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angelamajiki · 3 years

Note

Damn that Bully Dabi and Hawks fic was an amazing read! I love it when you write them full on bastard mode!

Pro Hero Bakugou sexually harassing his weak quirkless secretary who does her very best at her job. She's good at it but Bakugou always looks mad (read: sexually frustrated). High on success after a good rescue, he wants to celebrate....

Cop Bakugou sees a pretty little thing outside a club. She looks sus so he decides she needs a pat down. Maybe he'll plant something to blackmail her into doing certain favors. Very bully, very bastard Bakugou.

PARINGS: Pro Hero! Bakugou x Secretary! Quirkless! AFAB! Reader

CW: yandere, dubcon/noncon, dirty talk, choking, cunnilingus, overstimulation, scumbage bakugou, use of the word rape, quirkless reader, size difference, age gap, death threats, sexual harrassment, bullying, mindbreak, masturbation, office sex

AN: I’ll probably write the cop Bakugo at some point too! For now, mind the tags and enjoy :)

They say to never meet your idols and in retrospect, you wished you would have listened.

Try as you might, it seemed like Mr. Dynamight was never satisfied with your work. Admittedly, you joined his agency as his office secretary based on having a crush on the pro, but you assumed his brash nature would calm down in an office setting. You did everything he asked, obediently followed his every word, which was all met with harsh glares and what you thought were dissatisfied grunts.

Surely you thought it wouldn't be about your being quirkless, but rumors were high strung in the office about the blonde’s feeling towards those without quirks. It would explain the harsh glares and judgment he passed on you despite your work effort.

The man even went as far as to ask for your personal phone number, only to leave scathing voicemails whenever you couldn't show up to work or miss out on work gatherings he put together. You couldn't help but flush at the thought of him missing your presence. Maybe you were just bad at reading his signals? Or maybe he was just hell-bent on bullying you more than the rest of the staff.

The job paid very well, so you couldn't exactly up and leave based on his behavior. However, you did notice how...handsy Mr. Dynamight has become with you. It was subtle at first, brushing shoulders in the hallways, letting his fingers ghost against yours when he handed you paperwork.

It soon escalated to always having a hand on your shoulder, holding your hips when he had to brush behind you, towering over you from behind your chair when you showed him something. You couldn't say that you weren't flattered, but his rough demeanor remained.

It started becoming uncomfortable when he made passes at you, making sure you were cornered and alone when he did.

“C’mon, am I really that fuckin’ intolerable that you can't get lunch with me, pipsqueak?”

You assumed that he was just messing with you, so you always turned him down with a flushed face and ran back to your desk, leaving him blue balled and more desperate by the day. There's no way a pro hero like him would actually be interested in someone quirkless and weak like yourself.

But that's the reason why he liked you anyway. So small, so weak, so obedient, so perfect for him to fuck up. God, if he didn't want just to rip your tiny pencil skirt to threads and spear you on his cock like no tomorrow. A pretty thing like yourself shouldn't be working. No, no, no. You should be at home, in his home in his bed with his ring on your finger. You belong to him, don't you see that?

Katsuki only ever gives you the time of day, not those other stupid bitches who crawl up his ass every morning trying to get a crumb of attention. And what do you do with his precious time? Waste it. Always whining about how you really shouldn't, that he shouldn't be seen with someone like you. As if he gives a fuck about what the media has to say.

He even checks up on you when you're not at work! Isn't he such a gentleman? Sure, he's a bit vulgar, but he's trying to show he cares. But if you want to act like a stuck-up bitch, then he’ll gladly treat you like one.

After a particularly tough fight with a villain, the blonde wanted nothing more than to use and abuse you to get some steam off his chest. It was late, but he prayed to whatever gods were out there that you were still in the office. He left you a voicemail for good measure, hoping that you would do what you always did best and stayed obedient for him.

It was locked up for the night, but he could see your office light on from the street. Perfect. Such a good girl for him. Little did he know that you stayed late quiet often.

You hadn't even seen his previous call come through; you were too busy listening to an old one with plenty of derogatory terms being spat your way. A hand shoved in your skirt, you couldn't help but finger yourself the sound of his voice calling you moronic for skipping out of work. Mr. Dynamight was your childhood crush after all, you had jerked off to plenty of interviews of him in the past. Sure, it was creepy but no one had to know. The older man was so big, so strong and handsome. You couldn't help but feel fuzzy from the voicemail, even if it was degrading you, it was for you alone.

Speak of the devil and he will appear.

“Well, shit. Whadda we have here, pipsqueak?”

A rough chuckle came from behind you as he pulled your desk chair out and swiveled towards him.

“Caught ya red-handed, huh? Who knew you were such a little slut for me.”

Taking the phone from your hand, he hung it up on the receiver and took your hand out of your panties. He snatched your fingers greedily in his mouth and sucked your wetness off of him.

“You know what, I’m feeling a bit hungry. And you taste like something in the vein of what I’m tryin’ to have for dinner.”

Katsuki devoured you in a hungry kiss, lifting you out of the chair and onto your desk. He tossed aside the papers messily and spread your legs to see your slick moistening your sheer tights and panties.

“Bend over and spread that fuckin’ pretty pussy for me, pipsqueak.”

You shook your head, already feeling humiliated enough by being caught with your pants down, literally.

“That wasn't a question, that was a command, you bratty bitch. What happened to your manners?”

God did his words stir something deep inside you. Waiting was no longer a priority; catching you like this was proof enough in his mind that you were just playing hard to get.

“You should consider yourself lucky that I want you to sit on my face, you know that? I have bitches trying to get on my dick every day, but it only gets hard for you, pipsqueak.”

“I-I thought you didn't like quirkless people!”

“It's all the more reason I want to be balls deep in your cunt right now. So weak and pathetic, it's fucking cute.”

You could feel yourself tighten around nothing just at his words. He was right, you were just a pathetic plaything for him. Not hesitating any longer, he ripped off your skirt and threw it behind the both of you. Your tights also got ripped to shreds, leaving you in your blouse and panties.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous.” He muttered, mostly to himself as he took your panties off and pocketed them. For later, he thought.

Katsuki didn't hesitate to spit on your already wet cunt before diving into his meal. Each stroke of his tongue sent fire straight to your core, each suckle of his lips drew a whimper from your mouth. Hips bucked into his mouth before he held them down, using just one hand to cover your torso. So small and petite for him, how cute would you be up against his massive form.

“M-Mr. Dynamight!”

“Heh, so fuckin’ cute. Call me Katsuki, sweet thing. Or daddy, if you're nasty like that.”

Your hips were held taught against his face, not allowing you to squirm or inch away from his searing tongue fucking your hole. He continued to ravage you with his mouth, pulling away only a few times to give your pussy a nice spank. Groaning into your cunt, he stroked himself at the same time.

Humiliation had dissolved into pleasure as he serviced you, tears springing in your eyes as he gripped his head tightly with your hands and thighs. Having already masturbated before getting caught, it didn't take long for him to make you see stars and roll your eyes into the back of your head.

“K-Katsuki, I’m cumming!” You shouted, squirting onto his tongue as your body shook around his head. Your fingers threaded deeply into his hair and tugged as he continued to work his tongue into your hole, riding out your orgasm.

He didn't stop, though.

“Too much, it's too much!”

“I’ll stop when I’m finished, little girl.”

You tried to push his head away, but he gripped your wrists from under your legs and had you pinned against his mouth, shaking and screaming from overstimulation. Once he brought you another good nut, he pulled away and gave your clit a kiss, chuckling when you jumped.

Standing up, he pushed his mask up to pull his back and took his rock-hard cock from his pants. He spat on your dripping hole once again before lining up his fat head with it.

Katsuki hissed as he sank himself into your cunt, holding your hips in place as you whined and squirmed under him, still overly sensitive. God, were you gripping him in all the right ways. Your legs around his waist, your hands on his forearms, and your cunt around his cock.

“Relax, pipsqueak, or I’ll end up breaking you.” He chuckled. “But you might like that, huh?”

Seeing your teary, fucked out face while teasing you? He nearly jizzed himself on the spot. But he had to hold out for you. A choked gasp was all you could respond with as he got right in your face, breath tickling your cheeks as he looked in your eyes.

“Such a dirty slut, getting off to the sound of my voice. It's better in person, isn't it?”

“D-Daddy!”

Was all you could whine as his thumb made his way to your clit, drawing slow, gently circles with his roughed-up finger.

“Oi, oi, oi, did I break ya already, pipsqueak? Y’know, you coulda just asked for my cock like a good girl if you were gonna get this drunk off it.”

His hips slowly drew back, almost pulling out all the way before slamming back in, earning a squeal from you.

“Or maybe you wanted me to take you by force? Show ya what the fuck happens to quirkless little girls who tease their fuckin’ man so much that he just has to come and take their little cunt to show ‘em who’s boss, eh?”

You couldn't help but tighten around him from his words, squirming under his hot breath as he started to grind his hips up into yours slowly.

“Good girl, letting daddy rape your cunt so willingly.”

Katsuki chuckled, sealing a hot kiss on your mouth while he gripped your throat. His hips began to piston in and out of your pussy, thick veins grinding against your spongy walls.

His brutal kisses swallowed your moans and tears while he squeezed your throat. His other thumb continued to swipe against your clit in fast motions, causing your to clamp down and flutter against his thick cock.

“Shoulda known you were a whore from the start, wearing those skirts that hugged ya in all the right places. Bending over and letting me touch you how I pleased, it's like you wanted this to happen.”

The pace of his thrust increased as he started to chase his orgasm, holding your throat and hips down to use you like the hole he knew you were. He growled and snarled into your mouth as he choked you, even more, watching the blood flood to your face.

“Yeah, baby, I've got your life in my hands now. If you won't be mine, I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Then nobody can have you.”

“Y-Yours! I’m yours!” You managed to gasp out, gripping his forearm and digging your nails into it, hoping he’ll let you up for air

“Damn straight, now cum for me, you quirkless little bitch.”

The haziness from the lack of air and the pleasure pooling in your gut sent you over the edge a third time, making you cry out his name as you came. Katsuki was right behind you, eyes screwed shut and practically foaming at the mouth as he came deep inside you, finally letting you breathe once he finished himself off.

You sputtered and coughed, desperate to fill your lungs with air as he pushed some stray hairs out of your face.

“Ya did good, pipsqueak.”

He praised, giving your ass a spank before pulling out and tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“You’re coming home with me, so don't worry about the mess.”

“By the way, you're fired.”

TAG LIST: @tomurasprincess @suzuki-violin-school @sightoru @alrunemara

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expectingtofly · 3 years

Text

I was just stuck in traffic for an hour and a half (without reception to boot) so what better way to use my involuntary free time than to write a fic with dean, cas, and toddler jack in the same situation?

In hindsight, it made sense that in a life where nothing ever went to plan, an attempt at a relaxing Winchester beach vacation turned into an adventure called how long can you sit in traffic without losing your goddamn mind?

Slumping in his seat, Dean stared mournfully at the line of cars which seemed to stretch for miles into the distance. For an hour now they had sat on the freeway at a standstill, inching forward at odd intervals. Dean had turned Baby off fifteen minutes ago when even those slow forward crawls ceased.

Jack hummed in the backseat where he colored with a box of crayons. Cas tapped his fingers on his thighs, craning his neck to look behind and in front of them. No escape. Dean was pretty sure he was considering the merits of zapping all of them—car, luggage, and all—to their destination. Sure, the people around them would have plenty of questions about a car vanishing into thin air and Cas would be exhausted for three days, but it might be worth it.

Might save their sanity, at least. So far, they had cycled through staticky radio stations, played twenty questions three times over, eaten two cans of Pringles, argued about potential detours, and listened to several renditions of “Born This Way” sung at increasingly piercing high volume courtesy of the six year old in the backseat.

In all that time, they had moved forward about ten feet and Dean was starting to entertain thoughts about abandoning Baby on the asphalt and walking back home.

“I won’t abandon you,” he reassured her, stroking the steering wheel.

“What?” Cas asked.

“Uh. Nothing.” So now he was talking to inanimate objects. Great.

“Let’s play eye spy,” Cas suggested.

Dean gestured around them. Trees, weeds, parked cars, and the highway divider. “Not much to look at.”

“How about that game where you name an item for every letter of the alphabet? We can do celestial objects.”

“That’s not fair, you know all of them.”

“Well, we already did rock bands and you won that too easily.”

“Dad,” Jack complained. “I’m out of yellow.”

“It’s probably back there,” Cas said. “Maybe you dropped it.”

“There better not be a crayon melting back there.” Dean twisted around in his seat to check.

Jack sighed and threw down his crayons dramatically. “I’m hungry.”

Cas fished around in the snack bag. “I think we have some carrots left.”

“Hey, kid, this is pretty good.” Dean went to pick up the crayon drawing, but Jack threw his upper body over the paper.

“No! It’s not finished!”

“Alright, sorry. I’ll wait for the final product. Lookin’ good so far.”

“I’m drawing us,” Jack told him, reaching for another crayon while keeping a hand shielding the drawing.

“Remember I’m taller than him,” Dean said, nodding at Cas. Cas gave him a dirty look. “Just for accuracy.”

“My true form greatly towers over your human body,” Cas said haughtily.

“Aww, Cas, you tryin’ to flirt?”

Rolling his eyes, Cas handed back the bag of carrots to Jack. The mess in the backseat of papers and crayons—though stressful—gave Dean an idea.

“Hey, Jack, hand me some paper.” He took two papers and told Cas, “I’ll draw you and you draw me.”

Cas took a paper with a gleam in his eyes. “What does the winner get?”

“Whaddya mean winner? This is supposed to be just a fun thing.” That was a lie. They could, and did, turn everything into a competition. “Worst drawing has to pay for snacks at the next stop.”

“Easy,” Cas said, taking a green crayon from the box. “I could draw your every freckle from memory.”

“Stare enough to know what I look like,” Dean muttered, feeling his ears heat. He caught Cas reaching for the red crayon. “Hey!” Of course the fucker would draw him blushing.

Giving him a sly smile, Cas tucked himself against the opposite door to shield his drawing from him. “Just going for accuracy,”

“I wanna play too!” Jack said.

“Alright, best drawing from all three of us. Hope you brought your credit card, Jack.”

“Nope, ‘cause I’m gonna win!”

“No, you’re both going down.” Dean snatched up a stubby green crayon. “Go!”

Despite the lack of a time limit, furious scribbling followed. Dean liked to think he was a decent drawer, but using crayons—most of which were broken—sure made it difficult.

He set Cas in a sunny field with a fluffy cloud sky. Without yellow, the sun had to be green, but he thought the purple trenchcoat and blue tie he drew for Cas turned out pretty good. Add a few flowers, maybe a tree—fuck, that didn’t turn out so good. The important part was Cas, though. For good measure, he added some wings colored with every crayon in the box and an angel blade that he couldn’t get to look sharp enough with the blunt silver crayon, but gave the general idea.

Holding the drawing up, he couldn’t help smiling at it. It was Cas, alright. Down to the blue eyes, half smile, and sensible shoes.

“Done!” Jack announced.

“One second,” Cas said, eyebrows drawn up in concentration. After a few careful lines, he said, “Okay.” He clutched his drawing to his chest. “On the count of three.”

“One, two, three—” Dean flipped his drawing around at the same time as Cas and Jack.

And instantly burst out laughing.

“What?” Cas asked, offended.

“Dude.” Wiping tears from his eyes, Dean took the drawing from him. A stick figure man with a scribble of brown hair, lopsided green eyes, and dots which he guessed were his freckles. “I haven’t been this skinny in years. Wait a moment.” He frowned at the stick legs. “You gave me freaking bow legs?”

“Dean, this is…” Dean looked up to see Cas holding the drawing of himself. “This is really lovely.” He traced the wings. “It’s like you can see them.”

“Shit, it’s not that good.” Fucking hell, he was blushing again.

“Look at mine!” Jack said, waving his paper.

“Woah, kid, you outdid yourself,” Dean said, taking it from him. Three stick figures, each a bit taller than the next. Two with wings, one in a blocky shirt which looked suspiciously like flannel.

“Buddy, this is great.” He pointed at Cas’ figure, turning the paper so Cas could see. “Looks like he got your true form.” Animals and swirls, colors and shapes.

“That’s beautiful, Jack.” Cas pointed to the smallest stick figure with the biggest wings and smile. “I love how you drew yourself.”

“Do I win?” Jack asked.

Dean handed the drawings back. “Take a look at all of them, be our judge.”

Jack studied the three drawings seriously for several long seconds before announcing with a cheeky smile, “I win!”

“Seems rigged but okay,” Dean said.

Cas elbowed him. “You can pick out any snack you want when we find a place to stop,” he told Jack. A dangerous idea, but they might not even make it there. Their drawings would soon be outdated when they turned old and grey in their seats.

Bracing himself for the worst, Dean checked the line of cars again and was surprised to see movement up ahead.

“Hey!” He turned the car on. “Here we go, Baby, back on the road again!”

“Finally,” Cas sighed. Bouncing in his car seat, Jack cheered.

The line of cars thinned out as they picked up speed, finally making progress after… Dean checked the time. Two hours. At least the last hour had passed quickly with their drawing competition.

“I’m going to frame these,” Cas said, tucking the drawings into his bag. “I think they’d look nice in the living room.”

“Daddy?” Jack spoke up.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Cas asked, looking back at him.

Jack giggled and Dean smiled at him in the rearview mirror. Then Jack announced, “I have to pee.”

Dean stared at the road. Of course.

“Can you wait?” Cas asked, checking the GPS. "The next stop is… twenty minutes away.”

“I have to go now!”

Cas looked at Dean, and Dean sighed. “I’ll stop.” Turning on his turn signal to move into the shoulder, he told Jack, “Time to pee in the bushes, kiddo.”

Jack cheered and Dean shook his head, a laugh escaping him despite himself. Always an adventure.

#creative caviar #rambleoncas #seraphcastiel #spncreatorsdaily #destiel fic #baby jack #dadstiel #established dean/cas #if there’s typos #no there’s not ❤️#I’m writing and posting this on mobile #as soon as I wrote the part where dean starts driving #the traffic I was stuck in started moving #✨manifestation✨#expectingtofly writes

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homoose · 4 years

Text

Weird is Good

Summary: A story about two people tryna make it through the age of COVID-19 in a country where people are fucking dumb lmao. My hc is that Spencer would be like wtf at all these science-denying anti-maskers. Also, two teachers just tryna make it through quarantine and remote teaching in a one bedroom apartment (this is taking place during a mandatory leave/lecture cycle).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: no warnings. reader is both a kindergarten teacher and a bruh girl with a pirate’s mouth. lots of Spencer x factz.

Word count: 3.1k

———

“We’re home for the next two weeks. ”

Spencer looked up from his desk to see Y/N kicking off her shoes, dropping her bag, and walking directly to the sink. “Starting when?”

“We get to go in on Monday to say goodbye to the kids and get any materials we might need. Then we’re home for two weeks. They’re calling it an early, extended spring break.” Y/N began her hand washing routine. As a kindergarten teacher, she’d always been a strict hand-washer. In the time of COVID, she had only become more zealous. She looked at Spencer. “Have you heard anything?”

“Since we’re so close to the end of the semester, the department head thinks they’ll try to finish out the year as normal.” He set down his pen. “I honestly don’t know. It will all depend on whether people follow the CDC guidelines. The spread of any virus is deducible mathematically, and SARS-COV2 is no different. Based on the outbreak in Italy prior to their lockdown, we can accurately describe its reproductive number, or Rt, to between 2.43 – 3.10.”

Y/N shut off the water and dried her hands on a paper towel. “In layman's terms, Dr. Reid.”

“The Rt tells how many people are infected by the contagious host,” he explained. “In the case of this strain, each infected person is infecting between two and three others. For comparison, the standard seasonal flu has an average Rt between 1.4 and 1.7.”

“So in other words, fucking yikes,” Y/N groaned. She moved to perch on the edge of Spencer’s desk.

“Indeed,” Spencer agreed. “We know how fast the flu can travel through an office or a classroom, so imagine if it was two times as transmissible. But it's also really important to understand that this number changes depending on the mitigations in place. Even prior to full lockdown, mask wearing and social distancing was somewhat common in Italy, so it’s likely the uncontrolled Rt is higher.”

“Jesus Christ.” Y/N scrubbed a hand over her face. “We’ll probably never go back.”

Spencer rubbed his hand up from her ankle to the inside of her knee. “The good news is there’s nothing special about this virus compared to others in terms of how it spreads— it’s just aerosols. So if everyone wears their mask, we’ll be able to keep the spread low.”

⧭⧭⧭

“It’s safe to say that everyone did not wear their fucking masks,” Y/N snapped. She watched from the couch as Mayor Bowser delivered the news that DC Public Schools would remain closed for the remainder of the year. “This is crazy. I mean, I knew it was coming because people in this country are absolute buffoons.” She looked at Spencer, fingers pressed to her temple. “But holy shit, are we ever going to be able to go outside again?”

“With schools and universities closed, people working remotely, and lockdown orders in place, the Rt in the US could stay low. But masks have to be worn at all times, and social distancing has to be strictly followed.” Spencer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I just— I can’t believe people are refusing to wear masks. The empirical, peer-reviewed data clearly shows—”

“This is ‘Murica, boy.” Y/N mocked. “Ain’t no tyrannical government gonna tell me what to do!” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, your choice to abstain from social media is paying dividends to your sanity right now.”

Spencer looked truly dumbfounded, setting his newspaper down in his lap. “But that’s just it. It’s not just in social media circles.” He gestured to the article in front of him. “This economist just argued for ‘reopening’ the economy using the justification of herd immunity. Herd immunity can be a plausible option for less lethal diseases. But this virus is not like varicella—the chickenpox,” he clarified at Y/N’s raised eyebrow. He waved his hands around in exasperation. “Putting aside the fact that one facet of herd immunity is vaccinating as many people as possible, its success completely hinges on the Rt of a disease. If you model a population based on an Rt of 2.5, herd immunity wouldn’t be achieved until approximately sixty percent of the population has been infected. Consider that the US population is currently 328 million, and sixty percent of that is 196.8 million. The current mortality rate for SARS-COV2 is 3.06 percent. 196,800,000 multiplied by 0.0306 is 6,022,080. Over six million people would die. It's simple mathematics.”

Y/N let out an exasperated breath. “It used to be that simple math and facts were enough. Now you’ve got basement scientists who think they know better than actual, literal scientists who’ve spent their entire lives studying these things.” She ran a hand over her face and gestured at the news conference still playing. “How long do you think it’ll be before we’re both trying to teach from this tiny ass living room?”

⧭⧭⧭

“Goooooooood morning, kindergarten! It’s Friday, and no Friday is a bad Friday!” Spencer smiled. As he poured his first cup of coffee, he hummed along with Y/N and 23 six-year-olds as they sang their morning song. Observing fourteen days of remote kindergarten from across the living room had given Spencer a new appreciation for elementary school teachers, particularly Y/N. She sang, danced, conducted science experiments, held puppet shows, read stories, led art projects, and fielded questions for four hours a day— three hours less than when they were in the school building. He was exhausted by proxy.

But he was also grateful for the opportunity to watch Y/N in her element. Even though they were at home, she still got dressed every day in bright, patterned sweaters and dresses— her Ms. Frizzle attire, she’d told him once. She was able to channel her personality into a kid-friendly version that her students clearly adored, never afraid to be silly or strange to get their attention and keep them engaged during the long days. He worked from home whenever possible, strangely happy to have the background noise of kindergarten over his quiet university office.

...

“Okay, but where do I put the biiiiiiiiiiiig number?” Y/N made a wide gesture with her arms. “Ariah, where should I put it? In the big box, yes! But oh no, my small number needs a friend. My three is soooooo lonely!” Y/N drew her mouth into a pout. “DJ, how can I help my three not be so sad? You’re absolutely right, let’s put that two right next to him in our number bond.”

…

“I’ve been waitin’ for a girl to mute,” Y/N sang into the gold karaoke mic. “I said, muuuuuuuuuute, I’m blinded by loud sounds. No, I can’t hear the friend who’s tryin’ to talk.”

…

“Oh boy. Kev, honey, we can— we can see you. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. We can see all of you. I can’t turn your camera off, buddy. You gotta— there we go.”

…

“Mute please, I need— I need everybody to mute, please. Oh my goodness where is that music coming from?” Y/N frantically searched for her index card with the picture of the mute icon, as the sounds of a highly inappropriate song blared through the computer speaker. “I know it’s so loud, guys. Why is my mute power gone?! This is why we need to make sure we keep our mute button on, kindergarten.”

…

“No sweetie, it’s not time to log off yet. I’m sorry, I know it’s such a long day. We have about an hour left. Do you guys wanna do a countdown? It’s the fin-al count-down! Do-do doo dooooo. Do-do-d-do-dooo…”

…

“Annnnnd, I should see all my friends on mute. William, hang on just a second. All my friends need to look at my picture, it’s an oval with a line through it… Okay, William, what did you bring to show us?” Y/N leaned toward the computer screen. “Grandma Kathy? O-oh, she’s— she’s in the—“ Y/N’s eyes widened. “Is that— is that an urn? Oh wow. Um, well, wow. It’s beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing that with us, William. Grandma Kathy, may she rest in peace.”

⧭⧭⧭

A week into Y/N teaching kindergarten from their living room, the university had announced its transition to online coursework for the remainder of the academic year. Spencer had to host his first zoom lecture, and he was absolutely dreading it.

“Spence, it’s going to be fine. It’s not like you’ve never been on a video conference,” Y/N assured him. She sat cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to let her in to his practice zoom.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t running those meetings. I just showed up.” He squinted at the computer screen. “Are you in?”

Y/N barely resisted the urge to make a joke, knowing that Spencer probably wouldn’t appreciate the innuendo. “No, you have to admit me.”

“What do you mean? How do I do that?”

“There should be a box with a button that says admit.”

Spencer gestured at the computer. “Well there’s a bunch of boxes— which one should I be looking at?”

Y/N sighed and got up from the couch. “IQ of 187 and can’t find the box.”

Spencer dragged a hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn’t find this so difficult. I’m sorry you have to waste your time on this.”

“Hey, it was a joke.” Y/N grabbed his hand from where he was frustratedly pulling on his frazzled curls. “I’m sorry. That was mean and you’re already stressed enough.” She used her free hand to smooth his hair back into place. She scrunched her nose. “I love you and your limited technology skills. And honestly it’s kind of nice to have one thing I can actually teach you about.” She squeezed his hand, leaning over him to peer at his computer screen. “All right, let’s find that elusive admit button.”

When the day of his lecture rolled around, Spencer thanked all the atoms in the observable universe that Y/N had a break during his class. Within the first ten minutes, he’d managed to accidentally kick himself out of his own meeting and then somehow lose track of the screenshare button.

“No one can see me and I don’t know what happened to the screenshare option. It was there and now it’s just… gone,” he told Y/N.

She leaned over his desk, eyes tracking over the screen and mouse clicking around the desktop. “How in the world did you manage to block your camera?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t even touch it!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand how it’s even possible to be this bad at this.”

Y/N bumped his knee with her own, pulling up his camera settings and preferences. “Relax. You can’t be good at everything. It’s a refreshing reminder that you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us.” With a few rapid clicks, Y/N unblocked his camera and located the screenshare bar. “There. Crisis averted. I’m just going to share your whole screen in case you want to toggle between application windows. So just be aware that they’ll be able to see everything. And then you just click here when you’re ready to stop sharing.”

When Y/N turned her head toward him to check that he understood, Spencer grabbed the side of her face and caught her lips in a kiss. Y/N smiled against his mouth, heart speeding up as he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

“Um, Dr. Reid? Your um— your camera’s working now.”

Spencer nearly fell out of his chair, his cheeks about the color of the Leave Meeting icon. Y/N dropped her head, debating whether she wanted to laugh or let the earth open up and swallow her whole. She ultimately decided to compose herself, stepping back and giving a little wave to the sea of tiny, grinning zoom faces before slinking out of frame, miming sorry to one very mortified professor.

⧭⧭⧭

“Would you want to be our mystery reader next week?” Y/N asked, bookmarking the page of her novel and reclining back in bed. “You just have to pick a story to read. Oh, and think of four clues about your identity to give the kiddos.”

Spencer raised his eyebrow, continuing to read. “Any story?”

Y/N laughed. “Well they’re six, so maybe hold off on the Chaucer and Bradbury for now. A picture book would be preferable.”

“Did you know that the first picture book, Orbis Sensualium Pictus, or Visible World in Pictures, was published in 1658?” He looked up from his own book. “Czech educator John Amos Comenius wanted to create a book that would be accessible to children of all levels of ability. The educational theories he explored are actually still in practice in the field of early childhood education.” He turned toward her from his spot under the covers. “For example, when you have your students make a hissing sound and slither their arms when they produce the sound represented by the letter s? Comenius included an alphabet chart with various animal and human sounds representing each letter. He wanted to demonstrate that the incorporation of multiple senses could help increase learning.”

“I guess you don’t fix what isn’t broken,” Y/N mused. “300 years later, and we’re still using the same methods.”

“362, actually,” Spencer corrected.

She gave him a look. “Maybe we can save the Comenius for another time.”

“The genre of children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and philosophical story telling of all time.” Spencer returned his attention to his reading.

“...So is that a yes?”

Spencer smiled. “I’ve got a book in mind.”

“And clues,” Y/N reminded him, snuggling down under the covers and reopening her book. “We need some fun clues, mystery reader.”

…

“Kindergarten, we have a very special mystery reader this week. Oh man, are you ready for the first clue? The mystery reader loves jell-o! Raise your little hand if you love jell-o, too. Okay, kindergarten, I see you! Lots of jell-o lovers in the house.”

…

“Okay, clue number two! Our mystery reader works as a community helper— remember we learned about all different kinds of community helpers; firefighters, nurses, police officers. But if the mystery reader could be anything, they’d want to be a cowboy! How cool is that?”

...

“Clue number three for our mystery reader!” Y/N sucked in a gasp. “You guys. The mystery reader can do magic. Oh my goodness, I am so excited for Friday,” she sing-songed. “Will they show us a trick? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

…

“Okay, my friends, the last clue. The mystery reader loves reading. They read every day, and they’ve been reading since 1983! Yes, that was a very long time ago.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Okay, any last guesses about who our mystery reader might be?” Y/N questioned.

“I think it’s your dad,” a little voice called out.

Spencer made a choking noise from where he sat, slightly off camera. Y/N laughed. “The mystery reader is decidedly not my dad, Keyshon. Remember I showed you guys the picture of him— my dad’s a farmer, so he’s kind of already a cowboy.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, without further ado, drumroll please... Our mystery reader is…” Y/N pushed her desk chair out of frame to allow Spencer to roll in, holding her hands out. “Spencer!”

He gave a little wave, smoothing his hair, suddenly painfully self-aware and nervous about the opinions of two dozen six-year-olds. “Hi guys.”

“You’re the boy on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone.”

“Your hair is so fluffy!”

“Do you have a cowboy hat?”

“I like your sweater.”

“Can you really do magic?”

“What’s your favorite jell-o?”

“Whoa, okay, let’s remember our mute button,” Y/N, holding up her index card. “I promise you’ll get to ask Spencer all your questions after he reads the story.”

Spencer smiled at the excited faces beaming through the screen. “Yes, I’m on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone; I don’t own a cowboy hat, yet; yes, I really can do magic; and the red jell-o is my favorite.”

Y/N watched with interest as Spencer pulled out his book. He’d been secretive about his choice, so she was as curious as her students.

“This is one of my favorite stories. It’s written by Munro Leaf, and illustrated by Robert Lawson. It’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer held the cover up to the camera. “Ferdinand is the bull here on the cover. This story was written in 1935, which was a long time ago! Okay are you ready?” Spencer looked out on a sea of thumbs up, turning the page to the beginning of the story. “Once upon a time in Spain, there was a bull, and his name was Ferdinand.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Spencer read each page, recounting the story of the peaceful bull. He was an excellent storyteller, changing the inflection and expression of his voice to match each sentence. He held each page up for just the right amount of time, panning it so her students could see each detail of the black and white pictures. He added his own wonderings and exclamations here and there, and her students were decidedly enthralled. Her heart ached at how comfortable he was, how natural this was for him. She rested her chin in her hand, trying to keep her mind in the present— ignoring the persistent little mental image of Spencer as a dad.

“So they had to take Ferdinand home. And for all I know, he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy… And that’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer closed the book with a soft smile. “I love this story. Ferdinand is a very special bull. What do you think makes him so special?”

“Ferdinand didn’t fight,” a little voice piped up.

“Yes!” Spencer agreed. “He practiced pacifism in the face of the persistent, ingrained militarism of his country’s culture.”

Y/N placed a hand on Spencer’s knee and gave a quick squeeze. “Right, Ferdinand chose not to fight, even though everybody else he knew wanted to.” Y/N winked at him before turning back to the screen full of kids. “All his friends thought he was kind of weird, but he just really wanted to hang out in the shade and smell the flowers, huh? Sounds pretty good to me.”

“He wasn’t bothered that the other bulls thought he was strange for wanting to be peaceful,” Spencer added. “Sometimes being different can be a good thing. The Story of Ferdinand reminds me that it’s okay to be yourself, even if other people think you’re weird.” His eyes met Y/N’s. “Because there will always be people who love and appreciate you for who you are.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminals minds self insert #dr spencer reid #professor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #homoose writes

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eggtoasties · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Eventual Osamu x Reader

Rating: E for fucking Samu in the car :-)

Word Count: 4.4k of Miya twin shenanigans, fluff, then eventual smut

Summary: A hopeful love and a blossomed love; years of wishing on candles and they’re both content.

a/n: @powderblew ur the hopeful love my beloved

Contrary to popular belief, Miya Atsumu does not speed. Yes, he nearly loses his mind on the interstate every other day but his road rage is completely contained to cursing in the confines of his car. Most people think Atsumu’s the reckless driver with his loud personality and penchant for pulling off risky moves on the court, but surprisingly, it’s his counterpart who fully believes that the actual speed limit is at least ten above the posted signage and weaves through lanes with one hand on the wheel and the other on her thigh.

Atsumu got Osamu the car as a birthday gift—black, sleek, and quiet. He had been dropping hints for weeks but Osamu had brushed them off, figuring his brother was spewing incoherent nonsense.

It was the weekend before their birthday. They decided to take a trip to the mountains—it was rare at this point in their young adult lives to have the free time to spend with each other. Osamu was busy with the shop: serving customers, preparing food, and trying new dishes. Getting Onigiri Miya off the ground was a seven day work week with early mornings and late nights. Atsumu on the other hand, had regularly scheduled practices and travel matches with the team. Although his schedule was incredibly hectic, there was a sort of rhythmic regularity to it.

So, for the first weekend in a long time where it would be just them, Atsumu wanted it to be special. Afterall, it was their birthday. Atsumu was the one who drove them to the campsite, taking in the scenery with appreciation, going slowly on the winding roads while mindlessly tapping a beat on the steering wheel. As they got closer and closer to their destination, Osamu could tell his brother was antsy.

His eyes would flicker from the road, to Osamu, then back again. His mindless tapping to the music turned into an incessant drilling and he kept readjusting his legs and changing his hand position on the wheel, fidgeting in his seat.

“Wouldya’ quit that, yer gonna crash the fuckin’ car,” Osamu said, exaggeratingly clutching to the grab handle at the top of his window.

“Yer really gonna yell at me on ma’ birthday that’s jus’ like ya’ Samu—”

“It’s ma’ birthday too ya’ idiot!”

The sound of his brother’s bickering quelled Atsumu’s nerves and he settled in the driver’s seat, humming along to the song playing on the speakers. In response, Osamu turned up the volume, but Atsumu just grinned.

“You will arrive at your destination in .2 miles,” the smooth voice of the GPS chimed.

Atsumu began fidgeting again and Osamu swore he was gonna punch him the moment they made it out of the death trap.

They pulled into the winding driveway and Osamu banged his head against the dashboard.

“Please tell me ya’ didn’t screw up the reservation,” he said quietly.

“What kinda idiot, do ya’ take me for, Samu?” Atsumu whined. Although Osamu couldn’t see with his forehead pressed against the polished wood interior, Atsumu was smiling.

“Then why is there another car parked in our spot?” Osamu deadpanned, turning his head to his brother, still pressed into the dash.

“Look again an’ eat yer words ya’ scrub.”

Driving slowly forward towards the car and parking next to it, Osamu realized that a bright red bow was tied to the hood. He stilled in his seat and stared dumbly out his window, slowly turning towards his brother.

“Do ya’ like it, Samu?” Atsumu nearly whispered, leaning in close to his brother, eyes wide, committing every micro reaction to memory.

Osamu blinked once. Twice. Then turned back to the car.

“Yeah, Tsumu,” he said shakily, “I really do.”

Against the burning in his throat and the tightening of his eyes, Osamu willed himself to remain composed when he heard rustling. Atsumu took out a crumpled and worn piece of notebook paper, its edges frayed and torn and began to smooth it out in his palms.

He cleared his throat and stared at the empty space across Osamu’s shoulder.

“So, uh…” he began, uncharacteristically shy and Osamu sent a prayer that this wasn’t a speech about how Tsumu had somehow accidentally razed Onigiri Miya to the ground in the short period that he wasn’t there and this was all an elaborate apology.

“I know that this year’s been tough with Onigiri Miya jus’ startin’ out an’ everythin’ but I jus’ wanted to say,” Atsumu trailed off and scratched his ear before suddenly, startling Osamu, squaring his shoulders and directing a piercing stare into his brother’s eyes. “I’m so proud of you Samu!” he nearly yelled, face flushed with embarrassment.

Osamu felt the heat prickle against his neck and all he could do was blink owlishly at his twin.

“What on Earth are ya’ goin’ on about?” he questioned incredulously.

“Okay, okay, wait I wrote it all down,” Atsumu said quickly, smoothing the worn paper once again. He cleared his throat a few times before reading.

“Osamu—”

“Oh my god is this a proposal, why is this so formal?” Osamu asked out loud.

“God, shut yer big ol’ trap wouldya I am tryin’ here,” Atsumu bit back to the amusement of his twin. “Anyways,” he grumbled. “Samu. I’ve been thinkin’ for a while and I jus’ wanted to say thank ya’ for always bein’ there for me.”

Osamu did not often feel stupid. Well, that’s a lie, he thought. It’s been a year since Onigiri Miya’s opening and he was only just beginning to feel as if he was able to call his job stable and that he had a solid understanding of how things should be ran. However, it was not often that his brother made him feel stupid, but here he was, at a loss for words at this uncharacteristic show of appreciation.

Yes, high fives and hugs had always come easily after a particularly clean hit or a perfectly executed pass, but they never sat down like this and talked about how much they appreciated each other. Osamu figured it was unsaid in the little things—how the clothes Atsumu stole in high school always ended back clean in Osamu’s closet, how Osamu usually ended up making two bentos when they still lived together, or how Atsumu had always tried to include Osamu in team bonding even when Osamu was in college.

“I think,” Atsumu said, breaking Osamu out of his thoughts. “That you were what made me work so hard at volleyball. Not because you were the only one that could challenge me,” Osamu scoffed at this. “But because you were the only one I cared to play with for a long time.”

Tears pricked at his eyes and Osamu nodded at his brother to continue.

“An’ thinkin’ back, yer probably the only reason why ma’ teammates didn’t excommunicate me like they did to Tobio-kun,” Atsumu joked and Osamu cracked a smile despite the burning of his throat.

“An’ I know we’ve talked about this before, but I am still really sorry when I went off on ya’ when ya’ told me you were quittin’ volleyball. I don’t mean to beat a dead horse or anything—”

“You sound like Baa-chan,” Samu choked out, still trying to hold back tears, hands balled into fists on his lap.

Undeterred, Atsumu continued to read. “But the fact that fer the first time, ya’ wouldn’t be by my side on the court was jus’ never a possibility I’d considered. So ‘m sorry ‘bout the fuss I made even though I know that’s all old news.” He paused and nodded at Osamu, noting his fists and drew in a shaky breath.

“’Samu, I jus’ want to let ya’ know that I am so endlessly proud to be yer brother and all the work ya’ put in in college and startin’ Miya Onigiri honestly scared me a little,” he said chuckling. “The way you really focus in on somethin’ when yer concentrating was always so intense, but I’d only really seen it with volleyball. But ever since you went to college, and especially with this past year, I can’t believe I fought you to go pro with me because I’d never seen ya’ more fired up or intense than ya’ have been this past year.”

The sides of Atsumu’s paper begin to tear with the force of his grip, and both twins are mirror images of each other. Red in the face, hands in fists, and willing the other to cry first.

“Basically,” Atsumu drawled on, hands slightly shaking, “thank ya’ for bein’ the best brother and teammate I coulda’ ever asked for and I’m so, so, proud to be the brother of the founder of Onigiri Miya.” He lowered the paper from his line of vision and accidentally crumbled it with his hand as he blurt out, “And I love you!” turning even redder in embarrassment. “Even though ya’ never respond to my texts and make fun a’ me when I bring my teammates ‘round,” he quickly added in.

Osamu undid his seatbelt and forcefully opened his door. He heard Atsumu’s confused “huh” and watched as he fumbled with his seatbelt through the windshield as he crossed to the other side. Atsumu stumbled out of the driver’s seat and Osamu captured him in a bone crushing hug. One hand wrapped around his back and the other held Atsumu’s head as he cried into his neck.

He thought back to the first semester of culinary school when he questioned himself every single day if it was the right choice to have made. Learning and practicing different techniques that felt foreign was a hurdle that had seemed impossible at the time. Then, when he graduated and he figured he knew almost everything there was to know about the food industry after hours and hours of lab, internships, and class and began preparations for opening Miya Onigiri, he realized once again that he knew nothing. Even a year after founding Miya Onigiri and he still found himself doubting his success.

But, hearing his idiot brother tell him he was proud—was all he needed. Because Miya Osamu also pushed himself to the upper limits of his physical and mental abilities because his brother was the only one he wanted to compete with. It didn’t matter who else might try and challenge them, at the end of their finish lines, the only person they wanted to see was each other.

The autumnal air was incredibly crisp and although the forest surrounding their luxury cabin was teeming with life, time around them seemed to still as they both cried.

“This is too much, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu sniffled out. “My gift ta’ ya’ was literally like, two hundred dollars.”

“It’s okay,” sniffled Atsumu. He paused. “What’d ya’ get me?”

Osamu pulled away and wiped his face with the bottom hem of his sweater.

“I got ya’ a signed copy of that book you were yappin’ on about with yer favorite author and I got her to make a video for ya’ sayin’ happy birthday and all that—”

“Oh my god,” Atsumu said excitedly, “Yer tellin’ me ya’ got Sonia Barnes to write me a handwritten message and a private video!?”

Osamu grimaced at the snot Atsumu had dripping down his chin. “First of all don’t say it like that, an’ second of all, wipe yer nose or somethin’ ya’ scrub.”

Completley ignoring his brother’s complaints, Atsumu lunged at Osamu, begging him to show him the video. Osamu tapped at his phone, opened up the email attachment, and watched the myriad expressions of surprise, admiration, love, and happiness flicker across Atsumu’s face during a 20 second video while red eyed and swollen. He mused that this was possibly the best birthday they ever had.

“Let’s take this baby on a test drive,” Osamu said, eagerly waiting by the door as Atsumu watched his birthday video for the umpteenth time.

That Sonia Barnes was a very pretty lady, Osamu reasoned, but if he had to hear her chirp, “Happy Birthday Tsumu!” one more time, she was going to be the cause of fratricide.

Settling into the leather seat, Osamu pressed the start button and nearly cooed at the soft rumble of the engine.

Throwing himself into the passenger’s seat Atsumu said, “Let’s figure out how ta’ connect to Bluetooth so I can hear ma’ angel on speaker,” fiddling with the touch screen.

Osamu grabbed Atsumu’s phone and threw it in the backseat and put the car in drive just as Atsumu started to clamber in the back for it. He peeled down the driveway as Atsumu screamed and picked up speed down the secluded road as Atsumu managed to get back in his seat and secure the seat belt.

The pretty autumn foliage was a blur of orange and reds and Osamu breathed in the smell of new leather and wood polish.

“S-slow down!” Atsumu yelled, quickly activating the lock function on the seatbelt and gripping the grab handle with both hands. “I-is this b-because I told the whole team you’d giv’ em’ free food if they said they were my teammate,” he screamed, “I’ll tell ‘em nevermind!”

Osamu rolled down the windows and the sun roof and laughed as the wind ran through his hair while his brother cried for the second time that day.

A year later and Osamu’s still in the driver’s seat of his car, but this time, she’s in the passenger’s seat. They have all the windows down and he’s speeding along the coast of Hyogo, sea breeze whipping through their hair and the sound of waves breaking in the distance.

She had planned a full day for his birthday: brunch at their favorite restaurant, a walk through the shopping district, and a homemade dinner with a fruit tart from his favorite bakery. Now that he had two years of experience running Onigiri Miya, he could afford to step away from the shop every so often. Unfortunately, his counterpart was on the other side of the world for a match, but they managed to squeeze in a short videocall despite the time difference.

“’Samu!” Atsumu screamed from the other line, “Happy Birthday!”

Wincing, Osamu turned the volume of his phone down as she giggled and wished his brother a Happy Birthday.

“What’d ya’ plan for Samu’s birthday,” Atsumu asked her, “good luck beatin’ ma’ gift from last year—”

“Tsumu!” Osamu berated.

“Unfortunately, my research job doesn’t pay as much as being a pro-volleyballer,” she rolled her eyes, “but I do have some fun things lined up,” she said, smiling softly at Osamu to which Atsumu gagged.

“Ya’ scrub, just ‘cause yer jealous—”

“Tsumu!” she interrupted, “did you get our gift? We were a little nervous about the international shipping but your hotel said they got it so—”

“Yes!” Atsumu exclaimed, screen blurry as he shuffled around his hotel room. He set his phone down and propped it up, showing them the neatly packaged box. “I can’t believe ya’ got me another signed copy of Sonia Barnes’s book—I couldn’t even get this one off preorder, it was so popular—”

“Did ya’ open the envelope yet?” Osamu asked impatiently.

“Of course I did! I always open the letter before the present, what do ya’ take me for, Samu?” Atsumu whined, but the duo noticed how Atusmu’s hands were off screen and they could hear quiet tearing noises in between pauses.

Rolling their eyes, they patiently waited for Atsumu to unsubtly open their envelope. They watched as Atsumu quickly scanned the contents of the letter and Osamu hit screen record as his brother’s mouth dropped open.

“T-tickets to a live reading and meet and greet?” Atsumu whispered to himself. He pulled the letter closer to his face and read it over and over again before gingerly setting the cardstock down and gently looking into the envelope to produce two ticket stubs. Carefully placing the tickets back into the envelope, Osamu failed to cover his snickers as Atsumu’s lower lip trembled.

“I know it’s no car,” she said, “but I do happen to know people who know people, so I hope you like your gift, ‘Tsumu” she said kindly.

Atsumu suddenly held the phone close to his face and Osamu could see his brother’s ears turn pink.

“Yer the best sister in law I coulda’ ever asked for, I don’t know why yer with that good fer nothin’ scrub—yer not married yet, so ya’ still have time to run away, but ‘Samu, ya’ better not mess it up,” he rambled, roughly wiping his nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

Osamu scoffed and she placed a placating hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t believe I get ta’ meet ma’ angel,” Atsumu mumbled to himself in disbelief, pacing in his hotel room, running his hands through his hair. “Angel, angel, angel—I gotta bring ma’ copy of her books with ma’ notes! I have so many questions for her, like how she came up with the storyline—didya know she went to school in New York City? Isn’t that the coolest? And she made a video for me for ma’ birthday last year,” he broke his monologue to gasp. “Do ya’ think she’ll remember me—”

Osamu put him on mute and groaned.

“Maybe we shoulda jus’ gotten him those fancy mugs,” he complained, leaning heavily into her side.

She rubbed the sides of his neck as she watched with amusement as Atsumu continued his ramblings, completely unaware that she and Osamu were having a side conversation.

“But look how happy he is, Samu,” she crooned, giggling as Osamu pinched his nose bridge. But she knew that Osamu was the one who spent hours scouring the web for those tickets and sent several emails to Sonia Barnes’s manager for a signed copy.

Watching his brother run his mouth with no regard to himself or his girlfriend, Osamu clicked the unmute button and nearly yelled, “We get it ya’ scrub, we get it!”

“Let me be happy why dontcha!” Atsumu retorted.

“Alright well I’m gonna spend ma’ birthday with ma’ real girlfriend,” Osamu taunted, finger hovering over the ‘end call’ button.

“Once Sonia meets me she’s gonna fall in love, just ya’ wait!”

She yelled one last, “Happy Birthday!” before Osamu disconnected the call and tackled her into the bed.

For the end of his birthday, Osamu requested a car ride. It was just past sunset; the sky’s vibrant pinks and oranges faded into a cool indigo and the stars were extra bright in the rural area they were driving through.

They rode in comfortable silence, listening to seagulls call their good nights and the wind beating against the car. The supple leather of the seat underneath her contrasted with the rough pads of Osamu’s fingertips on her thigh and she stared out at the horizon, perpetually in awe of the beauty of the coast line. Here, twinkling city lights were hardly discernible specks in the distance and the only tall structures were the trees dotting the cliffside.

They rose higher in altitude until they were surrounded by lush forest—rustling underbush and singing cicadas took over the sound crashing waves. He pulled into a secluded nook that overlooked a cliff and she couldn’t believe they were only a forty minute drive from the main city.

He killed the engine and unbuckled her seat belt while she was still leaning forward, face close to the windshield, taking in the scenery.

“I’m feelin’ a bit neglected over here,” Osamu said, soft grin taking over his face as he watched her, lips parted and eyes wide.

“Sorry Samu,” she said, still looking out the glass, “it’s just so incredible here.”

“I told ya’ I knew a spot,” he teased and she intertwined her hand with his.

He pulled her arm towards him as leaned over the middle console so his lips caught her neck when she lurched towards him. Her surprised chuckle turned into a content hum, fluttering her eyes closed as he kissed the pulse point of her throat, her exposed shoulder, then where her neck met her clavicle. From there, he dragged his lips slowly to her ear and grinned when he felt her clutch at his sweater.

Nipping her ear and tracing the shell with his tongue, rough palms kneaded her thighs and his fingers played with the hem of her skirt. He let out a heavy breath when she brushed against his tightening pants and he smirked when she involuntarily shivered.

“Do ya’ like this?” he asked, mouth kissing down the expanse of her chest, pulling the hem of her shirt low.

She arched her back into him and guided his hand under her shirt and he grinned when she impatiently unhooked her bra and took it and her shirt off in one swift motion.

“Does that answer your question?”

Eyes half lidded, lips slick with spit and plump from his repeated ministrations, she had one leg folded under her and the other anchored to the floor. Fully facing him, she cocked her head to the side and dragged her eyes down his body, lingering for a moment before directing her heavy gaze at him. She leaned back against the door as he leaned forward on the middle console and she ran a hand slowly from her knee, teasing a peek under her skirt, tracing a finger around her navel, then making her way upwards, rolling a nipple with two fingers while slowly rocking her hips.

Osamu’s lips parted and his eyes flickered from her hands to her face as she brought her other hand to rub at the cotton beneath her legs. Gaze hungry, he licked his lips and rolled his neck, languidly leaning back against his door, mirroring her.

“Gonna give me a birthday show?” He rasped, slowly unbuttoning his pants and palming his length through his boxers.

Skirt bunched at the waist giving him an unhindered view of the growing wet stain between her legs and Osamu felt himself tighten at the sight. He wanted to press his nose against the ruined fabric and lap at her through her pink panties, he wanted to curl a finger in her and listen to her keel for him, he wanted to—

“Take your shirt off,” she demanded.

“I thought it was ma’ birthday,” he chuckled but does as she asks, pulling the fabric from the back of his neck. He tossed the garment to the backseat and lazily looked back at her.

The tops of her cheeks are flushed and her breasts shake with each pant. She’s worked two slender fingers from the side of her underwear and Osamu watches with rapt attention as her pretty folds are presented to him.

“Touch yourself, Samu.”

“Again with the demands,” he complained but freed himself from the confines of his boxers and matches the pace she’s set on herself.

“Fuck,” she whined, moving faster. The hand teasing her nipples moved south to pinch at her clit and Osamu couldn’t wait anymore.

He nearly launched himself to her, abdomen uncomfortably resting on top of the center console and she seemed all too satisfied with the result. He buried his face between her legs and groaned with her as he sucked and lapped at her overstimulated bundle of nerves through soaked cotton.

“Itadakimasu,” he growled and she rolled her eyes at the line.

Long languid licks interspersed with quick flicks of his tongue, he took her right to the edge of her orgasm. Her thighs clenched around his head while her nails dragged through his gray hair and she rocked her hips against his mouth. Toe curling heat had her buck helplessly against his tongue, rough hands gripping her in place as she reached her peak, but at the last second, he pulled away.

Her gasp was lost with the loud bang his head made as it slammed against the car ceiling and he let out a string of curses as he tried to fit in the passenger’s seat with her. She half stands, leaning back on the glove department as he sat down and she couldn’t help but giggle when he cursed at how slowly the seat was reclining back.

But just as quick, he grabbed her by the hands and has her straddle him. The seat is narrow but neither of them mind as he slowly entered her. She gripped at the back of his head as he teased a nipple and sucked constellations across her chest while her other hand gripped the grab handle, giving her more leverage.

Osamu slowly rocked into her and he captured her moans in a kiss. He gave her a second to adjust to his length before slamming into her, head falling back into the headrest as he watched her bounce above him.

Beautiful, was all he could think. Hair wild around her shoulders, a glistening sheen of perspiration across her forehead and chest, and the incredible sound of her slick around him. He was in heaven.

He slid his thumb between her parted lips and she immediately began to suck. She bobbed her head back and forth while giving kitten licks at the tip and nipping the underside of his thumb.

“Good girl,” he cooed as he pressed his finger further back in her throat and watched as her eyes rolled back and she rocked her hips even faster against his.

Removing his thumb and making a show of putting it in his mouth, he pressed the wet digit against her clit and grinned as her moans became louder.

The sweet call of his name as she begged him to make her finish led him to snap his hips up, rubbing against the spongy bit of her inner walls and he held her close to his chest as they came undone together.

Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead on her shoulder and watched as a rivulet of sweat ran down the valley of her breasts and he shifted his hips forward, just now noticing the dull ache in his thighs. She shuddered against him and he kissed her shoulder, her cheek, then her other cheek.

“We really have to thank Tsumu for the car,” she said, chuckling.

“Yeah?” he questioned, running his blunt nails across her back, “should we tell him what we used it for?”

She scrunched her nose and Osamu’s heart clenched too. Wrapping her arms around his neck, soaking in the warmth of his warm body, her lips ghosted the side of his cheek and he shuddered at the tingles running down his back with the contact.

“Happy Birthday, ‘Samu,” she whispered sweetly.

Rocking into her again just to hear her breath tick, he nestled his head into her neck and smiled.

#osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu x y/n #osamu fluff #osamu smut #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n #osamu scenarios #osamu fic #atsumu fanfic #atsumu fluff #miya twins #atsumu x oc #hq smut #haikyuu smut #deviled.egg #miya osamu #hq osamu

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alwaysbeliev · 3 years

Text

I Can’t Lose You

Happy Valentine’s Day! This is for the @rdr-secret-cupid adventure this year. Thank you for the prompt, @bloodylove3 and I hope you enjoy!

summary: When Dutch asks you and Arthur to pretend you're married for a job, you're nervous that you won't be able to hide your feelings for the outlaw. You manage to keep it in line, but things go wrong fast.

relationship: Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

word count: 3497

link on AO3

“Alright, here’s where we’ll start.”

It was mid-afternoon. The heat from the sun above was overwhelming, burning whatever it touched. Not even the shade was a relief with its cover. Animals all around were burrowed underground, hiding inside of trees, splashing around in the cool river nearby, and doing their best to stay out of direct light. You idly watched a small mouse scurry through the grass, digging at the dirt every now and then before disappearing into a hole. Quietly, you wished you were that mouse.

For the hundredth time, Dutch was reviewing his next grand plan. There was a tipoff about a decent score, something that would help the gang move to a new camp, and it would be almost easy to pull off. Almost. But he was careful to plan, detailed to a fault, and now you had to sit through another lecture about making sure you were in the right place at the right time. He stood just inside the flap of his tent as he talked. The others were in a loose circle around him and Hosea.

You felt a drop of sweat slide down the back of your neck. What you wouldn’t give to go jump in the rushing water just a hundred feet away, even fully clothed. Imagining the relief alone made you sweat more. You could feel your skin throb, your cheeks turning red, your shirt sticking to your lower back…

“Hey!”

The sharp sound of Dutch’s voice cut through your daydream, snapping you back to reality. Others were snickering as you jerked your head over and tried to pretend you had been listening.

“As I was saying,” the man continued, “there has been a small change of plan.”

Whoa, Dutch was changing his plan? But the score was just a week away now.

He carried on, “Arthur will be playing the part of your protective, but quiet, husband. You will need to cause a big enough distraction that we can enter without tipping anyone off. Can you handle that?”

“I thought Hosea was providing the distraction?” Your mind was turning, scrambling to remember if that was the original plan or if you were suffering from heat stroke.

“As I had said before, Hosea will be needed outside. It would seem awfully suspicious to outsiders if 5 men all seemed to suddenly rush inside together, don’t you think?”

You supposed he had a point. Outwardly, you agreed with him, but inwardly, your heart was pounding. Arthur? Husband? You barely made it through the rest of the session, managing to excuse yourself as soon as Dutch was done talking. Never before had you felt the palpitations on your chest that you did now at the thought of being with Arthur Morgan. Not just being with him, but pretending to be married.

To say that you had a crush on Arthur was putting it lightly. From the moment you had met the outlaw, the sight of him caused your heart to race faster than his beautiful horse. You could barely speak around him, let alone carry on any conversation, and you were certain everyone in camp knew about it. Karen, Mary-Beth, and Tilly had approached you just last week to tease you about the way you fumbled over your words when Arthur asked a question. Now you had to pretend to be married?

The group dispersed as Dutch finished his grand lecture, chattering excitedly about the huge score. You felt light-headed and were rooted to the spot. Dutch was right, it should be easy, you had played the actor’s role many times before, but this… This wouldn’t be acting. And surely someone was going to notice that.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

A week passed quicker than any week you’d been through before. You and Arthur had prepared a scene, practicing to get it right, and you were feeling slightly more confident. The cowboy still gave you flutters in your heart, but rehearsed lines were much easier than improvised ones, and you were positive he hadn’t seen the longing in your eyes. It was easy.

But what wasn’t easy was how inseparable the two of you were becoming. Every morning, Arthur approached you near the campfire, offering a small treat, typically a piece of chocolate or a small fruit. The first time, your cheeks had flushed hotter than the summer sun. It hadn’t improved much. You would review your plan for the score, pause for a lunch time meal, and continue in the afternoon. Arthur often seemed to have other ideas, wanting a change of scenery, and you would find yourselves a few miles from camp on some rocky outlook or on a river’s shore, just shooting the breeze while the sun seared high above. Arthur even managed to convince you to leave your horse once, riding behind him with arms wrapped around his chest, content just to be near him.

Finally, the day arrived. The gang all arose early, gathering their tools uneasily. Nerves always ran high the day of, regardless of how much planning had gone into the score, and your stomach churned. Karen had lent a hat, Mary-Beth a beautiful dress in your most favorite color, and you felt so fluffy and over the top. When Arthur saw you, his face seemed to go slack, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“My, my, Mrs. Morgan,” he drawled, taking a few lazy steps to close the gap to you. “Aren’t you lookin’ mighty fine this mornin’.”

Pouting and embarrassed, you waved him off, brushing a tight curl over your shoulder in a weak attempt to mask the color rising to your cheeks.

“Shut up.”

“Hey, now, I’m only tryin’ to lighten the mood.” He laughed before looking somewhat sheepish himself. “Besides, you really do.”

You paused, taking in his sincere compliment.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t have time to respond as Dutch stepped out of his tent, looking the picture of graceful leadership, commanding everyone’s attention. As you turned your body towards him, you saw Arthur’s gaze lingering on your figure, the dress complementing you perfectly. You focused on tugging on your white lace gloves, trying to turn your ears where it mattered.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

“Alright, Mr. Callahan, now, here we are!”

Your voice pitched up, you pointed out the grandest building in town: the bank. Arthur guided his horse to the hitching post before hopping down, turning to help you down, your big skirt catching slightly and flouncing as your feet landed. Grinning at him, you tugged at his arm excitedly.

“Come on, darling, we gotta go get us a loan! That house ain’t gonna buy itself, you know!”

It was clear you were amusing the man at your side. Your anxiety was causing a jump in your performance, pushing you a slightly uncomfortable bit above believable, but you were pretty and young and the men were watching you. That was all that mattered.

With a grand gesture, you shoved the door to the bank open, stepping into the marbled interior with your boots clicking. The teller glanced up from whatever paperwork he was looking at. For a brief second, he studied the two of you, his eyes lingering on you in particular, before a fixed smile appeared on his face.

“How can I help you?” he drawled. As practiced, Arthur opened his mouth to speak but you butted in before he could.

“Why, hello, Mr…?” You swept forward, extending a hand for him to shake. He glanced at Arthur in disbelief before gingerly shaking your hand.

“Mr. Monaghan.”

“Oh, Mr. Monaghan, how lovely!” You grinned widely, shaking vigorously. “Yes, me and my new husband here are looking to buy a house! Isn’t that just grand? We just got married, you know, just last week! Oh, we had the most beautiful honeymoon, didn’t we, darling? Traveled to see the ocean, oh it was gorgeous! Simply gorgeous! Have you ever been, Mr. Monaghan?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t. Not the way you planned it.

“The birds were so lovely, there were so many of them! Oh, and the food! Simply divine! Have you had seafood before? Crab, lobster, shrimp, oh it was perfect!”

As you rambled, the doors swung in again, allowing entrance to John and Javier. You didn’t spare a look for them, your energy pointed at the teller, and as planned, he didn’t seem to notice them. Your shrill voice and wild theatrics had his whole attention. You carried on as the men got into position.

“They paired the shrimp with-- What was it, my love? This wine, it was a red, wasn’t it? Or was it a white? Mr. Callahan is just hopeless about these things, you know, I’m glad I’m here to help him. Oh we had the most wonderful time together! I thought it might rain one day, there were these horrible gray clouds, but he told me not to worry, even though I wanted to, and sure enough, the sun was out by dinner time!”

The doors creaked again, allowing the last two men in, Dutch and Bill. All 5 men exchanged a look and, in one swift motion, they pulled their bandanas over their faces and drew their weapons. It was satisfying to hear the clicks of a few hammers. Your grin turned wicked and the teller suddenly realized what had happened.

“We’ll take that loan to go, if you don’t mind.” You couldn’t help yourself. Arthur quickly stepped forward, shielding you with his body so your face was hidden, and you hurriedly moved towards the back of the men, allowing them to do what they needed. It was relatively painless and quiet, the teller moving hastily and without hesitation, filling bags with money and even allowing them access to the room with the safes. You served as lookout, casually standing at the window to keep an eye peeled for the law. Only when you heard Dutch’s signature goodbye did you turn away from it. Arthur made eye contact with you and playfully raised his eyebrows as he strode towards the door and you, ready to make for the horizon.

Without warning, the doors flew open, banging against the wall from the force behind it. Several lawmen were standing, guns drawn, ready to take out the outlaws. Instantly, shots were being fired. You didn’t know who fired first, but you dove out of the way, gripping your hat tightly so it wouldn’t be left behind. For some reason, your only coherent thought was Karen would have my hide.

Men were shouting, the smell of gunpowder filled the air. Flat on the floor, you couldn’t see anything, only heard Dutch shouting orders, police filling the streets outside, the solid sound of bullets connecting with flesh. There was nowhere to take cover. Somebody stepped on your leg and you gasped from the pain. A hand gripped your ankle and dragged you towards a wall. Panicked, you tried to scramble away until you registered Arthur’s voice trying to reassure you.

“You boys play nice!” a deep voice bellowed from the porch. “We don’t want no hangings, now, y’here?”

“We will play nice when you play nice, Sheriff!” Dutch barked back.

“This is a fucking massacre!” John spoke to the room at large. The men that had entered before were all on the floor, blood pooling around them, their guns laying forgotten on the wood. More were shouted outside. They were organizing to block all exits from town. There was no way you were gonna make it out now, you started to fear, and you could see the shared looks of the men with you echoing the same sentiment.

A surprised cry arose from outside as another gunshot cracked through the air.

“There’s Mac!”

With renewed energy, everyone jumped up and sprang for the door. Feeling marginally brave, you snatched a gun from the floor, hoping you wouldn’t have to use it. Bill led the way out. Javier, John, and Dutch quickly followed, and Arthur made up the rear with you in tow, sticking to him like glue.

The sun outside was blinding. You barely caught a glimpse of the street before you were rushed down the steps and around the side of the building. Back pressed against the wall, the pounding in your head started blocking out your hearing, and you only felt the vibrations in the air and under your feet. Even with all of Dutch’s careful planning, you were still trapped in this mess…

Arthur shouted your name. He stood, almost pressed to you, eyes burning. You snapped to attention, gun at the ready.

“We gotta make a break for it! Be ready on my count!”

It was all you could do to nod. You saw his horse in your peripheral, antsy and pawing, but waiting. You tried desperately to calm your breathing and gathered your skirts up out of your way. At the mark, you all ran, each in slightly different directions to mount their horses, spurring before fully mounted. Arthur was first and you scrambled after him, latching onto his arm and using the momentum of his horse to swing your leg over, skirts be damned. With a sharp cry, he urged his horse forward and away from town.

For a brief moment, you were free. Pounding hooves sounded behind you but were fading fast. The shouts of men continued to rip through the air, but you realized that they, too, were slowly growing faint. And then a stabbing pain exploded in your thigh. A scream escaped before you could stop yourself. Trained well, Arthur didn’t stop his horse, but he tried to see what had happened, calling back to you with increasing desperation. You had been shot. The panic, the shortness of breath, and now the pain was too much. In a surprisingly short matter of seconds, black filled your vision and you were gone.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

The rustle of the trees. The soft sound of running water. Crackling of a campfire. Low voices outside your tent. Your hair brushing your face. Dull and throbbing pain in your leg. Heaviness in your chest. And, finally, the realization you were laying on a cot and not your usual bedroll.

Slowly, your eyes blinked open. This definitely wasn’t your tent. These weren’t your blankets. Only the soft glow from the fire and a few lanterns shone on the one canvas wall. It was enough light to see that this was Arthur’s tent, the small table with his journal and flower, his photographs on the wagon side. His smell on the blankets. You breathed in deeply.

A snort by your feet caused you to startle. Sitting up slowly, you saw Arthur slumped in a chair, his hat drawn over his face, arms crossed as he breathed evenly, the occasional snore breaking the silence. An strong and sharp pain made you hiss and, in turn, woke the outlaw from his slumber.

“You’re awake,” he mumbled, barely awake himself as he sat up.

“Regrettably…”

“How’re you feelin’?”

“Honestly? Not great,” you said, chuckling a little. “But I’ve had worse. Why am I here?”

“Thought you might like a real bed. Well, realer than your bedroll. We can put you out for the wolves, if ya like.” His teasing tone was back, but it was more strained than normal. He looked absolutely exhausted.

“No, this is fine. It’s… nice.”

Silence fell again. You stared at a thread on the sheet while Arthur stared at you. Usually there was a party the night after a big score, everyone drinking and being merry. There was a strange lack of boisterous laughter, though, and you had the weird feeling it was your doing.

“How did we make out?”

“Oh, we escaped,” he said, leaning back in the chair again. “But we’re trapped here awhile, there’ll be law crawlin’ everywhere for a few weeks.”

“How much?”

Not even your fixation on the money got him to crack a smile.

“Dunno.” Shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve been in here, makin’ sure you don’t die.”

Arthur’s behavior was bizarre. You hadn’t seen him behave this way when another gang member was injured, not even when John had nearly been lost last year, and it was starting to worry you. Was there something else you didn’t know about? Was your injury more serious than he was letting on? For a moment, you studied his face, the ache and shadows clear in the weak light, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw the barest sign of a light track down his cheek.

“Arthur…”

It was such a soft whisper, you weren’t sure he had heard you at first. He lifted his eyes to meet yours. You tried desperately to read him for a second before finally caving.

“Arthur, what happened? Did someone not make it?”

At long last, he managed a short huff of air that might be mistaken for laughter. Shaking his head, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he ran his hands across his face, removing his hat and setting it on his wardrobe. When he looked at you again, he actually had a small smile, and relief had replaced what you had mistaken for grief.

“No, no, nothin’ like that.”

“So what’s the matter?”

He tilted his chin up, exhaling long and low towards the sky, seemingly contemplating something. It was quiet for an achingly long time. Another deep sigh and he brought his chin back down, meeting your gaze steadily.

“I thought I was gonna lose you,” he murmured. “I heard the shot, your scream… I thought you were gone for sure.”

Okay… you thought, still bewildered. We’ve almost lost people before. What makes me special?

“And I didn’t get the chance to tell you…” You had seen him struggle with words in the past, but this was different. It was almost as if his voice was physically fighting him on saying anything. “I couldn’t stand to lose you, truth be told. You mean-- That is, you’re very important-- That’s, well…”

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you realized what he was trying to say. You didn’t dare utter a word, hoping, begging him to just spit it out. You weren’t positive this was happening, as now you were almost certain you had actually died and this was the beginning of your personal heaven.

“I can’t lose you, darlin’.”

The tears spilled over and dripped down your cheeks. You couldn’t even feel the pain in your thigh as it felt like a major weight had been lifted off of you. Arthur was startled, concern growing once more on his face at your tears, but when you started to grin and laughter bubbled up, he relaxed and looked as embarrassed as a school boy, dropping his eyes and smiling himself.

“I can’t tell you how happy that makes me to hear,” you finally said, shaking your head at the silliness of it all. “I can’t lose you, either, Arthur. You mean the world to me.”

Slowly, the cowboy rose from his seat and approached the edge of the cot. You gingerly shifted yourself over to allow him to sit beside you, and he took the opportunity. You soaked in the other’s presence for just a moment. With the softest gaze you had seen from him, Arthur returned his attention to you. He lifted a hand to cup your face, his rough thumb stroking your cheek as he drank in your features, looking truly content for the first time. Gracefully and ever the gentleman, he tilted your face up to meet his as he carefully kissed you. It was light at first. He was testing the waters, not pushing too fast. But when you met him eagerly, he leaned in, hard.

You didn’t dare breathe for the duration of the kiss, your heart a frightening combination of pounding and not beating at all. The taste of whiskey lingered fresh on his lips and left your mouth tingling. When Arthur pulled away, you shifted forward slightly, not wanting it to end. But, courteous as always, he pressed a lingering kiss on your forehead and then sat back again. Your eyes flickered all over his face. You were still unsure if you could catch your breath.

“Wanted to do that for a long time,” he muttered. All you could do was nod. Wow…

“Can you stay with me?” you blurted out. “Tonight?”

“O’ course,” he agreed. He tugged his boots off as you scooted as far over as you could, lifting the sheet for him to crawl into. Warmth radiated from his skin and it was like stepping into a comfortable bath as he wrapped his arms around you. You sighed into his chest, drinking in his smell with your face buried in him, hands gripping his shirt. The dull sting in your leg was in the background of your mind. It didn’t matter to you, though; you were safe here. And this wasn’t going to end any time soon.

#arthur morgan #rdr secret cupid 2021 #arthur morgan reader insert #arthur morgan x reader #angel writes

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siancore · 3 years

Note

What do you think Sam and Bucky would gift each other on valentine's day? And where do you think they'd go

Ooh what an awesome question. Thank you. I think they’d gift one another with something meaningful in a private moment. Here, have this:

“I promise, Buck,” said Sam as he pressed both hands to Bucky’s chest while the pair stood in their bedroom. “You don’t have to go all out or whatever for Valentine’s Day. Just bein’ with you is enough.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist as they each swayed slightly.

“But you’re my Sweetheart, Sammy,” he replied with a dopey grin on his face. “I gotta do somethin’ special for my Sweetheart. For my Lovebird.”

“Aww,” said Sam, still totally smitten by the other man, even after being together for almost five years. “C’mere.”

They shared a gentle kiss before embracing one another. Bucky ran his hand up and down Sam’s back while Sam nestled his head in the crook of Bucky’s neck.

“Do whatever’ll make you happy, Baby,” Sam whispered. “If you’re happy, so am I.”

…..

“I can’t believe Captain America doesn’t get Valentine’s Day off,” said Bucky as he finished up massaging sweet almond oil into Sam’s hair while they sat together on their bed. Sam was finally home, freshly showered, and relaxed while Bucky took care of him.

“It’s a travesty,” said Sam, as he shifted so that he could kiss Bucky. “But I’m glad you didn’t plan anything where we need to go out. Do you know how many selfies with couples I took today? Too many.”

Bucky laughed a little as Sam eased into his arms, his back pressed to Bucky’s chest. The soft candlelight looked warm against their bare skin. Bucky hummed some tune from his youth that he couldn’t really remember properly as Sam let his fingers dance over Bucky’s flesh arm.

“What was Valentine’s Day like when you were younger?” Sam asked, relishing in the feeling of having Bucky’s lips pepper soft kisses to his shoulder.

“Not like this,” he replied, before kissing Sam’s neck. “Not half as good as this. Couldn’t really get up to much with any fellas, like out in the open, but I did give out a few cards to some gals. Pretty things with Cupid or Lovey-Dovey birds on them.”

“Did you love any of them, y’know, the girls you gave cards to?” Sam asked as he entwined his fingers with Bucky’s.

‘’I thought I did,” Bucky admitted as he rested his chin on Sam’s shoulder. “Truth is, I was never in love with them, with anybody, until I met you.”

“Baby, oh my God. You’re so –”

“Romantic?”

“Yes,” Sam replied, bringing Bucky’s hand to his lips so he could kiss his knuckles. “And sappy.”

“Only for you,” Bucky proffered, kissing Sam’s neck again before whispering, “My Lovebird.”

Sam felt a delightful shiver course through his body.

“What about you? What was Valentine’s Day like for you when you were young?”

“Always landed on a scale of boring to a mess,” said Sam with a laugh that vibrated through Bucky’s chest. “Like, in middle school, they used to get us to make cards for our classmates and hand them out.”

“That sounds awful.”

“I know, right? So, anyways, the year I realized I liked dudes, I realized I really liked this one boy in particular.”

“I hate him already,” said Bucky, causing Sam to slap his arm playfully and chuckle.

“Baby.”

“Sorry, go on.”

“Right, so I liked him, and my lil’ goofy gay ass decided to write him a Valentine, sign it with a heart from Sam W, and give it to him, in secret, of course.”

“I mean, I hate this guy, but that’s kinda cute,” said Bucky as he held Sam tighter. “How’d it go? Did you get the boy?”

“It went great, for him and the other Sam W in the class: Samantha fucking Wilmington,” said Sam as both he and Bucky cracked up laughing.

“Aww, I’m sorry, Sweetheart,” said Bucky as he kissed the side of Sam’s face. “You’re too good for him, anyway.”

“You’re so right,” said Sam jokingly as he sat up and searched the floor for his bag. “Okay, enough shootin’ the shit, let’s exchange gifts.”

Bucky reached over to the bedside table and retrieved a neatly wrapped, rectangular box. Sam kneeled on their bed and held a small suede pouch in his hands.

“You go first,” said Sam, looking somewhat nervous.

Bucky smiled at him and then handed the box over. He watched as Sam’s eyes lit up when he saw the small silver chain with the pendant and charms hanging from it.

“Buck, this is so beautiful,” said Sam, holding the chain up to get a better look. There were two little birds sitting on a branch from which two charms hung: One with and engraved ‘S’ and the other with an engraved ‘B’.

“They’re lovebirds,” said Bucky as he gestured for Sam to come closer so he could fix the jewelry to Sam’s neck. Sam straddled his lap and kissed him before whispering his thanks.

“They’re gorgeous.”

“You’re gorgeous,” said Bucky as he drew Sam into another kiss. They rested their brows together a moment before Sam spoke.

“Remember when we first started workin’ together on missions, and you called me Birdie and not Falcon?”

“I was tryin’ to flirt with you, Sammy.”

“Yeah, I know, and I liked it,” Sam replied with a roguish grin. “But I do sort of have this interest in birds.”

“You used to fly around with mechanical wings and call yourself Falcon, Sweetheart. I kind of figured,” said Bucky with a little chuckle.

Sam rolled his eyes, smiled down at Bucky, and then said, “Well, did you know that back in the day people believed that birds chose their mates on Valentine’s Day, their forever mates?”

Bucky grinned up at Sam and shook his head.

“I didn’t know that.”

“It’s probably where the term ‘lovebirds’ comes from,” said Sam as he ran one hand over Bucky’s hair. “Anyways, here.”

Sam held the little pouch in his palm. Bucky took it and the opened it up. He poured the contents into his own hand, and a plain gold wedding band fell into his palm. He looked up at Sam with a questioning look in his eyes.

“Sammy?”

“It – it was my Dad’s.”

“Sweetheart.”

“I want you to have it, Buck.”

“Sam, are you sure?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my whole life,” he said, closing Bucky’s hand over the small band. “You’re my family, now. I love you and I choose you as my forever mate. This doesn’t have to be anything more than a gift –”

“This is everything,” said Bucky as he peered down at the ring once more, tears welling in his eyes. “Sammy. This is everything. And I choose you, too, Baby. I choose you, too.”

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sam wilson sundays

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babypandawrites · 3 years

Text

Allies, Pt. 8

The Deserter

Pairing: Sokka x F Reader Warnings: Burn Injury Word Count: 3,300 Summary: As usual, things do not go as planned. Lesson learned, going to a Fire Nation festival should always be tucked into the bad idea folder.

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Taglist: @boomeraangin

Eyes wide, Y/n snatched one of the pages hanging from the notice board before the others could see it. It was a wanted poster of her. It wasn’t the first time the Fire Nation put one of these out for her, but that didn’t make it any less alarming! She balled up the page as Katara approached the notice board, and shoved it into her pocket. Grimacing, she moved to stand next to the girl. None of them saw that, right? “This should give us a good idea of what’s around here.” Katara noted, as she looked over the board. “See if you can find a menu, I’m starving.” The two girls ignored Sokka, as Aang rushed up to the board. He pointed to a colorful flyer that had been hung up. “I bet we’ll find something to eat here! The Fire Days Festival. Fire Nation cultural exhibits… jugglers, benders, magicians. This’d be a great place for me to study some real firebenders!” Looking at her friend, her eyebrows furrowed together. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Aang.” Sokka pointed to something on another side of the board. “Yeah, you might wanna rethink that. Look at this.” Y/n walked over to see it was a wanted poster of Aang, the boy soon joining as well. There was also one for ‘The Blue Spirit’- That being the masked person who ended up being Zuko- and a white haired man. “Hey, a poster of me!” “A wanted poster. This is bad.” Aang took the wanted poster off the board as Katara walked over to look at it. “I think we better keep moving.” “I have to learn firebending at some point, and this could be my only chance to watch a master up close.” Katara looked at the ground, thinking for a short moment. “I guess we could check it out.” “What!? You want to walk into a Fire Nation town where they’re all fired up with all their, you know, fire?” Crossing her arms over her chest, Y/n looked between Katara and Aang. “I’m gonna have to agree with Sokka on this one, this is a terrible idea.” “We’ll wear disguises and if it looks like trouble, we’ll leave.” Katara suggested, as her and Aang walked over to Appa. Sokka breathed out a sigh. “Yeah, because we always leave before we get into trouble.”

On a hill outside of the town, Aang told Appa and Momo to hide, only one of the animals being successful in the feat. Y/n giggled watching Appa attempt to hide behind a small bush, he was truly adorable. “Ready disguises!” At Aang’s words, Y/n, Sokka and Katara pulled the hoods of the cloaks they wore over their heads. Aang had pulled the top of his shirt over his head in a completely ineffective disguise. He grinned at the three, as Sokka crossed his arms over his chest. Katara and Y/n laughed at the silliness of it. “It’s like you’re a whole different person.” Sokka spoke sarcastically. Aang started to lead the way down the hill. “Let’s go!” The group walked down to the main square of the town, it was full of people. Several of the people enjoying the festival wore colorful masks. “I think we need some new disguises.” Sokka looked at his sister, somewhat annoyed. “Where are we gonna get masks like that?” Nudging him gently in the side, Y/n nodded her head over to a stand a few feet away from them- It was selling masks. “Get your genu-ine Fire Festival masks here!” “That was surprisingly easy.” Each of them had gotten masks to wear- Sokka wore one with a happy expression on it and Aang wore one with a sad expression. Looking between the two, Katara and Y/n took the masks off the boys and switched them, matching their masks with their moods. Walking further into the town square, Aang pointed ahead. “Hey, there’s some food.” “Finally!” Sokka rushed up to the food stand. “What do you have?” The food merchant grabbed a small bag, steam came from it. “Flaming fire flakes! Best in town.” Sokka grabbed the bag from him. “I’ll take ‘em!” He stuffed them into his mouth, but quickly started to scream and huff, steam blowing from his mouth. He partially removed his mask to cool his tongue. “Aaaaah! Hot! Hot!” Katara crossed her arms. “Flaming fire flakes, hot? What do you know.” Y/n snickered. “Never would have guessed that.” Aang looked off to the side, and started to walk away. “Hey, look at this.” The three followed after him, stopping near a puppet stage. The audience in front of the stage was composed of children. The curtain in front of the stage drew open, and a puppet of the Fire Lord appeared. The children cheered. “Don’t worry loyal citizens! No one can surprise the Fire Lord!” Behind the Fire Lord puppet, a puppet of an earthbender rose up, with a rock ready to strike the other puppet. The children in the crowd cried out warnings. The Fire Lord puppet suddenly turned around and torched the earthbender puppet with a gout of flames. As the children cheered at the display, the group turned away from the performance, and followed Aang as he led them to another area. “Aang, hold on! Where are we going?” Katara questioned as they walked. “I don’t know, but there’s a big crowd so it must be good.” “Knowing the Fire Nation, it’s probably an execution.” Y/n furrowed her eyebrows together under her mask. “The Fire Nation doesn’t hold public executions..” She mumbled to herself, following after her friends to get a better look at the stage. A firebending performer stood on the stage, manipulating flames for the crowd's delight. He extinguished the fire and produced a small flock of white birds that flew off the stage. Aang partially took off his mask, watching the birds fly away. He turned back to the stage, a large smile plastered onto his face. “I gotta learn that trick!” “Thank you! For my next trick I need a volunteer from the audience!” Aang’s hand shot up in the air. “Oh! Oh! Me! Me!” Sokka looked at him. “What do you think you’re doing?” “I want to get a closer look.” Y/n’s arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “It’s better that we don’t attract any attention to ourselves.” The performer pointed at Katara, after she finished speaking. “How about you, little lady?” She backed away, shaking her head. “Uh…” “Awww, she’s shy. Leeet’s give her some encouragement, folks!” Someone in the audience pushed Katara to the edge of the stage, where the performer grabs onto her and hauls her up. “Awww! That could’a been me.” The performer ushered Katara to the center of the stage, sitting her on the chair that had been brought out. “This next trick is called ‘Taming the Dragon’. You will be my captured princess!” He used a maroon ribbon to tie her to the chair, before beginning to bend a huge fire comet from the fires that stood atop the pillars of the stage. He looped it close to Katara then moved it back away. He controlled it by a flame rope that connected to his hand. “Don’t worry, young maiden. I will tame this fiery beast!” He continued to control the fire comet. “It’s too strong, I can’t hold it!” “We gotta help her!” There was a hint of panic in Aang’s voice. “No, we don’t want to make a scene!” Sokka tried to stop him. “Yeah- Aang, it’s just a performance-” “The rope, it’s breaking!” The rope the performer was using to control the comet broke, the flames charging at Katara. She cringed and cried out. Aang airbended himself up, Sokka, Y/n and another man failing to restrain him. He dropped down in front of Katara, and created a whirlwind that dissipated the comet in a shower of confetti. The performer looked at Aang. “Hey, you tryin’ to upstage me, kid?” The crowd started to ‘boo’ Aang, and as he did a little dance to amuse them, Sokka and Y/n hopped up onto the stage to untie Katara. “Hey! That kid’s the Avatar!” Someone shouted from the crowd. This caught the attention of three Fire Nation guards, who started to weave through the crowd to get to the stage. “I think it’s time to go.” Sokka said, as the group removed their masks. “Follow me! I can git ya outta here!” The man who tried to help stop Aang before called out to them. He stood near a broken wall at the back of the stage, waving them over to it. “There they are!” One of the guards shouted as they got to the stage. They ran through the broken wall, and once they were through the man threw a smoke bomb at the guards to obscure their view. The group ran through squares and alleys, the man who helped accompany them. A guard pointed at them, as they passed him. “Over there!” “I’m calling Appa!” Aang got out his bison whistle and blew into it, as a group of guards started to pursue them. “I hope he can really hear that bison whistle!” Sokka commented. “This way!” The man turned into an alleyway, that was a dead end. “Okay! Not this way!” They turned to leave, but the exit was blocked by guards. The man threw another smoke bomb at the guards, allowing the group to run past them. They ran into another alley, but it was also a dead end. “Appa! Down here!” Aang called to the bison as he arrived just in time. Appa landed between the group and the guards and hit his tail against the ground, blowing the guards out of the alley. They all got up onto Appa and took off. The man who had helped them used a bomb like object to set off fireworks that had been in the alley. He removed his hood as they flew away. “Nice touch setting off the fireworks.” Aang commented, watching the fireworks go off. Sokka looked at the man, impressed. “You seem to really know your explosives.” “I’m familiar.” He turned to face them. “You’re a Fire Nation soldier!” “Was. My names Chey.”

The group settled around a campfire that night. Chey was speaking with them. “I serve a man. More than a man really, he’s a myth, but he’s real, a living legend, Jeong Jeong the Deserter. He was a Fire Nation general, or wait, was he an admiral?” Sokka looked at the man blankly. “He was very high ranked, we get it.” “Yeah! Way up there! But he couldn’t take the madness any more. He’s the first person to ever leave the army- and live. I’m the second, but you don’t get to be a legend for that. That’s okay though. Jeong Jeong’s a firebending genius. Some say he’s mad- But he’s not! He’s enlightened.” “You mean there’s a firebender out here who’s not with the Fire Lord?” Aang stood up, excited. “We’ve gotta go see him! He can train me!” “We’re not gonna go find some crazy firebender!” Chey stood up. “He’s not crazy! He’s a genius! And he’s the perfect person to train the Avatar! That’s why I followed you into the festival.” Sokka also stood up. “Look, thanks for the help, but we’re leaving for the North Pole in the morning.” Aang furrowed his eyebrows together. “Sokka, this could be my only chance to meet a firebending master who would actually be willing to teach me.” “It can’t hurt just to talk to him.” Katara said, standing up. “That’s what you said about going to the festival! Why doesnt anyone ever listen to me?!” Sokka turned to look at Y/n, who has yet to speak. “Come on, Y/n, you’re with me, right?” She was silent for a moment, thinking. “Well… Aang does need to learn Firebending eventually… Hmmm..” She shrugged her shoulders. Groaning in frustration, Sokka turned to stalk away from the group, but stops having nearly run into a spear. Suddenly, they were all surrounded by men wearing straw hats and armor, each of them wielding a spear. “Don’t move!” They were led through the forest by the rebel men, after a long time walking, they came across a small shack that had been settled at the bottom of a hill. “Go on. He sees you only.” The man who’d Y/n had learned the name of was Lin Yi, spoke to Chey. “Oh that’s okay, we can chat later.” “Is that where Jeong Jeong is? I need to talk to him right away.” Aang tried to walk towards the shack, but was stopped by a spear shaft blocking his path. “No! You wait there.” Lin Yi pushed Chey forward roughly. “Go now!” “Don’t worry! Everything’ll be fine. He’s a great man, great man!” Chey walked down to Jeong Jeong’s hut.

Y/n had fallen asleep during the wait and in the morning had learned Jeong Jeong agreed to teach Aang firebending. She sat on the ground outside, doing some stretches while listening in on the lesson between Jeong Jeong and Aang. “Widen your stance. Wider! Bend your knees. Now, concentrate. Good, good!” “Wait! What do I do now?” She glanced over to see that Jeong Jeong had begun walking away. “Silence! Talking is not concentrating! Look at your friend,” He pointed at Katara. “Is she talking? What about her?” Then he pointed at Y/n, before pointing at Sokka. “Even that oaf knows to concentrate on what he’s doing.” “Hey!” Snickering, Y/n went back to focusing on her stretches. Aang breathed out a sigh. “But what am I concentrating on?” “Feel the heat of the sun. It is the greatest source of fire. Yet, it is in complete balance with nature!” “So when do I get to make some fire?” “Concentrate!” Katara, Y/n and Sokka all laughed a bit as Aang tried to concentrate, feigning innocence when he turned to look at them all.

“This is the worst firebending instruction ever. All he does is leave me alone for hours to concentrate or breath.” Aang complained, as he held a leaf with a small hole burned in the center in his hand. “I’m sure there’s a good reason.” Y/n nodded in agreement with Katara. “There most likely is. Jeong Jeong is a Master, he’s bound to know what he’s talking about.” “But I’m ready to do so much more.” His face lit up when an idea came to mind. Widening his stance, he began to take in deep breaths. The leaf he held started to smoke, before suddenly bursting into flames. With the leaf disintegrating, Aang was left holding a fireball in his hand. “I did it! I made fire!” Katara took a few steps closer. “Aang, that’s great, but you should take it slow.” Eyebrows furrowing together, Y/n once again nodded in agreement with the girl. “Yeah, this doesn’t seem like a good idea, Aang.” The flame got bigger, in reaction to Aang’s annoyance with their comments. “Careful!” Aang regained control and reduced the flame to its former size, but he nearly fell into the river doing so. “Now that’s firebending!” He shot a whip of flames into the distance, before beginning to juggle the ball of flame happily. Y/n took a few steps back. “Aang, you should stop.” “Yeah, you’ll hurt yourself!” She was about to tell Katara to get back, but was a bit too late. Aang created a circle of fire around himself, pushing it outwards. The flames burned Katara’s hands, when she raised them to protect her face. Crying out in pain, she crumpled to her knees. “Katara!” Aang and Y/n shouted in unison, rushing over to her. The latter kneeling down next to the waterbender. “Katara, I’m so sorry.” Sokka rushed over. “Katara, what’s wrong?!” He looked at Aang, clearly upset. “What did you do?” Aang held his hands up in defense. “It was an accident! I was… Katara, I’m so-” He got cut off, from Sokka tackling him to the ground. “I told you we shouldn’t mess around with this! Look at what you did! You burned my sister!” Katara got up, and ran away. Getting up herself, Y/n rushed to grab her bag, before running after the girl.

“Katara?” Y/n tentatively approached the girl, as she sat at the riverbank her hands dunked into the water. “I have some salve that should help your burns…” Trailing off, she watched in shock as Katara’s hands glowed underneath the water. They glowing stopped as she lifted her hands from the water, the burns on her hands now gone. “That… also works.” “You have healing abilities.” The two turned to see Jeong Jeong approaching them from behind. “The great benders of the water tribe sometimes have this ability.” The man took a seat next to Katara. “I’ve always wished I were blessed like you- free from this burning curse.” “But you’re a great master. You have powers I’ll never know.” “Water brings healing and life. But fire brings only destruction and pain. It forced those of us burdened with its care to walk a razor’s edge between humanity and savagery. Eventually, we are torn apart.” Suddenly, the water in front of them is blasted with gouts of flame. Jeong Jeong stood quickly, taking a defensive stance before breaking the flames that threatened to hit him, Y/n and Katara. Fire Nation riverboats floated across the water towards them. “Go get your friends and flee! Do not come back here or you will all be destroyed. Hurry!” Y/n helped Katara off the ground, before the two ran back in the direction of Jeong Jeong’s hut, where Sokka and Aang should be. They ran up to Sokka, where he was preparing Appa to leave. He turned to look at them, worry written onto his features. “Katara! Are you all right?” “I’m fine, we’ve got to get out of here. Where’s Aang?” Sokka pointed his thumb in the direction of Jeong Jeong’s hut, turning to Y/n when Katara ran down to it. “What’s going on?” She tossed her bag up onto Appa’s saddle. “The Fire Nation found us. Jeong Jeong is dealing with them right now but honestly I’m not sure how long that will last. We should leave and fast.” “Right.” He nodded in affirmation, before raising an eyebrow. “What did you do to help Katara?” “I was going to give her some of the salve I have for burns but, turns out she didn’t need it.” “What do you mea-” “Come on!” He got cut off by Katara, as she ran over and clambered up onto Appa. Once the three were all up on Appa’s saddle, they went and got Aang, before leaving. “Aang, you’re burned.” Katara said, once they were up in the air. His sleeve was torn, burn marks covering his skin. “Let me help you.” She opened her water container, before wrapping some of the water around her hand. It started to glow, as she placed it over Aang’s wounds. After a moment of concentration, she pulled her hand away and the wound was healed. “Wow! That’s good water.” Sokka looked at her confused. “When did you learn how to do that?” She offered a shrug. “I guess I always knew.” “Oh… well then thanks for all the first aid over the years. Like when I fell into the grease briar bramble and that time I had two fish hooks in my thumb!” Y/n let out a snicker. “Two?” “He tried to get the first fish hook out with another fish hook.” “Wow.” “Oh, and the time that big snake bit me! Thanks for healing that up. That was great. Really helpful.” He continued, as they flew into the distance.

#avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar the last airbender x reader #atla x reader #reader insert #sokka x reader #sokka x y/n #sokka x you #team avatar #slowburn #book one allies

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strangerobin · 3 years

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Rue: Chapter 9 (Jasper Hale x OC Imagine)

Note: I'm literally in tears right now. I have 7000+ words over 13 pages on my word processor just for this chapter.

Night after night, summer and winter, the torment of storms, the arrow-like stillness of fine weather, held their court without interference.’

The swaying wheat and barley waved in the warm breeze; the burning sun burned like the beacon it was. The entire world was brown and golden. It was hot, it was suffocating. It was terrible.

“The land is barren.” Adeline muttered, her body rocking to and fro with the movement of the wagon, her eyes were trained into the far distance, squinting in the broiling sun.

“You’re being over dramatic.” Henriette’s tone was dry, her hands on the reins, spurring the horses to continue its trot.

“I hate it here already.” Adeline announced, crossing her arms in a huff. “Why couldn’t we have gone somewhere else? Somewhere with more greenery than this? There’s still plenty of places to hide in Louisiana-”

“Staying in the same place over and over will attract attention and you know it.” Henriette was losing her patience too, turning her head sharply to glare at her sister. “Your father will find us if we keep staying in the same place.” The lines on her face and around her eyes deepening, the ever growing frown settling over her wrinkled forehead.

“…We left Ralph in Orleans. All alone.” Adeline bowed her head in grief, hiding her face behind her hair and avoiding those piercing eyes of her sisters. “Six feet under and his body wasn’t even cold when we left.”

Her sister sighed again, though this time it betrayed a tenderness and affection that she only displayed towards her loved ones, freeing one hand to gently comb back Adeline’s soft tresses.

“Silly girl. How many times do I have to tell you? Ralph hasn’t gone anywhere, he’s always with you and me. Always.”

“He’s dead, that’s what he is.”

Henriette continued rubbing her shoulder’s soothingly, as if she were comforting a child. “But he’ll always be in our hearts, and that’s what matters.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Come Addie, let’s not fight.” The older woman smiled lightly, turning the younger girl’s head towards her for closer inspection. There were bags under her eyes and an unnatural pallor, a sullenness swirling behind. Even her usual bright eyes were dulled. “I hate it when you’re angry or sad.”

The younger girl shook her head and curled around the older ones side, much like a feline would.

“I still hate it here. Everything’s so dry and barren and ugly. I’m only putting up with it because of you.”

“What will you do when I’m gone?” Henriette sighed.

“Then I’ll just have to die and pursue you."

“Silly girl.” The elder smiled at the other indulgently, yet her eyes betrayed a melancholy she failed to hide. “You don’t mean that.”

He saw them long before they arrived.

Initially a speck in the distance, and then gradually enlarging until he could see their wagon gradually pulling into town along the dusty highway.

In truth, Jasper had noticed the old lady at the front first; her face hard and etched into a permanent frown, doing nothing to dispel the presence of her wrinkles and only succeeding in making more pronounced than ever. He would have turned away back to his field then had he not caught sight of her in the setting sun, the last of the sun rays reflecting a pale face.

She had a simple shawl wrapped around her head, protecting her from the dust. But it did nothing to hide the beauty she possessed, there was an ethereal feel to it; a otherworldliness. There was also a melancholy to the girl; with her head bowed, eyes downcast, looking so dejected. It captured his attention, struck a chord in his heart, and later he would stop to think about her, in his work, during mealtime, before he went to bed, in his walk.

His eyes followed their receding figure unconsciously as they made their way into town.

He did not know her name yet.

But she had unknowingly sent a ripple in the pool of his heart

Except he did not know of any of this yet.

It was another sleepless night.

Adeline clutched at the tattered copy of To The Lighthouse she had found fallen behind the shelf in the library and staggered downstairs.

Sleep had evaded her yet again. When was the last time she had had a good night’s rest? Or perhaps it was herself who was avoiding it altogether. Whichever it was, she barely slept a wink in the past week. she could almost feel the rush of agitation in her nerves now, the lethargy in her frame, the shortness of her temper.

She needed to get out.

This was a paradise for vampires she supposed. A secretive hideout for the Cullens, no one bothered them here. The town was too enamoured by the dazzling family, the town’s police chief was Bella’s dad and the only visitors they ever had were the wolves from the nearby indigenous tribe. And anyways there was ever only one person who came most of the time.

But it still unnerved her. The jitteriness she experienced in Colorado never fully left her. And she was still startled by the smallest things, the tiniest sounds.

It was the house. She finally concluded. It was Jasper.

She couldn’t rest with Jasper around. No she couldn’t.

Pocketing the few cigarettes she still had remaining into her worn satchel, Adeline grabbed the giant coffee flask she had prepared and stalked out of the house into the dreary morning of Forks in only a thin parka and boots.

As she stalked down the clearing at the back of the house, she felt a shiver down her spine and a feeling of being watched. Turning back she just made out a silhouette at the upper left window.

She didn’t need to squint to know who it was.

She flipped the bird at him before turning around to leave in a huff.

Jasper saw her multiple times in town over the next few days. The two had settled down into one of the cottages his parents had owned bordering their own farming fields; he had yet to formally acquaint with his new neighbours. But it would seem that the arrival of the girl had already sent the town into frenzy.

For one, her dress making skill was excellent. Her embroidery so fine and so meticulous that all the ladies of the town were soon sending in requests, until she had to put them on hold until she could finish the earlier ones first.

Two, she was soon the gossip of the entire town. She’d already had seven proposals in the course of a week, all of which she had rejected without even a side eye. Men were in awe of her beauty and wondered aloud at her ever downcast eyes and the enigma that she was. For the women in town though, she was the subject they loved to hate, for monopolising the attention of the other half of the town. Jealously was an ugly sentiment and hostility an ever isolating one. And the girl soon found herself alone and alienated without a single soul to call as friend.

Soon they had a third topic to discuss on.

She was seen trying to storm the local bookshop for new reading materials, but on seeing her, the store owner had kindly redirected her back to her ladies’ weekly digest.

“You don’t make any sense! Why am I not allowed to read?! It’s only a novel!"

“Child, novels are hardly a suitable reading material for a lady. It promotes unrealistic fancies in young minds like yours.”

“That’s a condescending observation sir.”

“Who do you say you live with again?”

“My grandmama.”

“Well young lady, I suggest you have a word with you grandmother then.”

“Wait!”

The man slammed his door in her face.

And no matter how hard she pounced on the wooden door, the shopkeeper refused to open the door again to the girl.

“Darling, sweetheart.” A pair of well-meaning elderly ladies stopped in their tracks to regard the girl. “Don’t be mad at the man, he’s only trying to do you good. What kind of gentleman of good status would want a woman with her head stuck in a book? It’ll only spur you on into fantasies after fantasies; no man would want a wife who would neglect the family. What would you possibly do then?”

Her lips pursed now and Jasper could see how upset she was with the way her shoulders were hunched and her teeth biting into her lips so hard it drew blood but somehow her eyes shone with a fierce defiance he had never seen.

“A man who loves me would not ask me to give up any of that.”

She let slipped this one sentence before turning to leave with her head held high.

“What a peculiar young girl.” The lady turned to her equally surprised friend and wondered aloud.

The crowd dispersed to return to their day and errands.

Only Jasper was rooted where he was, his mind replaying the conversation the girl and the lady had, the silent dignity, the crackling flame inside her.

He looked to the bookshop again.

Adeline always thought that their relationship now was like a predator to its prey; Jasper always on the outlook, ready to pounce anytime she showed the slightest weakness. But when she did look closely, it wasn’t difficult to find him shuffling awkwardly in the corner when they were in the same room, looking at her with unveiled longing and then the predator would turn into a wounded puppy.

Adeline wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation. That he should feel hurt and yet still longed for her, instead of choosing to hate her for all she had done. It was beyond her comprehension. If their fortunes had reversed, she couldn’t say for certain if she would feel the same.

She wondered if he ever thought of the past, their past together. Because she was convinced that he viewed it through a rose tinted lens

Adeline lighted a cigarette and puffed thoughtfully. What she had read at the break of dawn still fresh on her mind.

“There it was before her - life. Life: she thought but she did not finish her thought. She took a look at life, for she had a clear sense of it there, something real, something private, which she shared neither with her children nor with her husband. A sort of transaction went on between them, in which she was on one side, and life was on another, and she was always trying to get the better of it, as it was of her; and sometimes they parleyed (when she sat alone); there were, she remembered, great reconciliation scenes; but for the most part, oddly enough, she must admit that she felt this thing that she called life terrible, hostile, and quick to pounce on you if you gave it a chance.”

She must admit, Woolf’s writings always did have a knack of making one feel and think differently; to approach life, time and memory in a new light; to reflect. The lighthouse, was the never changing vantage point in the passage of time, the ever eluding desire that one chased after but never could quite grasp; ten years was a very long time in a life span, people change, for better or for worse; people die, and all was left was a memory frozen in time. And even that fades, lost in time and space. Nothing was everlasting, no mark or testimony survives the void.

Not even love.

The brutality of life and reality had made sure that it did not.

She briefly considered her own life.

The innocent child Henriette had protected at all cost when she was alive, who was immediately killed by her father after Hettie’s death, gutted and left to her own demise in some dirty gutter. And in her place, all that was left was this new emotionally dead and drained Adeline. Haunted by her own past, her deeds and her misfortunes, completely broken and never quite pieced back together right.

Adeline had taken the gamble with life and lost miserably.

The fog was getting thicker now, the wind lost somewhere in the thicket. The spring air was stagnant, and the soft tendrils of smoke curled around her hair, her frame. For a moment, she stopped in her tracks, just to take in this present moment that would soon morph into another forgotten memory of hers.

He found her at the far end of his parents’ field, looking out into distance, sniffing.

“Hey are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” She sniffed again no doubt surprised that someone had crept on her, scrubbing at her face furiously. “Never better.” Before turning around to scrutinise him.

“Who are you?”

“I don’t think we’ve formally met ma’am, I’m Jasper Whitlock.”

“You’re Mr and Mrs Whitlock’s second son.” The girl gasped, before ducking her head formally and shaking his hand. “I’m Adeline, Adeline Ruelle. Your mother’s told me about you.” She looked around again before smiling awkwardly and gesturing to the fields. “I’m trespassing. This is your land. I’ll go-”

“No, no. It’s uh… it’s alright. I don’t mind, Miss Ruelle.”

“But still. I shouldn’t be disturbing the lot of you.”

“Wait. Uh I�� I couldn’t help but saw what happened in the town square.”

“Oh.” She frowned before looking down, clearly getting the wrong idea. He wasn’t there to reprimand her too. “It’s alright, I won’t-”

“No wait, I don’t mean it that way. Here.” He quickly thrusted the bundle he had been hiding behind his back this whole time.

Confused, Adeline clutched at the bundle, feeling the hard texture of the package before looking up to stare at him agape. Her hand quickly dove in to tear at the wrapping paper to reveal a hardback book.

“Frankenstein?” She held the book up questioningly. “Why are you giving me this?”

“You wanted this right? Or was it not this? I could take it back and change it if you want-”

“No, no. This was what I was looking for. But why are you giving me this?”

“Because you wanted it.” He stated as a matter of fact. When his answer didn’t dispel the confused look on Adeline’s face, Jasper struggled to explain himself more. “I don’t think they were right in refusing to let you read just because they think it’s not suitable for a lady. Anyone should be allowed to pursue their own knowledge…”

“This isn’t really the most educating thing you know.” For the first time, there was a playful smirk on her lips. “It’s a novel on a man making a monster.”

“You know what I mean.”

Evidently she was grateful. “I- how can I ever thank you for this? How much does this cost? I’ll pay you back the money… I’ll pay you double for all your trouble-”

“No, no it’s fine. Please don’t pay me. I wanted to help. You looked so sad and I just wanted to cheer you up is all.”

“Wait, where are you going, Mr Whitlock sir?! Wait.”

In his mind he had embarrassed himself. It was a stupid move buying her the book. Now she would think him worse than all her other suitors. He had intruded into her privacy and had condescended her by deciding that she would want the book. He had never lost his cool once before, not in front of the girls who had flirted with him, and this new girl had come along and thrown him off his balance.

He didn’t realise till then that his heart was beating erratically and his hand clenched over it unconsciously.

What a stupid stupid man that he was.

“Adeline.”

She was momentarily shocked from her thoughts. Looking up, she found that she had come across the Cullens. There was Alice with the little family.

Alice looked concerned, no doubt surprised by her haggard look and her sleep deprived countenance. Even Bella and Edward looked alerted too. Despite being eccentric, Alice was, Adeline concluded, actually quite a nice person, overly friendly maybe.

“You look tired, are you alright?”

“I’m alright.” She shrugged nonchalantly. Even though the exhaustion was catching up on her fast.

Alice hesitated before smiling. “We’re going to hunt. Do you want to join us?”

Ah, so they were going to hunt. She remembered her surprise when for the first time she had heard that they were vegetarians and that they only fed on animals. Henriette had half forced half bullied her to adopt this kind of diet since she was born, yet she had never seen another doing the same before.

But she didn’t like to hunt in the presence of another, it made her self conscious. And anyways, she was trying her best to steer away from the company of the family.

“It’s alright.” She remained aloof. “I’ll hunt on my way.”

“Will we expect you by dinnertime?” Bella spoke up at the back, Adeline could literally see the trying in her effort to be nice. She quickly looked to Edward who’s face remained neutral.

“Hmph. I’ll be back.” She nodded her head at the latter.

Their paths diverging, the rest of the clan soon took their leave of her. And Adeline looked on at their receding back from her spot.

They would all soon be a distant memory of hers, there was no need to be formally acquainted with any of them.

‘With her foot on the threshold she waited a moment longer in a scene which was vanishing even as she looked, and then, as she moved and took Minta's arm and left the room, it changed, it shaped itself differently; it had become, she knew, giving one last look at it over her shoulder, already the past.’

This time she was waiting for him.

The moment she caught sight of him strolling towards the perimeter of his fields after supper, Adeline immediately jogged towards him, a large basket in tow.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, Mr Whitlock.” She chirped, an unusually bright smile graced over her porcelain features, a stark contrast to the melancholy he saw on her first day in town.

He decided that he loved seeing her smile more than anything right then.

“Jasper is fine ma’am.” He ducked his head bashfully. “Mr Whitlock’s my dad if you will, everyone around here just calls me Jasper, Miss Ruelle.”

“Fine. But then you must call me Adeline. It’s only fair.”

“Miss Adeline.” He bowed half out of jest.

“Adeline.” She corrected him, though there was a twinkle in her eyes. “So where’re you headed to?”

“I’m just heading to the creek down below to rest for a bit, it’s been a long day.”

Adeline nodded in understanding and he was somewhat amused to find the girl trotting behind him. Chuckling, Jasper swooped in to take a grasp at the handle of the basket and carried it. When they finally settled at a shady spot near the creek, Adeline leaned forward to open the latch of the basket.

“I wanted to thank you,” she began, pulling out a batch of baked cookies. “For the book.”

“Its nothing-”

“No! It wasn’t just anything! I…” He watched as she frowned and look away, debilitating with herself, trying to find the right words to express herself.

“No one’s ever done this for me… ever.” She finally murmured, her hands playing at her aprons absentmindedly. “So… yeah.” She pulled at her ear sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m sure you’re not interested in my ramblings. I should go… it’s your rest time.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.”

They sat in mutual silence, though there was less initial awkwardness.

“Do you-”

“So I-”

They started at the same time. Sheepish, Jasper gestured for Adeline to continue speaking. She smiled another of her easy smile.

“What I wanted to say was that you really don’t know how much it means for me… for you to get that book for me. My grandfather taught me how to read and write. And between the both of us, this was our most favourite book of all time. But his copy was destroyed in the floods some years ago so when he died… I wanted something to remember him by. That’s why I desperately wanted it at the bookshop.” She grew sentimental then. “Of course it’s not the same copy we used to have, but it’s the sentiment of it that’s the most important.”

“Then I’m glad I got it for you.” And he meant it from the bottom of his heart.

“Here.” She handed him a cookie, “you still haven’t tried it yet.”

Tentatively, he took a bite out of it. “It’s delicious!"

Adeline grinned, evidently proud. “Of course. And they said no decent southern gentleman would want me. You’ve just proven them wrong!”

Jasper laughed. “Well you’ve certainly stolen my stomach away with that amazing bakery.”

Adeline reclined onto her elbows in her spot and squinted in the dazzling sun. “You know it’s not half as bad here as I initially thought.”

“Must be because of my company.” He spoke jokingly.

“Hmm. Maybe." Jasper found himself observing Adeline’s every move. Now she was closing her eyes, basking in the glory of the setting sun, humming to herself. The warm ray of light accentuating her long neck and her collarbones and-

She turned suddenly, her excited eyes on him.

“Have you ever read Frankenstein?”

She knew she was getting closer and closer towards the sea, despite the fog being thick and hanging over the threshold. She just knew.

There was the faint crashing of waves now, getting louder by the minute. And the brambles of the forest floor was spreading out.

Now all she needed to do was-

And she stepped out into the sunlight. Despite the sun, it was not the Texan sun she remembered from her memories, it barely gave her warmth. But it did dispel some of the mist that clung around her like tendrils. Here was a cliff of some sort, with the sea roaring right below her feet, the moss and the wildflowers carpeting the entire forest ground until it ended abruptly at the ledge, to a steep drop of some fifty or even sixty feet.

It was indeed beautiful.

Adeline watched mesmerised, how the waves licked the cliff side, thundering, throwing up white foam and algae and whatnots.

Sighing, she leaned back against a tree trunk. The sky was grey and endless in the horizon. It was dreary, and she felt that it suited her more than the Texan sun and blue sky ever did.

She readjusted her sitting position against the tree and took out her book.

James and Cam and Mr Ramsey were heading to the lighthouse now and Lily Briscoe was finishing off her painting ten years later.

‘“It will rain,” he remembered his father saying. “You won’t be able to go to the Lighthouse.”

The Lighthouse was then a silvery, misty-looking tower with a yellow eye, that opened suddenly, and softly in the evening. Now—

James looked at the Lighthouse. He could see the white-washed rocks; the tower, stark and straight; he could see that it was barred with black and white; he could see windows in it; he could even see washing spread on the rocks to dry. So that was the Lighthouse, was it?

No, the other was also the Lighthouse. For nothing was simply one thing. The other Lighthouse was true too. It was sometimes hardly to be seen across the bay. In the evening one looked up and saw the eye opening and shutting and the light seemed to reach them in that airy sunny garden where they sat.’

She closed the book with a sigh.

To be fair, she knew that Jasper thought about their past, just as she did. Except, they each remembered things and events differently. Or maybe it was just that for her, with the knowledge of hindsight, everything was brought into a new light and became tainted.

Could she look back with pure joy now? At her days with him which was now, in hindsight, filled with regret and more importantly, guilt.

There was some truth in it she supposed.

Perhaps there were more facets in their memory than she would give credit for. There was the truth, and then there were all the different angles you could appraise it from. Both were looking at the lighthouse, but he no doubt looked on with fondness and through a rose tinted lens, and she with hindsight could only look on with a sense of dread.

She only wished that he would not be so enamoured by his sentiments that he was blindsided by the truth.

With that thought, her mood soured again and she threw the book into the ground. Subconsciously, her hand went to the locket hidden beneath her shirt where she fingered the engravings to calm herself.

Adeline closed her eyes and listened to the sea.

After that fateful afternoon, Adeline was showing up at the fields every few days. And the creek immediately became their mutual meeting point. And on days when she was too busy with her work to venture out, Jasper would swing by, just to see her, have a chat. They lived close enough, and he was always giving excuses after excuses about why he was there. Excuses he thought she saw through with that complicit smile and the twinkle always present in her eyes. Her grandmother was less impressed however, but she never treated him ill, always being ever cordial, receiving him, making tea, working in the corner, muttering to herself in French.

The days blurred into one, and towards the end of that summer, his parents invited the Adeline and her grandmother over for dinner one fine evening. His mother took an immediate liking towards the girl, and his father called her the daughter he always wanted.

It made Jasper feel giddy, that his family loved her so much. He was almost proud.

It would be the best summer he ever had.

They had read Milton, the Odysseus, the Aeneid, Austen, Dickens, and many more.

He was always surprised to see Adeline brimming with so much knowledge at such a young age. He had wondered at the background of her grandfather, but she always deflected the questions with a wistful smile then he learnt not to ask them anymore.

It was perhaps cliche to say, but she really was not like other girls. Adeline was open, she was kind and sincere and more importantly she was the sun herself, a burning beacon, radiating with warmth. One look at her and he found the day’s worth of handwork and fatigue to be nothing.

Jasper knew the implication of his thundering heart. Romance was not something new to him, he’d heard it from fieldworkers, men who were only a few years older than him.

But he had his doubts too.

He saw how the men tried to talk to her, and though she never mentioned it once to him, he heard enough to know about all the confessions and declarations and proposals she received on a regular basis. Her refusals did nothing to quell his disheartened heart. Her suitors ranged from various backgrounds including pretty boys with wealthy backgrounds and ancestors who were founding members of this town even.

What was he? Nothing but a simple farmer boy. How was he to compete with then?

Every time he heard of another refusal, his hope would get a little higher, that perhaps her smiles and her openness were only directed at him. Yet one look at himself and his meagre possessions, and he would lose what little confidence he had.

Even so, even so she never missed a day with him. Never forgot an engagement, never failed to show up.

That she would welcome him warmly each time, with her radiant smile and her gentle words, even if she would ramble on and on about her long and tiring day and her tedious work.

He was failing miserably to quell his beating heart. Some days It was pure agony, other days he would find himself hope against all hope that perhaps, just perhaps that she would reciprocate even a fraction of his feelings.

But his doubts held him back each time, when he was on the brink of a confession. He would be reminded of the string of failed proposals that came before his and he would become afraid and stopped himself short.

Was it better to protect this friendship, this comradeship that they had?

But with each passing summer day, as he got ready for harvest, his heart was becoming more and more heavy.

It was too much.

He didn’t think he could go on like this.

The ravens cawed and she awoke with a start. Standing up immediately, she was dazed to find that she was not in her simple attire of boots and parka anymore. Gone was the sea and the grey horizon; the pines surrounding her were tall and ominous, a light mist was beginning to form around her, obscuring her sight further on. She was in her Sunday best again, the cream coloured dress with those understated embroideries she had seen herself. There was the chain of daisies at the hem of her sleeves and around her collar. She looked around, trying to comprehend her surrounding.

So she was in a dream then.

A nightmare perhaps.

Might as well walk to the very end of it so that she could wake. Though she loathed to think how it would end, hopefully not with her screaming bloody murder again.

Trudging onwards, the claustrophobia was getting more and more intense, the fog thickening and the trees crowding more and more together until there was no distinguishable path that she could follow. She felt suffocated.

Just then, there was a chill around her heart and it began to thump fiercely. Turning her head cautiously towards her back, she was instantly struck by an intense fear.

Run, her instinct was screaming in her ears.

She ran like the frightened bunny that she was. She could hear the laughters of her sisters, and worse of all. The shoutings of her father.

There seemed to be no end. The brambles tore at her dress, tearing the embroideries, the mud splattering all over her apron, the loose branches leaving small open cuts over her hands and face. The laughters behind her never ceased. She was bone chilled and yet she daren’t stop in her tracks. For fear of being caught, for fear of a punishment worse than death.

And just when all hope was lost, there in the distance was an opening!

And out she ran into a field of wheat and barley. Shocked, she looked back cautiously at the edge of the forest she had just dashed through.

The eeriness had gone and it was only just a stretch of low woodland and shrubberies. Her nightmarish forest was gone.

Cocking her head to the side in confusion, Adeline nevertheless continued to trudge on and at the end of the wheat field, a warm inviting cottage stood in its midst.

The smoke gently curled around the chimney, the vines over the walls, the blue cornflowers at the windows.

It was painfully the same as she had remembered.

She quietly opened the latch to the door and stepped inside the threshold.

“You’re back.” As her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, she saw a man in a simple cotton white shirt and dark pants gently settling the white bundle in his arms into a crib. “How was your walk? Refreshing?”

“Yes…” Adeline stuttered. “Jasper?"

“Yes darling?” The man turned with a tender smile towards her, arms opening wide to welcome her. This time she did not hesitate and rushed towards his strong inviting embrace. Breathing in the strong familiar scent, feeling the warmth he radiated. All the while avoiding glancing at the crib she had seen.

“I’m tired.” She murmured. “Take me to bed?” She pleaded.

Jasper only chuckled.

As they finally settled in bed, his calloused hands, overused at the farm, began its motion of combing through her hair slowly, soothingly just like he did all the time when the two were in bed. Adeline closed her eyes and sighed. She didn’t want to wake up from this and back to the icy cold acquaintance that they now shared.

“I had the strangest dream.” She murmured to him, burrowing deeper into his embrace, her ear rested on his chest, and she could hear the strong beating of his beating heart. “I dreamt that I left you. And that it destroyed you so badly that you became something I couldn’t even recognise anymore. And then I hated you so much and you resented me so much for turning you into what you became.”

“Left me…” Jasper repeated to himself, his hand froze momentarily in its motion.

Adeline looked up in desperation. If this was a dream, at least she would keep him happy. This much she could do at the very least.

“It was only just a dream though.” She tried to smile, raising a hand to trace his strong jawline. “I could never leave you.”

He resumed his soothing motion, combing through her hair, massaging her scalp. She hummed and turned to listen to his beating heart again.

“No, because what would happen to us if you actually left?”

Ah… the bundle in the crib.

She imagined a young boy, with golden curls around his temple and warm inviting hazel eyes. Who would call her maman, who she would teach French to, and raise him and teach him well, just as she had done to her handful of brothers and sisters. It would’ve been domestic bliss. It would’ve been what she wanted if she had been human.

She was drifting in and out of consciousness again as she lingered in her impossible dreams.

The soothing motion over her scalp never ceased. In fact it became more and more concrete.

“Adeline…. Adeline…”

There was someone calling to her softly, far away, at the edge of her consciousness. And it was getting nearer and nearer.

Somehow she felt safe, warm and calm. A sense of serenity washed over her.

She was protected.

She felt a light peck over her lips.

A chaste little kiss.

She chastised without opening her eyes, though her lips were slowly pulling into a small smile.

“What are you playing at-” she mumbled in her sleep.

And then she descended into sweet oblivion.

They met in the fields as usual the sun casting its shadow towards the east, amongst the waving barley and the golden wheat. Adeline was chatting animatedly about the latest novel she had been reading.

He cleared his throat when she stopped to take a breath in between.

“I have something to tell you.”

Her brows shot up no doubt finally realising that she had been hogging the conversation table for the last half an hour or so, but she quickly composed herself and gave him a reassuring smile. “What is it? I’m all ears.”

“I’m joining the army.”

“What?”

“I’m joining the Texas cavalry.”

“Why?” She looked bewildered, and there was a frantic look in her eye. “Don’t you have enough to do in the farm? The harvests and the cattle’s and… everything! Have you talked this through with your parents?!”

“I have. They are in full support of it.”

“But why?” She pouted her lips cutely, but her voices sounded betrayed. “I enjoy our time with you here everyday, don’t you? If you join the army, you’ll be working and training everyday. I-” she stopped and looked away, embarrassed, scuffing the sole of her shoe over the ground petulantly.

He chuckled. How to make her understand? That he was doing this exactly because of her.

“Besides, you’re a landowner yourself. I know the land isn’t much, but it should be enough for you right?”

“Adeline.”

“So why would you suddenly decide you want to become a soldier?”

“Adeline.”

“I mean sure I know you’ll excel in it anyways. You’re going to charm you way up. Then you’ll forget little ol me.”

“Adeline.” Jasper finally had to smirk. "You never let people finish what they have to say.”

Adeline huffed in annoyance and crossed her arm. “Fine. By all means!”

What she didn’t expect next was for him to clasp her hand in his.

“You might think that a farmer is well respected enough, but I’m a second son. When my parents die, my brother will inherit the farm. I can help with the farm, but it will never be mine. I’ll never have an income as prosperous as my brother will if I continue to work for him. When I do marry and then someday have children of mine, would I want them to endure the same fate as I have?”

“But if you love her then surely-”

“Would I be able to have better marriage prospect as my brother does? The answer is no. I would never be able to do better than him, I would be at a disadvantage, less likely to get the girl of my dreams. No decent gentleman would marry their own precious daughter to a second son. That is, unless if I make a name for myself in some other way.”

“By joining the army?”

“It was either that or become a priest.”

“There are other ways surely! You can study to be a lawyer or… or a businessman or anything other than joining the army!”

“Don’t you find some of the younger soldiers charming and dashing? I overheard you chatting with-”

“I care about you too much to want to see you get hurt!”

There was a solemnity in her clear blue eyes that betrayed nothing but sincerity and concern. It left him feeling giddy, that gave him a confidence he had been lacking for sometime to carry out what he was about to do that he had psyched himself up to do for weeks now. He couldn’t help but grin.

But it irked her to new heights.

“Stop it, don’t laugh! It’s not a laughing matter!” Adeline pouted again, slapping him in the arm repeatedly, and this time there were angry tears threatening to fall from her beautiful orbs. “I worry about you! Even if you seem no have no care about your own safety!”

“Fine! Go! Go join the bloody army if you love it so much for some bloody girl you think you’ve fallen in love with! See if I care when you get killed off by some stupid I don’t know what!”

She turned around and by the slight tremor in her shoulder and the sniffing he realised with a newfound panic that she was crying. This wasn’t what he had intended to do.

“Adeline.” He soothed, coaxing the girl to turn around to face him. “Are you crying?”

“No I’m not.”

“Hush, then turn around see that I can see you properly.”

When she did turn, he could still see the devastation over her face. The tear trails over the apples of her cheek, those eyes brimmed with unshed tears. But she stared back with great defiance, her chin held haughtily up. He has to suppress a tender sigh, his heart was so heavy with love for this girl, the little treacherous thing thumping against his chest so loudly he was sure she would’ve heard it.

“Adeline, you must know how important this is for me."

She looked away then and feigned boredom. “Why are you telling me this Mr Whitlock? You’re wasting your time on me. Shouldn’t you be looking for your bloody lover to her about this.”

“I really should shouldn’t I? But I need your help and advice.” He studied her closely as she bit her lips so hard it almost drew blood, as she raised a hand to finger her earring in an effort to calm her nerves mo doubt. He slowly reached out a hand to hold her chin and turn her pretty face back to his before delivering the final blow.

“But suppose I’m looking at her already right now as I speak?”

“Looking at her…?”

“Won’t you tell me how do I stop her tears and make her understand that I’m joining the army so that I can have a future with her? So that I can stand on my own and go to her grandmother to ask for permission to court her and marry her?”

He saw the moment the realisation hit her, Adeline’s mouth dropped as she stared mutely at him.

“You… I… I don’t think I understand what you-”

“I’m telling you that I love you Adeline. And I want to marry you.”

He stopped abruptly then to take a deep breath, his heart beating ferociously now, the rush in his ears was almost deafening, he was too fearful of what she would say.

But when her looked into her eyes, there was a newfound vulnerability, one he had never seen before. She wet her trembling lips.

“This isn’t a joke you’re pulling on me is this?”

“I would never joke about this.” He said with resolute.

Bashful, she looked down and sucked at her lips. And if he had looked closely, he would have seen how her cheeks were tinted red, not by the summer heat or the burning sin.

“No one has ever said that to me.” Her eyes were brimming with tears again though her lips were slowly, but surely drawing up into a smile. “I think… I love you too Jasper Whitlock.”

And that was the straw for him.

He stepped forward to close the gap between them, long arms stretching out to hold her tightly. Her arms slowly wound themselves around his neck, their face inches apart, looking straight into each other’s eyes.

“Don’t you think we’re a little too close for propriety’s sake, Mr Whitlock?” The corner of her lips tugging up playfully.

“Hush”. He thought his heart was going to burst. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

And under the setting Texan sun, amongst a golden burning world, they shared their first ever kiss, two hearts beating as one.

The thick clouds above were for once finally dispersing and the radiant sunbeams filtered in between, producing a luminous effect as it struck his skin.

The motion in his hand never ceasing, gently combing through Adeline’s hair as she herself laid on his chest, breathing in and out calmly. Without the hostility and the jitteriness, Jasper was almost fooled into believing that this Adeline was the same Adeline from his past.

But she was not.

Jasper sighed again, his heart so full of emotions it was painful.

He had wandered out after she left the house and subconsciously, or perhaps guided by a vengeful angel, he had stumbled across her, in the midst of a nightmare, curling into herself, whimpering. He acted on his natural instincts to soothe away the frown, and it mystified him that the moment he laid his hand on her head did the whimpering stopped. He couldn’t resist stealing a light kiss from those plump lips.

Looking down at Adeline’s serene sleeping face, Jasper wished he didn’t have to hide himself like this, that he could’ve held her when she was awake, her radiant smile guided towards him and himself only. Not like this, not when she wouldn’t even know that it was him who had comforted her and held her in her sleep, had warded away her nightmares, even if just for a few moments only.

Oh but he couldn’t let her know.

Every small movement now would send him into caution, to extricate himself from her before she woke, lest she would run away, lest he would startle her, deepen this gulf between them.

He surveyed their immediate surrounding, there was Adeline’s cassette player, the tiny thing’s battery had long since stopped running. He made a remark to ask her about the mixtape she had been listening to. The emptied coffee flask, the burnt cigarette butts. And there lying open with its cover up, its spine breaking right in the middle, was Rosalie’s old battered copy of To the Lighthouse. He remembered watching her going all out just to hide it behind the shelf.

It’s too painful. She had finally confessed one rainy day. But I can’t bear to throw it away. It’s like a mirror you hold up to juxtapose it with your own life.

He never read it, not in depth anyways.

He reached out to grab it and randomly flipped through it, scanning the words as he did so.

‘To want and not to have, sent all up her body a hardness, a hollowness, a strain. And then to want and not to have- to want and want- how that wrung the heart, and wrung it again and again!’

“What is the meaning of life? That was all- a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years, the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.”

#jasper hale x you #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x oc #jasper hale imagine #jasperhale #twilight angst #twilight imagine

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crashdevlin · 3 years

Text

Leftoverture 3- Carry On

Author’s Note: Don’t get me wrong, I loved the finale, but I was thinking about how much I miss Dean and I couldn’t stop thinking about ways I could have him back so…I’m going canon divergent while being as close to canon as possible. ‘Cause that’s how Cassie do. This is where Leftoverture officially crosses over with Crash Into Me!

Summary: Sam tries to convince Dean to talk to his widow, but it takes a visit from an old friend to get him to do the right thing.

Pairing: Dean x OFC

Word count: 3755

Story Warnings: angst, Post-barn scene sads, mentions of major character deaths (Dean and AU!Sam), mentions of depression, memory fuckery,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, get off the phone. Who are you texting?” Dean asked, looking over at Sam’s thumbs tapping out a message.

“I’m...just letting some people know that you’re back, okay? What?” Sam defended, pulling his phone out of Dean’s reach as his brother tried to grab it.

“She better not be part of that group text, Sam. I will kick your lanky ass.”

“Dean, come on.”

“She has mourned me! She’s probably just starting to get okay and you want me to break that? Not to mention the kid. How are we supposed to explain to her that I’m just suddenly not dead anymore?” Dean pulled over onto the shoulder and glared at Sam until he rolled his eyes and sighed, hitting the X to take his sister-in-law’s number away from the list that included Bobby 2.0, Jody, Donna, Charlie 2.0, and Garth. “Thank you.”

“It’s only been a month. You think she’s starting to get over you already?” Sam finished tapping out his text as Dean pulled back onto the interstate.

“I think I’m a threat to her life as long as I’m in her life, man. I mean, that’s why it took us so long to get together in the first place, because I knew that me being a hunter was gonna put her in the ground and it was just lucky for all of us that it put me in the ground before her.”

“Don’t say th-”

“It’s better for her to think I’m still dead!” Dean exploded. “If she knows I’m alive, she’ll come back to the bunker and she’s gonna end up dead and that’ll be on me! Okay, it’s better if she thinks I’m dead and we keep it that way!”

“So, I guess you’ve made up your mind on this one?” Sam asked.

“Yes!” Dean nodded, somehow still keeping his eyes on the road. “You know what, yes, I’ve made up my mind. Because she deserves to live a life that I’m not ruining. She never wanted the job to encroach on her life, or Rebel’s, okay? Fuck, if I ended up getting that little girl hurt, I could nev--and you know she only agreed to marry me in the first place because Chuck was gonna kill us all anyway and he’s not a problem anymore and what happened to my ring when I bit it? You didn’t burn it with me, did you, because that was a really good silver ring and if you melted it with me, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Sam shook his head in disappointment. “Your wife was wearing it on her thumb last time I saw it.”

Dean sighed and licked his lips. “It’s better this way, Sam. I know you don’t see it, but it’s better.”

“Right. You, uh, you remember when you guys were ‘just friends’ and she started dating that asshole that didn’t know what ‘no’ meant?” Dean’s jaw clenched tight at the memory. “You remember how pissed off you got that she was dating someone, let alone a Dom dickbag like him, and how you spent the entire weekend trying to get dirt on him to use to get her to dump him?”

"He was tryin' to put things in her while she was drunk! He deserved a bullet through the skull for that shit and he's lucky she wouldn't let me go talk to him."

"Yeah, I know. He was a piece of shit, but you didn't know that when we got there. You just didn’t like him because he was dating her."

"I'm a good judge of character and she is not. She dates douchebags. She always has. I mean, look at her cheating son-of-a-bitch ex-husband. If she's dating them, they're douchebags."

Sam rolled his eyes, obviously catching Dean’s self-deprecating undertone in that sentence. "Okay, but you're just gonna let her date someone else? You're gonna let her find some other douchebag to date that you won't be able to save her from?"

"I didn't save her from Mike or Drew. She was already half out the door on both of them before I interceded with either. And I know what you're doing and it's not gonna work." Dean pointed his finger in Sam’s face. "You're not gonna get me all jealous so I go find her because I'm afraid of her getting over me and moving on. I want her to move on. I want her to have a good life. That's the whole point here, man."

"Dean, she's not going to move on. She's gonna be devastated the rest of her life because you aren't-"

"So, we should make it worse by putting her through it twice?!" Dean snapped. "We should make her have to watch me burn another time, right? We should make her clear her shit out of the Bunker in a few years too? We should make her live with the hope that one day I'll manage to make it home again? We should put her heart back together just to shatter it into pieces again when I die permanently? Fuck you, Sam. I can't do it to her. I just...no."

Sam took a deep breath and shook his head sadly. "Fine."

"It's better this way. It's just better."

"Sure. It’s better.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was something cleansing about a simple werewolf hunt. Sam was being a little overbearing, but Dean understood why. Sam didn’t want to see him die anymore than he wanted to die again. There were only two wolves and they went down easy. It was a textbook hunt...just like the vampire cult should have been.

Sam shook away memories of the night in the barn and followed an energized Dean out to the Impala. It wouldn’t happen again. Not anytime soon. Dean was around to stay. Sam would make sure of it.

“So, hit the motel, pizza and beer, head back to the bunker in the morning. Did you report my death to the fire department because I’m still wanting that job and I’ll have to think of one hell of an excuse if you told them I died.” Dean shrugged, continuing before Sam could respond. “I’m gonna need to come up with an excuse either way, but an excuse for a month of radio silence is easier than an excuse for comin’ out of the Lazarus Pit, ya know?”

“I...didn’t say anything to them, Dean. It was really low on my list of priorities to tell the Lebanon Volunteer Fire Department that Dean Campbell was dead.”

“Awesome. I’ll figure out what to tell them. For now...pizza.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No, I know, it was a crazy situation, but I honestly think getting lost in the Yukon without a cell phone was probably the best thing that could have happened to me." Dean laughed into the phone as he walked into the library. "Yeah, exactly. Never gonna take a warm, dry bed for granted again. Well, thank you so much for understanding, Captain. I'm excited to get training. That's gonna be...yeah, I'm gonna be there. Thanks again."

Dean smiled as he tucked his phone into his pocket. "He bought it. Thanks for putting those fake Canadian news pieces up. Appreciate it."

"Okay, but what if someone else searches your fake name, Dean?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You think she's Googling me?" He stepped forward and looked down at Sam sitting at the library table. "She Googles me and she'll find a story about a man named Dean Campbell getting lost in the Yukon and surviving on moose and wolverine and melted snow. No pic, no identifying words. She'll look at it, say 'It is a miracle this guy survived' and then she'll move on to the next search result, okay? I don't understand why you're all up in my business about this but-"

"You don't miss them?" Sam asked, pushing his hair out of his face and leaning forward.

Dean bit his lip and shook his head. "No, I do not."

Sam stood and looked down into his brother's eyes. "Well, I do."

"Well, they're staying gone." Dean patted his brother's shoulder and walked toward the hall. "Good talk."

He sat on the edge of his bed and ran his hand down his face. Of course he missed her. Of course he missed the little girl he treated as his own daughter...or...the other Dean treated like a daughter. It was just too difficult. Explaining to his wife was one thing, an easy thing. She’d come back in a heartbeat and it would all be fine between them. She wouldn’t care that he wasn’t exactly the same in body, that he had different scars and a slightly different pattern of freckles or that his hair wasn’t quite right even after trying to make it work for four damn days.

She fell for him because of how he treated her, how safe she felt with him, how he made her feel. All of that was in the memories. How he felt about her was in the memories, too. He loved her in a way he'd never been able to let himself love anyone else. She was so much different than any other woman he'd considered making a life with because she was like all the best parts of them all mixed together. She was smart like Cassie Robinson, badass like Jo Harvelle, understanding of the Life without being part of it...with a kid, just like Lisa. He remembered that...and he knew that he'd never find another woman like her.

That was okay. He didn't really want another one: another woman, partner, wife. He couldn’t see himself opening up like that to someone other than his short little badass. And Sam was right that he didn't really want her with someone else, either...but she deserved it. She deserved to get over him and move on to greener pastures. So he had to stay away. For her good, he had to stay dead.

For the good of the little girl, too. If he just came back from the dead, it would completely fuck that little girl's understanding of life and death. It would fuck her up for life.

Dean sighed, picking up his phone and kissing his lock screen; the picture they took on the beach for their honeymoon. He held the phone over his heart for a minute and lied back, staring at the ceiling until sleep took him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean smiled as he sat in a folding chair on the side of a soccer field, watching a short blonde girl dribble a ball between her feet on the green grass. "She's gettin' good," he commented to himself.

"She missed tryouts this year," a familiar voice said. Dean gasped a little as he turned in his seat to look at the angel in the beige trenchcoat. "They moved back to Florida too late for her to be placed on a team."

"Cas? Are you--is this--this is a dream."

"Yes. But...my presence is not." Castiel smiled as Dean stood and wrapped him in a hug. "Jack saved me from the Cosmic Entity from the Empty. We've been improving Heaven."

Dean pulled back and sniffled as he slapped a hand on Cas' shoulder. "Man, where have you been, then? We've missed you."

"Angels stay in Heaven now. Jack and I thought it was best to keep our interference to a minimum." Cas chuckled. "I'm not technically supposed to be here now."

Dean licked his lips. "Well, then...what's with the, uh, Freddy Krueger you're pulling?"

"Dean requested it. He knows what's been happening on Earth, that you've taken on his memories and essentially become him, and he knows that you are avoiding Cassie."

Dean scoffed and stepped back from the angel. "I'm sure he's got an opinion on all this."

"He does. He has a strong opinion on what you're doing and what you should be doing." Castiel stepped closer. "He told me to tell you to get your head out of your ass. He said that, if you have his memories, you're in love with her too and you need to go to her. He knows you couldn’t live with losing her forever...so don't lose her."

"Cas, she's better off without me."

"Is she?" the angel challenged. "Because she’s Dean Winchester’s widow. Doesn't that put a target on her back?"

Dean pressed his lips together in a thin line and looked away. She could handle it...right? "She's got protections...and we taught her to fight. She's gonna be fine."

"Dean told me to tell you that if you don't get in his car and drive to Florida, he's going to 'rip your pansy lungs out'," Cas said, doing air quotes. Dean scoffed. "He was very adamant that you go to her."

"Fine. But it's gonna hurt her. I'm gonna hurt her." Dean was absolutely serious but Cas just smiled and shook his head a little. "Hey, uh, Cas? Before you go...I'm...I'm not gonna get to see you again, right? So, don't you think we should talk about-"

"I think that would be a bit redundant." Castiel’s smile brightened, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. "Dean and I have spoken at length about my sacrifice and the words spoken before Billie and I were taken to the Empty."

"And?"

"And Dean Winchester’s Heaven is full of people who love and cherish him...who see him for the hero he is. He never believes he's going to hurt any of them. You should learn from his example."

"DEAN! Look!" Dean looked behind him to see the girl kick the soccer ball at the goal. He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face.

"Great job, Youngblood!" he shouted before turning back around. The angel was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean smiled tightly at Sam as he walked into the kitchen the next morning. “So, uh...I’m gonna take a few days...drive down to Florida.”

Sam’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah...Castiel came to me in a dream last night. Said the original me is up there in Heaven and he’s very unhappy with my choice.”

“Really?” Sam was obviously amused.

“Yeah. I don’t know if it was really him or not. Maybe it was just my brain kickin’ me in the ass but...I’m gonna go get ‘em back.”

“Thank you. I was hoping you’d come to your senses.”

“Yeah, yeah, anyway...I’ll be back in a couple days. I’ve got training on Monday so...it’ll be a short trip. Maybe she’ll come back, maybe she won’t but…” He shrugged. “Don’t know ‘til I go talk to her.”

“Good luck, man.”

Dean nodded before heading to the garage. He had plenty of time to get nervous as he drove toward his in-laws’ house in North Florida. A month wasn’t too long. She’d gone longer without him in the past, but...he was alive back then. She knew he’d be back eventually.

He parked the Impala down the street. He wanted to see her before he talked to her. He needed to see how she was working through his death...if she even needed him. Dead Dean told him to go, but if she was moving on, he’d just get back in the car.

She was on the porch when he arrived, coming around the neighbor’s house to hide in the shadows around the side of her parent’s house. “It’s still hard. I don’t think it’s ever not gonna be hard. I still keep wanting to hear that damn Impala coming down the road. But even if I did hear it...I know it’d be Sam.” Dean bit his bottom lip. She was still mourning him. “I don’t know, Manda, but Erik has been a godsend.” His eyebrows went up. Who the fuck is Erik? Did she move on already? “He’s the only reason I get out of bed most mornings. He’s been helping a lot with Aria, driving her to school in the morning and making breakfast. Oh, he makes the best pancakes.” She gave a small chuckle. “Not that I need pancakes. I’ve put on, like, fifteen pounds since he died. Yeah, that is a lot. Erik doesn’t think so either...and Dean wouldn’t care...but I care”

Dean watched her shrug before shaking her head. “I don’t know. He seems nice but...my parents didn’t even know Dean and I got married, so of course Erik doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand...but he’s helping anyway.” She sighed and hummed a little into the air, staring up at the moon. “It’s still just really hard.”

Dean watched as she finished her phone call to her best friend and kept looking up into the night sky. He had to force himself to step around the side of the house and toward her. “Who’s Erik?” he asked. It was the only thing he could think to ask. Green eyes behind thick, dark glasses went wide as she turned to look at him.

“Dean?” she squeaked.

“Mostly,” he whispered as she threw her phone to skim across the grass and launched herself at him. He closed his eyes as she wrapped her arms around him, overwhelmed by the feel of her warmth against him. “Come on, Crash, I taught you better than this. Where’s your silver and holy water, baby?”

“Inside,” she sobbed out into his chest. “But I know you’re you. I can feel it.”

He pressed his lips to her hair and took a step back, leaning down a bit to look directly into her eyes. “I am me, but I’m also...I’m also not. Can we...can we take a walk?”

“Of course!” she agreed, sniffling and wiping at her eyes under her glasses.

They started to walk out of the yard onto the street. “Okay, but before I get into my whole thing...who the fuck is Erik?”

“Oh, he’s a maintenance guy, works with my dad. When I moved to the Bunker, Erik rented my room.”

Dean nodded, his lips pursed. “So, he’s your parents’ tenant and you’re letting him take your daughter to school?”

“My parents trust him...I trust him.” She stuck her hands in her pockets and shrugged. “He’s a nice guy...and he’s a writer, too. He was shocked by the number of notebooks I have. He used to do all of his writing on his computer, but he’s started writing in notebooks since I showed him the versatility of handwriting a story. He said it was like going back to simpler times.”

“Okay. I guess...so, he’s just…”

“He’s just a guy that lives at the house.” She looked over at him as he jammed his hands in his jacket pockets. “So, how are you back? Sam burned you. You shouldn’t be back.”

“You remember when Chuck was destroying the other universes and the other versions of me and Sam showed up? They were fleeing their world.”

“I remember. Sam wouldn’t take his hair down.”

“Right, well...um…” He cleared his throat. “Couple weeks ago, Man-bun Sam died in South America. Werewolves...and Dean couldn’t take it and he did a full wipe of his memories so that he wouldn’t have to remember and Sam went to Rowena to get her to fix it. Her version of fixing it was to give him, give me, your husband’s memories.”

“So, you’re-” She stopped in the middle of the street and turned to look at him. “You’re not my Dean?”

“Of course I am. I’ve got all of his memories. I’ve got all of his love.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Slightly different body...and a different soul. Your Dean is in Heaven. But I’m just like him. I’m exactly like him, Crash.”

She swallowed and searched his face for a few moments before she looked away. “The day we met...why was I crying?”

She was quizzing him, testing his memories, seeing how much like her husband he really was. “Mike left you,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t the first time...or the last. Rebel was about...two years old and you were tryin’ to hold yourself together. We shared some beer and talked about the monster Sam and I put down...and you gave me your number.”

“You, uh, you had a tattoo that I designed...it burned so you don’t have it now, but what-”

“I’ll get the rune again,” he interrupted. “So you can astral to me again.”

“Oh, it is you,” she whispered.

“It is me.” He wrapped her in a hug again and she grabbed at his jacket to hold him to her. “I don’t know how to go about this, though. How are we gonna explain to the kid that-”

“I-I don’t know.” She pulled back and shook her head. “I don’t know if she even caught on to the fact that you were dead...all I said was ‘gone’. I just said you were gone.”

That might make it easier. “Is she back at the house?”

“No. She’s with her father. It’s just Erik and my parents at the house right now.”

“Do your parents know I died? I’m just trying to determine if we can go in or if I’m sleeping in the car tonight.” He smiled at her as she sighed and looked away.

“I told them you broke up with me.”

“So, can I come inside?”

“You’ll have to sleep on the couch...unless you wanna sleep on the floor in Aria’s room. I’ve been sleeping with her on her loft bed since Erik has my old room and bed and all that.”

He smiled and headed toward the house, her hand in his. “She still have that big pile of stuffed animals under the loft?” She nodded and he smirked. “Then I’ll sleep in her zoo.”

She led him into the house and started up the stairs. They were halfway up the stairs when the door to the room that used to be hers opened. “Cass?” a voice asked. Dean stopped in his tracks.

“Didn’t mean to wake you, Erik.”

“It’s okay. I was just worried when you didn’t come back in. Are you-” Shadows fell over Dean and Crash as a figure stepped to the top of the stairs. “Oh, shit.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed as he stepped around his wife and up a few stairs. “What the hell are you doin’ here?” he demanded.

“You’re dead,” the blue-eyed man squeaked.

“About as dead as you’re about to be, Chuck.”

~~~~

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you @dayasvalkyrie @paryl @wereallbrokenangels @the-american-witch @that-one-gay-girl @tatted-trina6 @sunshineandwings86 @lunarmoon8 @wheezyeds @vicmc624 @couldabeenamermaid @vulgar-library

#cassie writes stuff #leftoverture #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #post barn scene #angst

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queen-scribbles · 3 years

Text

Playing Favorites

39. holding hands in a museum to pull them to the next exhibition [AJ/Nate]

also: combo birthday fic! Late for his(Nov 4), early for hers (Nov 13)

------

After a few centuries, it got hard to plan birthday dates they hadn’t done to death. It helped, a little, that they’d starting celebrating together a decade or two in. Their interests were similar, their birthdays only a week and a half apart. It was easier this way. Still, even that measure could only help so much, and it was roughly around the first century mark Abigail and Nate simply put all their favorite options on rotation. Problem solved, for the most part.

She didn’t mind; whether it was the first time or the five hundredth, spending more time with Nate was always enough for her. And, somehow, he always made it feel special. Despite that, and despite how much they both genuinely loved all the activities in the rotation, Abigail would be lying to say she didn’t have favorites. Years she looked forward to just a little more than the others.

This year was one of them. Abigail bit her lip and intertwined her fingers with Nate’s as they made their way up the museum steps in a vain effort to contain her excitement.

Nate chuckled and squeezed her hand. “Looking forward to this?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Y’ can tell?”

“You’re all but vibrating with it, ya rouhi,” he said warmly.

“You know I love museums almost as much as you do,” she said, practically skipping across the lobby, voice dropping near a whisper once inside. “B’sides, it’s been awhile since we visited this one, I’m curious what’s changed, yeah?”

“Awhile” in this case being about eighty six years.

“A lot, I imagine,” Nate said, looking around, “if not everything.”

“It’ll be like tryin’ somethin’ new while also bein’ an old favorite,” Abigail said cheerily, already excited for the new arrangement of the first room she could see into.

Nate pulled her to a stop and bent to kiss her. “That remains one of my favorite things about you, AJ,” he murmured against her lips.

“What?” she whispered back, more than a little pleasantly dizzy from the kiss.

“The way you find joy in everything.”

“So do you,” she pointed out, sliding her arms around his waist.

“I find good,” he corrected. “Or try to. You find joy.”

“Easy to do when I have you, yeah?” Abigail murmured, pushing up on her toes for another kiss. “Let’s go see what there is to see, hm?”

Nate drew in a slow breath and nodded. “Let’s.”

He left his arm draped around her shoulders as they resumed course into the nearest gallery, and Abigail smiled and leaned into him in response.

---

Nate’s guess proved correct; darn near everything was new. The only exhibit still the same was the tiny alcove on local history and supernatural legend. They shared a private laugh at the touch of irony before taking a break for scones and hot drinks in the attached café.

“Y’ lookin’ forward to th’ second floor?” Abigail asked, finishing the last dregs of her coffee. “Sounds like it’s mostly one big exhibit coverin’ most of the level.”

“Mm.” Nate nodded and took another sip of his tea--he was, as usual, half a drink behind her. “I must admit, a gallery on ‘Love Everlasting’ does seem an apropos way for us to spend the day,” he said with a smile.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Abigail spun her empty cup against the table, “Interestin’ they’re doin’ an exhibit like that now. Y’d think that’s the sort of thing t’ open in February.”

“You would think.” Nate took a long drink of his tea. “Perhaps it’s tied to when they could get permission to host some of the pieces?”

“Probably.”

They sat in silence a few more minutes, enjoying each others’ company and watching the people passing by while Nate finished his tea. Once he was done, they stood, disposed of their cups, and headed up the stairs hand in hand.

The gallery entrance was just off to the left, with a small placard explaining the exhibit as a mixed media expression of loves through the ages.

“Oh, this will be fun,” Abigail murmured.

“For us, yes.” There was a smile in Nate’s voice and he squeezed her hand.

She giggled and nodded agreement. The rest of Bravo wouldn’t find it nearly as enjoyable, she was sure. “C’mon.” She tugged his hand to step into the first room of the exhibit.

This one was mostly sculptures and small tokens that had been given as signs of affection hundreds of years ago. They took their time, Nate waxing eloquent about a few that were older than Abigail but younger than him.

The next area transitioned to paintings from the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries, interspersed with large empty swaths of wall decorated by projected passages from love letters. Abigail caught the fleeting look of nostalgia on Nate’s face, even if it was there and gone in a blink. She made sure to really drag her feet through that room and Nate squeezed her hand again in silent thanks.

There were several more rooms; love through different eras, romantic traditions and courting rituals in different countries, but Abigail’s favorite was the last one.

Absolutely huge--larger than the entire building that housed the Wayhaven police department--with the walls covered in artfully arranged paintings, photographs, and the projected images of romantic couples from what looked like the 1600s all the way up to roughly present day. Some famous, some posed and professional, others amateur, candids and personal. In this one room, they drifted apart, drawn to different sections of the long walls, though the knowledge the other was somewhere nearby remained ever-present.

Abigail couldn’t help smiling when she stole a glance at Nate; he was studying the photos with relaxed enjoyment, hands slipped in his pockets and contentedness all but rolling off him. Or maybe that was something only she saw. She bit her lip and twirled a lock of hair around her finger as she turned back to the wall.

Only a little further down, she found herself pressing a hand over her mouth to hold back a laugh, then weaving her way across the room between other patrons. “Nate!” Her enthusiasm carried, even with her sotto voce tone. “Y’ hafta see this one.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him back with her, pointing out the photograph once she located it again. “There.”

Nate’s already-warm smile stretched even further and he gave a quiet chuckle. “Ah.”

The photo, dated roughly a century and a half ago on the placard, depicted a man and woman sharing a kiss under a Parisian streetlight, misty atmosphere casting them mostly in silhouette. Two dark figures, over a spray of almost ethereal foggy white, then a similarly dark background, the Paris street only dimly visible. The glint of the streetlight showed just hints of color on the two figures; dark hair and a leather jacket on the man, curly deep red hair on the woman. Any other features were obscured by shadow, anonymity lending a touch of mystery to the romantic scene.

At least, it would for other viewers. Abigail and Nate shared amused, knowing looks and linked their hands tighter.

That’s us.

I know.

“This one’s m’ favorite,” Abigail said blithely, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“I can see why it would appeal,” Nate murmured in reply, brushing a kiss against her hair. They didn’t say another word as they finished in the gallery, but Abigail couldn’t entirely wipe the amused smile from her lips. She wondered if Nate was also musing on the irony of that photo being the one in a darn museum.

A stolen moment after a mission where they almost lost two teammates and the supernaturals they were trying to save, and that’s what got captured by some random--but admittedly skilled--photographer and was hanging in a museum a hundred and fifty years later.

It was only after they’d exited the museum Nate finally spoke, his voice quiet. “That was after...”

“The Arena case,” Abigail finished. She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand.

“Where Adam and Felix...” He grimaced and squeezed her hand. “Not my favorite case.”

“Mine, neither,” she said. “But everyone came out fine, so cheerier thoughts, birthday boy, yeah?” She leaned her head against his arm. “What was your fav’rite, then?”

Nate chuckled, pulled her to a stop by a bench so they weren’t blocking foot traffic. “You know the answer to that one, Abigail.”

She grinned and wrapped her arms around his waist, hands under his jacket for the warmth as she interlocked her fingers. “Murphy?”

He nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “There were parts I did not enjoy,” he acknowledged, leaning closer, “but the overall result” --he stole a tender kiss-- “is more than worth it.”

Abigail chuckled, pushing up on her toes to kiss him back. “Ditto.” Another kiss. “T’ both.”

Nate smiled and cradled the side of her face with one hand. “Happy birthday, AJ.”

“Happy birthday, Nate.”

And she kissed him again, because it was one of her favorite things to do.

#queens fic #abigail jenings #nate sewell #aj/nate #twc #otp: smiling always #ugh they're so smitten it's ridiculous #i hope felix still teases them about it daily xD #centuries down the road and they still act like the other hung the moon stars and all the planets in the darn sky #i love them

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lovehotelreservation · 3 years

Text

Prepare for Boarding

Summary: Vacation awaited for the entirety of the Grandcypher crew in Auguste. And yet, without having even stepped out from the ship, Rackam was already feeling the heat from watching your hands polish away at his beloved Benedia.

And as his dearest Captain, you simply had to take responsibility.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: DFAB!Reader/Rackam

RACKAM’S DILF ENERGY IS SO STRONG AND THE MANS IS ONLY 29 HEWWO???

ANYWAY THANKS SO MUCH TO MY DEAREST COMMISSIONER FOR THIS BLESSED PROMPT!!! 🧔👨‍✈️✨ -------------

“Only pilots get it.”

Your words echoed within Rackam’s head all the while his hands held onto the steering wheel of the Grandcypher with a grip tighter than Sandalphon’s fingers were on Lyria’s wrist while the two plummeted down the sky.

But as to what it meant, he was still trying to parse the significance.

However, his mind was racing through a million thoughts but never stopping to settle on one.

Simply because all that he could think about was the absolute temptation that he was subjected to just moments earlier.

Benedia held so gingerly within your grasp, the smooth strokes of your hand dragging a polish-slicked handkerchief along its neck, that cheeky grin on your lips which never seemed to falter in the slightest while the two of you conversed about the imminent crew-wide vacation at Auguste.

You coyly remarked how you wouldn’t mind if he rubbed sunscreen on your back in the same way you were applying polish onto Benedia.

Your smile widened while one of your eyes shut in a wink, the four words that were now reverberating in his mind uttered as you turned to leave with his beloved weapon in your hands, having offered to bring it back to his room once you started doing maintenance.

A creak was suddenly heard from the steering wheel as he docked the Grandcypher, searching through all of his willpower to not fumble with the process due to being distracted. His grip was tighter than ever, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes widened, all while scorching heat shot straight to his loins.

Rackam finally knew what it was.

With the Grandcypher properly and safely docked, and members of the crew already filing out to kick off a much deserved vacation, he wasted no time to speed off towards his room. By his hard hitting steps, his approach was sure to be detected by whoever was within his quarters, something confirmed by the giggling he heard as he prepared to open the door.

As in, prepared his leg to kick his door open before he stomped inside.

“Oh Captain, my Captain--”

He greeted with a huff, kicking the door closed and locking it behind him as his narrowed eyes immediately locked right onto yours.

Rackam was already worked up from your teasing earlier, but seeing the still cheeky and taunting grin on your face grow even wider from his arrival only served to rile him up to the point of no return, his chest heavy with a deep long breath as he stepped up right towards you, his words uttered in a low grunt,

“--that pretty little ass of yours is mine.”

Words were no longer needed to convey his intentions, only the immediate smothering of your lips by his own, his arms seizing hold of your body as he pulled you right against the sturdy front of his chest.

The sensation of your mouth smirking into his kiss had him hissing in response, his hands reaching down to grab at your ass in admonishment. Hearing your muffled squeak was a feeling he would savor, glad to see the situation turn towards his favor, his lead.

This was furthered when the two of you parted for breath, his eyes taking in and relishing the sight of your blushing cheeks and your mouth, once triumphant with its smile, now parted in a pant.

Rackam leaned forward to kiss you again, all the while his hands proceeded to knead and grope your ass. Feeling you squirm against him and hearing moans spill from your lips, he couldn’t resist from grinning as he remarked,

“Captain you may be, but Grandcypher’s a ship for the crew, by the crew…”

His words trailed off as one hand drew away from your ass.

“...and I object to our leader being such a damn tease…!”

The yelp you let out from his palm swatting at your ass had him shuddering as he tugged you closer, nudging his stiff erection against you through your clothes, which now only served to irritate him the longer they kept him away from your naked skin.

Impatient didn’t even begin to describe his demand for you.

Your clothes were soon tossed onto the floor, sometimes in tatters, others simply yanked off to join the growing heap.

As more of your body was exposed, his fingers roamed over your skin to squeeze and fondle you as he suddenly had you bent over upon the rather broad surface of his work bench. With both of his hands massaging your breasts, teasing your nipples with pinches and tugs, spanking your ass out of admonishing vengeance, delving between your thighs to caress your core, each shudder and whimper he elicited from you made all the teasing you had him put up were prizes for him to treasure.

“I get it though--teasing Rackam is everyone’s favorite pastime, but I’m pretty sure you of all people should know that I always am happy to return the favor, especially when it’s you.”

While he grumbled, part of what caused the hoarseness of his voice was his admiration of your nude form--from your curves to the glistening shine off of your dribbling core.

He cursed under his breath.

God he couldn’t wait to sink his cock inside of you.

“I mean, you’re the only one who’s allowed to hold Benedia...” He continued while making quick work of his pants with the tug of his zipper and belt, soon unsheathing his hard erection as his need for you became far too much for him to bother with even thinking to undress completely. “--hell you’re practically holding my damn heart by this point.”

Leaning forward, his lips brushed against your neck, the bristles of his facial hair raking over your skin. “Guess what I’m tryin’ to make crystal clear to you, Captain--”

The moan you let out as you felt the blunt hot tip of his cock nudge against you was sheer heaven.

Grinning broadly, he brought a hand up to grasp your chin, turning your head so you faced him, finishing his thoughts before he kissed you fully while plunging his cock into your core. “--is that you can tease me all you want, but just never forget that you’re all mine, yeah?”

At first, he wanted to indulge in the hot, velvety wet depths in your core, but with you wiggling your ass so cutely in need along with his previous gripes from earlier, his self-restraint was teetering.

And then you responded to his words upon pulling away.

“Yes Rackam~” Your lips curled into a grin, your eyes twinkling as you hummed, “Though if I forget, you’ll be sure to punish me more, right?”

His eyes widened but soon narrowed just as quickly, his hands seizing your waist tightly as he readied to plow into you with all his might. “O-Oi, you little--!”

Needless to say, for you and Rackam, by the time the two of you left the Grandcypher, staggering but hand in hand nonetheless, rather than spending your vacation out on the waves, the two of you were happily tucked away in your hotel suite, tangled together upon the sheets.

#Rackam #rackam x reader #granblue fantasy #gbf #reader insert #Fic #super freaknasty writing

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drxwsyni · 4 years

Note

For drabble requests! Prompt 13 with Shinsou and Kaminari please! Gender neutral pronouns are fine. :)

13. “I didn’t quite hear that, care to repeat yourself?”

a/n: i’m assuming you meant poly for this one, so i’m sorry if that’s not what you had in mind! also the reader is very feisty in this for the plot :)

warnings: swearing, abuse, ‘toshi being a meanie

_____

You’d known coldness before―especially in its current form.

The walls that felt like they drew closer with each passing second provided no warmth. Any light was practically non-existent, being only a sliver than shone under the door to the closet you were locked in. The floor was cool underneath you, and the heat remaining in your body was severely defenceless with the thin material of your pyjamas.

When you heard the locks click open, a small part of you felt relieved―the rest of you in an internal battle over how you’d handle the ensuing events.

You turned away from the light when the door swung open, wincing at the unadjusted sensation from your eyes. No sooner could you regard the figure who’d exposed your form in luminance did you feel a grip wrap around your upper arm. A low and threatening voice was heard next to you, “Get up.” Your bottom lip was tugged in between your teeth, stifling an alarmed whimper as you were all but wrenched from your spot on the floor.

Once on your feet the indigo haired man dragged you out into the living room where his partner was waiting. Without being able to look him in the eyes, you could only pick up on the way he was anxiously tapping his foot, shifting back and forth in discomfort. The hand pulling you forward moved to your shoulder, forcing you to sit on the couch facing the blond.

Your body was rigid―but not with fear.

“You ready to apologize now?” Hitoshi took his place next to Denki, arms crossed over his chest in what you knew was seething disapproval.

Eyes still remained trained on the floor, you responded. “For what?”

The tone you held full of spite and disgust was well deserved, at least as far as you were concerned. The electricity user had tried to get you to wear some stupidly high-priced outfit he’d purchased. One that you would never have worn before, which told you it was just another selfishly one-sided desire he had to envision how he saw fit.

So, you threw it back in his face and told him to fuck off.

And then you argued, and his insanely perceptive counterpart had to butt in. Hitoshi was never as lenient with your bad behaviour, which is why he proceeded to lock you in a closet for an hour.

You could practically feel the heated rage come from his body as he worked against every urge in favour of keeping some restraint. “You know what for. Apologize.”

“Fuck you.”

A deep and breathy sigh escaped his lungs, and you were certain that if you looked up you’d find his piercing gaze burrowing holes into your being. “I’ll give you one last chance. Apologize, and maybe I’ll let you sleep in your normal room tonight.”

Ahh yes, the ‘normal room.’ The one upstairs, heated and mostly bug free with a blanketed bed that you might be able to melt into if you tried hard enough. The other room was downstairs, in the basement. A cot on the corner, nailed too close to the wall where you knew spiders would crawl up and down in the dark. That and there was no heating, or blankets, or anything for that matter to keep you warm. Just cold concrete flooring, and an even colder metal shackle that always dug painfully deep into your skin.

It was too bad you had a stronger sense of pride than you did self preservation.

“Fuck. Off”

You felt a sharp sting bleed through your cheek, the result of a hefty backhand from Hitoshi.

“What the hell are you doing?!” The couch cushions dipped next to you, delicate hands reaching to cup your face gently. The high pitched voice of worry of the blond sounded to your side. “Hurting them isn’t gonna help us.”

“Even though they deserved it? You know we can’t just let them mouth off like that.”

That was a thing they liked to do―talk as if you weren’t even in the room. Maybe pretending like you weren’t there helped with what they did to you.

“This wouldn’t even be a fucking problem if I had never met you!” At this point you were fuming on the inside, but still your words didn’t fully contain your immense hatred for the two.

You heard Hitoshi scoff at your claim. “We’re trying to take care of you, and if you’d stop being such an ungrateful little brat you wouldn’t be in this position.” His voice was laced with venom, and you could tell he was holding himself back for Denki’s sake.

If your boiling detestment for them wasn’t so powerful, you could almost laugh at his words. For now, the strain in your voice so as not to scream until your vocal cords were hoarse with pain got the message across. “I can’t believe you call that taking care of me―tryin’ to shove me into some shitty outfit I didn’t even ask for.” You jerked your head from the hand that was still thumbing your cheek in what was likely an attempt at a soothing caress. “Fucking perverts…” You lowly muttered the last part to yourself.

There was a pause, and you hoped that the indigo haired man had given up with your resistance. But of course, he was even more stubborn than you. “I didn’t quite hear that, care to repeat yourself?”

...He asked for it.

“I said you’re both fucking perverts! Always trying to put me in dumb skimpy clothing―and don’t think for a second that I don’t see the way you look at―”

Before you could finish your hate filled rant, your mind drew blank. In fact, everything drew blank.

A hand weaved its way into your hair, a millisecond later clamping down and yanking you to your feet by it. The pain registered, but your body had no way to react.

“H-hey! Be careful with them man!”

You were moving towards the hallway, or rather Hitoshi was manhandling you there. “Why? Clearly they don’t deserve to be treated gently.”

Even in your entranced state, you knew where you were heading. The basement door.

“Well what are you even gonna do? They’ve never responded well to your punishments anyways. Just―we can let this slide for now, right?”

The sound of feet padding directly behind you signaled the close trail Denki had on your retreating form. When you reached the door Hitoshi paused, hand on the doorknob. You couldn’t see, but he was most likely looking at his partner as he sealed your fate.

“Oh, they haven’t even gotten a taste of what I’m willing to do to them.” The heavy metal door swung upon, cold air colliding with your stilled body. “But they’ll be more than fucking acquainted by the time I’m finished.”

#yandere bnha #yandere shinsou hitoshi #yandere shinsou #yandere kaminari denki #yandere kaminari #yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #yanderecore #yandere x you #yandere #tw abuse #tw swearing

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ikeromantic · 4 years

Text

Warm

Day 30 of Ikemektober!

I chose Ray! Let me just say, this started out as a heartwarming story and then took a left turn into smut. Fair warning! Approx. 1500 words. Why is Ray so delectable??

Ray sat at his desk, staring out the window at the training grounds. The trees were red and gold in their autumn glory, and the dahlias were blooming in the flowerbeds. Despite a chill in the air, it was a beautiful day.

He turned when he heard someone at the door. Alice stepped in, carrying a little basket.

“I thought you might need a break.” She gave him a knowing little smile.

Ray was busy these days with rebuilding efforts and peace negotiations. A never ending series of requests and planning arrangements had to be reviewed, signed on or rejected, and discussed. It was better than war, but still exhausting. These little visits from Alice were all that kept him going some days.

“I suppose I do. It’s been three hours since -”

“Four hours, actually. That was when I brought you tea. You skipped lunch,” Alice chided.

Ray rubbed a hand across his head, feeling a bit like a kid caught breaking the rules. “Ha, was it four? I guess I was pretty focused.”

“You could say that. Sirius stopped in around lunch to see if you were hungry and you didn’t even say anything.”

He didn’t remember the Queen stopping in, but he had been pretty focused. “Alright - alright. I can tell you’ve got something in mind.”

“Mhmm. I thought we’d take a little picnic.” Alice put her hand on the basket. “I packed us some sandwiches.”

Ray grinned. “I’ve got just one condition.”

“What?” Alice looked startled.

The King closed the space between them, and pulled her against his chest for a kiss. She was soft and warm in his arms. Her gasp of surprise melted into a moan of pleasure as he tasted her lips and slipped his tongue between them. He couldn’t help the way his hands slid naturally down her back to cup her rear. Maybe they didn’t need to go for a picnic afterall. His room was just down the hall and . . .

She pulled back, breath unsteady. “I know what you’re thinking, Ray.” Her eyes were lit with desire. “We could -”

“Well, little lady, it looks like you talked the boss into taking a break.” Sirius called out from the hall, a knowing smirk on his full lips.

Ray coughed and made some space between himself and Alice, though he kept his arm around her waist. “You have the worst timing, my friend,” he muttered. Then louder, “She did. We’re having a picnic.”

“I know. I helped pack the basket.” Sirius knew full well what he’d interrupted, but he didn’t so much as blush. “I can recommend the best spot too. Do you remember how to get there, little lady?”

Alice nodded. “Yep!” She smiled up at Ray. “There are blooming willows and autumn crocus. It will be beautiful.”

“I can’t say no to that,” he replied. Though nothing would be as beautiful as seeing Alice’s face when they made love. Just thinking about it stirred him. He couldn’t look so desperate though, not in front of his friend or his lover.

The two of them left with the basket, with Sirius promising to finish the building plan reviews Ray was working on. That way he could take the rest of the afternoon off to enjoy the day. It almost made up for his earlier interruption.

Outside, the sun was bright, and the breeze was crisp. It smelled of flowers in bloom and fallen leaves. Thick grass, still green, cushioned the lovers’ steps as they made their way from the more traveled parts of the Black Army headquarters to a forested part of the garden.

Under the trees, the light was golden and red, and the shadows were deep. Alice spread a blanket on the sunnier side of one of the trees, where they had a nice view of a river bank and the blossoming willow trees. Here and there, the subtle shine of magic crystals added an enchanted glow to the leaves.

“I am so glad I can live here in Cradle, with you. I can’t think of anywhere I would ever want to be.” Alice smiled and reached out to take Ray’s hand.

“I’m glad too.” Ray squeezed her fingers gently.

After they ate, Ray leaned back against the tree and Alice sat between his legs on the blanket, resting on his chest. They were quiet, a comfortable silence. The birds sang and the leaves whispered against each other. This far out, they could only just hear the occasional shout from headquarters.

Ray couldn’t help but think about how close he’d come to losing Alice. To Amon. To her home. She might have died or left. It made him aware of the space she took in his heart now. He could not imagine the world with an Alice-sized hole in it. She was a part of him and a piece of his home.

She must have been having similar thoughts, because she turned her head to look at him. “Isn’t it scary to think of all the ways this could have turned out?”

“Hm? Like what? You falling in love with a guy like Jonah Clemence? He did want to date you . . .”

Alice elbowed him with a giggle. “He is pretty cute though.”

“Hey!” Ray sat up straight and caught her chin in his hand. “I thought you only had eyes for me? Are you tryin’ to make me jealous.”

“Maybe.” She grinned at him slyly.

“I know how to fix that.” Slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Nibbling gently at her lower lip, until her mouth opened to let out an excited breath. Then his tongue slipped between them to stroke her tongue.

She wasn’t one to take this attack lying down. She wiggled her hips against him, teasing. He knew it teased her too though - he could tell by the little sound she made when he reacted. Alice turned her body to face him, sliding her hands under his shirt to scrape her nails against his skin.

“Naughty kitty,” Ray gasped. He loved and hated the way it felt.

“Mmm, I can be even naughtier,” she murmured and bit his neck.

Ray nearly let out a very uncool moan. He was supposed to be the one teasing, not the other way around! His hands found their way under her skirt, stroking the skin of her thighs. She was so warm. Soft like silk. And . . . pantiless? He grinned at her, pleased.

Not to be outdone, Alice stroked a fingernail down his side, tickling him. Right to the waistband of his pants. Her other hand went to the buckle, quickly undoing his belt.

“A-alice,” he warned.

She just smiled and kissed him again. Her deft fingers had his buttons undone and his zipper down. Alice drew lazy circles on his pelvis above the rising shaft of his manhood. It was absolutely more than he could handle.

“I don’t think I can control myself with you - if you - Alice, please -” Ray was almost pleading. It was his last line of defense as a fire built inside him. He tried to keep his emotions carefully balanced, but with a touch, she’d thrown all of that out the window and now he could only barely keep himself in check.

“I want you to lose control,” she whispered. Her next kiss was so full of hungry passion that he couldn’t mistake her meaning.

His hands slid further up, massaging her. Opening her. His fingers found her clit and he began to play.

“Oh - my - n-now who’s naughty,” she gasped against his lips.

Ray would have replied, but she chose that moment to free his length from his pants, and lift her hips. All his words disappeared as she sunk down onto him, impaling herself. All he could manage was a moan, one she silenced with her mouth.

“Shhh,” she breathed, panting against his cheek. “D-don’t want to- to get caught.”

“Yes,” Ray breathed in reply, both an answer and a desperate gasp of pleasure. It took him a moment to catch up with his thoughts. Being inside her was heaven. She was beauty and love, divine. But he couldn’t let her win this little game.

With one hand, he found her clit again and began to rub it in rhythm with her pace. His other hand sought out her breast, pinching and teasing her nipples.

Now it was Alice, biting his shoulder to keep herself quiet. She began to quiver, her breath growing more unsteady as she neared climax.

Ray could see nothing but her in these moments. Her eyes closed tight, her lips parted, cheeks pink. He was near to his peak too, unable to hold back anything as she rode him.

With a muffled cry, Alice shuddered, and Ray lost control as well, spending himself inside her. She laid her face against his chest, still breathing hard.

“You’re amazing,” Ray sighed, stroking her hair.

“Mhmm,” she grinned up at him. “You’re not bad either.”

He laughed and lay back against the tree. Together with her like this, the world was a warm place. Perfect. Beautiful.

#ikemektober #ikemen revolution #ikerev ray #ikemen ray #ray blackwell #king of hearts #ikerev ray blackwell #ikemen ray blackwell #fanfiction #fanfic #otome guys #otome #smut #ikerev smut

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