside the safe house.

Phillip is still trailing along, dangling the keys and finally reaching you in a few drunken steps.

“.. Right.. let me just..” he murmurs to himself, standing beside you as he’s staring at the lock with glassy eyes.

“Come on..”, his words are slurred as the key bumps into the door a couple of times, finally going where he wants it to as he triumphantly twists it. The door clicks open.

You both enter and stand limply by the entrance after he locks the door behind the two of you.

“Whas the matter..?” He smiles at you, running a hand through his hair.

“Nothing.. just.. God, I shouldn’t have done that…”, you muster out some words with difficulty. Your brain seems to be clogged with beer, or whatever you’d been drinking.

You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, feeling your face in an attempt to sober up.

Your forehead is sticky with sweat from the heated atmosphere of the multiple bars you’d visited. It almost feels like a second coating of skin, causing you to quickly swipe at it with a thumb.

Nothing comes off, but you can’t shake the grimy feeling now present all over your body.

You’re still standing there, but your hands are roaming to your shoulders and skin, tugging at your clothes which seem to be damp with sweat and have trouble being pulled away from your skin.

Phillip has already crashed onto his bed, but he’s watching you with curiosity and smiling still.

“Whas the matter, sugar..?” He repeats once more, lying on his side while he examines you.

You don’t respond, this is becoming too overwhelming for you far too quickly. Your face seems to say it all to him and he slowly gets up, clutching his head from the sudden rush of movement.

While he’s walking towards you, he slips off his vest that was already pretty drenched. You’d hadn’t noticed it before.

You were both too drunk to notice how hot it was at the time, the heat must’ve slowed your perception down too.

So you’re both now blinking at each other with slowed breathing.

You want to do so many things yet your body says otherwise.

You could lay in bed and forget about this icky feeling completely.

You could shower now in your drunken state.

Or…

You could..

No.

You instantly cross that option off of the list.

You don’t even know how you’re still able to process thoughts after the copious amounts of alcohol you consumed.

A shower seems to be the best option, you finally decide.

For some reason, Graves manages to read you.

He guides you to the bathroom, holding the door open and leaning on the sink.

“You.. you can go.”

He shakes his head.

“We may both be drunk… ugh.. but, what if you fall?” He’s serious.

“What if… I don’t?”

“You might. Two drunk people are better than one.”

“.. maybe not in this context.”

He bites his lip, seemingly regretful of his suggestion.

“I’ll wait outside, just don’t lock the door in case something happens.”

“… something?” You squint at him.

“You could… fall.” He musters, shrugging and exiting the bathroom.

That’s your cue to peel off your clothes, releasing a sigh of relief at the sudden weight that had been lifted off of you at the small thud of your shorts on the ground.

You needed a cold shower, something to take the edge off. And scrub off the tingles you were still feeling from his touch.

It wasn’t right, he was your commander. He may act like an overgrown frat boy, but that doesn’t make him available to you in any way.

You don’t flinch at the cold gush of water that sprays from the shower head, you welcome it instead. Closing your eyes and letting it drip down your skin, encasing the sticky, hot surface in a cool sensation.

It allows you to take on a new perspective - one that isn’t fuzzy or clouded with lust.

He’s hot. Really hot.

It isn’t just the alcohol talking, more like it’s cheering you on to make your next move.

You’re still thinking about what to do while the water runs down your back, when it finally comes together.

You almost jump out of the shower, dripping wet and rushing to the door before stopping and taking a deep breath.

You push it open slowly, peeking your head out.

Graves is sitting by the door, clutching his head.

“Phillip..?” You look down at him, tilting your head.

“Hmmm?” He doesn’t look up.

“If you want, you can join me in the shower.”

It was a reckless thing to say, sure.

But the glint that shone in his eyes was worth it.

He got up hastily, now inches away from you. His eyes darted from your face to the obstructed view of your body, hungrily scanning for more to ogle at.

You could only smile at him, holding a hand out and pulling him inside.

His breathing seems to quicken as he swallows, trying not to stare at your body.

“Are you… are you sure?” He swallows thickly once more, looking into your eyes.

You nod, playfully tugging at the hem of his vest.

He’s like a child who’s just walked into a candy store, pulling it off but not tearing his awe-filled gaze away from you.

While he’s attempting to unbutton his shorts, you step back into the shower and watch him slyly.

He finally gets in, frantically shutting the shower door behind him and now grinning at you stupidly, examining your body for the first time.

You can’t bring yourself to do the same, now a little flustered and unable to keep up with your sudden, sultry persona. Chuckling nervously, you continue to rinse your hair out.

That’s when his hand trails up your back.

It’s slow. Deliberately slow. His rough fingertip grazing against your skin gently, as if he’s savouring the touch.

“This isn’t your first rodeo, hm?” You mustered up a sentence, unable to keep a straight face as you have your back facing him.

“No.. no.. ‘ts the first time I’ve been able to do something like this… in a while..” he murmurs, immersed in every freckle, mole or spot scattered on your skin.

He’s getting closer now, his breath fanning over the back of your neck. You can feel his smile as he presses a light kiss on the nape of your neck.

You hadn’t thought this through. You know you want this, but you’ve never fucked in a shower before.

It’s like he can sense the frenzy seemingly seeping from you, which makes him pause.

“Are you okay?”

His tone shifts. Much more sober, concerned.

You’re fine.

You’re definitely alright.

You totally don’t have his dick pressed up against your ass.

But he doesn’t seem to even notice that.

You turn to look at him, which moves his hands away from you and almost pushes him completely away.

He doesn’t come too close, but puts his hands on your shoulders now, his brows furrowed and blue eyes gazing up at you.

“We don’t have to do.. this.” Graves falters, smiling in an attempt to comfort you.

“I want to..”

“You don’t seem like it… We don’t have to do it right now, you know.”

There’s a we now.

This is all too much.

You’re still standing there limply, chewing on your lip and looking away from him.

“I know.. can I think? About this?” It’s only been one day, you need some time to consider fucking your coworker.

He doesn’t protest at all, only offers you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulders.

“Sure, sure. I’ll have a shower, alright?”

“Alright..” you mumble, exiting the shower.

You snatch a towel and leave the bathroom as quick as you can, doing your best to not even glance in the showers’ direction.

This is so embarrassing.

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #fanfiction #cod mwii #phillip graves x reader #cod mw2 fanfic #call of duty #Spotify

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

Sketches that pretty much relate to my ‘Yearning’ series

honestly it just reminds me of Jeff from yellowjackets with a scar but ITS NOT its Graves

Why yes this was an excuse to share my digital art again how could you tell 😇

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty #warren kole