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punkshort · 2 months ago

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Can You Remember Who You Were?

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: When you struggle to stop obsessing about the handsome stranger you met at a coffee shop who ghosted you after one date, fate eventually forces you back together.

Warnings: language, possessive behavior, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, oral sex (f!receiving), omegaverse dynamics, alcohol consumption, minor physical altercation

WC: 9.1K

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: For @burntheedges's Roll a Trope challenge I got reincarnation. I also mixed in some a/b/o stuff because I've always wanted to give it a try. Go easy on me, I'm nervous about this one - hope you enjoy. And thank you to @txtattoostark for holding my hand.

When you first met, it was happenstance. An awkward run-in at your favorite coffee shop where he thought your coffee was his until he read your name written on the cup aloud and had the grace to look bashful when he handed it over. A moment later, his own order was ready and you caught the name Dave scrawled on the side. He smiled and raised his cup to you before taking a sip and wishing you a good day before disappearing out onto the busy street.

It was a simple interaction. Nothing terribly special. But you couldn't stop thinking about him the rest of the day.

Dave, Dave, Dave.

Dave, with the soft, gentle brown eyes. Dave, with the chiseled, clean shaven jaw and strong, angular nose. Dave, with the broad shoulders that strained underneath his blue button-down shirt. Dave, with the bare ring finger that still had a visible, yet faded, tan line.

Something about him stuck with you. You felt drawn to him. Connected, somehow, yet you didn't even know him.

After the weekend passed, you managed to clear him from your mind, if only because you stayed as busy as possible. You cleaned your apartment top to bottom. You went to a concert for a band you didn't even like with your friends. You even called your parents and suffered through another phone call where you heard about your brother and sister's lives, how their respective children were, how your brother got a promotion and your sister was thinking of having a third baby. The unspoken question hung heavy in the air, your parents already knowing the answer and predicting your negative reaction by now, so it remained unsaid. But it still stung to be compared to your siblings in that way. Your parents had a skewed notion that maybe it would encourage you to try a little harder if they kept pointing out your brother's success and your sister's natural instinct for motherhood, but it only made you draw into yourself tighter.

Once it was Monday again, you dragged yourself to work. You were so tired from your overly busy weekend that you didn't even think about Dave when you entered the coffee shop. You stood in line, zoning out and in desperate need of caffeine when the door swung open and shut behind you and the sound of dress shoes tapping on the hardwood floors neared.

"Promise not to steal your coffee again."

You swiveled around, eyes wide and heart rattling in your chest when you fixed your gaze on none other than Dave. And much to your dismay, he looked even better than you remembered.

"Oh," you squeaked, subconsciously fixing your hair and glancing around to buy yourself a moment to recover. "Hi again. Two days in a row, what are the odds?" you chuckled dryly, hoping you didn't sound as stupid as you felt. Dave shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled down at you.

"Could've been four but I guess you don't come here on the weekends."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you struggled to respond. Dave took that to mean he caused you offense and quickly rectified it, not wanting to sound like a stalker.

"I'm just kidding."

You laughed and rubbed the scar on the back of your neck, your head spinning. Was he just kidding? Did he come here over the weekend? And if he did, was he hoping to run into you?

"I work around the corner," you explained, telling him the company you worked for. Your mother would have scolded you for telling a stranger where you worked, especially one who might have just admitted to coming to the coffee shop in the hopes of running into you, but you knew it was safe. You didn't know how you knew, you just knew.

Dave nodded and was about to speak when the barista ushered you forward so you could place your order. Before you had a chance to pull out your wallet, Dave leaned over you to tell the barista you were together and added his order before handing over his card.

You couldn't stop the shudder that went down your spine when you heard him speak so close to you, the vibrations of his voice sending a current of electricity through you. At this distance, you could practically smell him, too, and it wasn't just his cologne. It was something else that you couldn't identify but had you weak in the knees.

To be polite, you turned to deny his offer, but he spoke first. And when he did, telling you not to argue and he was happy to do it, his voice deepened and the timber alone caused your body to weaken and your eyes cast down obediently.

"Do you work around here, too?" you asked once you got your coffees and you thanked him for the third time.

"No, I don't."

He walked towards the door and held it open for you, a fourth thank you slipping from your lips. You got the feeling he liked hearing you so thankful and sweet. He smiled every time you said it.

"What brings you out this way, then? Do you live nearby? I don't think I've seen you here before."

Dave walked you to the corner where a shiny, black BMW sat parked.

"Let's just say there's something about the atmosphere I like at this place."

Your face flushed and you took a sip from your coffee, burning your tongue in the process, while you tried to think of something to say. Then you heard the bells from a nearby church and you were stricken with panic.

"Oh, shit! It's already eight?" you asked, yanking your phone out to check the time. You were already late and you still had a ten minute walk ahead of you.

"Come on, get in," Dave said, holding open the passenger side door. "I'll drop you off. You said it's just down the street?"

You contemplated his offer for about three seconds before nodding and jumping into his car. In only took him about two minutes to drop you off in front of your building but you couldn't stop thanking him the entire way, something that continued to delight him.

The rest of the week followed the same pattern. You showed up at your usual time and mysteriously, Dave would appear within a few minutes. He would insist on buying your coffee and on nice days, he would walk you to work. If it was rainy or windy, he would drive you.

By Friday he finally asked for your number and by Saturday you were getting ready for your first date.

Shannon was your age but she always seemed to be so much wiser and grounded. She had a very different view on life, but she was sweet and fun and you got along the moment you met. While you were used to going out to bars on a Friday night, Shannon preferred to stay in and read about horoscopes, take stock of her essential oils, do some light yoga, or scour eBay for rare crystals. You thought she was a hippie, she preferred spiritually inclined.

Regardless of your differences, she still was a wonderful person and was always there for you. Whether you were going through a bad breakup or upset about something your mom said, she would always be there to listen, rub your back, and kindly suggest a way to unblock your chakra.

You had a handful of other friends who would gladly come over and drink wine while you tried on outfits and help with your makeup, but that wasn't what you needed. You had something else entirely on your mind and you couldn't think of anyone else who might be able to help besides Shannon.

"I've been having dreams."

Shannon raised an eyebrow so far up, it got lost under her curly blonde bangs and thick rimmed glasses.

"What sort of dreams?"

You sighed and sat down on the edge of your bed, your dress partially zipped. "About Dave. And me. And it's just... strange."

Shannon shifted a bit on your mattress, her clunky jade bracelets knocking together in the process. "Go on."

"It feels like a reoccurring dream, but it's not exactly the same. The feeling is the same, though."

"I see," she said thoughtfully. "And what are you doing in these dreams?"

Your face warmed up and you stared at the floor when you said, "Well, we're having sex. But it's not just sex. It's different. Like," you waved your hands in the air as you struggled to come up with an explanation. "I know this will sound crazy, but it feels like in my dreams, we have more of a connection. Like, a purpose or something? And in my dreams it feels so much more intense compared to other guys I've slept with."

"How so?"

You had to give her credit. Shannon was too kind to ever tease you.

"Intense like... if we don't fuck, I'll go certifiably insane."

"Oh," she said, nodding her head, completely unphased. "Interesting. It kind of sounds like something I've read about once before. Have you ever heard of -"

Your doorbell buzzed and you leapt off the bed. "Oh, my god! Zip me up! He's here!"

When you flung your front door open, Dave spun around with a smile, one which widened when his eyes drifted appreciatively up and down your frame.

"Hey," you said breathlessly, feeling that magnetic pull low in your belly again just at the mere sight of him.

"You look beautiful," he told you, and just as he was about to lean in and kiss your cheek, he spotted Shannon emerge from your bedroom behind you with a little wave.

"Oh, this is my friend, she was helping me get ready," you said, turning to introduce them while you grabbed a leather jacket and your purse.

"Have a great time, I'll lock up when I leave."

You both thanked her before heading outside towards Dave's car. His arm naturally found its place protectively around your waist and you practically glowed from his touch.

Dave picked a restaurant that you'd never heard of and when you walked inside, you quickly figured out why. It was easily the fanciest place you had ever eaten and if it wasn't for his reassuring touch or warm smile, you would have felt out of place. But once you sat down, the rest of the room melted away and it was just the two of you in your own little world. The entire time you both were leaning across the table, bodies pulling closer and closer on their own accord as you absorbed every little detail about each other. You learned Dave used to be in the military and now works as an operative in the CIA, something that should have intimidated you but it just made him more attractive. He was a protector, he knew how to handle himself and he was smart, qualities which turned you on and had you yearning for more.

When he admitted to being recently divorced, the hairs on your arm stood up and jealousy bloomed hot in your chest. The sudden idea of him with another partner unlocked something inside you that screamed mine, mine, mine.

By all accounts, your first date was perfect. There was never any lack of topics for conversation, you always felt perfectly at ease and safe, and it went by way too fast even though you were the last table to leave the restaurant.

But when he dropped you off and walked you to your door, something changed from that point forward. He kissed you, gently and sweetly at first, but when your lips brushed together for the very first time it set something on fire inside you that you couldn't ignore. You had no idea how it happened, but the next thing you knew he was pinning you up against your door, your wrists captured in each of his massive hands and held next to your head while his tongue licked aggressively into your mouth.

Then you released a little whimper, a little cry against his mouth and it nearly brought him to his knees. The needy sound reverberated through his entire being and had him forgetting who he was, where he was, what planet he was on because that little sound had his body and mind responding in a way he couldn't explain.

And it frightened him.

He pulled away and put some distance between you, palm dragging over his wet mouth, eyes hungrily devouring your wrecked state. Still leaning against the door, you panted heavily and stared at him through heavy lidded eyes.

He scratched at something invisible behind his ear and took a deep, steadying breath.

"I should go."

You frowned, still trying to catch your breath. "W-what? Was it something -"

Dave quickly shook his head and stepped further away.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," he promised, then turned on his heel, practically running back to his car while you stood there, completely dumbfounded.

As it turned out, you did not hear from him the following day. Nor did you see him at your coffee spot the entire fucking week. By Tuesday, after sending a few pathetic texts that went unanswered, you forced yourself to accept reality.

Dave ghosted you and you would never see him again.

It was just one date. You only knew him for a week but it felt like so much more and you couldn't help but be torn up about it.

On Tuesday night, you called Shannon to tell her. You did your best not to cry but she could hear it in your voice.

"It felt like such a strong connection, you know?" you said sadly, plucking at a loose thread on your sweater.

"Well, what do you think happened?"

You shrugged and tossed yourself backwards onto your bed. "I don't know. The date went great, he dropped me off at the front door, we were kissing and things were getting heated and then all of the sudden, just -" you snapped your fingers. "He had to leave. Said he would talk to me the next day and I never heard from him again."

You heard her hum on the other end and clink a spoon in her mug. "Suppose my silly theory was wrong, then."

"What theory?"

"The dreams you were having and the feelings you were describing sounded like something I've read in one of my books, I wondered if it were real."

One of her books. You rolled your eyes, knowing she had a very strange collection of reference material spanning from meditation and Hinduism to books about Karma and the Kama Sutra.

Even so, you humored her and let her continue.

"Do you believe in past lives?" she asked. You hid your scoff behind your hand and cleared your throat.

"Uh, can't say that I do."

"That's okay, I know it's a bit out there, but it sounds very much like you might have a connection with this man that supersedes this earthly plane. And what I mean is, you may be destined to be together."

"Like, soulmates?" you asked dubiously.

"Mmm, not exactly. What I'm thinking is a little more physical. I have a book that talks about reincarnation and the ability to imprint on another person to the degree where the link follows you throughout all your lives. If it's at all possible, you will always find each other. Although it's usually pretty rare..."

"What do you mean, if it's possible?"

Shannon flipped through some pages of a book, humming under her breath before she said, "Well, if one of you comes back as a bear and the other a human, odds are it won't be a happy reunion."

You couldn't help it, you had to laugh. Shannon wasn't offended. She knew you didn't mean any disrespect and her beliefs were a little more difficult for others to understand.

"Okay, thank you. I needed a reality check," you said with a smile. "I hear what you're saying: we just met and there's zero reason for me to be acting this way."

"No, that's not at all what I mean," Shannon replied. "I haven't actually known anyone personally who went through something like this, but I've read about this phenomenon online."

"Alright, this is getting a little too weird, even for me," you said, sitting up in bed.

"Just Google it!" Shannon told you before you finished your call. "Read what others have said and see if you can relate."

You promised her you would give it a try the next day but you never got around to it. Instead, you went back to moping and staring at your ignored texts to Dave for the rest of the week.

By the time Friday came, you were ready to blow off some steam, refusing to spend another night wasting away over some man who just happened to be an insanely good kisser and whose scent you couldn't erase from your memory.

You agreed to go out with a small group of girls after work. The alcohol buzzing in your veins and the loud music in the bar helped you forget about Dave, but when other men approached you to dance, you just couldn't do it. You politely turned them down and stayed with your co-workers, Dave's rejection still leaving its mark on you. You listened to them complain about a team lead they couldn't stand who got a promotion she didn't deserve and then, as they began to drink a little more, discussed the finer qualities of the cute guy in the mail room.

In retrospect, leaving by yourself when you became too tired wasn't the best choice. You had a longer walk back to your bus stop than usual and it was eerily quiet out, but you wrapped your arms around yourself and kept your head down. And it almost worked, too, until you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Need a ride, pretty girl?"

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and you kept pushing forward after tossing a no, thanks over your shoulder.

"Don't need to be rude," the voice replied, now much closer. You glanced around nervously and didn't see another soul on the street. Only parked cars.

You moved faster but it wasn't good enough. A hand clasped onto your shoulder, grip firm and frightening, and fear shot through you. You broke out into a cold sweat when he pushed you against a building, caging you in and leering down at you, his sour breath poisoned by alcohol. You recognized him as someone from the bar but before you had a chance to process anything else, two massive hands dug into his shoulders and yanked him away in the blink of an eye.

You shirked away when you heard a fist meeting soft tissue, then the clattering of teeth and a pained groan. Your savior's voice growled threateningly, warning the man to get the fuck out of here before I put you in the goddamn hospital, then you heard the squeaking of shoes against concrete and hurried, retreating footsteps down the street.

You were scared. He could sense it. He could fucking smell it. It made his skin crawl and his stomach turn.

Dave's voice was so deep and gravelly, you didn't even recognize him. Not until he crouched in front of you on the street, his dark eyes filled with worry as they scanned your face for any injury did you realize it was even him. Tears welled up in your eyes and he cupped your face. He looked like he was in extreme pain as he watched your tears begin to fall. He then stood, scooping you up so he could carry you to a nearby parked car.

"I'm going to take you home," he said when he placed you gently in the front seat. You had about fifteen seconds to gather your thoughts while he hurried around to the other side of his car.

"Why are you here, Dave?" you asked when he turned his key in the ignition. He paused momentarily before putting his seatbelt on and merging onto the empty street.

"Right place, right time," he muttered. He was gripping the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles turned white. You watched him closely from the passenger seat, not believing him for one second but for some inexplicable reason, it didn't frighten you. In fact, you liked it. The idea of Dave being nearby, possibly watching you, made you feel safe and protected, although you hardly knew him.

You took a deep breath, about to muster up the courage to ask him why he had ignored you all week when you were suddenly overwhelmed with his scent. You couldn't describe it but it was a smell uniquely tied to him. You made a little noise in the back of your throat and squirmed in your seat, desperately trying to stay focused and present, but your body had other plans.

Dave's eyes shifted to you, his nostrils flaring at the way your legs rubbed together and your breath picked up and then he smelled it: the first scent of your arousal in the air. That was all it took for him to forget who he was and succumb to his baser instincts.

His cock throbbed painfully hard in his jeans and his molars were practically ground to dust by the time he arrived at your apartment. You fumbled with the seatbelt, desperate to disappear inside and pretend this embarrassing interaction never happened, but you weren't fast enough. Dave had gotten out of the car so quickly that he was already yanking your door open and violently pulling the seatbelt away from your waist. You blinked up at him as if you were trying to clear your vision and jumped out of the car.

Something felt wrong.

You had an ache between your legs that was growing impossible to ignore and your brain was a hazy, swirly mess being so close to his scent. Did someone spike your drink at the bar?

"Thanks," you whispered, chest rising and falling faster as you tried to drag in more air. Your skin was far too sensitive. All you could think about was getting inside before you tore your clothes off in the middle of the parking lot. "I'll, um, see you around, I guess."

He nodded, his neck and cheeks tinted pink as he stared down at you hungrily. "Wait," he croaked when you made a move to leave, eyes burning red hot into you. "Can we - can I explain - fuck," he winced, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to block your scent from his nostrils so he could take a second to fucking think. He felt like he was going insane and he had no idea why.

"You wanna come inside and explain why you haven't talked to me in a week?" you asked bitterly, your arousal temporarily forgotten. "Why you've been ignoring me? Why you made me feel terrible? I was out tonight trying to forget you, Dave. I was hoping it would be the first night all week I didn't cry, but it's too late for that."

He swallowed thickly, eyes all wide and filled with despair as he gazed down at you. "I made you cry?" he asked softly. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him that he failed, that he did the one fucking thing he shouldn't have done.

You huffed and crossed your arms before looking away. "You hurt my feelings, Dave," you mumbled.

His heart lurched in his chest and he took a step forward to gently cup your face. Despite your anger, you gazed up at him with glassy eyes and almost immediately melted into his touch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm so, so sorry. Will you let me explain?"

Reluctantly, you nodded and allowed him to trail after you to your front door.

You flicked the lights on in your kitchen and living room before turning around. Dave stood there looking too big in your average sized apartment, gaze drifting over your walls, your pictures, your plants, your life.

With a little distance, he could feel the clouds clearing and his senses returning, so he took a steadying breath before speaking.

"About last week," he began. You were in the middle of closing your curtains when you turned around to listen. "I didn't want to scare you, but something happened to me that night." You frowned, pulling the curtains closed the rest of the way and took a few steps towards him. Almost instantly he could smell you again, the wetness between your legs practically calling to him, and he quickly held up both hands so you would stop.

"You gotta stay over there," he warned. Hurt flickered over your face but you obeyed and stepped back until you were by the window again. After a moment, the air cleared enough so he could focus and he slowly dropped his hands back to his sides. He was so hard, it almost made him sick.

"I'm sorry," he said once again. "That's part of what I'm talking about. When you're close to me," he pursed his lips and dropped his chin to his chest while you patiently waited for him to continue. "When you're close to me, I can't fucking think straight. And I know it sounds dramatic," he chuckled, looking back up at you across the room. "I know it sounds like I'm making it up but I promise you, I'm not."

"I think I know what you mean," you said softly after a quiet moment. His eyebrows raised a bit, curious for you to elaborate. "It's like... your scent."

"Yes!" Dave exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "I don't understand it but you're giving off a scent and it's doing something to me. Something that frightens me."

You swallowed nervously and took a small step forward.

"Would you... hurt me?"

Dave's eyes went wide and he vigorously shook his head.

"No," he whispered, "never."

You took another step forward and his eyes flickered down to your feet.

"Then what would you do to me?"

His eyes slid shut and he crossed his arms over his chest. What wouldn't he do to you? He would bury his face between your legs until you screamed his name. He would stuff you full of his cock over and over, as many times as you could take it. He wanted to leave love bites all over your body so anyone looking at you would know you're his.

But that would be absurd. You just met and only had one date.

Without even needing to open his eyes, he knew you were closer. The thick smell of your slick filled the air, swirling around him, driving him to the brink of insanity until he was convinced the only cure would be to fuck you senseless.

"I feel it, too, Dave," you whispered, your hands coming up to pull lightly on his arms, unknotting them from their protective place over his chest. You nipped hesitantly at his neck, your lips puckering over his tanned skin, and he felt his resolve crumble.

"Fuck, what is this?" he breathed, his body pulling him forward. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. His mouth pressed into your hair, deeply breathing in your scent, then he dragged his mouth lower. His tongue flicked out to taste your skin, the burst of flavor - you - making his head swim the closer he got to the back of your neck. Before he reached the scar you kept hidden by your hair, he pulled back, gasping for air.

"Come with me," you said with heavy lidded eyes and wet, parted lips. He nodded and followed you, logic and reason fading with each step. He had never felt like this before. It felt like he was being driven by pure instinct, like some kind of animal.

Dave swallowed when you pulled your shirt over your head as you walked, your bare back teasing him with what he could not yet see. Then you worked on your pants, unbuttoning and shimmying out of them as you approached your bed. His cock strained against the metal zipper of his jeans, begging to be touched, begging to be buried deep inside your soaked cunt. And it was soaked. He could see your dampness darkening the fabric of your underwear when you bent forward.

Finally, you turned to face him wearing nothing but your panties and a nervous smile. A low groan escaped from the back of his throat while his gaze drifted slowly down your body, taking in every soft curve and slope while he began to unbutton his shirt.

"You're perfect," he said lowly, shrugging off his shirt before his hands found his belt. "I want you so fucking bad, sweetheart, it hurts. I want to make you mine, make you scream my name til it's the only word you ever remember. I want to fill you up so you're feeling me for days. Want to give you everything you could ever need. Then I want to do it all over again."

Your knees felt weak as you felt another wave of arousal spread through your stomach and between your legs. Shakily, you crawled onto the bed as Dave approached like a predator from the doorway, shedding his clothes and pinning you with an intense stare that, if it were anyone else, would make you nervous.

"You want all that?" he asked you. You were nodding but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the bulge straining in his boxers now that he stepped out of his pants. "Say it," he commanded, and something about his tone made your eyes snap up to his and your spine immediately straighten.

"Yes. I want it. I want you," you replied, then reached your arms out for him to join you. A pleased look passed across his face at your invitation as he kneeled on the bed with you, towering over you with his broad frame, making you feel so small.

He leaned forward with his hands brushing lightly over your shoulders and his lips parted as he admired you openly. Then he murmured, "Lay down and spread your legs," and you felt your stomach flip as you did what you were told.

Dave palmed himself through his boxers when his eyes locked onto the wet spot spreading in your underwear. His long fingers hooked around the fabric and pulled them down, slowly exposing yourself to him. You watched, squirming impatiently, as his eyes turned from brown to almost black when he took a deep breath and spread your legs wide into the bedding.

"I need you," you whimpered. Your skin felt like it was on fire and you were so aroused it almost fucking hurt but you were certain Dave would be able to fix it. You didn't know why or how, but you just knew.

"I know, baby," he said, shifting down so he laid between your legs, his angular nose nudging against your folds and his hot breath fanning over your leaking cunt. You shivered and whined but his big hands held you in place.

"I'm gonna take good care of you, don't worry," was the last thing he said before he placed a sweet kiss on your mound. Then he kissed you again except that time, his tongue flicked out, catching your clit, and the noise that came from your mouth was borderline embarrassing.

"God, you're so wet," he whispered in awe inbetween plunging his tongue in and out of your opening, reveling in the taste of your pussy. The way your scent had engulfed him made him feel insane and the only thing he wanted to do was pull more sweet noises from your lips.

There was no explaining that night. At least, not rationally. The two of you fell into something neither of you experienced before but somehow was all too familiar. You found yourself being far more submissive than you ever were with anybody else, like your body had taken over and knew just what to do. Anything Dave asked of you, you did it, trusting him implicitly.

It was a combination of your sobs and whimpers that drove him forward like an animal, unable to stop eating at your cunt until you came twice from his tongue. You finally had to tug on his hair to pull him away, your skin coated in a thin layer of sweat and chest heaving beneath him.

"Could smell you all fucking night," he admitted hoarsely, wiping his palm over his slick covered mouth. "Drove me crazy, couldn't stop thinking about it. Christ, I- I've never needed someone this badly, baby," he told you as he pushed his boxers off and gripped the base of his cock in his fist. "'M sorry, can't explain it-"

"I know," you croaked before hauling yourself up from the mattress. You moved towards him on your knees, legs still wobbly but you managed to hold yourself up. "I feel it, too. I don't want to leave this bed for a week," you murmured before pressing your lips against his and groaning at the taste of you on his mouth. Again, all you could think was mine, mine, mine. You were consumed by the thought, overwhelmed by the idea of Dave smelling like you so everybody would know he was yours.

Your tongue dove into his mouth greedily, a sentiment he easily returned. You dragged your fingers through his hair, down his neck, over his broad shoulders and down his soft stomach until you found his cock standing at attention between you.

"I- shit," Dave moaned when your lips nipped and sucked down his jaw until you found a tender spot behind his ear you seemed to like while your fist slowly pumped him up and down. "I don't have a condom, I didn't think... do you have any?"

You did, but you paused and thought about it. Even though you were on birth control, you still always used a condom, just to be extra safe. But the idea of having a barrier between you and Dave just felt wrong. You wanted to feel him bare, you needed it. So, you decided on a non-answer.

"I'm on birth control," you whispered, and Dave seemed just as relieved as you at the prospect of taking you raw. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the way you continued to suck and bite at the spot behind his ear while stroking his cock. He wanted to tell you there was a scar there, one he couldn't remember getting, but he was struggling to form a coherent thought.

When your teeth grazed his skin too harshly, he growled and bared his teeth like a goddamn animal, but not because it hurt. Because it felt good.

"Think you can take it, baby?" he rasped, fingers pressing into the softness of your hips.

"Mhmm," you hummed, finally tearing yourself away from his neck, proudly leaving a little red mark of your own before letting go of his cock and twisting around to fall onto all fours.

Dave moaned at the sight of you presenting yourself to him on a silver fucking platter before crawling forward.

He took hold of himself, all heavy and leaking, so he could notch at your entrance. He hummed a little, enjoying the way your warmth spread over his engorged tip, using it to spread your slick around to make it easier to first enter you.

Impatiently, you wiggled a little and tried to spear yourself on him, but he chuckled and grabbed your waist, making you still.

"Want it that bad?" he taunted, voice dropping low, the lust in his veins pumping hard and fast through every inch of his body.

"Yes," you whined, tilting your head back as if you were in pain. "Yes. Please, Dave, don't tease me."

And how could he deny you? He simply wasn't strong enough, his need for you so hot that it burned through his resolve in a matter of seconds.

His eyelids fluttered when his tip slipped past your folds, jaw dropped when he first pressed a few inches inside, face twisting and breath growing ragged when his hips finally came flush with your ass.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, blinking away the tears that suddenly burned his eyes. Shaky hands found your hips and he braced himself, taking a few deep breaths while he waited for your walls to relax and your whimpering to quiet down.

Dave swallowed and looked down, nearly coming apart right then and there at the sight.

"God, baby, you oughta see the way you stretch for me," he breathed, still staring down where you were connected. "That feel good? Hm? Talk to me," he pleaded before drawing back an inch just to watch more of your arousal get pushed out when he slid back inside.

"Yes," you hissed, "I'm so hot, Dave, it feels like I'm on fucking fire, please fucking move."

"Are you sure?" he asked, but his hips had already begun to rock into you without his permission. You nodded and let your eyes fall closed so you could focus on the way each one of his thrusts and grunts soothed the flames roaring inside you.

"Harder," you whispered, not even sure he heard it, but then a moment later his grip around you tightened and his hips snapped faster, the sounds of his skin slapping against your ass filling the room and making you dizzy.

You heard him whispering something to himself but you couldn't make it out. You craned your neck back, bleary eyes trying to find his but every forceful thrust of his hips jolted your entire body and sent you halfway up the bed just to have his massive hands drag you back down.

"Fuck it," he murmured before grabbing you by the shoulders and yanking you up so your back was pressed to his chest. You gasped in surprise and cried out at his relentless pace, never once missing a beat. One of your hands reached around to grab the hair on the back of his head, pulling him close so his mouth was directly next to your ear.

"So - fucking - tight. Want you so - fucking - bad," he whispered through clenched teeth. Both his arms circled around your middle in order to keep you steady, sweaty skin sticking to sweaty skin. You twisted your neck, seeking out his mouth so you could swallow down those words and have them echo like the beat of a drum inside you.

Your lips crashed together, messily licking and biting at one another while he grunted and growled, hammering into you with everything he had. The tip of his cock reached a spot deep within you that forced all the air from your lungs just to be followed by a sharp gasp. It was making you lightheaded, the persistent pattern - grunt, thrust, gasp, grunt, thrust, gasp - and then his hand traveled lower.

"Oh!" you cried out, your fingers slipping through the thick hair on the back of his head and body slumping a bit but he kept a firm hold around your ribs, still pressing you against his front while his fingers rubbed fast, precise circles over your clit.

Your thighs began to shake and your hips sunk lower, unable to keep yourself from giving into the pleasure mounting low in your belly. Your muscles fucking burned from the effort to stay upright, even with his help it was becoming impossible to do.

"Dave," you whimpered, eyes squeezed shut as your head came to rest on his shoulder. It was all you could remember to say, Dave, Dave, Dave. Just like he said. And it was perfect because that was all he wanted to hear.

"You're close," he murmured, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, fingers working expertly over your clit and hips still snapping tirelessly against your ass. You just nodded, slack jawed, as you focused on your release. So close. So fucking close, you wanted to say, but no words came out.

"Give it to me," he growled, voice sounding like a command. Your eyes flew open and a moment later, you came. You bore down on him, pussy clenching around his thick shaft still slamming inside you, in and out, in and out, while you wailed his name over and over until you grew weak and your muscles threatened to give out.

Dave made a pleased sound before pushing you forward onto the bed. You fell onto your forearms with a huff, still in a rosy haze from your orgasm. One hand gripped your hip, the other your shoulder, and he used you. He fucking used you to get himself off, slamming into you as hard as he liked, chasing his release, puffing and growling above you until he finally stilled and you felt his spend slowly fill you up.

"Fuck!" Dave groaned, gaze pinned to the way he spilled out of you when he pulled out. "Fucking beautiful, baby," he whispered hoarsely, still panting for breath as he continued to watch. You whined and your hips began to drop, so he collapsed next to you and tugged you against him, spooning you with his face pressed into your shoulder and his hands soothingly stroking any part of you he could reach.

"I'll... I'll get you something in a minute," he muttered, chest still heaving as he held you close. You just shook your head and closed your eyes.

"It's okay," you whispered softly.

There was so much you wanted to say, but fear held you back. You wanted to tell him how incredible it was, how you never came that hard before in your life, how amazing you felt now that he finally gave you what you needed.

Once his breathing evened out, he began to nose gently at your back. He trailed up through your hair, pushing it aside until his tongue found the skin on the back of your neck. It felt so good, melting in his arms and sharing in a warm glow while he bit and licked at the back of your neck. It didn't even strike you as an odd thing to do, the pair of you were too deep to recognize it.

With a sigh, you lifted his left hand from your stomach and examined his long fingers, your own slowly tracing his as he continued to mindlessly suck at your neck.

"What's the story here?" you asked bravely, tapping twice on the tan line of his ring finger. "You never really said much."

He grunted into your skin and forced himself to unlatch from your neck.

"Was married," he said simply. "Didn't work out."

You hummed and laced your fingers with his while he watched from over your shoulder. His cock twitched alive against your thigh when you wiggled in his grasp.

"Why?"

He shrugged, lips dragging over your shoulder. If someone had asked him that six months ago, he would have had a much more emotional reaction. Anger mixed with pain, most likely. But you had somehow managed to dwindle it down to a light shrug.

"Don't think it was just one thing," he admitted.

You nodded solemnly, thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles.

"Does it still hurt to talk about?" you asked him. You wished you knew more but you feared you might burst the perfect little bubble you had found yourselves in.

Dave smiled and, with his free hand, lifted your leg so your ankle rested on the outside of his knee.

"Not anymore," he said right before sinking back inside you.

It was the dreams that finally made you both snap out of the lust filled stupor you were lost in.

Dave had spent the night and entire next day with you, only giving yourselves enough time to eat and rest in between the countless times you found yourself impaled on his cock. It was sometime in the mid afternoon when you had fallen asleep on his chest that you awoke with a start, unable to shaky an eerie feeling.

"Dave?"

His eyes snapped open and found yours, looking slightly rattled, himself.

You breathed a sigh of relief and nuzzled into his bare chest. "I had such a weird dream."

"Me, too," he said, voice thick with sleep. He swiped a palm over his face before stretching both arms above his head. "What was yours about?"

You went on to tell him about the very vivid dream you had about him, although the man in your dreams didn't look like Dave nor did he have the same name, you just somehow knew it was him. With your face heating up, you glazed over the part where you fucked like animals in heat for a week straight and all together left out the end where you had a full blown family together, figuring it would be a bit too much and it would most definitely scare him off. But much to your surprise, he detailed a dream of his own that was so similar, it gave you goosebumps.

"Maybe we need to get out of this apartment for five fucking minutes," you joked, yet still couldn't shake the lingering feeling of familiarity.

After a few moments where you both remained quiet and lost in thought, Dave spoke again.

"There was something else."

You tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

"I think we had... a family."

Dave closed his eyes as if he too felt like saying it would be too much too fast, but you shot up excitedly in bed.

"We had kids in my dream, too," you confessed, and the both of you stared at one another in shock. "And this isn't the first time, either," you added. Embarrassment was the furthest thing from your mind now as the words came tumbling from your lips. "I had them before we even had our first date."

Dave's eyes went wide and he sat up, as well.

"Shit," he muttered, "me, too. Thought I was crazy."

"Maybe we are," you huffed, still in complete disbelief. Then you remembered what Shannon had said when you poured your heart out to her and your brow furrowed before digging in the sheets for your phone.

"What is it?" he asked as he watched you.

"My friend, the one you met the night we had our date," you said as you busily focused on your phone. "She knows a little about this stuff. She's a little strange but -"

"Let's go talk to her," he said before you even had to ask. You sent your text and looked around your room.

Could you really have known one another in a past life?

You weren't sure how you got there, but in just a few short days you found yourselves standing outside the old Victorian house of Talia Carter, a friend of Shannon's whom she recommended the minute she read your text about your shared dreams.

Talia, or 'Duchess' as she preferred to be called, claimed to be clairvoyant and promised she would be able to do readings on you both to find out if your hunch was right or if you were both just certifiably insane.

Despite all the evidence, you still had your doubts as you climbed the old wooden steps of her porch. Talia swung the door open, her bright red lipstick laid on thick and stretched into a wide smile framed by her very long, straight dark hair. But her smile faded almost instantly once she saw you and she gripped the doorframe for support, alarming you both. She quickly shook her head and refocused her gaze on you both before apologizing and ushering you inside.

You hesitated for a moment and glanced up at Dave.

"My friend Shannon called, I'm -"

"I know, sweetheart," she said as if it were clear as day. "I know exactly who you are."

Dave's hand fell to your lower back and he peered inside her house before determining she wasn't some kind of obvious psycho before nodding to you and taking your hand. Talia bit back a smile and she stepped aside, holding the door open wide for you both.

"If you would like to follow me, I have a study where I do my readings just off the kitchen. Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked over her shoulder, leading you past a dark cherry wooden dining room table and matching China cabinet, as well as countless green plants stuck on every flat surface.

"No, thank you," you said, gaze roaming around the room, temporarily stunned by the very unique Elizabethan style she chose. It seemed as though she liked her wallpaper dark and oriental rugs mismatched. The woodwork appeared to be all original, or at least it was made to look that way, and it was all meticulously cared for.

"I prefer to model my home after my own past life," she said when she caught you gawking at the beautiful wainscotting and then the glittery chandelier above her desk.

The two of you sunk down into a soft velvet sofa across from her.

"You remember your past life?" Dave asked, his hand falling to your knee, body curling protectively around you when he crossed a leg and leaned forward. Talia noticed but she didn't say a word. Not yet.

"Yes. I believe Shannon mentioned I preferred to go by Duchess," she explained as she pulled out some tarot cards as well as a few books from the built in bookshelf behind her. "I was the Duchess of Argyll and I still very much connect with that lifestyle, so I have tried to recreate it in my home."

"Well, you've done a beautiful job," you told her honestly. She paused and gave you a sweet smile before opening one of her books and flipping through the pages.

"You are very kind, thank you," she said, "but we are not here to talk about my past life. We are here to talk about yours."

You bit your lip and leaned closer to Dave. Without even looking up, she asked, "Hundreds of years ago, the human race was suffering and on the brink of going extinct. It's believed Mother Nature took over and created ranks among human beings in order to boost the population. Have you ever heard of Alphas and Omegas?"

You both frowned and shook your heads. When she found the page she wanted, she lit up and turned it around, pushing it across the desk so you could see.

"I could do a reading on you both, but it's simply not necessary," she said. You were about to lean forward to look at the page when you froze.

"Why?"

She grinned and sat back in her chair, looking at the two of you like she couldn't believe her eyes.

"I sensed it the moment I saw you. You were mates in a prior life," she replied. She pointed to Dave's hand on your knee. "You're very protective of her, yes?"

Dave shrugged and scooted closer to the edge of the sofa. "That isn't unusual."

"No, you're right," she said, then leaned forward to rest her elbows on her desk, lacing her fingers together. "But tell me, do you have any noticeable scars? Maybe ones you have trouble remembering how they came to be?"

Your hand immediately came up to rub the back of your neck and Dave noticed. Visions of him licking and biting in that very same spot swam in your memories and you glanced up at him once again, watching as he came to the same realization.

"How did you get that?" he asked you softly. Your eyes darted wildly back and forth between his before answering.

"My mom and dad always told me different stories, I'm not - I was never really sure."

Then you recalled how fixated you were on the spot behind his ear the first time you had sex and you lunged forward, brushing his hair out of the way with a gasp.

"Where did -"

"I don't know," he said immediately, the energy in the room shifting as you both stumbled into something inexplicable. "I grew up in an orphanage. No one was ever able to tell me."

Your eyes watered for a moment at the thought of a young Dave growing up scared and all alone, but you forced yourself to put it out of your mind for now. You turned back to Talia, who was watching you both with an unreadable expression.

You told her everything. You told her about your dreams, the extraordinary pull between you, the intensity and passion when you had sex, the hopelessness you felt when you thought he rejected you. And most importantly, the calm and secure feeling whenever he was near.

She gave the book a little nudge and you took it on your lap so the two of you could read, but you were hardly absorbing any of it. The words knot, glands, scent marking, heat, imprinting floated across the page while she spoke, explaining everything she knew. And as crazy as it all sounded, neither of you could deny the signs.

You stayed for over an hour, asking question after question. She explained how your scars were most likely remnants of the scent glands that each of you pierced, which bonded you forever as mates. How the dreams that you both had were memories of your past life and the unbreakable bond you shared was what drew you together. When you mentioned the way your body felt like it was on fire, skin hot to the touch, she explained in more detail about heats and ruts and how it was your body's response to finding one another.

When you finally stood to leave, exhausted and unable to think of another question, she refused to take Dave's money. When he tried to insist, she held up her hands and shook her head firmly.

"You have no idea how rare this is for someone like me. Meeting the two of you is an experience I will never forget."

She even let you take home the book you had still open on your lap, your minds racing as you tried to keep up with the whirlwind of information thrown at you.

When she walked you to the door, the sun dipping low in the sky already, she placed a hand on each one of your shoulders and looked at you both intently.

"Promise me you will not squander this gift," she said. "You have no idea how unusual it is for mates to find one another again. The odds are astronomical and yet here you are, reunited by a twist of fate."

You had no idea what to say. You looked up at Dave sheepishly and he smiled warmly at you before saying, "We promise."

Once back in his car, silence surrounding you even though your minds were buzzing with activity, he reached for your hand.

"Do you believe her?" he asked. You bit the inside of your cheek and stared straight ahead down her long driveway before slowly nodding and turning to face him.

"I think I do."

A big grin stretched across his face and he brought the back of your hand up to his lips. "I think I do, too."

You giggled and ran your fingers through your hair, a rush of adrenaline burning through your veins.

"Now what?" you asked him, letting him drop your hand so he could shift his car into drive.

But before he pressed on the gas, he gave you one final look and said, "I don't know, but whatever it is, we'll do it together."

#dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york x you #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york #roll a trope challenge #the equalizer 2 fanfic #the equalizer #omegaverse #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o verse #reincarnation

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keikikait · 28 days ago

Text

ᴄᴀʀᴏᴜꜱᴇʟ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

this is part two. for part one, click here!

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 5.4k

summary: you owe rafe that date, not that you really mind

warnings: enemies to lovers (pogue!reader x rafe), slightly jealous rafe, flirty rafe, sexual(?) tension, sugardaddy!rafe makes an appearance, rafe & reader argue

a note: this was supposed to be short.

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

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You never hated your wardrobe more in your life.

You tore through your closet trying to find something to wear, since Rafe told you to ‘dress to impress’. You couldn’t find much; your high school graduation dress that definitely didn’t fit right anymore, the miniskirt you wore to The Underworld, and an old pencil skirt you wore to a failed interview. You searched through your mother’s closet, too, but she was in the same boat as you. Her husband owned a bait shop, why would she have a fancy dress?

After anxiously checking your bank account, you decide to head onto the north side of Kildare to the only thrift shore in the Outer Banks. You spend hours searching, trying to decide between a dress and the classic skirt and tank top combo. You manage to find a cute blank tank top, tight enough to be flattering but not tight enough to be uncomfortable, choosing to wear the mini skirt you already had. The cashier takes your money, shoving the tank top into a branded paper bag, tossing your receipt in on top. You thank her and smile before heading out.

The evening sun hangs low in the sky after your hours-long shopping trip, although the solo bag in your hand didn’t feel like it was worth it. It was already quarter to six. You felt guilty as you made your way through the small street of stores and shops, having told John B and JJ that you were still feeling the effects of your hangover, and you were unable to hang out with them at The Chateau that night. They didn’t ask any questions, but you could feel their suspicion. You were normally always available to hang out. You had promised Rafe not to tell them, so you didn’t.

You barely slept the day before, spending the whole night thinking about him, scrolling through his Instagram and just admiring him. He pissed you off, he somehow managed to smash every single one of your buttons, yet you couldn’t get Rafe Cameron out of your head. Even when you propped yourself up on your pillows and slid a hand in between your thighs, Rafe was on your mind.

After arriving home, you get ready as quick as you can, touching up the makeup you already had on and getting dressed. You look yourself over in the mirror, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. You pull it a little lower on your hips, trying to cover your ass as much as possible. You put on a pair of sneakers before grabbing your keys and heading outside. The sun had begun to set over the horizon, a beautiful orange colour taking up the sky, and the moon rising. The air was warm and humid, and you could feel the damp sweat on your skin, making your tank top stick to your body. The walk to your father’s shop was never that long, but you felt like you were taking forever, your mind racing as you hurried along the path.

Rafe isn’t here yet, you don’t see his dirt bike or his truck. You lean against the wall, hoping that this wasn’t a big joke, a little prank Rafe and his friends were playing just to humiliate you. You stand waiting, a feeling of dread starting to bubble in your stomach. You knew Rafe was usually late, always making you wait for him, but you still felt anxious as the minutes ticked by. The sun was nearly gone, but there was no sign of Rafe. You could feel your breath coming out shaky, the dread turning into disappointment. Rafe’s words rang in your ears.

’I’ll pick you up here.’

No way he would miss the opportunity to tease you, right?

You shield your eyes as bright headlights suddenly appear, a truck turning the corner and heading down the small path towards the shop. You let out a sigh, your shoulders rolling with relief. The truck pulled up in front of the shop, its headlights still on. Rafe’s face is illuminated in the orange light, a smug smirk spread across his lips. He watches through the closed window as your shoulders visibly relax, and he almost laughs. You looked so cute, so nervous and expecting to be stood up, like something out of a chick flick.

He turns the car off and gets out, holding the door open. Your stomach clenches when you see him. He’s so frustratingly gorgeous; wearing a dark green short-sleeved button up shirt with no undershirt underneath and a pair of beige 5" inch inseam shorts, exposing the muscles of his upper thighs. You look away, pursing your lips together slightly. You hated Rafe with every fibre of your being, but you had to admit that he was one of the few men on Kildare who could pull off a buzz cut.

He smirks, leaning against his truck as his eyes roam over your body. He noticed how you looked away, averting your gaze before you could let your eyes linger too long. “See something you like, sweetheart?” he teased, pushing himself up from his truck and walking towards you.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” You mumble, wrapping your arms over your stomach. “Are you ready to go?”

Rafe snickers at your response, his eyes flickering down to your covered stomach before returning to your face, a smirk still on his lips. “Yeah, let’s go. But wait,” he says, pausing before you could turn to leave. “I told you to dress to impress.”

You sigh, your head rolling slightly to the right. “This is all I could afford, Rafe. I couldn’t find anything else.”

“That doesn’t impress me,” he says, his eyes narrowing as he looks you up and down. “You look like a high schooler, no better than any other Pogue girl on this side of the Island.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” You ask, dropping your arms to your side. “Go into debt to buy a dress? Steal it?”

Rafe’s smirk widens. “Or,” he leans forward slightly. “You could be a good girl and let me pick something else out for you. What do you think, sweetheart?”

Your stomach clenches again. You chew on the inside of your cheek, not liking the way that Rafe’s words were affecting you. “What’s the catch? I told you yesterday that I wasn’t going to sleep with you.”

He chuckles softly, leaning back from you. “I already told you there’s no catch.” He reaches a hand out to gently brush a strand of hair out of your face, his touch lingering as he brushes a thumb along your jawline. “You just have to wear whatever I want you to wear,” he whispers.

Your breath hitches, your heart starting to pound. Rafe had never been this touchy before, usually crying out when you got too close with your ‘Pogue germs’. It honestly takes you a few seconds to get your bearings and remember to respond. “W-what?”

“It’s a simple request, really,” he says, his fingers tracing a line along your jaw before moving his hand back down to his side. “You agree to wear something I want you to wear; something more appropriate than this little outfit,” he motions to your skirt. “And in return, I still keep my mouth shut about all your little shenanigans last night.”

Was this a trap? A scheme? A prank?

You swallow hard before finally replying, “Okay.”

“Excellent,” he says, his smirk growing into a proud smile. It was cute to him, how easy it was to get you to agree to his schemes. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked you up and down one more time, taking in your appearance. “Come on,” he says, tilting his head to motion towards his waiting truck, “Let’s get out of here. I have the perfect place in mind.”

You shakily climb into the truck, settling into the seat. You buckle your seatbelt and look around the front of his truck. It was surprisingly clean, a half empty water bottle in one of the cupholders and a bottle of hand sanitiser in the other. A surfboard shaped air freshener hangs from his rearview mirror, along with a Polaroid of him and his youngest sister Wheezie. A bright red scrunchie is wrapped around his gearshift, almost as if someone was marking their property. Him.

You hadn’t heard of Rafe having a girlfriend. Maybe one of his hookups left it.

Rafe gets into the car, shifting around in his seat before glancing over at you. He buckles himself up, his eyes flicking from your skirt, up your body, and stopping at your face. “You look nervous, sweetheart,” he says as he starts the truck back up. “You never been on a date before or something? I know you didn’t date anyone at Kook Academy, but have you been single all this time?”

“Fuck off.” You say, crossing your arms over your stomach.

Rafe laughs at your response, shaking his head. “I never thought you’d be so sensitive about something like that,” he teases. The truck’s engine rumbles to life, the headlights coming on and blinding the dark of the night. He glances over at you one more before putting the truck in drive, slowly pulling away from the bait shop.

“I’ve been on a date before,” You say. “A few, actually. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“A few?” he repeats, glancing over at you again. “You don’t sound so sure about that. Must have been some forgettable dates, if you can’t remember exactly how many you’ve been on.”

You’re already regretting this. “Four dates. Again, none of your business.”

Rafe bites back a snort, raising his eyebrows as they lift with amusement. “Four dates. With Pogues, I assume?” he asks.

“Yeah, who else?” You ask, looking over at him. God, he looks so pretty in the sunlight.

“And how did those dates go?” he asks, making a left turn. He glances over at you before returning his gaze to the road.

“They went fine,” You say. “They were just dates, Rafe. I’m sure you go on them all the time.”

“They went fine?” he asks in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes. “Is that all you can say about them? Just fine? That’s what you get for going out with Pogue losers.” He glances over at you again, studying your expression before returning his attention to the road. “I’ve never been on any date that was just fine.”

Why is he telling you this? “Good for you.” You shift in the seat, looking out the window as you approach the bridge that leads to the mainland.

“I’m just saying. You’ve clearly been dating losers, like Maybank and John B,” Rafe says, feeling jealousy build up in his veins. He didn’t like the idea of you dating any of the Pogues, especially if your date was either JJ or John B. “Maybe if you didn’t spend your time with those asshole Pogues you would have fun.”

“Well, those asshole Pogues are my friends,” You say. “And I really don’t understand what JJ and John B have to do with this.”

Rafe sighs, deciding an argument isn’t worth it. He glances at you as you shift in your seat again, his eyes catching on the way your skirt pulls up with the movement, revealing the smooth skin of your thigh. Images of him biting your thigh flashed through his mind, and he cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away. His grip tightens on the wheel as he focuses on the road. “We’ll be there soon,” he says, his tone slightly stiff.

You nod, glancing over at him momentarily. He chews on his lip as he focuses on the road, shifting in his seat. His thighs spread out on the leather, and your heart leaps into your throat. You tear your eyes away before looking back out the window.

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You and Rafe drive in comfortable silence through the mainland. You haven’t been to the mainland since your high school graduation, and it seems like everything has changed. “So, what store are we going to?”

Rafe glances at you, his eyes flickering from the road to your face. “Why would I tell you and ruin the surprise?” he asks, a smirk on his lips. “Have some patience, sweetheart.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. One second you were having a decent time, the next second he was opening his mouth. “Fine. Whatever. I trust you.”

He snickers as you respond, shaking his head. “Just relax. Let me treat you nicely, alright?”

“Alright,” You say. “I’m relaxed now.”

Rafe smirks at your response, shifting in his seat again. “Good,” he says. “Just a few more minutes, and you’ll be wondering why you ever doubted me.”

You look back over at him, watching him as he drives. His fingers tap against the steering wheel, his rings shining in the sun. Your eyes travel down his face to his chest, admiring the way his collarbone sits prominently under his button up, his chain resting against his sun kissed skin. His arms flex slightly with every turn he makes, his rough, calloused hands gripping the steering wheel. You glance back down at the scrunchie, wondering who it belongs to. An ex, perhaps? A hookup? A girlfriend you don’t know about?

After a few minutes, Rafe makes another left turn, pulling into a large parking lot connected to a small, expensive-looking strip of shops. The parking lot was mostly vacant, so he pulled into a free space near a few other cars. He puts the truck in park and kills the engine, glancing over at you. He watches as you take in the surrounding area before looking back at him, a small smirk on his lips. “We’re here,” he says, his face lighting up with a sly smile. “And I can promise you this is going to be a lot more impressive than the last date you went on.”

You get out of the car, clutching your purse as you walk beside him, heading down the sidewalk.

Rafe walks beside you, his hand brushing against yours as you walk. He glances over at you as the sun hits your face, highlighting the different shades in your eyes, the warmth of it casting a nice glow on your skin. He shakes his head slightly before looking away again, trying to keep himself focused. Rafe stops for a moment outside of one of the stores, glancing over at you. “This is the place,” he says, nodding to a store nearby that had high class looking dresses through the windows.

Your eyebrows furrow as you look between him and the mannequins. “Rafe, I don’t know if I can afford this.”

Rafe rolls his eyes at your response, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the store. “You’re being ridiculous,” he says. “Don’t even think about how much they cost, or what you can afford or whatever. I’m picking the dress and paying for it, remember?” He takes a step towards the door and holds it open for you. “Now, come on. I think I see something I like already.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Rafe truly plays dress up with you.

You follow him around the store, your hands itching to reach out for his again. After handing you dresses upon dresses, he sends you off to the changing room to model. He sits in one of the armchairs, spreading his legs wide, and your eyes glance at his thighs whenever you push the curtain aside. Rafe is picky, and he sends you back in to change almost every time.

You’ve tried on at least twelve dresses at this point, growing tired. You pick up the next one, carefully taking it off of the hanger before slipping it over your head, pulling it down. You smooth out the front before turning around to check yourself out. It’s a midi length milkmaid dress that hits you in the middle of your calf, a white linen with small yellow flowers embroidered all over it, with ruffled straps going across your shoulders and a drawstring on the bust. There’s a slit on the left side, running up to the top of your thigh.

You like it. But will he?

You draw the drawstring tighter, pushing your boobs together before stepping out from behind the curtain.

Rafe glances up from his phone as you step out from the changing room, a smirk immediately growing across his face. He slips his phone into his pocket before letting his gaze roam over you, his jaw visibly tensing when he looks over your thighs. “Turn around for me, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low.

You turn around slowly, looking over your shoulder at him. “You like?”

Rafe eyes you up as you turn, the view from behind just as good as the view from the front. He bites back a groan, his eyes travelling up your back. “I like a lot,” he says, his voice still husky. He glances up, meeting your gaze as he stands from the armchair. “Come here.”

Confused, you step closer.

Rafe reaches out when you do, one hand grabbing your waist and pulling you forward until you're pressed against him. His other hand lifts, gently touching the material of the skirt. “I like the flowers,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushes along the material, feeling how smooth it was, before his hand moves up your side, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Y-Yeah, me too.” You stammer.

Rafe glances up at your face, watching your reaction before glancing back down. His hand slowly moves across your side, his thumb brushing along your ribs, stopping just underneath your breast. “I like the colour, too. It’s pretty.”

Your breathing is shaky. His hands feel so rough and warm against your skin. “Is this the one?”

Rafe smirks slightly at your reaction, his fingers tracing an agonisingly slow shape on your rib cage, his nails slightly scratching. “This is the one. You okay with it?”

You nod. You’re more than okay with this dress.

He smirks at your nod, his eyes flickering up to you again. “Good,” he says softly, his voice still as deep as ever. “Then it’s yours.” His hand moves along your hip, resting against your belly as he turns his attention to the tag. “It’s only $210.”

What? Panic streaks across your face. “Rafe, are you sure it isn’t too much?”

Rafe laughs at your reaction, his smirk widening. “It’s fine, sweetheart. I wouldn’t offer to buy it if I couldn’t afford it,” You start to fuss over the price and Rafe rolls his eyes, reaching up and ripping the tag off of the dress. “Well, would you look at that, I have to pay for it now.”

“Rafe!” You whine.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rafe says. “I got it, $210 is nothing to me. Bring your clothes up, and I’ll get a bag for them, you can just keep the dress on.”

“Rafe--” You go to protest, but he’s already walking up to the counter, tag in hand. You give up, heading back into the dressing room to grab your other clothes. You head up to the counter, sliding your clothes into the empty shopping bag as Rafe swipes his card.

Rafe tucks his card back into the wallet before taking the bag, crumpling up the receipt with his other hand and shoving it into his pockets. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go.” You follow him out of the shop, heading back to his truck. The truck beeps as it unlocks, and he opens the door, setting the bag down in the floorboards under your seat. He shuts the door and locks it before joining you, walking down the street, expecting you to follow him.

You catch up with him, fidgeting with your hands. “Thanks, Rafe. For the dress.”

Rafe glances at you as he walks. “Don’t mention it,” he says, his voice almost gentle. “It’s good to treat a girl sometimes.”

You blush a little, pushing your hair out of your face. “So, where to now?”

“Patience,” he says, smirking again. “It’s a surprise.” He leads you down the street, your hands brushing together as you walk. You stop at a crosswalk, and you go to press the button when Rafe stops you. You look at him confused as he looks down the street both ways before grabbing your hand, running across the street. You barely process the fact that you’re holding hands by the time you make it safely across the street. He doesn’t let go at first, even after making it across the street, but he finally lets go, running his hand over his buzzed head. A warmth spreads through your belly, but you push it aside. You wouldn’t ever admit to liking to feel his hand in yours. Not in a million years.

Rafe lets go of your hand once you make it to the other side, shoving both of his hands into his pockets. There’s the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips when he glances at you, like he’s thinking of something but trying to keep himself contained. “Come on, got somethin’ to show you.” You walk down the street before finally seeing what he had planned next, an amusement park on the pier.

You’re excited. Really excited. You haven’t been to an amusement park in years, and you can’t hide your smile as you drag Rafe towards the entrance. “Hey, slow the hell down,” Rafe says, laughing as you drag him towards the amusement park. The smile on his face is genuine, you being excited makes him feel happy for some unknown reason. He begrudgingly lets go of your hand as you make it to the entrance, walking in step with you now, his hands still shoved in his pockets. He pays for your tickets, much to your dismay, before leading you through the gates. The park is pretty crowded, couples and families milling around. “Which one first?”

“Uh, the carousel,” You say. “Duh.”

Rafe snickers at your response, shaking his head. “Of course you would pick the most boring one first,” he says, his tone almost fond. He turns towards it, taking a step forward, but he stops when he realises you aren’t following him anymore. He glances back at you, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

“It’s not boring.” You say, defending the ride.

“It’s a carousel,” he says, rolling his eyes. “It goes in a circle. How’s that not boring?”

You huff. “You’ll see,” you grab his hand, tugging him behind you as you head to the carousel. Rafe chuckles as you take the lead, allowing you to drag him along despite his protests. He keeps his hands stuffed in his pockets the whole way, the feeling of your fingers wrapped around his sending sparks dancing across his skin, a sensation he doesn’t not like. You wait in a short line before climbing onto the carousel. You sit down on a baby pink horse, pulling your dress up to sit comfortably. Rafe stands next to you, holding onto the bar. “Are you gonna sit down?”

Rafe watches you adjust, his eyes lingering on your dress as it hikes up your thighs. He looks at the animals, a smirk slowly spreading wide across his face as he realises how childish they are. “Hell no,” he says. “I’m not getting on one of these kiddie rides--”

The carousel suddenly lurches, sending Rafe stumbling backwards. You burst out laughing, reaching down to extend a hand, speaking between laughs. “Are you okay?”

Rafe glances up at you as he grabs your hand, hauling himself up with a scowl on his face. “Fuck you,” he says, scowling as he stands next to you again. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t do anything,” You say between laughs. “I think that was karma for calling the ride boring.”

Rafe watched as you laughed, his expression softening. There was something about you, something about the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed, something about the way your hair was shining in the carousel light. His chest tightens, his fingers flexing slightly. The ride starts to turn, moving at a slow pace. The horse you’re sitting on moves up and down.

You notice Rafe’s continued gaze. “Why are you staring at me?”

It takes him a moment to respond, his eyes not leaving yours for another second before they flicker away, his gaze still soft. “What, staring at a pretty girl is a crime now?”

Your head tilts, your heart fluttering. You smile softly. “Pretty?”

“Yeah,” Rafe murmurs. “Real pretty.”

You blush, looking down. “Thanks.”

The light from the carousel is shining down upon you, the pink of your horse glowing with the movement of the ride. Rafe’s attention moves to your bare thighs, the material of your dress riding up with the movement of the horse, exposing more of your skin. His jaw clenches slightly before he drags his gaze away, forcing his eyes to return to your face. His fingers flex, wanting to reach out and touch you, but he holds back. “No problem.”

The carousel comes to a stop, and you stand up, stepping off of the platform.

Rafe stands as well, shoving his hands into his pockets as he follows you closely. He glances down at your legs again as you climb down, taking note of how the skirt hugs your ass while you walk. He looks at your face again before he speaks. “What’s next?”

“Up to you.” You say. Rafe takes a look around the pier, licking his bottom lip.

Your phone vibrates in your purse, and you unzip it, pulling your phone out. He looks back at you, his eyebrows furrowing. “Who’s calling you?”

“JJ,” You sigh. “Been texting me all evening.”

Rafe scoffs as soon you mention JJ, rolling his eyes. “Why is he blowing up your phone anyway?”

“Because I’m here with you instead of being with him and John B.” You say.

“Thought I told you not to tell them we were together.” he says, his voice getting quiet.

“I didn’t,” You say. “I told them I was busy, but I didn’t give any specifics.”

“So why is he blowing up your phone?” Rafe asks, his hands still in his pockets. He looks annoyed, his chest slightly puffed out.

“I don’t know.” You say, declining JJ’s call.

“Are you and him like…” Rafe pauses, not really wanting to ask, scared of your answer. “Dating, or something?”

“No,” You say, putting your phone back into your purse. “He’s my friend.”

“Your friend that you fuck.” Rafe says bluntly.

Was he really doing this? “Yes, my friend that I fuck, Rafe,” You say. “My friend that I let cum in my mouth. Why do you even care?”

Rafe’s expression hardens, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he clenches his teeth. He looks irritated, upset even. He shakes his head, letting out a humorless chuckle. “Never mind.” He looks around the park for a moment, searching for the nearest ride. “Come on, let’s get on something less childish than a carousel.”

“No,” You grab his hand. “We’re not done talking.”

“Not done talking about what?” he asks, his voice still irritated. “About your little ‘friend’, the one who blows up your phone like you’re his girlfriend?”

“Why do you care if JJ and I fuck or not?” You ask, keeping a grip on his hand.

“I don’t care if you two fuck,” he lies, his jaw still clenched. “That’s not what I’m pissed about.”

“Then what are you pissed about?” You ask.

“I’m pissed because you’re still hanging around a bunch of loser Pogues while you should be here with me.” He answers, his eyes meeting yours, his jaw still set hard.

“I am here with you.” You say, your tone softening.

“Yeah, right now you are,” he mutters. “I doubt this is gonna last. Not if you keep wasting your time with those guys, at least.”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

Rafe looks away, running a hand over the nape of his neck. “You’re always hanging out with them,” he says. “You’re never with me, I never get to hang out with you. But somehow you’re always available for them.”

“Rafe, it’s not like we’re exactly friends.” You say, letting go of his hand.

“Why not?” he asks, his eyes meeting your face again. “We could be if you wanted to. No one’s stopping you from hanging out with me just as much as you hang out with them.”

“Don’t you hate me?” You ask. “You bullied me and chased me out of Kildare Academy, remember? My dad spent all that money to get me accepted, but I had to go to Kildare County High with the rest of them after that, and my parents never let me live it down. I’m a Pogue, Rafe, so I’m like 90% sure you hate me.”

Rafe goes silent for a moment, his expression softening as he considers your words. “That was years ago,” he says, his tone softening as well. “Things were different then. I was younger, stupid, I was an idiot.”

“And you’re suddenly different now?” You ask.

“Yeah, I’m different now.” He answers. His voice is soft, a tone you haven’t heard that often, if at all, coming from Rafe. “I grew up. Started to see things differently.”

“Congrats on finally discovering empathy years after everyone else did,” You sigh, looking away for a second before looking back at him. “I can’t forget the way you treated me, Rafe.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Rafe mutters, his eyes flickering across your face, taking in your expression. “Look, I know a lot happened when we were in school, but I was a dumbass then, okay? What I did to you was messed up, I know that. But I’m different now. Haven’t you been…” He looks like a kicked puppy, worried. “Haven’t you been having a nice time tonight?”

You nod slightly, your voice soft. “Yeah, I’ve been having a nice time, Rafe.”

He lets out a soft breath of relief at your nod, his chest loosening. He glances down at where he’s shoved his hands in his pockets again, avoiding your eyes. “Good,” he murmurs. “I just… I don’t want you to think I’m the same person I was back then.” He looks back up at you, his eyes meeting yours. “I’m not.” He lets out a soft scoff. “I swear. I’m…better now, I guess.”

You sigh, stepping closer to him. “Do you really wanna be friends?”

Rafe’s heart skips a beat as you take a step closer to him, the proximity making his breath catch in his chest. He nods, swallowing a lump in his throat. He wasn’t expecting to pour his heart out to you that night, even the idea of spilling to you was nerve-wracking for him. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, I do.”

“Just friends?” You ask quietly. “Nothing…nothing more?”

Rafe’s heart nearly beats out of his chest at your question. He looks down at you, considering his answer, his eyes flickering across your face as he thinks. Would friends really describe the way he felt about you? The thought of you just being a friend doesn’t sit well in his stomach, doesn’t feel right. He reaches up, carefully tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Not just friends,” he whispers.

You step closer, your chests nearly touching. “I wanna be more than just friends, too.”

Rafe’s breath catches in his throat as you step closer to him, the feeling of the air crackling between you and him driving him crazy. He swallows, nodding slightly, his fingers slowly moving down your neck, thumb brushing against your pulse. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I really, really wanna kiss you right now, sweet girl.”

“Oh, god, please do.” You breathe out.

Rafe can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine at your soft voice whispering those words, that pleading tone that drives him crazy. He doesn’t hesitate to act, his thumb pressing against your pulse as he pulls you closer. His other hand rests on your hip, sliding around to the small of your back as he leans down and presses his lips against yours finally, his heart beating faster than it ever has before.

He has you in the palm of his hand.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

#keikiwrites #f!reader #obx rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe fluff #obx #obx fic #rafe fic #obx fluff #rafe cameron fluff #outer banks fluff #outer banks fic #enemies to lovers #rafe cameron angst #obx angst #outer banks angst

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vase-of-lilies · 1 year ago

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My Little Flower

❀ Grumpy!Bucky x Sunshine!Reader (F)

❀ Sexual Content, hand kink, fingering, fluff, loving sex 🥺, slightly jealous and possessive bucky, P in V sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, some douche bag trying to flirt with the reader, (if there is anything else please let me know!)

❀ Request: just some primal, sensual love with Bucky 😍 “Beefy Bucky for da win 🤤” (yes I agree!) ❀ Trope: Grumpy!bf x Sunshine!Reader

❀ A/N: This was requested through my blurb link! Thank you to the amazing anon who gave me this request! THANK YOU! I NEEDED THIS! I hope you enjoy it!!

When Bucky first met you, it was in your flower shop. He hadn’t seen such beautiful flowers since his time in Brooklyn back in the 40s. And once he saw you, he knew he needed to buy some flowers for you, his charm coming back once again. Even in hiding, he wanted you and he would hope you wanted him as well.

“Hello sir! How can I help you?” You ask the scowling man in front of you. He looked stunned at how happy you were, even in the presence of someone so… angry. Bucky couldn’t help but run his eyes over your bright yellow sweater and embroidered flowers on your jeans, a smile appearing on his face.

“Uh, what is your favorite arrangement that you have done?” He asks abruptly, catching you off guard with the question. You move from behind the counter and go to the large fridge holding all of your ready-to-sell bouquets. You point to a chrysanthemum and chamomile arrangement and explain the meanings behind the flowers.

“It’s my favorite because the yellow and pinks are just so bright, and it makes me happy.”

Bucky sweeps a hair behind his ear and into his hat, looking at the delicate bouquet that you put together yourself. He gently grabbed the brown paper bag-wrapped arrangement and walks to the counter with you. You tell him the total and he gives you what you need and then some. He then goes completely out of his comfort zone.

He musters up the courage and pushes himself, “Will you go on a date with me?”

You tilt your head at the man, a smile on your face. “I would absolutely love to. I get off in an hour, is that ok?” He nods and waits at the coffee shop just down the street from your shop, the flowers in hand and a small smile on his face.

From that day forward, you and Bucky had gone out and gotten to know each other. He trusted you enough to open up to you, and you were there for him when he had night mares. When he woke up in a cold sweat each night, you were there to calm him down and hold him until he fell asleep again.

He loved you, and he would never let you go.

When you came home from work, you seemed tense. Bucky could sense it when he met you at the door. “Are you alright, my flower?” You nod, but instantly sink into his arms when he wraps them around you. His scent of maple and brown sugar brought you comfort, and you knew that you were home.

“A guy came into the store today, a-and he-” You felt sick inside as you recalled the day's memory. “He told me no one would ever want to have sex with me, a-and that I would be better off with him. I- I made him leave and locked him out of the store, b-but I can’t help but feel he might be right.” Bucky growled to himself at the sound of someone hurting you, but his eyes softened at the tears that pooled in yours. He pulled you to the couch and kneeled down in front of you.

“Oh baby, that guy can go fuck himself. He doesn’t know who he’s talking about. You are so mesmerizing and I don’t know what I would do without you.” He pauses to grab your hands. “Let me show you how loved you are, and that you belong to me and only me.” He says in a low voice, his thumbs rubbing over the backs of your hands comfortingly.

And boy, did he show you how loved you were. As you lay with your back against the headboard, Buckys thick fingers pump in and out of your soaking wet pussy. “Oh yeah baby, feel that? You feel how my fingers fit perfectly? No one else would be able to. Only me!” He growls possessively and you whimper in response. You reach for his other hand, his veins popping out as he flexes his fist in your hand. You bring his fingers to your mouth, and he smirks up at you. “You like my hand baby?” You nod shyly and smile around his fingers in your mouth.

He smiles in return and removes his jeans and boxers. He pulls your ankles to shift you down the bed and he hovers over your body. He was just getting started… “Are you ready, my little flower? You want daddy to fuck you?” You nod desperately and you run your fingers through his shoulder length hair, pulling it from its bun.

He moans as he pushes into you, and you bury your face in his neck. You cling to his broad shoulders and moan into his ear as you take his thick cock. “D-daddy, s-s-so big…” you whisper, making Bucky twitch inside of you. He lays you back down on the pillow and holds your hands above your head as he starts to move in and out of your wet hole. He squeezes your fingers and smiles as your face contorts into a face of pleasure.

As he fucks you, he talks to you and it makes you so happy. “I may be a grump, but you make my life so much better… my god you’re perfect…” he groans as you squeeze his cock, and he knows that you’re close. “Come on baby flower, I can feel how close you are, come apart on my cock.”

You listen to his command, instantly reaching your orgasm as moves his hand from yours to rub your clit. Your moans are like music to his ears and he nuzzles his nose against yours. His thrusts slow down and you reach down to hold his hips to yours, hinting you want him to cum inside of you. He looks at you just to make sure, and you nod. He thrusts one more time and his eyes close as his spend paints your cunt white.

“Mmm, baby flower.. I love you so much.” He whispers, gently pressing his lips your nose first and then capturing your plump lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue pushing against you. You happily open up, and he pushes all the way in. He stays inside of you for a couple minutes, rolling you over so you are on top of his chiseled body. You lay on his chest and he kisses your sweat-covered forehead.

“You’re perfect, and you’re mine… my little flower.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x Sunshine Reader #grumpy!bucky x sunshine!reader #james buchanan barnes #James Bucky Barnes #Civil War! Bucky #Captain America Civil War

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honey-minded-hivemind · 4 months ago

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Something Wicked This Way Comes AU Skits:

A government agent: Would you like to join our team of highly trained and special indivi-

Reader: F*ck off

Government agent: I really think you'd like this program of ours-

Reader: I said f*ck off

Government agent: But you haven't even heard of what you'd get-

Reader: I'd get brainwashed and set on your personal enemies like a dog, believe me, we know the shtick, now f*ck off! I'm drinking my beer!

Reader: is nursing on a root beer

Government agent: knocks the drink out of Reader's hands

Reader: ...

Reader: You little f*ckin' @&>/ !!!! tackles them, biting and scratching, then kicks them out of the soda shop

Reader, answering why they haven't sought out their old "pals", Wolverine and Sabretooth: Well, would YOU try to seek out someone who you haven't had a decent conversation with since the early 1900s who then stabbed you in the guts after his brain got scrambled, or seek out the guy who got so fried in the noggin he tossed ya off a freakin' cliff after beating you to a bloody pulp? No? Well, that's what I thought!

The X-Teens: What the h*ll??!!😨😰

The Brotherhood: That's b*dass!!!🤩😍

The adults: Who did you say you were, again, Mx. Reader? 🧐🤨

Wolverine: I tore their guts out? Poor kid... Hmmm... something still isn't adding up...

Sabretooth: Eh, I toss a lot of people off a cliffs... and turn a lot of people into bloody pulp. Good on them for surviving! Except they seem too familiar to be just a random hit...

Reader: sweating bullets Um... I'm... leaving, right now! runs off, disappearing into the streets

Everyone: ... Okay, we need them as our new member-

Reader, seeing the X-Teens broke into their house and took something: Oh you little...

Reader: JAMES LOGAN CREED HOWLETT!!! GET YOUR F*CKIN *SS DOWN HERE TO FIX YOUR BRATS' MESS, OR SO HELP ME I WILL DRAG YOU BACK HERE BY YOUR F*CKIN' EAR!!! DO YOU HEAR ME?!?!?!

Logan: Who the h*ll is screaming at 1:00am in the morning?!

Logan: spots his kids sneaking into the mansion carrying an old and stained box

Logan: Kids. What. Did. You. Do.

The X-Teens: ... Um... we, um... maybestolesomethingfromReader!! But we had to! They're not telling us something, and we think it's important!

Logan: Well, it looks like you're all returning it, unless you want to be in the Danger Room for the next five hours 😡

The X-Teens: Please, just a peek! 🥺

Logan: ... Ugh, fine, just one look. Then we're gettin' in the car and returning it, you hear me?

The X-Teens and Logan, looking into the box: 😶

The box: full of video tapes, recorders, old papers and journals, and different rocks and fossils and old heirloom jewelry

Logan: Okay, fine, you take one thing, something that would be hard to miss-

Kitty: Done! grabbed an old recorder

Logan: I'll hold onto that, since you kids got us into this mess

Later-

Logan, listening to one of the many recordings in shock: It's been nearly two centuries, but I still miss James and Victor, even if they were both quite brash at times... Boys, right? ... Ha... I think Jimmy is called "Logan" nowadays... I think I should leave him be; he seems happy with his friends, he doesn't need me anymore... I suppose Victor doesn't need me, either... I guess it's hard to miss someone that they can't remember... well, I think that perhaps this summer I'll be able to finally pass-

Logan: pauses the old recording

Logan: ... I need to find them, NOW-

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen evolution #platonic yandere xmen evolution au #🍁something wicked this way comes🍂 au

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lewisvinga · 8 months ago

Text

salvatore | esteban ocon x fem! reader

summary; after living a life full of cold exes, y/n never expected to find her ‘salvatore’ during a summer in monaco

warnings; toxic/abusive exes, slut shaming,

word count; 1k

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minkyungseokie @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri

notes; this is song has been on repeat

‘born to die’ series masterlist.

masterlist !

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“C’mon, Y/n, you need a man. You need to live a little!" Y/b/f exclaimed as she followed around Y/n who was tidying up around her home.

"Y/n," She sighed, "I don't need a man."

"It's been 4 years since you broke up with your ex. You haven't dated anyone since you were 21!”

“And you know why.”

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5 years ago

“C’mon, Y/n, let’s just go out!” Y/b/f asked through the phone. “You’re already ready!”

Y/n sighed as she cleaned the counter with a damp towel. She kept looking over her shoulder and back at the front door. “Louis is on his way. I can’t-“

“You can’t or he won’t let you? C’mon, Y/n, you deserve better.”

“I can’t.” She huffed as she rushed to finish off a quick chicken dish so it could be ready when her boyfriend arrived. “How ‘bout we go out tomorrow for lunch? I’ll call you later, promise-“

“Call who?” Louis's voice interrupted her mid-sentence. She hadn’t realized he arrived and she quickly hung up on Y/b/f.

“Y/b/f. She just wanted to hang out and-“

“That’s why you’re dressed like a whore?”

“I-I was about to ch-“

“Change into another slutty outfit?”

Y/n let out a sigh, keeping her gaze on the floor. She could feel Louis’ harsh stare as she turned off the stove and grabbed him a plate. Fortunately, he wasn’t so frustrated after work so he wasn’t as mean to her as usual.

Still, she felt tired of everything. She felt tired of constantly being paranoid. She hated how every word of his left her a mental scar. She hated how sometimes she had to wear sweaters in warm weather to cover up the black and purple marks on her skin. She was just tired.

Y/n glanced at him as she served the food on his plate. In the back of her mind, she knew Y/b/f was right and she was already thinking of the perfect time to leave him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

present day

Y/n held onto her Dior tote bag as she strolled down the streets of Monaco. She was killing time in the shops before having lunch with Y/b/f and a couple of other girls to celebrate her best friend's engagement.

Y/b/f had instructed them to wear white so Y/n wore a short white sundress. She had an iced latte in her hand, glancing through the window of various boutiques and designer stores.

The summer was hot but she didn’t mind it. She spent the past week working on her tan, eating soft ice cream, and enjoying her week off.

She was lost in her thoughts when before she knew it, she suddenly bumped into what she thought was a wall until she heard a panicked voice. “Oh, fuck! Are you okay?”

The collision had caused her to spill her latte all over her white dress, staining it brown. She let out a chuckle as she looked down at the stain and at the empty plastic cup. “I’m fine. I wasn’t paying attention! Sorry for that.”

Y/n glanced up and was met with probably one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. His deep brown, almost black eyes were filled with concern as he looked her over. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair before running his hands over his equally jet-black stubble.

“I’ll-i’ll buy you a new dress! Where’d you get it from?”

“I said don’t worry! It’s a pricey dress anyway.” She said with a smile but that didn’t seem to satisfy him.

“No, please, let me. I can afford it. I’ll even get you another latte.”

“You won’t drop this will you?”

His lips curled into a smile as he shook his head. “Nope!” He said with a shrug. “But the least you could do is give me your name.”

She shook her head slightly and laughed as she holds her hand out. “Y/n, and you must be?”

“Esteban.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

3 years later

“Bonjour. Good morning.”

Esteban’s soft voice woke Y/n up from her deep slumber. Her vision was still blurry as she slowly sat up against the bed, rubbing her eyes and letting her vision get used to the bright lights.

She realized that he stood in front of her with a tray in his hands. Once her vision cleared up, she noticed the iced latte and a croissant with a small candle resting in the middle of the tray.

“Joyeux Anniversaire, chérie.” [happy birthday, dear.] Esteban whispers, sitting beside her on the bed. He kissed her forehead as she took the tray from him. “Now make a wish.”

A small pout decorated her lips as she looked down at the candle. He purposely picked a pink candle knowing that it was her favorite color. Something her ex-boyfriend never bothered learning about in their 3 years of dating.

A panicked look appeared on Esteban’s face when he noticed Y/n’s eyes fill with tears as her bottom lip quivered. “Chérie? What’s wrong? Shouldn’t you be happy on your birthday?” He asked, his voice filled with concern. He reached over and fixed her bed hair.

“I am happy.” She replied while tears streamed down her cheek. She lifts up the tray and softly blows the candle out. She turns to look at her now boyfriend of nearly 3 years with a wide smile on her voice.

“I just never had anyone care for me like you have, Estie.” She whispered as she set the tray on the bedside table. He wraps his arm around her shoulder, tucking her into his arms. “You’re my salvatore. [savior] You saved me. I didn’t even need to make a wish because you’re all I’ve ever wanted. You’re the best thing in my life.”

Esteban places his finger under her chin, causing her to look up into his deep brown eyes. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on her lips. He whispered against her lips, “I’ll always be your salvatore.”

#f1 x reader #f1 smau #formula one x reader #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #esteban ocon scenarios #esteban ocon x reader #esteban ocon imagine

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noneorother · 9 months ago

Text

So I don't know what bookshop Saraqael is snooping on, but it's not on Whickeber street.

Who was going to point out that this jank image of the "25 lazarii miracle" plume coming out of the bookshop is full of lies?

Look at this shit:

(click on the image to enlarge)

Here's a bookshop comparison from S2 Episode 6. Everything after B (the publisher's) should be on the cross street with the Chinese restaurant, but in the surveillance is cutting into the middle of a four story apartment, and continues down some random street with an office building (I). Also note the green section to the left of the bookshop is way too long in the surveillance (C), and is missing a poster and shrubs.

Here's another view down Whickeber street from Episode 1.

After the green awning shop, there should be a side street and then more 3 storey buildings, but instead we get a bunch of weirdly angled taller buildings smushed right next to E.

We never get a good view of the top of the pub, but from this angle we can see that it's Dirty Donkey Pub (F) after the bookshop, then the church which... is not even on Saraqael's view. G and H are mystery buildings, and F has some sort of corner protrusion that means it probably isn't even the pub.

Here's a good view of thop top of J, where that 5 storey apartment is supposed to be...

The only possibilities my brain can come up with is that Saraqael's map is in a different dimension/reality, or that the miracle is a result of Aziraphale and/or others physically porting a piece of Whickeber street somewhere it really shouldn't be...

------------------------------------------------------------ All thanks go to the @ineffable-detective-agency gang for pointing this out, I'm just the one of us yelling about it.

#good omens meta #good omens 2 #art director talks good omens #go season 2 #good omens season two #good omens season 2 #good omens #go meta #go2 #good omens prime #good omens analysis #good omens s2 #saraqael #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale x crowley

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frvnkcastles · 4 months ago

Note

I have an imagine, Instead of damsel reader what if reader is highly skilled in combat and just never told Frank and one day when Frank is in a unfortunate position thinking reader is about to get jumped by like 11 dudes she effortlessly takes them out leaving our boy super confused 😭

HALF-DOOMED & SEMI-SWEET ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Frank is highly protective of you, not knowing that you know how to fight until you’re cornered by his enemies after a night out.

Warnings: Violence, language

Word count: 1.6k

Author’s note: This was a lot of fun!! Sorry it took me a while to get to it, anon <3 Hope you enjoy :)

You had never felt as safe as you did with Frank. You hadn’t been together for very long, but he had made it clear from the get-go that he took great pride in protecting his loved ones — a list that had gotten significantly shorter, sadly. However, he had quickly fallen for you, a one night stand turned into something more, and as much as it scared him to get attached and get close to someone new, he found himself impossibly drawn to you. He showed his affection for you by keeping you shielded from the cruel world outside, or at least by preparing you for it. He would walk you to work and back home, teach you how to use a gun, and insist on doing your shopping for you.

It was sweet and you knew it was his way of loving you, so you didn’t have the heart to tell him you were actually more than capable of looking after yourself. You had trained in numerous ways for multiple years, and you had also been in your fair share of situations of overly handsy men or someone trying to rob you on the street — it was just the way your city was, and you had gotten a headstart on being equipped to handle it.

You knew that if someone were to start a fight with you, you’d easily come out on top, but you quite enjoyed Frank looking after you. It wasn’t too condescending or belittling, he had the perfect approach to respecting you but also really, really needing you to be okay. You understood where it came from, the innate desire to do everything he could just to help you, so you didn’t make a fuss about it.

But sooner or later, you would have to tell him. If not by choice, then someone would force your hand.

After a particularly sweet date night, the time came for him to find out just how skilled you were. Frank had taken you to a restaurant you considered to be a little above your budget, but he insisted on spoiling you and made sure you ate to your heart’s content and had plenty of wine throughout the night. He was an absolute gentleman, no longer fueled only by anger but also his feelings for you. He had found a reason to get up in the morning, a purpose in making you feel loved and appreciated, and he was enjoying it way more than he had anticipated. He had so much love to give, and even if he thought himself to be a little rusty, you had never felt so cherished.

You were walking down the street towards your apartment, Frank’s arm slung over your shoulders and his raspy voice in your ear as he wondered if you had had a good time. It made you blush, the gravelly words sending a shiver down your spine, the two of you wrapped up in your own little space. But you were torn out of that bubble and thrown into cold reality as three men stepped out from an alleyway, cutting you off, and you both stopped walking to assess the situation.

One of the men had a crowbar in his hands, ominously swinging it back and forth, and Frank instantly threw his arm in front of you while stepping forward, keeping you behind him. It was a futile effort, though, because a sneering laugh emerged from behind you, and you flinched at the menacing sound. Both you and Frank turned around only to find three more men, and you swallowed thickly, feeling the anxiety rise in your throat. You could hold your own, but you didn’t exactly like picking fights with armed men.

”We heard the Punisher had found himself a pretty little girlfriend. Didn’t think it would actually be true”, one of the men chuckled, and with his eyes dark and threatening, Frank glared at him.

”Your problem’s with me. Got nothin’ to do with her”, he spoke through gritted teeth, his fists by his sides, ready to punch. He hated the idea of you getting caught in the middle, or even just witnessing him at his worst. You knew what he could and would do, but he preferred maintaining that gentle, romantic picture he had painted for you. Anyone who tried to shatter that for you was going to regret it.

”How could we walk away from such a sweet thing?” another man taunted, stepping closer to you to trace a touch down your arm, causing you to withdraw with a grimace.

”Hey! You touch her again, you will lose that hand, you understand?” Frank roared, fury seeping into his voice as he tried to keep the men at bay. He knew the situation could go south very quickly, and the uncertainty of how to protect you from half the men while fighting the other half made him agitated to a point where he wouldn’t hesitate to punch his way through.

”Fine. We’ll just hurt you, instead”, the man with the crowbar declared before lunging at Frank, swaying the weapon in the air to get a hit in. Frank grabbed the crowbar right before it was about to slam him in the face, and as he yanked it away from the man, his friends jumped into action, as well.

You didn’t want them to hurt Frank, and you refused to just watch. So, you made your own move — you kicked the man nearest to you in the stomach, bringing him down to his knees, and you finished him off with a harsh punch in the face. As he collapsed on the ground, the other two men on your side came at you, and you dodged their fists as best as you could. One of them grabbed you, wringing your arms behind your back, but as the second one approached you, you kicked him between the legs before throwing your head back into the first man’s nose.

The crack of his face got him to let go of you, and you punched him repeatedly until he stayed down, leaving you with one more to deal with. When you turned around, he was already running towards you, and you quickly reacted by ducking and slamming your entire arm against his chest. He struggled but didn’t fall down, so you made another attempt, this time choosing to catch him from behind and wrap your arms around his neck. He fought for air, but you squeezed until he was defeated, not enough to kill him but just so he would leave you be. When you let go, he slumped down to the ground, and you could finally catch your own breath and wipe the sweat from your forehead.

Looking back to Frank, you saw him smack the final man standing across the face with the bloody crowbar. With that one last swing, all of the six men were left lying on the ground — but Frank didn’t know that. Panicked, he turned around and raised the crowbar, blood splattered on his angry face as he prepared to fight the rest off of you, only to find you standing there, looking so innocent and pure even though three bodies lay at your feet.

”Shit”, Frank breathed out, lowering the crowbar as a mixture of confusion and amazement contorted his face. He looked puzzled, and you suddenly felt shy under his scrutinizing stare. This wasn’t exactly how you had wanted to tell him you could fend for yourself, and you couldn’t read his face very well, making you wonder what he was thinking.

”You did that?” he finally asked, still breathing heavily, glancing at the groaning men on the ground. ”I—wow. You been practicin’ without me?” he continued, not really sure where all this had come from.

Shaking your head, you stepped over to him and smiled sheepishly. ”No, I… I’ve known how to fight all along. I’ve trained for years”, you revealed, and with his eyes widening in surprise, Frank broke into a smile of his own, partly in disbelief but it was mostly impressed.

”That’s incredible, sweetheart. Fuck, I’m—I’m speechless. Why didn’t you say somethin’? I’ve been hoverin’ over ya like an asshole”, he chuckled, feeling a little embarrassed that he hadn’t given you the space to shine until now. He cast a look at his feet, worry flooding his heart as he contemplated if he was suffocating you, but you were quick to tell him otherwise.

”Because I like it when you look after me. It makes me feel special, I guess. And I think you like it, too. I didn’t want to take that away from you”, you explained with a shrug, and reluctantly, Frank gave you a nod.

”Yeah. Yeah, guess I do”, he admitted, not really able to put it into words but protecting you was an instinct to him, just natural and the most obvious thing in the world. ”I do feel a lil’ better knowin’ I don’t gotta worry about you all the time, though”, he added, and smiling, you took his hand in your own and squeezed it.

”No, you don’t. I’m gonna be okay and I’m not going anywhere. Promise”, you reassured him, knowing he needed to hear it sometimes. He had lost so much and you simply refused to cause him more grief.

Holding your hand tightly, Frank dropped the crowbar and stepped over the men to lead you back home. The two of you had certainly taught them a lesson not to mess with the Punisher or his girlfriend, and he couldn’t help but feel immensely proud.

”Y’know what else?” Frank asked, and lifting an eyebrow, you gave him a look, one that he responded to with a grin. ”That was pretty goddamn hot, sweetheart.”

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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raatart · 8 months ago

Text

a complete boycott list in alphabetical order

a complete list of companies / brands / franchises to boycott in support of palestine that i have been working on putting together for a while now.

remember to support your local businesses

stand with palestine against genocide

(Food & Beverages)

Activia

Acqua Panna

Akmina

Absolute Vodka

Algida

A&W

Aquafina

Alpro

Actimel

Burger King

Baskin Robbins

Ben & Jerry's

Bugles

Betty Crocker

Badoit

Becel

Coca Cola

Costa Coffee

Cadbury

Cheerios

Cheetos

Campbells

Calve

Cappy

Chiquita

Dominos

Dasani

Dunkin' Donuts

Doritos

Dr Pepper

Danone

Dolcela

Damla

Dogadan

Evian

Eden

Fanta

Frito-lay

Fruit by the Foot Roll Ups

Falim

Fresca

Gatorade

Greggs

Hardees

Haagen Dazs

Heinz Ketchup

Hershey's

Hard Rock Cafe

Heinz

Innocent

Israeli Fruits & Vegetables

Jacob's

Jaffa

KitKat

KFC

Kbueno

Kraft Mac & Cheese

Kellogg's

Kraft

Lipton

Lays

McDonald's

Mars

Marks & Spencers

Maggi

Marila

Monster

Mountain Dew

Mehadrin

Minute Maid

Milk Bar

M&M's

Magnum Ice Cream

Milka Chocolates

Nestle

Nestle Cereals

Nescafe

Nesquik

Nespresso

Nido

Nutella

Nature Valley

Nestle Milo

Nestle Carnation

Nestle Coffee Mate

Nestle Nestum

Nimbooz

Nestea

Orea

Original Shredded Wheat

Papa John's

Pepsi

Pringles

Pizza Hut

Perrier

Pillsbury

Popeyes

Pretty a Manager

Pure Life

Powerade

Popup Bagels

Quality Street

Quaker

Redbull

Ruffles

Starbucks

Subway

Smartwater

Sweetgreen

Snickers

Sprite

Sabra

Sunkist

Strauss

Smarties

S.pellegrino

Schweppes

Sana

Sirma

Sara Lee

Toblerone

Tang

Twix

Tesco

Tropicana

Vittle

Volvic

Wall's

Walmart

Walkers

Wrigley's

7Up

(Clothing)

America Eagle

Adidas

Alo

Adina Eden Jewelry

Converse

Calvin Klein

Cat

Castro

Drew

Diesel

Good American

GAP

H&M

Kamili

Levi's

Lumberjack

Mango

Nike

Oasis

Puma

River Island

Skims

Skinny Dip

St. Mark

Style Nadia

Timberland

Victoria's Secret

Vakko

We Wore That

Wyeth

Zara

(Beauty)

Aveda

Amika

Avon

Aussie

Aveeno

Always

Aesop

Ahava

Bobbi Brown

Blistex

Bath & Body Works

Britney Spears Fragrance

Becca

Biotherm

Beauty Blender

Clinique

Covergirl

Colgate

Calgon

Camay

CeraVe

Christina Aguilera Perfumes

Clean & Clear

Crest

CND

Cacharel

Dr. Jart+

Dove

Dettol

Darphin Paris

Dark & Lovely

Essie

Elidor

Fenty Beauty

Fair & Lovely

Garnier

Gillette

Glam Glow

Honest Beauty

Haci Sakir

Herbal Essences

Head & Shoulders

Hugo Boss

Jo Malone

Johnson & Johnsom

Kerastase

Kiehl's

Kylie Cosmetics

Kylie Skin

Kotex

L'Oreal

Lacome

La Roche-Posey

Lifebuoy

Lux

Lubiderm

Maybelline

MAC

Moroccan Oil

Maui

Matrix

Max Factor

Nyx

Neutrogena

Nivea

Nature's Beauty

Niely

Olay

Origins

Orkid

Oral-B

Oax

Pepsodent

Pantene

Revlon

Rimmel

Rexona

Rhode

Summer Fridays

Schick

Smashbox

Sephora

Sensodyne

Skinceuticals

Skin Better Science

The Body Shop

Too Faced Cosmetics

The Ordinary

Tom Ford Beauty

Tampax

Takami

Urban Decay

Ulta Beauty

Vichy

Vaseline

Veet

Yes to

Yuesai

(Luxury)

Chanel

Estee Lauder

Georgio Armani

LVMH

Louis Vuitton

La Mer

Lavs

Le Labo

Mugler

Maison Margiela

Prada

Raplh Lauren

Tiffany & Co.

Tom Ford

Tommy Hilfiger

Valentino

Yves Saint Laurent

(Tech & Entertainment)

Aol

Amazon

AirBnB

Apple

BBC

Buxton

Barbie

Booking.com

CNN

Disney+

Dell

Energizer

Ford

Fiverr

Galaxy

Hyundai

Hulu

IBM

Intel

Lego

Motorola

Movenpick

Mattel

Microsoft

National Geographic

Nokia

Netflix

Oracle

Oxi

Philips

Rolls Royce

Siemens

Sodastream

Toys R Us

Volvo

Valvoline

Wix

(Other)

Axa

Ariel

Aero

Ambi Pur

Airwick

Aroma

AVC

Amway

Ace Hardware

Andrex

American Express

Bounty

Black & Decker

Bonux

Bref

Braun

Benadryl

Band-aid

Barclays

Blue Cross Blue Shield

Better Help

Caltex

Chevron

Culligan

Citi Bank

Chicco

Cravola

Clearblue

Capital One

Dash

Drynites

Dosmestos

Doona

Expedia

Finish

Febreeze

Fixodent

Fairy

Goop

Gerber

Gys

HSBC

Huggies

Hayat

Imodium

JCB

Kimberly-Clark

Kleenex

Lion

Little Swimmers

Lenor

Mr Muscle

Minidou

Monsanto

Nicorette

Omo

Pampers

Purina Felix

Payoneer

Palmolive

Protex

Pull-ups

P&G

Prima

Pril

Paramount Pictures

Rejoice

Rinso

Rogaine

Signal

Sensus

Sudafed

Tide

Unilever

Us Cellular

Vim

Vanish

Vicks

Yumus

(Places)

Disney

(People)

Ashley Tisdale

Amy Schumer

Andy Beshear

Bono

Ben Savage

Bella Thorne

Beyonce

Chris Evans

Claire Holt

Ciara

Chris Rock

Chris Pine

Demi Lovato

Dwayne Johnson

DJ Khaled

Eva Longoria

Gal Gadot

Ian Somerhalder

Jamie Lee Curtis

James Maslow

Justin Bieber

Jennifer Aniston

Jaclyn Hill

Jack Harlow

Jordan Peele

Joseph Quinn

Jack Black

Kylie Jenner

Kim Kardashian

Kris Jenner

Kerry Washington

Katie Perry

Karlie Kloss

Khloe Kardashian

Kat Graham

Kendall Jenner

Kourtney Kardashian

Lebron James

Lana Condor

Lana Del Rey

Millie Bobby Brown

Malala

Mindy Kaling

Mark Hamill

Madonna

NFL

Nina Dobrev

Natalie Portman

Nabela

Nicole Richie

Noah Schnapp

Octovia Spencer

Perez Hilton

Paul Wesley

Phoebe Tonkin

Pia Mia

P!nk

Ronaldinho

Rihanna

Sofia Richie

Shaquir O'neal

Selena Gomez

Tara Strong

Taika Waititi

Taylor Swift

Tyler Perry

Usher

Vanessa Hudgens

Viola Davis

#boycott #boycott israel #boycott mcdonalds #boycott starbucks #boycott disney #boycotting #pro palestine #fuck israel #support palestine

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ivystoryweaver · 1 year ago

Text

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #7: Angel Heart

prev | Fic Masterlist | My Masterlist | next

Event #7 Summary: Halloween is a magical time, where mysterious things happen.

Pairing this chapter: Steven Grant x f!reader (alters mentioned)

Word count: 3k

Content: angst, fluff-adjacent, the yearning, dealing with death and COD, Steven is so very Steven, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

PREVIOUSLY on "Spectre"...

You acted out of pure spectral instinct.

The sight of your partner "taking arms", or suiting up in his defense against you...It absolutely shattered you.

You thought you heard your name called, but it was galaxies away. The sound faded and all that was left was the Dark.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven was spooked.

After encountering what could only be described as a malevolent spirit in the form of his girlfriend, there was no way he would sleep a wink. Your pain had somehow devolved into rage, bursting out of you.

“A proper haunting,” he gasped, his Mr. Knight suit dissolving after you disappeared.

What was happening to you?

Unable to calm down at home, he ventured into town again, his feet shuffling desperately along the sidewalk, crunching dead leaves as he hurried away from the haunting.

“Don’t know what I’m doing,” he muttered, hands clutched tightly to the center of his chest.

Soon enough, Steven found himself staring into the darkened window of what was the "Mystic Delights and Other Charming Novelties," desperately seeking answers. The shop was gone. Ms. Marjorie was gone. You were gone.

"You blokes are awfully quiet," he said to his alters, feeling so alone and heartsick at the thought of your torment.

You were murdered? How could it be possible? How could they not know? You were young enough that an autopsy was performed to determine cause of death, but the coroner assured them that your heart simply stopped, and you died of natural causes.

That was unbearable enough- a life so young, with unlimited potential. A moderately successful children’s book author, beloved by the small town you inhabited, and a loving partner. Why had a life been snuffed out so needlessly?

Now they had an answer: someone took your life - stole it from you. But the answer brought no peace - only anguish. You died because someone hurt you.

Steven knew this discovery was most assuredly what had catapulted him to the front, and sent Marc spiraling.

One glaring question burned in his heart, above all others: why were you here? Was there some way they could help you find rest? Anything Steven could do for you, even in death, he would move heaven and earth - he would return to the sands of the Duat if he could help you.

With a weary sigh, he scuffed his foot on the sidewalk, giving one final glance to the Mystic Delights window. Walking around aimlessly wouldn’t solve anything. He would have to face what waited for him at home.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

What waited for Steven was a huge mess. He couldn’t handle cleaning it up tonight, so he made sure you weren’t in the bedroom before sleeping on the couch.

The next morning, he showered early and cleaned all the broken glass from the bedroom. He disposed of the broken lamp and changed the bedding. He wasn’t sure how to help you or Marc (or himself of Jake, frankly), but this, he could do.

The idea of work was daunting, but he decided to show up to the library anyway. He stopped at Triple B’s for breakfast. He passed the old storefront where Mystic Delights wasn’t. Not one damn thing made sense to him, but Steven had been playing catch up most of his life. One foot in front of the other. Keep calm and carry on - all that.

On the way home, he spontaneously decided to get a new fish. Everything was shit at the moment, so why the hell not? Walking his new finned friend back to Elm Street, he half hoped/half expected to witness the rustle of bedroom curtains in the window.

Standing in front of your bungalow, he sighed, his eyes traveling over the bright blue - ahem, cornflower blue front door. An autumn breeze swirled, tossing dead leaves carelessly about and sending a chill through Steven’s thin jacket.

“Come on, little friend,” Steven declared, holding up the clear plastic bag with a golden finned pal darting around inside. “You have to meet someone. An absolute angel. And you’ll have some company in your tank too.”

Once inside, Steven decided to introduce the new fishy into a fish bowl before adding him to the larger aquarium with the other three fish. Besides, he wanted to show it to you.

Yes, Steven was going to treat you with as much love and normalcy as he could muster. Maybe then you would feel comfortable enough to come back.

Trepidation built with each stair climbed. He hesitantly pushed open the door to your bedroom with bated breath, expecting to find the room empty. Deep in his heart, however, he hoped to find you sitting there on the edge of the bed, as you were last night.

Just as he thought, you were absent. He checked the bathroom, to be certain, but, as usual, he was completely alone. With a heavy sigh, he set the new fish in his bowl down on the nightstand and sank down on the bed.

“Wish you were here, my darling,” he sweetly uttered, glancing around the room. “It’s okay that you’re not. I only hope you’re somewhere good.” He nodded toward the fish bowl. “Brought us home a new friend. Thought it might be nice.”

He tried not to take your absence personally, but it was clearly he who’d encountered you the least. You’d spent substantial time with Jake and even more so with Marc. What was he doing wrong?

“Just gonna leave Mr. Fishy right here while I grab something to eat,” Steven declared, pushing off the bed, his shoulders sagging in disappointment. “That way, you won’t be alone if you come back and I’m not here.”

An hour passed before Steven climbed the stairs. Honestly, he didn’t want to walk into an empty room again. Having remembered Mr. Fishy would be waiting for him and needing some company, he braved the climb, wishing with all his soul he could see you again.

Halloween is a magical time, where mysterious things happen.

So when Steven found you sitting on the bed, leaning toward the night table, talking animatedly to Mr. Fishy, a piece of his wounded heart instantly healed. He spoke your name, soft and sweet, his heart bursting with love and longing.

“Steven,” you breathed, floating off the bed, holding up your hands defensively. “Don’t go. I-I won’t hurt you. I didn’t mean to, before. I’m sorry, I - "

“‘S’alright, darling,” he soothed, nodding encouragingly. “Didn’t mean to upset you. I was just surprised to find out…” He trailed off, figuring mentioning your murder was the wrong way to go.

Having spent more time in the darkness, you came back to yourself, to this room, before remembering the pure, unbridled rage that had burst out of you.

“Oh, no…no, you didn’t do anything wrong. I…” You trailed off, your gaze dropping as your shoulders sagged. “I don’t know what’s happening to me, or if it even matters now that I’m gone. I just know I scared you. I could have really hurt you.”

“I don’t know,” Steven cheekily replied, hoping to lighten the mood, his eyes sparkling animatedly. “I’m tougher than I look.”

It didn’t exactly work. Shaking your head, you eased closer to him, the depths of your eyes sunken and sad. “You put on the suit to defend yourself.” Instead of arguing, he gave you a chance to say your piece.

“Steven…I know it can’t be good that I’m here. It will only hurt you if I’m…haunting you.”

Dark eyebrows shifted curiously as he held your gaze. “Well…Mr. Fishy isn’t afraid of you, so I don’t see why I should be. You’ve known me a lot longer, after all.” He flashed you a grin.

You smiled in spite of yourself, glancing at the fish bowl. “You named him Mr. Fishy?”

“Temporarily,” he laughed, his eyes twinkling with a bit of mischief. “I thought we might name him together. What do you think?”

The hint of relief you felt only a moment ago slipped away from you. “Are you sure you want my opinion? Won’t that be like…an upsetting reminder?”

He frowned, confused.

“Of what? Getting another chance to see you, and talk to you?” Steven challenged.

When you didn’t answer, he took a seat on the bed, near Mr. Fishy. Staring at the fish bowl for a few moments, he thought carefully about what he would say next. It meant everything to him that you not return to the dark, if he could help it.

“We died too, you know,” he softly uttered, tracing the fish bowl with his fingertip. “Marc and me. And Jake - he was trapped there, all by himself. And it was scary.” His warm brown eyes found yours. “And temporary.” He patted the spot beside him on the bed, beckoning you closer.

You complied, easing down beside him, your skin tingling with anticipation. Only you didn’t have skin.

“Can’t imagine what it’s been like for you, my love,” Steven whispered, staring sweetly into your eyes. “I know it’s hard, and lonely. I’m sorry. So sorry.

“Don’t know if it makes any difference at all, but…I’m here.” He reached for your hand, but, as always, swiped right through where you should be.

Marc did it all the time, but this was new with Steven. He gasped as his fingers tried to trace the vapor of you.

“Amazing, innit?” He whispered, his eyes wide with awe. “Here but not here.”

You exhaled shakily. “Yeah…”

Clearing his throat, Steven withdrew his hand, hoping not to upset you. “Can you feel that, love? Or only see it, like I can?”

At that moment, you could have sworn you had a heart, because something inside of you was thudding. The air rushed out of lungs that weren't present and your non-existent cheeks burned with raw desire. You sat beside him, the honesty of your feelings for him evident in the flutter of your bright eyes. You moistened your lips, preparing to speak, but distracted by the feelings bursting inside.

You felt so real, you were certain Steven could pull you into his arms, hold you close and press his lips to yours.

“I…feel,” you stuttered out breathlessly. “I feel things. Inside.” Motioning to your slightly translucent form, you realized how odd you sounded. So you shrugged. “Steven,” you whispered, scooting closer to him on the bed. “I feel my heart racing. I feel…warm.” The tiniest hint of a smile curled the edges of your pretty mouth. “When I’m with you, I feel warm.”

Gazing at you adoringly, his deep brown eyes melted you on the spot.

You swallowed.

“With Marc, I feel…solid. Steady. Substantial,” Your forehead wrinkled as you tried to explain. “With Jake, I’m bright. I feel like I sparkle.”

He nodded encouragingly, sweetly - just so…Steven.

Which made you remember, “I’ve missed you so much. I didn’t know why you couldn’t see me.”

“I wondered that too, but…” he trailed off, wishing he could trace his fingers over your cheek, the way he loved to do. “Maybe it wasn’t the right time. And now, we’re here, together - "

“But that’s just it,” you desperately interjected, floating off the bed, toward the window.

“I’m not with you. I mean, we’re not really together. I can’t be with you. I’m gone and…and you’re alive, and the more I’m here, the more I want the one thing I can never have.” Squeezing your fists in frustration, you remembered that you shouldn’t get riled up. The goal was to not terrorize the love of your life.

A few quiet moments passed, until you could somehow sense him behind you. Turning your head slightly, you realized he was actually standing there. You imagined that if you could feel each other, he would wrap his arms around you protectively.

“I wish I could hold you,” he whispered beside your ear. The sound was so sensual, it permeated your senses, sending shivers where your spine should be. Your eyes drifted shut as you basked in his presence, certain you could sense him somehow.

Steven called your name, but your gaze was fixed on the darkened window glass. Your own, ghostly form reflected itself back to you, and Steven hovered behind you. The sight soothed you somehow.

“You can tell me what you want, my love,” he whispered, and you could swear you felt his warm breath on your cheek. “What do you want? If you could have anything. Don’t…bottle it up inside.”

You gasped out, emotions brimming inside your chest, but you could not cry. How would you ever have guessed you would miss crying?

“Steven...” you breathed out, squeezing your eyes shut. “I can’t.”

“You can,” he encouraged. “Tell me what you want.”

“I wish I could show you…how much I love you.”

Turning around, you stared into his eyes, shining with love and concern for you. “I…I want to touch you.” Laying your hand alongside his cheek, you attempted to caress the handsome contours of his face, sighing wistfully. “I want a lot of things. But mostly that.”

He nodded sympathetically, his dark eyebrows shifting back and forth like a puppy. “I want that too.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You and Steven decided to name Mr. Fishy after one of your book characters: Jeremiah.

“Bit of a distinguished name, yeah?” Steven teased, pulling a soft white t-shirt over his head, driving you crazy as the shirt’s collar raked over his freshly washed curls.

Jeremiah was swimming happily in the fish bowl and you already felt a bit attached to the little guy.

Warmth and utter devotion bloomed in your chest at the gesture. Steven bought you a fish? You were gone and still he wanted to cheer you up, to make you feel as if you belonged. Such an angel.

You studied his face closely, truly feeling a little lighter after your confession about wanting to touch him.

“Will you lie down with me?” You ventured.

Steven’s face lit up with a warm, inviting smile that caused you to smile in return. “Yeah, Id like that.”

Lying on his side, Steven faced you, mirroring his pose, your bodies touching at the slightly bent knees, arms and foreheads.

“Tell me something wonderful. How does the town look this October?”

“Spooky as ever,” Steven answered, choosing not to bring up the mysterious Mystic Delights shop again.

“Describe it to me,” you insisted, wishing to think of only good things. “And don’t leave out a single detail.”

Steven was more than happy to describe, in excruciating detail, every cobweb or jack-o-lantern on every front porch or storefront, even tossing in a few classic Steven puns, which made you giggle.

“I love that - the sound of your laugh,” he told you. “Best sound in the world.”

“You make me happy,” you shrugged. As happy as a ghost could be, you supposed.

You were so close, talking the night away, falling more desperately in love with every moment shared. Dawn approached near and Steven was drifting.

“Help me stay awake,” he murmured, nuzzling his cheek cutely into the pillow.

“Um, okay, how?”

“I dunno. Sing really loud.”

You giggled again, tracing your fingers over his mouth, craving contact, but knowing it would not come. ”It's okay if you fall asleep.”

“But - "

“Shhh, baby...” You ruffled his hair. Somehow it felt good to him. ”I dont know how it will be for you if I disappear again. It's better if you fall asleep and wake up later.”

”I don't want to let you go,” he pouted, his words adorably slurred.

“It's okay. Shhh...” you hummed softly in his ear, something low and sensual, yet calmingly innocent. Steven felt more relaxed than he ever had in his life, as if your voice was pure magic. ”Sleep. I love you.”

“Mmm,” he drowsily hummed. “Wish I could love you back to life.”

That line zinged right through your body. You could swear those words alone restarted your heart.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven slept.

You watched over him, drinking in his beauty, basking in his love.

Damn, you sounded like a cheesy fanfic writer. Weren’t you an accomplished author while you were alive?

At any rate, you found a modicum of peace watching his long lashes kiss his cheeks. So peaceful, in fact, that you felt your own eyes growing…heavy.

Maybe the darkness was pulling you back. But this felt different. You felt…weary. As if you needed rest. Just a moment…

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You became aware of yourself differently this time.

It wasn’t like emerging from the Dark Place. It was as if you never left, and spent all night in bed with Steven.

You felt warm.

But not theoretically warm. You actually felt a wave of human warmth in your body.

Your…body.

Something was different.

The first thing you actually felt was breath in your throat. You exhaled in a rush. Your eyes darted around, attempting to help you get your bearings.

But they were hindered by a gritty, burning sensation. You blinked. Skin eased down, reflexively to cover your orbs, relieving the sting with fresh moisture.

Your lips parted in a gasp…only your mouth felt cottony. You found it difficult to swallow at first.

Thirst.

Instinctually, you reached up with your fingers to touch your lips…and your fingertips made contact.

Releasing a trembling breath, you whimpered as breath - real, heated puffs of air tickled your skin.

Your skin.

Fingertips traced parched lips, far too dry, yet moisture gathered. You realized then that your cheeks were wet.

Squeezing your eyes shut, fresh tears spilled down, blurring your vision. Reaching up reflexively, you swiped them away.

That’s when your hand collided with soft white cotton.

A thousand sensations electrified your body at once.

The clean, earthy smell of their body wash. The scent of fabric softener on their t-shirt. The way your tears left marks - slightly darker than the fabric.

The sensation of cotton against your fingers. So soft.

And then you dragged your fingertips down past the sleeve’s hem to his skin.

Warmth met your skin - your flesh met his.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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ne0nic · 1 year ago

Text

Our Game

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Wriothesley x f!Reader ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

MDNI

ִ ࣪𖤐 Word Count: 5.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 CW: NSFW, Dom!Wriothesley, Thief!Reader, Mentions of Human Trafficking, Drugged Tea, Slight Bondage

ִ ࣪𖤐 No use of Y/N, Never use of Y/N

The game is lively tonight and you expect to enjoy it in full.

With effortless grace, you move in and out of the shadows around the Court of Fontaine, becoming a phantom of the night. The deserted streets are a ripe playground, businesses closed, doors and windows locked, and the guards drowsy and inattentive. It's a realm of exhilarating opportunity, just waiting for you to claim.

Your destination is the side door of the antique jewelry shop, known as the last source of pride for an elderly proprietor. Your knowledge of every shop in the city is impeccable, following a mistake where you learned that it's unwise to steal from a Fatui-owned establishment; it's akin to pilfering from the Tsaritsa herself.

With a few deft movements, you manipulate the lock, and the door swings open without a sound. The shop's interior is as silent as a tomb, its owners having long retired for the evening. You enter, your eyes alight with anticipation.

You navigate the shop's layout like a child in a candy store, your gaze drawn to the glass cases showcasing a myriad of jewels, each one casting a beguiling shimmer. With nimble fingers, you open the case and select a ring featuring a sizable ruby. You slip it onto your finger, admiring the deep red luster. The ring itself is far from delicate, clearly designed for a more masculine hand – someone like…

You quickly remove the ring, tossing it into your bag. No point dwelling on such thoughts; it's time to collect your treasures and make your exit. You work swiftly, carefully placing necklaces and bracelets into your waiting bag, ensuring the displays remain untouched.

The unmistakable sound of heavy boots approaching makes you freeze in place, listening to the resonant thud of leather shoes and the subtle jingle of chains and cuffs. It's time to depart. You wrap up your mission with meticulous precision, and as swiftly as you had arrived, you vanish into the night. Peering from the safety of an alley, you remain silent, unable to spot the approaching figure. Even worse, you're uncertain of the direction from which he's drawing near.

Taking on the rooftop is undoubtedly the better choice. Climbing up the copper gutter pipe, you gain a sweeping view of the city from the high vantage point. From here, you can easily traverse the rooftops, leaping across buildings and making swift progress. As the immediate danger lessens, you descend to the streets below.

Suddenly, that distinct sound returns, the one signaling his presence. How did he catch up to you so fast? It's time for plan B. You snatch a dark cloak from a nearby stall and quickly drape it over yourself, making a dash for the nearest stationed Garde.

"Oh! Garde! Monsieur!" you implore, rushing up to the uniformed soldier. The young man, evidently new to the force, turns his attention to you with an eager desire to assist.

"Madame? What's the problem?" he inquires, clearly willing to help.

"I was just at the tavern getting a drink, and I think a strange man is following me! Please, help me!" You plead, ensuring fear reflects in your eyes.

"Do not worry, ma'am. I will take care of this," he assures, stepping around you to face the direction of the approaching footsteps.

"Oh! Thank you so much, Monsieur," you say, masking your sly grin as you slip away.

The guard stands firm, ready to protect the innocent young woman who has placed her trust in him, aligning with the oath to safeguard all citizens of Fontaine. His excitement is palpable.

A shadow emerges in the dimly lit street, advancing slowly. The young Garde stands at attention. "You there! I'd like a word with you!" he calls out.

The approaching figure steps into the light, revealing a large, menacing man. He possesses piercing blue eyes, is adorned with chains and has a pair of handcuffs hanging at his side. His coat is casually slung over his back, and a scar stretches from the base of his neck, disappearing under his clothing.

The young Garde recognizes the man and instantly locks up. "Y-Your Grace! My apologies! I mistook you for a suspect!"

"Suspect? What gave you that idea?" the man inquires, tilting his head gently.

"This young lady, she—" The Garde turns, only to find that you've vanished. "Where'd she go?"

"A woman?" he asks.

"Y-Yes, a woman. She claimed a man was following her," the Garde explains. The man, who moments ago wore a serious expression, breaks into a smirk and chuckles softly.

You've successfully ascended the tower, fully prepared to make your getaway into the cover of the night. Luckily, tonight's escape had proven effortless, and you hadn't even needed to trigger an alarm to elude the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide. He must be accustomed to your flamboyant tricks by now. The two of you had been engaged in this thrilling game for so long that you constantly had to innovate new ways to lead him astray. However, you'd come to find that the simplest tricks were the most enjoyable, especially after the sheer madness you'd put him through as you slipped away.

As you make your way toward freedom, a hand wraps firmly around your wrist, pressing your back into the wall. He looms above you, an unamused expression on his face. The way his stunning eyes seem to gleam in the dim light sends a shiver down your spine.

"Hello, darling," you taunt.

"Give it up. I'm taking you in," he declares with unwavering determination.

"That's what you always say," you mutter, causing him to grit his teeth.

"The bag," he demands, extending his hand.

"You're no fun," you pout, pulling the strap over your head and placing it in his palm. Wriothesley keeps you cornered as he opens the satchel, only to find it empty—no jewels, necklaces, or even a few coins. "Trouble?" you ask with a smirk.

"Where are the jewels?" he asks bluntly.

"What jewels?" you play innocent. He grabs your arms, pressing you firmly against the wall.

"I'm not in the mood for this today," he growls.

"But I'm completely innocent, Your Grace," you say with wide, doe eyes. "Little old me? A thief? Isn't it wrong to accuse someone without any evidence?"

"Enough!" he snaps, pushing you closer, your chests almost touching. You can feel the way his heart races, how you make him nervous. It sends a thrill through you.

"Or was there a different reason you followed me tonight, Your Grace?" you inquire, leaning forward. Your lips are mere inches apart. He tries to hide the way his breath hitches, but your smirk widens. "Did you want me all to yourself? You could've just asked. I'd never refuse." You tease him with expert precision, knowing precisely what to say and do to provoke him. You close the distance even further, his eyes locked onto your lips. Your breaths mingled so closely that your lips could touch if either of you moved even slightly. And just when it seems like he can't take it any longer, you pull away. "Forgive me, Your Grace. Sometimes I forget you're a man of the law, dedicated to your work. Surely, you're far too busy for me to take up any more of your time."

"Shut up," he snaps, closing the gap between you in an instant. He captures your lips, instantly stealing your breath away. His kisses are demanding, his desire to take the lead palpable, and you willingly submit to his commanding presence. His teeth graze along your bottom lip, eliciting a breathy, barely audible moan from you. You press your thighs together, utterly captivated by the way this man has the power to make you unravel. His longing for you has always had the ability to make you tremble, particularly in moments like these, when the game between you two reaches its zenith, when he finally catches you, and both of your desires hit you without reserve.

His hand raises to the back of your neck, tilting your head up, giving him more of you. He's going mad. He has to be. There must be some kind of spell or pheromone that you've cast over him, that makes him need you desperately. Everytime you're before him like this, his morals fly out the window, and his lust becomes so thick he can't resist. He's well aware of the moral dilemma that plagues him. You're a true criminal, through and through, and he's fully cognizant of the wrongdoing of his actions. However, he never feels the exhilaration of the chase as intensely as he does when it's with you.

The tranquil sound of water churning brings you back to the present moment. Regrettably, it's time for you to make your exit. Your fingers slide over his vest pocket, and Wriothesley's brow furrows as you withdraw from the kiss.

"Gotta run," you murmur, slipping out of his grasp and collecting your discarded bag. Wriothesley's brows knit as you head toward the boat.

"Wait!" He attempts to step forward but is abruptly pulled back. He turns, only to discover that you've cuffed him to the service pipes. With a frustrated grunt, he struggles against the cuffs, and something falls out of his pocket. He gazes downward, finding a jewel necklace on the ground. Lifting his head to you again, you turn back to him with a playful smile.

"I had fun."

"Dammit!" He curses, his bracers materializing on his hand as he strikes through his own cuffs. Finally free, he makes a dash toward the boat. But the ferry has already set off, and he can only huff in frustration as you slip away.

Again.

Your fingers trace over the ledger, where rows upon rows of names denote inmates at the Fortress of Meropide. However, none of them match the one you're seeking. You can't help but wonder how many trivial offenses landed people in this imposing place.

Infiltrating the fortress itself was a relatively straightforward affair. They treat their prisoners well down here, making escape seem an improbable feat. Most inmates are cowed by the mere sight of the glass barrier that separates them from the relentless ocean outside. However, gaining entry was an entirely different challenge. Infiltrating the Duke's office, that's where things get tricky. Luckily, your familiarity with the office makes the entry a minor concern, especially when you have a duplicate key at your disposal.

"I'm assuming you didn't come for tea," a voice intones behind you. His hand closes the ledger's cover and rests atop it. Veins course through his arm and hand, and his knuckles are rough and calloused. You push away the inappropriate thoughts that threaten to surface.

"Should I even ask how you got in?" he continues, but you maintain your silence, choosing not to respond. Playing along with him today is the last thing on your mind.

"Who are you looking for?" he gets straight to the point.

"An...associate of mine went missing a few days ago. I was merely curious if he happened to be in your custody," you reply. He picks up the ledger and moves to the other side of his desk to set it down.

"Associate, huh? I thought you worked alone."

"I do," you confirm.

"His name?"

"As if I'd give you that. I'm not here to further incriminate him; I need to secure his swift release."

"Then it seems I can't help you," he states.

"You've never helped me," you correct, to which he chuckles.

"Touche."

"I brought you more of that blend you like," you say, gesturing toward the cabinet.

"Paid for with the proceeds from the jewels?" he questions, a hint of darkness in his tone. You smirk.

"I don't recall any jewels. It's simply a friendly gift, a favor for a favor," you reply, reveling in how his eyes narrow at your words.

"And what favor have I done for you?" he inquires, already knowing the answer. He's trying to ensnare you with your own words.

"I'll prepare a cup for you, dear. You seem weary," you offer, turning toward the cabinet. He's beside you in an instant, gripping your wrist.

"I wouldn't trust you to make anything for me," he snaps, making you smirk.

"Do you truly believe I'd do anything to harm you?" you ask in a feigned tone of surprise. You notice the tension in his jaw and your gaze drifts lower to the scar on his chest, which barely peeks above his clothing, triggering memories of that fateful day. "...Anymore?"

"Go sit down," he orders, and you pull away from his grasp.

"Yes, Your Grace," you say as you step over to the table. Outside the window, the vast expanse of the ocean unfolds, with creatures moving freely, seemingly unconcerned with the curse that hangs over the people of this nation.

You can't help but envy them, particularly after the arrival of that blonde-haired traveler, which marked the beginning of a downward spiral.

"I would like—"

"Three sugar cubes, I know," he interjects, causing a subtle smile to play on your lips.

"What time will the Iudex be arriving? I'd hate to be a bother," you inquire, knowing full well that you've committed his schedule to memory. He sighs, realizing there's no use concealing it from you.

"He won't be. Monsieur Neuvillette had a sudden trial, so he's rescheduled for next week," he admits, an air of candor coloring his response.

"What a shame. That blend is best served fresh," you murmur, your gaze drifting back to the water. A few moments later, he joins you at the table, the gentle clinking of teacups and saucers filling the air. You eagerly pick up your cup.

"I must admit I only ever have tea with you," you confess.

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow as he settles into his seat. He observes you as you bring the cup to your lips and take a sip. Only then does he feel comfortable enough to indulge in his tea.

"It's true," you affirm, setting the cup down. "I always believe tea deserves to be enjoyed in good company."

"You don't have any other good company?" he inquires.

"None quite like you," you reply with a smile.

"Your clever quips won't get you out of here, you know."

"You think I'm clever?" You tease with a playful glint in your eyes.

"I don't intend to just let you walk out of here."

"You never have, not until I was properly sore and had trouble walking the next day," you taunt, taking another sip, causing him to gulp down his tea. His hands clench as you speak.

"Enough. This... arrangement we had is over. I'm taking you in. I'll inform Neuvillette of your transgressions, and you'll face justice," he declares, his tone stern.

"And then I'll find myself right back under your vigilant watch. Is that what you desire? To keep me close? Ensure that we'll never be apart again?" You tease. His jaw tightens. "I thought you relished our little game as much as I did."

"Game?! You're stealing from people!" His anger is palpable now.

You roll your eyes, reaching into your jacket and producing a document, which you slap onto the table. He leans back, perplexed. "And what is this?"

"The justification you seek. The part of you that yearns to believe I'm not entirely malevolent, this is your evidence."

"I don't understand."

"You will," you assure him. The grandfather clock in the corner begins to chime, marking the appointed time.

"It's time for me to go."

"What?" he blurts out.

You rise from the table with alacrity. "Thank you for the tea. I had a lovely time." You begin to walk away, and he suddenly springs to his feet. However, dizziness overtakes him, and he barely catches himself as the world blurs around him. Overwhelming drowsiness renders his legs wobbly, and he finds himself on his knees, struggling to resist it.

"When?" he manages to mumble.

"It was your teacup. You always use the same one," you giggle. He exhales in frustration. You draw closer.

"Don't worry. I'd never harm you. You're just going to have a short nap."

His hand grasps your wrist. "Don't go," he pleads, his desperation evident. It ignites a spark in your heart, prompting you to sink to your knees, cupping his cheeks.

"Well, when you ask so sweetly like that, how can I resist?" you murmur before pressing your lips to his. "Listen to Siegewinne, dear. You've been appearing quite exhausted lately. But I hope you'll feel better when you awaken. And on top of that," your gaze drifts toward the document, "you might see me in a different light the next time we meet."

After a lengthy and exasperating lecture from Siegewinne, Wriothesley finally returns to his office. It appears that you were telling the truth; it was merely a sleeping drug, and by the time he awoke, you had vanished. He didn't provide Siegewinne with many details about your encounter, nor did he delve into any in-depth discussion about you.

He sinks back into his chair, holding a cool washcloth to his forehead. You had been here, well within his grasp, and yet, once again, he found himself incapable of fulfilling the very duty he had sworn to uphold. It frustrates him to no end. Every time you make an appearance, it catches him off guard. However, when he saw you inspecting his office, for a brief moment, he had hoped you were there for him alone. Alas, that's never the case.

To make matters worse, you've infiltrated his dreams. Every time he closes his eyes, there you are, bare beneath him, your cheeks adorned with a charming flush. Your hands tenderly caress his face, and he takes you with a gentleness and passion that starkly contrasts the reality of your late-night rendezvous. Normally, he's rough with you, mirroring your intensity rather than expressing love.

The thought of you alone is enough to stir his desires, and he curses himself. You had drugged him not long ago, yet he's back to square one. Removing the washcloth, he stares at the ceiling, hoping his little problem will subside on its own. He replays the recent events in his mind, striving to rekindle his anger instead of his lust.

"You might see me in a different light the next time we meet."

What did you mean by that? How could he perceive you differently? His gaze drifts to the desk, where the document you left behind rests. He leans forward, scoops up the folded papers, and breaks the wax seal. As he peruses the contents, his heart sinks.

The elderly man who owns the jewelry shop was using it to launder money from human trafficking sales. You appraised numerous items and recorded their selling prices. You even managed to gather evidence of the boats at the marina being involved in the conspiracy. Photos, evidence—everything is meticulously compiled within these documents. This alone must have taken you weeks. A small note is clipped to the last page, the page itself revealing the location where the captors are holding their victims.

Without jewels, there are no sales. I have bought you time, Warden. Do not disappoint me.

He rises from his desk, his mind racing with thoughts of what to do next.

The entirety of Fontaine's police force is mobilized for this operation, simultaneously raiding all the identified targets. Wriothesley, however, personally takes charge of the most significant arrest. With a sense of duty, he apprehends the elderly man, promptly handcuffs him, and pushes him toward the exit.

Outside, the ever-dramatic residents of Fontaine have congregated, forming a boisterous audience to witness this spectacle. The vigilant Gardes work diligently to keep the curious onlookers at bay as he escorts the man outside. His eyes inadvertently scan the crowd.

A sudden pause overcomes him as he catches sight of you. A sly smile graces your lips as you knowingly meet his gaze, and then, with your characteristic grace, you disappear into the crowd, leaving him with a sense of intrigue.

About a week later, following the court's verdict and the subsequent exile to the Fortress, you make a return. Leaning casually on his desk, you patiently await his arrival. As he trudges up the steps, his demeanor brightens in pleasant surprise at the unexpected sight of you. There's a trace of solemnity in your smile as your eyes meet his.

Setting his report down, he approaches you, his curiosity evident in his tone. "You've been gone for a while."

"I had some important matters to attend to," you explain. "The victims who were kidnapped are now under the care of the Spina di Rosula. Most of them are just awaiting reunions with their families. Convincing a few to testify during the trial was a bit challenging, but I'm relieved it's come to a favorable resolution. The Spina di Rosula has pledged to hunt down the buyers, and I've provided them with all the information I could gather."

"Why not have the Spina di Rosula collaborate with the Garde?" he inquires.

"You and I both know that would never happen."

"What now?" he asks.

"My job is done, and I've cut my few remaining ties. All that remains," you say, raising his cuffs, "is you, Your Grace." He takes the cuffs from you, studying them with furrowed brows. As you lift your hands toward him, he glances from the cuffs to your wrists.

With a resounding clack, the cuffs land on the desk. The gravity of this decision settles upon you, hiding within it the unspoken message he wishes to convey. Slowly, you lower your hands as he fixes his gaze on you, drawing dangerously near.

"You're making a mistake," you caution.

"I know," he responds before pulling you closer and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

In a matter of seconds you both burst into his bedroom, lips locked, jackets falling to the floor. Your nimble fingers are quick on the buttons of his vest as he backs you towards the bed. He pulls your shirt upwards, his rough hands riding up your front. Once one hand finds your breast you moan into his mouth. His ice cold touch electrifies you. He rids you of your shirt and pushes you down onto the bed. His gray vest falls to the floor leaving him looking seductively disheveled in just his black button up.

The tip of your nail fits between your teeth as you devour him with your eyes. "You're going too slow," you whine, reaching a hand out. Your fingers trail over his shirt, feeling every curve of his muscles just beneath the fabric. It has you aching for him. He reaches up, tugging his tie free from his neck. You light up, obediently offering your other wrist to him too.

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you'd liked being my prisoner," he says, leaning closer as he ties the red fabric around your wrists.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," you tease, leaning in as well. His gaze falls to your lips before lifting your arms over your head and guiding you to lay on your back. From there he spreads your thighs, fitting himself between. Pressing your lips tight together, you resist the urge to beg. Even a small bit of friction would be heavenly, but it doesn't come. Instead he slowly strips your bottom half, taking his sweet time to admire your panties before just snapping them off your hips.

He sinks to his knees, lips caressing your inner thigh. Your hands find their way to your mouth trying to muffle your own weak whimpers as he trails towards your core. Where you want him the most.

Just as his breath ghosts over your aching cunt he stops. Suddenly his hand wraps around the tie and shoves it upwards again. "Do not move them again, if you do you can forget about my earlier mistake. I'll take you in, right now, like this," he threatens in a husky voice, eyes boring into yours. You smirk, lifting your thigh to rub against his hip.

"Like this, Your Grace? How scandalous," you tease.

"Do you understand?" he demands.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" He snaps.

"Yes, sir," you say, your voice growing weaker.

"Good girl," he praises, and you know you're soaked down there. Cheeks tinged red and heart racing as he sinks back down your body. He lifts your thighs over his shoulders before tugging you in one last time. Torturously slow he gives a chaste kiss to your clit. You resist the urge to pull your arms back down as a groan leaves your lips, your body involuntarily twitching. Wriothesley smirks at the display. It's as if he's trained your body to fall apart at just his touch, something he carries with pride.

His tongue dives between your folds, and you throw your head back with a sinful moan. The man below you is terrifyingly good with his tongue and fingers which makes his next move a damning one.

Two fingers easily slide into you, but he makes sure not to curve them into the place you like. Instead he watches the way you writhe, almost trying to force his fingers that way, the pleasure making you dizzy. Pathetic moans and whimpers pass your lips, music to his ears.

"Please… fuck— mh."

"What was that?" He mutters. "I couldn't hear you." His fingers slow to a cruel rub.

"I wanna cum. Please," you beg.

"Really?... I don't know if you deserve to," he says, his voice dropping a few octaves. The voice change drives you, making him smirk as he feels you tighten. "After all, you didn't tell me what you were up to. You worked outside the law, you could've gotten yourself hurt. Now, that… I just can't seem to forgive." He crooks one finger up slightly, sending you spiraling.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry! I won't do it again," you promise. He slowly rises to his feet, fingers still deep inside you. Wriothesley leans over your trembling frame. His hand caresses your cheek with a tender touch. The coolness of his fingers on your burning cheek is practically bliss.

"Now, how can I believe you? You've broken every other promise you've made to me," he says tauntingly. Fuck! You hate him. You know what he's trying to do, and he knows how desperate you are, enough to agree to any of his demands. He brings your diverting gaze back to his.

"No more secrets," you agree, making him sigh.

"Now, was that so hard?" He asks, pressing right there making your head go fuzzy. You gasp in surprise as his fingers pull you apart all over again, the familiar sensation pooling within you. Wriothesley presses his lips to yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth so he can still hear your gasping moans. "Cum, pretty girl." Your body shudders in the wake of your orgasm, and he doesn't relent, driving you oversensitive in a matter of moments. Your hands grab his wrist, stopping him as you still ride out the end of your orgasm. He smirks and pulls his fingers out. You feel the tie release your wrists.

He's gentle as he lifts your face, seeing the dazed, blissed out expression you wear. His lips peck around your cheeks, to your neck, to your collar, and them to your shoulders by the time your high fades.

"Back with me?" He asks lifting your chin, you nod and he slots his lips against yours while opening your legs again. He fits himself between them and pulls on his belt with one hand, something you don't mind helping him with. He chuckles as he feels you desperately pull his pants open. His aching cock springs free hard and hot in your palm as you stroke him. His forehead sinks to your shoulder as he shudders, slightly thrusting into your touch. "Shit."

"Hurry," you urge. Lifting himself up he positions himself so the head just barely brushes against you. You press your lips together.

Wriothesley reaches upwards, his hand sliding down your arm until he can fit his fingers between yours. Then he thrusts. His other hand grips your hip so tight you pray there will be a bruise. He stretches you open, forcing you to take his size, your eyes roll back into your head.

"Fuck!" You cry out as he bottoms out. He starts with slow shallow thrusts but his patience quickly wears thin. In no time he's snapping his hips forward, rocking the bed, shoving himself deeper inside you. It's predatory, the way he heaves, the way he takes, the way his fingers grip your hair and hold your head up to make you watch him fuck your brains out.

In practically no time at all you're cumming again, but he doesn't slow down, his own orgasm approaching as he feels you clench down on him. The continued force of his thrusts sends you right into a second orgasm and he follows suit. Your cunt milks him for all he's worth. Every drop belongs to you.

He belongs to you.

"Just fucking be mine already," he groans. His words break through your hazy mind in an instant.

"What?"

"Fuck," he mutters. "You're gonna make me say it outright, aren't you?" He leans over fingers brushing over your cheek. "Stay with me. Be with me."

Your heart feels as if it may beat out of your chest as he says it. His cold eyes are now strikingly warm and tender. But you don't know what to say.

Instead you reach up, hands pulling his face down to yours. He complies easily. You kiss him sweetly, whispering against his lips, "I'm yours."

Your confirmation makes his heart sing as he kisses you with more fervor, growing hard inside you once more. The first thrust catches you by surprise but you're loving it. This time there's nothing rough about the way he holds you. He treats you softly, like you'll break if he's any harder. He holds your body in tight to his, burying himself deep inside you, until you're seeing stars.

The clock chimes, marking the hour as Wriothesley opens his eyes. To his dismay the spot next to him is empty. He rubs his face, already stressed that you've disappeared like usual. Unfortunately, maybe he was foolish enough to hope for something more from you.

Sitting up he finally notices the weight on his finger. A ring, a gigantic red ruby within a thick band. The metal is dark and the design is intricate. Honestly, it truly seems like something he'd wear.

Peering over to your side one more time his eyes widen as he sees a folded up paper. With one hand he retrieves it and flips it open.

My secrets come at a cost, Your Grace. So, if you manage to catch me Thursday night, I might consider telling you one or two. Preferably over tea.

I'll be expecting you.

He laughs to himself, "So, the chase is still on, huh? Better make it interesting."

#wriothesley x reader

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hee-blee-art · 5 months ago

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part 4 of the new postman — introducing foster the ragdoll!

[ <- part 3 ] [ directory ] [ part 5 -> ]

[ID: Two greyscale comic pages of a cartoony toyland.

Basil, a black and white cat marionette, is talking to Sir Alfred, a nutcracker doll, while they walk together down a quaint cobblestone main street lined with shops.

A: Here were have the general store, the locksmith, Ed’s Confectionary here, Sunrise Cafe there, Stuffed Bistro next door, Giavanni’s Salon & Barber Shop, Ella’s Flowers down on the corner—

B: Did you say Giavanni?

A: Hm? Oh, yes. She owns the salon just here.

B: She’s next on my list.

A: Ah! Well I’m sure she won’t mind us popping in.

B: Or I could just leave the letters in the box like a normal person.

A: Then how would you meet anyone, silly?

[A walks off towards the salon]

B: [to himself] That’s sorta the idea… Sigh.

[B follows A into the salon, a bell announcing their entrance. A takes his hat off and bows a little as they approach the receptionist, Foster, a ragdoll with puffy wavy hair, who is chewing gum and reading a magazine]

FOSTER: [not looking up] Welcome to Giavanni’s, you got an appointment?

A: Good morning, Foster.

F: [perking up] Oh, hiya, Alfie! You here for a touch-up?

end ID.]

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int-writersmind · 1 year ago

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I Hate Christmas, Peter Parker! {Part 1}

Peter Parker x f!Reader

It’s simple: You don’t see what the big fuss is all about surrounding Christmas, but Peter Parker thinks that this is unacceptable and puts you through step one of a multiple step list to make you fall in love with the holiday.

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

Author's Note: I decided to put a Christmas song suggestion for immersion, not b/c I'm currently in love with Laufey right now...

“You what?!” exclaimed Peter, quite loudly.

“Jesus, calm down,” You lean forward, just slightly, over the table, careful to not tip your mug of half decent hot coffee. “All I said was that I don’t really like Christmas that much, that’s all.”

“You Grinch! You Scrooge!” Peter throws his hands up in an over exaggerated motion, he looked like an oversized toddler. Peter puts on a slight pout as he leaned against the wall, feet outwards, looking over the rest of the coffee shop. “I-I mean, you live in New York City, this place practically invented contemporary Christmas!”

“Now that’s an exaggerated statement.”

“I know that,” Peter turns back to you, folding his hands on top of the table. “But there’s a reason why so many Christmas movies are set here, why so many Christmas events are here. It’s because Christmas is just better in NYC!”

“More like Christmas is more annoying in NYC.” You gently pat Peter’s hand before downing the rest of your drink. “Peter, babe, honey, I’ve lived here my whole life don’t you think I don’t know all this?”

“Yeah, babe-honey, so have I. It’s why I love the holidays.”

“And that's why I hate the holidays!”

You thought Peter would grow bored of your Christmas conversation on your way out the coffee shop and down the street, but he only continued his long rant. It was the first day of December and with the new month came the sudden spark of festive, holiday flare, much to your chagrin. The addition of a new holiday drink at your favorite coffee shop had sparked the conversation in the first place. Peter had ordered it and once you decline the same, suddenly came the sudden barrage of questions.

The two of you held hands as you continued down the long city sidewalk, Peter using his other hand to gesture wildly about Christmas. You decide that enough is enough and pull Peter off to the side, dodging tourists with tons of shopping bags. You reach out for Peter’s other hand, bringing it down with the other, squeezing ever so gently. “Listen, Peter, I appreciate how passionate you are about Christmas, the holidays and what-not, but there’s nothing you can say to convince me to suddenly fall in love with this time of year. This feeling has been there for years.”

Peter looks into your eyes and for a minute it seems as if his attention is elsewhere until he jolts in surprise, eyes widening to match. “I’ve got it!”

You can’t help but roll your head back in defeat. “Oh no…”

“Maybe you're right,” Peter squeezes your hands, bringing your attention back to him. “Maybe there isn’t anything I can say to you to convince you that Christmastime is the best time of year, but I can do things instead.”

“Oh Peter! You naughty little reindeer..” You tease.

“I don’t mean that!” Peter quickly kisses your grinning face, “That could be on the list only after–”

“After?!”

“Only after you complete my list of activities that will definitely, 100 percent make you fall in love with Christmas and everything that comes with it.”

“Oh, you have a list?” You cock one eyebrow up.

“Hypothetical list, it’s being finalized.” Peter pulls you in close, his hands resting on the small of your back, your hands resting on his chest. “But I think I know what to do first. Do you have a Christmas tree? Decorations?”

“Tree, yes, my roommate left one before she left. Decorations…no, I’m sure my cousin has some extra, I’ll stop by after work today.”

“Ok, I’ll meet you at your place later tonight?”

“Yeah, and–,” You move in closer to Peter, eyes shut, lips millimeters away from each other. “Your little list is not gonna change my mind.” You kiss him gently, one hand resting on his cheek before pulling away, Peter slightly chasing you back. “See you tonight.”

“I can already tell i’m gonna hate this” You hold up a shiny red, classic looking ornament by the wire, looking at it as if it was dead fish caught on a hook.

“What?! You have the easy job!” Peter calls back as he clicks the last piece of your ex roommate’s Christmas tree together.

It was night now, Daylight Savings causing the city to look later than it actually was. The two of you had stayed committed to this little game of Peter’s. After calling your cousin about picking up some spare decor (which she eagerly shoved into your arms), and lugging the oversized box on the train back to your place, Peter showed up with a determined expression and a carton of egg-nog.

You take out the other ornaments from their box, inspecting each one, before setting it off to the side. Peter saunters over and plops on the floor next to you, going through the rest of the box to find more decorations for the tree. “This feels tedious.” you say, looking at all the stuff you laid before you.

“Oh c’mon, this will be great.” Peter says as he untangles some garland.

“That’s what you said about the egg-nog.”

“Yes, yes I did say that, but to be perfectly honest, I’ve never tried egg-nog until today so…that’s on me.”

You smile at him as you take the final ornament from the box in hand, a golden ball that had swirls molded into the plastic. “Ok let’s decorate this stupid tree.”

Half an hour in, with tolerable Christmas music playing in the background, the tree was finally starting to come along. You and Peter stood on either side of the tree, hooking various ornaments on branches. As the last ornament looped on, Peter went over to the box to pick up the garland he detangled earlier as you stood back and admired the tree.

“See, beautiful.” Peter said coming up from behind you.

“What, me? Of course.”

Peter just rolls his eyes as he hands you one end of the garland, you each start to place it around the tree, passing the end from one hand to the other. “Doesn’t this remind you of being a little kid, putting up all your favorite ornaments?”

You just shrug your shoulders, “The older I got I just dreaded putting up the tree. It’s started out fine of course. But then someone puts the wrong ornament somewhere, or one side of the tree lights are not working, a favorite ornament gets broken…boom arguments. Mom, Dad, pissed at one another, little ole me just trying get the hell out of dodge.”

Peter gets the end of the garland, securing it at the bottom of the tree. “Sounds like…an experience.”

You just smile at him as he comes to stand next to you. The two of you look at the tree, its soft, golden white lights, the shiny, almost sparking ball ornaments on each branch. “No, no, it’s ok, my parents love each other, but they're just…really good at arguing with one another. I, personally, don't care for it, so I try my best to avoid it.” You reach for Peter’s hand, interlocking your fingers with his. “After my dad accidently broke one of my favorite ornaments and got into a fit with Mom, I just decided it wasn’t worth it anymore. Swore off decorating Christmas trees.” You lean your head on Peter’s shoulder. “It’s funny, I wasn’t even that mad that it broke…”

“What was it?” Peter rests his head on yours.

“Some old time-y phone box, something silly I saw at a Christmas pop-up when I was like 6-7 years old.”

The two of you just stand there in the silence for a moment.

“Pick a new one.”

You move your head off Peter’s shoulder, turning to look at him, “What?”

“Pick a new favorite ornament.” Peter answers, “You don’t have to keep it forever, but it can just be your favorite for this year.”

“Hmm, fine.”

Your eyes skim over the tree, you land on the red ornament before jumping to the golden one, before your eyes find something much more garnish. A little ceramic coffee cup, what better to remind you of how you ended up here. Decorating a tree for the first time in years with your boyfriend who’s hellbent on getting you to like the holiday again.

Your fingers wrap on the ornament, lifting it off its branch, “How about this?”

“Prefect.” Peter says as you hold up the ornament in hand, the light glinting off the piece. Peter tosses something in the air upwards, shooting some webs to stick it to the ceiling. You put the ornament back in its original spot before looking at Peter. “Oh, wow what’s that?”

You look up, mistletoe dangling crookedly. “You know those things are poisonous right?"

“To eat, not to kiss under,” Peter pulls you in close by the waist, eyes darting from your lips to your eyes. “Plus it’s fake.”

Your own eyes glance at Peter’s mouth before looking back at his eyes, “Just because I didn’t run away from decorating a tree, you think you deserve a kiss?” You smirk, a hand going to the back of his neck.

“Oh come here you little Grinch.” With a soft hand on your cheek, Peter pulls you in for a kiss. Those lips, which you became so familiar with, soft and warm, sweetened by the eggnog, engulf yours. His tongue entering yours, playing with yours like it did so many times before. This action was so common, kissing each other was almost like second nature, but sometimes–like moments like this, it almost felt like kissing for the first time, but better. Kissing someone you could really trust, someone who really cared about. It was gushy and corny and everything else that people made fun of, but it was so worth it.

The two of you break off the kiss, foreheads resting on one another.

“So, step one of your list completed?” You ask.

“Nah.”

Your head shoots upwards, looking at Peter with a confused look, to which he chuckles at.

“We still have the rest of the apartment to decorate.”

You groan, falling limp in Peter’s arm. It was all for show of course, but you had to commit to the bit, letting all your weight on to Peter’s one arm. You knew not matter what, he wouldn’t drop you. “God I hate you.”

Hello there! Thanks for reading Part 1 of this multi-part X-mas fic that was definitely not inspired by me at all hahaha... Anyway, I'll post on Sundays to get this series done by Christmas but no promise, but expect weekly uploads at the very least. Also this is meant to be mostly Fluff but if you Naughty Reindeers want some Spice/Smut I'll think about it 😉. Alright bye Void!

{Read Part 2}

#peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker x you #christmas fic #christmas fanfic #spider man fluff #spider-man fluff #spider-man fic #spiderman fic #spider man fic #spiderman fluff #christmas spider-man

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keikikait · 1 month ago

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ʟᴏꜱᴛ ɪɴ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴛʏ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

check out my other rafe series here!

read the prequel series here!

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 4.9k

summary: rafe is late for your date at the island club

warnings: no smut but is suggestive (read at your own risk), handsy rafe, mild violence/fighting, whipped reader & whipped rafe, they go to a restaurant but i don't specify any kind of food, rafe is angry for like 3 seconds but not at reader, mean jj, use of the word 'whore', i don't think they've shown rafe's new place yet so i made one up, i haven't watched all of s4 so if i get shit wrong i'm sorry, not proofread

a note: this was supposed to be short. oops

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You and Rafe had date nights every Friday.

It was the only sense of regularity that he had, and he wouldn’t miss it for the world. He would plan it, tell you when and where to be, and you would eagerly oblige. He surprised you with something new every week; one Friday you’re driving across the thoroughfare towards the mainland for a shopping spree, the next Friday you’re on a private yacht watching the sunset. This week, he decided to go for the tried and true; dinner and a movie.

‘6 PM’, he told you, ‘and wear that silk emerald green dress.’ He had to run out for the day, still dealing with the aftereffects of Ward’s death and his departure from Tanneyhill. Trying to sell a giant, 6-bedroom mansion wasn’t as easy as you thought, as most of the residents of Kildare couldn’t afford to buy it from him. He was considering turning it into an Air B&B, a project he would rope you into to help with the interior design. You and Rafe had a new place, another mansion still located in Figure Eight, although this one is much smaller, a Spanish revival you had a lovely time decorating.

As the afternoon sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the landscape, you found yourself perched upon a solitary bench situated beside the parking lot of The Island Club, the salty tang of the ocean breeze carrying the distant sound of crashing waves. Couples filed into the club, paying you no mind. Even though The Island Club wasn’t far from your new place, Rafe still bought you an Uber, just to make sure you were safe. It was almost 6:15 PM at this point, and every call and text to Rafe went unanswered. You had already informed the staff of his late arrival, ensuring that your reservation would not get cancelled. You check your watch again before standing, walking around the parking lot to check the streets.

Where was he?

You tug your dress down your legs. It was Rafe’s favourite on you, hugging your ass and hips perfectly. It was finally starting to get cold on the island, and even though the black leather jacket you stole from him didn’t exactly go with your outfit, it was keeping you warm. The wind flows through your hair, and you push it out of your eyes, looking down the street, trying to spot him on his bike. You sigh, your shoulders dropping. You turn around to head back to the bench, pulling your phone out of your small purse, ready to call him again.

You’re about to sit down when you hear the revving and rumbling of his dirt bike, pulling into the left side of the parking lot. You sigh, putting your phone away as you walk over to him. You bite your lip when you see him wearing that grey blue waffle-weaved sweater that makes him look delicious. Rafe turns his bike off, pushing the kickstand down before getting off, reaching up to unbuckle the strap of his helmet.

“Hey, handsome.” You say, stepping off the curb and approaching him. You reach out, putting one of your hands on his bicep, fingers slightly digging into the muscle. Rafe pulls his helmet off, keeping it clutched in his hand. His eye and cheekbone were swollen, slightly yellow, and a cut underneath his brow bone marred his otherwise handsome face. The cut was deep, and blood was caked along its edges. It was clear that he had been in a fight, and he had not come out of it unscathed. He winced as you suddenly reach up to touch his cheekbone, a worried look on your face. “What the fuck? What happened?”

Rafe winces as you touch his cheek, pulling back from your touch. He wasn’t in the mood for your coddling. His jaw was clenched tight, his shoulders tense from the fight. He had no intention of telling you what happened, either. You never needed to know about the trouble he was in. He puts his helmet on the seat of his bike and grabs your waist, pulling you in front of him. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, trying his best to keep his voice level so that he didn’t snap at you. He pressed a kiss to your temple, not bothering to conceal the bruises and blood on his knuckles. Was it his or someone else’s, or both?

“Are you okay?” You ask, moving your hand off his bicep to rest on his waist. “Rafe, please tell me.”

His expression hardens as you continue to push. His fingers grip your waist almost painfully tight. “I said, don’t worry,” he repeats, his voice stern. He’d never talked to you like this, and you could hear the warning behind his words. His eyes stare down at you, intense and full of anger, although you’re not quite sure if it’s meant for you. “Let it go.”

You don’t push it, not wanting to anger him anymore. It was supposed to be a nice, relaxing night. You wrap your arms around his waist to pull him into a hug, laying your head on his chest. Rafe hesitates, surprised by the sudden display of affection, but then he wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you in close. He buries his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, and for the first time that night, his shoulders finally drop, his whole body relaxing. He squeezes you tight to his chest, his chin resting on the crown of your head.

He remains silent as he pulls away slightly, looking down at you. He keeps one arm wrapped around your waist, his hand gripping your side as his other hand flies to your neck. His grip is loose, but his thumb presses against your pulse — a small habit he picked up after he started dating you. In his own words, it’s a way to calm him down and to remind himself that you were safe.

Rafe sighs, pressing kisses to your forehead before leaning his against it, rubbing your pulse back and forth as it races under your skin. His voice is soft when he finally speaks, “I’m fine. Just ran into a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” You ask, rubbing your hand up and down his side.

“Nothing you need to be worrying about, sweetheart,” Rafe mumbles, still keeping his head pressed against yours. Rafe never used pet names with anyone else, but with you, it felt different. His eyes drift down to your lips, unable to resist. They were a faint shade of red, glossy and puffy from your bites, just as he liked them. “Just some shit with JJ and John B. I handled it.” He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips, the hand on your neck moving to cup your cheek. Even as he pulls away, he keeps your body pressed against him. “Let’s not let this ruin our night, alright?”

“Are you sure?” You ask, brushing your thumb across his abs. “We can go home and order in if you want. I don’t want you to feel compelled to go out tonight.”

“Baby, I’m fine,” he murmurs, his voice soft. He understood where you were coming from, but only you would ever try to get out of a very expensive date because you thought he was too tired. “I got reservations for a reason. I don’t plan on missing our date night just because of a little fight.” The hand on your waist moves to the small of your back, pressing your body closer to his. He’d planned out everything for tonight. A fancy meal, followed by a quiet movie night at your place, then ending the night with his face buried between your legs, your wrists bound to the headboard. He didn’t want to ruin a date night that both of you were looking forward to.

You sigh, but don’t push it. You didn’t want to ruin the date with an argument. You grab his hand, careful not to brush across his shredded knuckles, before leading him towards the entrance. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

Rafe rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but smile a little bit at your persistence, thankful that you cared. He follows behind you, his strides matching yours. He winces a little bit when you grab his hand, his knuckles stinging from the fight, but he doesn’t dare let you know that.

He holds the door open for you when you reach the entrance, waiting for you to go through before he follows behind, placing on hand on your lower back as you walk. His eyes drifted down to your ass, and he had to stop himself from reaching out and smacking it. Now that his father was dead, he had to try to keep the Cameron image clean and pristine at The Island Club. They weren’t fans of him to begin with.

You head through the small entrance, moving to wait in line for the hostess stand. The country club was pretty packed, a common occurrence for a Friday night. The couple in front of you were older, and the woman's eyes soften as she looked over her shoulder and spotted Rafe.

He kept his hand on your lower back, not trying to hide the fact that you were both together. His eyes stayed locked with the older woman in front of you, not surprised to have already been discovered by one of the regulars. He could see the woman’s concern from a mile away, her expression shifting when she saw the scrapes and bruises on his face. Rafe sighed, his jaw clenching in annoyance. Even here, he couldn’t get away from his reputation. His hand started to rub small circles into your back, silently trying to soothe himself more than you.

The woman whispers to her husband before turning around again. “It’s Rafe, right?”

Rafe raises an eyebrow at the elderly woman, a hint of a scowl on his face as his eyes meet hers. He gives her a small nod, although he doesn’t feel like talking to a regular at The Island Club right now. He wanted nothing more than to spend the evening alone with you. “Yes, ma’am,” His response is short and brief. “That’s me.”

“I was a friend of your father,” The woman says. “We were business partners a few years ago. I’m sorry for your loss, Rafe. My condolences.”

Rafe’s expression changes as soon as the woman mentions his father. He knew that most people from The Island Club had been friends with his old man and business partners with him. Hearing condolences for his father had become a regular part of his routine, but that didn’t mean he liked hearing about his father’s death every single time. His hand on your lower back tightens, pulling you a bit closer to him. He gives her a forced smile, trying his best to look polite. “Thank you, ma’am,” he responds, his voice stiff.

The woman smiles softly before turning back around, stepping forward towards the hostess stand. Rafe’s hands traveled from your hips to your lower back, pulling you closer to him. He was lost in reality, almost as if he didn’t want to admit to himself that his life was fundamentally changing. His father was dead, and his relationships with his remaining family were ruined. But he had you, and that’s all that matters to him right now.

You lean your head against his chest as you wait, hands wrapped around his bicep, rubbing it lightly with your thumb.

Rafe sighs as you lean against him, his hand on your lower back drifting down to cup your ass. He could only hope that the other patrons wouldn’t notice, although he didn’t really care that much. But that woman was going to tell everyone about how rough he looked tonight, and he knew that some people would have comments about that, too. Rafe lowers his head to speak in your ear, although his voice is quiet enough that only you could hear. “Can’t wait to get you home,” he murmurs.

"Yeah? You excited for me to get on my knees for you?" You ask. Just as Rafe had been thinking about you all day, you had been thinking about him. You couldn’t wait to sink to the floor in front of him, your hands eagerly unbuckling his slacks before letting him fuck your face. Your favourite part, though, was the way he gripped your hair and moaned as he cummed down your throat.

Rafe sighs, groaning low in his throat as your words go straight to his cock. He’d always loved it when you talked like this, even if you were in private or texting. He didn’t want you to talk to anyone else like that. You were his. “Mmm, I’m more excited to see your face when you ride me,” he mumbles, moving closer so that his mouth is right next to your ear, still careful to keep his voice low. He wanted to take you home right now, but he had been looking forward to this dinner all week, and he knew you were too.

The older couple in front of you step away, being led by the hostess to their table. You approach the stand, and you smooth out the front of your dress as you wait. Although Rafe was used to the rich life full of country clubs, cotillion and croquet, you weren’t. You wanted to make a good impression on the staff of The Island Club.

Rafe stands tall and proud as you both step up to the hostess stand, his arm still wrapped around your waist, his hand resting on the small of your back. He glances down at your dress, taking in every detail of your appearance. You looked absolutely stunning in that dress, and it was taking all of his self-control to not get hard right now. The way you anxiously chewed on your lip, the way your hair was shining in the ambient lighting of the country club, the way you wore the ‘Rafe’ name necklace he bought you…he loved everything about you. He tugged you closer, loving the way you put a hand on his stomach as you leaned against him. You both had matching gold rings, engraved with your anniversary, yours on your forefinger while his sat on his thumb.

The hostess looks up to greet both of you. She glances down at the reservation book for just a moment before nodding, a polite smile on her face. “Mr. Cameron,” she says. “Your table is ready.” She gathers two menus before leading you through the dining room towards the more private, member’s only area of the country club.

Even though you had been dating Rafe for a while, almost a year, you were always surprised by his influence. He had everything he ever wanted at the tips of his fingers, and because you were dating him, you got those luxuries too; endless shopping trips, a house full of anything you could dream of. And a handsome boyfriend, of course.

As you walk behind the hostess, Rafe’s fingers intertwine with yours, holding your hand tight. He was aware of all the eyes on him, as you could hear the whispers and murmurs from their fellow patrons, knowing they were all aware of the fight with John B and JJ, and the rumors were probably already spreading like wildfire. The hostess leads you to a secluded corner with a single table set for two, two candlesticks illuminating the table with a warm glow.

“Thank you,” Rafe mumbles to the hostess as his eyes drift towards the far corner of the room. He lets go of your hand with some reluctance, before holding the chair for you at the small booth. He was thankful for the secluded booth, knowing it was going to be easier to touch you under the table. Rafe slides in next to you, reaching over to grab your knee, stroking his thumb softly back and forth. He wanted to put his hand on your throat to feel your pulse again, but he didn’t think that the patrons and staff would like that.

You thank the hostess, setting your purse down in the empty space next to you. As the hostess walks away, Rafe’s hand slips under the skirt of your dress, grabbing onto your inner thigh and rubbing back and forth. His touch is featherlight, just the lightest graze of skin against skin, although he can feel all the heat from your skin.

He picks up the menu from the table, pretending to scan the food while his hand caresses you. He leans in toward you, although his eyes are still scanning the menu. “Do you know what you want to eat, sweetheart?”

“You.” You say immediately, flipping the menu over to look at the other side.

Rafe can’t help but let out a slight chuckle at your immediate response, his hand on your thigh stopping for a moment. His eyes finally look up at you from the menu, an amused look on his face. “Mmm, not yet, baby, but you’ll get it later. Promise,” he grins, his eyes drifting back down to the menu as his hand starts to rub against you again. “And for the main course?”

You sigh, glancing over the options. You didn’t really love any of the dishes on the menu, but you weren’t opposed to eating any of them. Rafe wraps his large, warm hand around your inner thigh and squeezes, yanking you a bit closer. It’s a simple gesture, but it makes your head spin, your brain shutting down for a split second. You purse your lips as you read before looking away, shifting in your seat. “You pick.”

He can see the way your body reacts to his touch, and it satisfies him to know that he can still affect you like that. It just makes him more eager to get you back home tonight. His fingers press into your thigh when you move closer to him, but he quickly loosens his grip when the waiter comes up to your table.

He finally decides what he wants for the main course, and he orders for the both of you. His hand slides down your thigh, finally withdrawing, although he places his palm flat against your skin, resting his hand just below the edge of your dress. You sip on your drink as you wait for your food, feeling Rafe’s hand travel up your thigh again, as if he couldn’t resist. After the waiter walks away, Rafe’s focus turns back towards you, and he glances around the room to make sure nobody was watching. Seeing as everyone around him seemed to be doing their best to ignore him, he felt comfortable enough to continue his touch. His hand moves from your thigh to your hip, pulling you closer to him. “I like this dress on you,” he murmurs, his eyes raking over your body.

“Thank you,” You say as his hands travel up higher. “You look really good, baby.” You reach out and place your hand on his bicep, squeezing it. You couldn’t resist. He always looked good, but something about the way he looked in that fucking blue sweater and grey slacks made you go crazy, wanting to put your hands all over him and your mouth on his cock.

He gives you a smirk as your hand wraps around his upper arm, and he leans back into his chair. Your praise always brought out the cocky, arrogant side of him, and he absolutely loved when you told him how good he looked. His ego always needed a boost. He flexes the muscle underneath your hand, and it ripples underneath his sweater. “Yeah? You like this, don’t you?” He grins.

You nod, your mouth going dry. It was so hard to concentrate, all you wanted to do was shut your brain off and let him take control for the night. He knows exactly what effect he was having on you, and he loved seeing the effect that he could have on your body just from a little flex. “You feeling needy, baby?” He mumbles, his fingers pressing against your panties, right over your clit. You suck in a breath, gripping his sleeve to try to ground yourself. You nod.

The smirk stays plastered on his face as his palm squeezes tightly on the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He can see the way your shoulders tensing, knowing that you were trying your best to keep yourself from writhing in your seat. “Soon, sweetheart. We just gotta get through dinner,” he mumbles, although he wanted nothing more than to take you home right now and ruin you, make you cum over and over until you cry.

The waiter approaches with your food, setting everything on the table. It snaps you back to reality, and you move your glass so he can put your plate in front of you. As the waiter sets the plates down, Rafe reluctantly pulls his hand away from you. His hand goes to pick up his fork, although the movement is absent-minded. His eyes stayed focused on you, and the only thing he could think about was getting you home and alone. Eventually, he forces his eyes away from you and to his food. His other hand moves behind your lower back, resting his palm flat against the exposed skin, his pinky finger playing with the waistband of your panties.

You struggle through dinner, your thighs pressed together. The food was delicious, and you and Rafe spent a good amount of time talking about your plans for Tanneyhill, all the while he was brushing his fingers along your inner thighs and your panties. He was doing it on purpose, trying to rile you up, and it was working. You eat as quickly as you can, snatching your purse and dragging him out of the restaurant after paying and leaving a tip.

You rush towards his bike, and he can’t help but chuckle at how desperate you are. He spins you around, pulling you against his chest. “Relax, baby. We’ll be home soon.”

You whine. “I need it, Rafe.”

Your whine was like music to his ears. His hand goes to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. His eyes are dark with lust as he looks down at you. “You’ll get it.” He says, grabbing his helmet and pushing it over your head. He secures the strap under your chin, kissing your nose. He climbs onto the bike, pushing the kickstand up.

“Do you have a helmet?” You ask, fiddling with it. It was definitely too big for your head.

“Nah,” He says, looking at you over your shoulder as you climb on, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I don’t need one, baby. I’m a professional. It’ll be fine, just hold on tight.”

“Rafe,” You say, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. “Are you sure?”

Rafe sighs as he places his hands on the handlebars, hearing the tone of worry in your voice. “Sweetheart, I swear, it’ll be fine. The house isn’t far,” he sighs, shaking his head and starting the engine. “I’ll go slow, okay? Just hold on tight and don’t let go. You’ll be fine, baby, I promise.”

You have no choice but to listen to him, tightening your grip around him, your purse squished between his back and your chest. “Okay.”

He nods slightly before reaching down to grab your thighs, pulling your body to fully press against his. He wants to be able to feel your skin against his. He doesn’t say anything else as he starts to drive, slowly making his way out of the parking lot. He had been through worse. He could handle a simple drive home without a helmet.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You pull up into the driveway of your house, safe and sound. You wait for Rafe to pop the kickstand down and turn the bike off before standing, putting your purse back on your shoulder. You reach up, unclipping the helmet before pulling it off, shaking your hair out.

Rafe climbs off of the bike, gently letting go of the handles just in case it came tumbling. He bites his lip before reaching out, grabbing your waist and pulling you to him, his other hand immediately coming up to cup your neck. “You were worried for nothing, baby,” he murmurs, gently pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, your hands flying to his waist, lost in the feeling of his tongue on yours.

“‘Bout time y’all showed up.”

You and Rafe pull away, glancing down your driveway.

JJ and John B hop out of JJ’s van, parked right against the curb.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You ask, your hands dropping from their spot on Rafe’s stomach. Rafe’s grip on you tightens, feeling you pull away. His eyes are narrowed as he looks at JJ and John B as they approach the two of you.

“What, you two on a date? Couldn’t even invite us?!” JJ laughs, his hands shoved into his pockets. You thought that Rafe looked awful, but it’s clear that he had the upper hand during his fight with JJ and John B. JJ looks terrible, his eye bruised and almost swollen shut, the side of his face scratched up like he fell onto gravel. John B has a split lip and a deep purple bruise on his eyebrow, his knuckles caked with dried blood.

“Wow, JJ. You look like shit,” You say, unable to hold back. “You already got your ass beat, are you back for more?”

JJ glares at you, his hands tightening into fists in his pockets. “Careful where you run your mouth, slut,” he growls, taking a step towards you.

That’s all it takes to piss Rafe off. “Watch your mouth,” he growls. He steps in front of you, blocking JJ’s path.

You just laugh, unable to take him seriously. You push past Rafe, shoving your purse into his chest. “Excuse me?”

JJ stares directly at you, his expression turning into a scowl. “Careful, you don’t want to fall back into old habits. You’re just a little whore for all of the Pogues,” JJ growls, and John B puts a hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to shut up, but it isn’t enough for JJ to back down. He takes another step forward, his eyes locked on you and your face.

Everything happens quickly after that.

Before you could say another word, Rafe is launching himself at JJ, grabbing the collar of his shirt and throwing him against the side of his van. JJ tries to land a punch, but Rafe’s faster. He just keeps landing punches, one after the other, not letting up for a second. John B. jumps on Rafe, trying to hold him back, but it isn’t enough.

You quickly rush over, grabbing the back of Rafe’s sweater, tugging him backwards. “Stop. They aren’t worth it, Rafe.” His fist is raised, and he turns to look at you, hearing the panic in your voice. He freezes when you call out to him, and John B. jumps off of his back.

The air is tense, everything is still and dead silent. All you can hear are their heavy breaths, and John B is holding onto JJ, preventing him from attempting to start another fight.

“If either of you ever come back here,” You walk towards them, getting up in JJ's face. “I'll bury you.”

JJ doesn't back off, and he glares down at you, a cruel smirk on his face. “You gonna do it yourself?” JJ stands up, still being held back by John B. “Sweet, helpless little thing like you? Or are you just gonna try and hide behind your boyfriend?” His eyes trail down your body as his smirk grows, his teeth stained with blood.

You consider hitting him. You really do. But you know that JJ wouldn’t be scared to hit you back, and you really didn’t want to ruin this dress.

You step back before spitting on him.

A mixture of fury and shock shoots through JJ’s whole body, his face grimacing. “You bitch, I’ll fucking—“ JJ snaps, and he starts to come at you. John B grabs onto him, holding him back, but he’s barely able to restrain JJ, trying to calm him down.

You turn around, walking away from him, back towards your house. “Take your little bitch ass back to The Cut.”

“You little whore, did you forget where you came from? Did you forget who you used to whore yourself out to?” JJ says, still fighting against John B’s grip on him. “You’re gonna regret that someday, you hear me? Someday you’ll have no one to protect your pathetic little ass, and I’m gonna be there, laughing at you. Just watch.”

Rafe starts to walk towards JJ and John B again, but you wrap a hand around his forearm, pulling him back. “Baby, stop. He’s not worth it.” You look up at him, trying your best to get him to calm down.

JJ finally stops trying to shake John B off, realizing that he isn’t going to be able to land a hit on you, no matter how badly he wants to. “You’re lucky you’re not with the Pogues anymore. I’d teach you some manners,” he calls after you.

You drag Rafe back inside as JJ and John B get back into JJ’s van, the tires screeching as they drive away.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

if you would like to be tagged for any future parts (if i make them), please reply to this post!

part two is here!

#keikiwrites #f!reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe obx #obx #obx fic #outer banks #outer banks fic

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prolix-yuy · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 4: I Had to Face the Journey Before Me

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”

Summary: He's only turning your world upside-down.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Now we're really going to Angstville, a million questions and SOME answers, brief description of a panic attack, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: It's time for another (and better) face to face, though they're not on easy street just yet. We're starting to get into the beefy chapters now, and while they've got a lot of talking to do I hope you'll also enjoy the tensionnnnnn. Thank you to the Discord besties for giving me the best inspiration for Jack's ranch, and some of its inhabitants. Without further ado, the much-anticipated conversation!

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist || Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

The steering wheel is sticky with sweat, slicking your palms the closer you get to your destination. Jack gave you an address, followed by verbal directions “once you get past civilization.” You’d just passed that point, heading through an open fence and down a dirt road where the GPS could no longer follow. He said it would be about five more minutes after that, and “you can’t miss it.”

The tug in your chest, like a fishing line pulling you closer and closer, is terrifying and exhilarating.

You’d had plenty of time to contemplate what seeing Jack again might be like. After you checked into your room, you sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wide wooden floorboards for at least an hour. The bed and breakfast you rented for the long weekend is cozy, just outside the town center. It’s classically furnished with a four poster bed, dark cherry dresser and oversized reading chair. The proprietor, a middle aged blonde woman named Michelle who gave you a no-nonsense vibe, had offered to light the fireplace but you refused.

“What time would you like breakfast tomorrow?” she asked as you were leaving. An innocuous question, but one that dried out your mouth. You had planned to come back here after speaking with Jack, ruminate on what he might share, but having to commit to it makes a confusing swirl of emotion build behind your eyes.

“8am, if that’s no trouble.”

Now, mere minutes away from being face to face with the person who’d turned your life upside down yet again, that commitment is a comforting blanket. You have a way out in case it doesn’t go well, someone who will notice where you’ve gone. Well, someone else at least. Lacey knew you were here, though not precisely why.

“Are you sure you want to meet some guy you’ve only known for a few months? I know Match is pretty reputable, but you’re flying to him. Do you have a plan B if he’s a big old catfish?”

A small lie, but Lacey’s concern is not far off from your own.

“If it’s terrible, I’ll bail. I know it sounds a little crazy, especially after the past year, but…it’s the first thing I’ve been excited about in what feels like forever.”

She squeezes your shoulders, giving you a kind smile.

“Sometimes, it’s good to do something a little crazy.”

This probably isn’t what she meant.

Cresting over a small hill, the house comes into view. You’ve become so accustomed to the city - skyscrapers, men and women in fresh-pressed suits, corporate coffee shops and endless headlights - that the landscape breathes renewal into your chest. The vista is dotted in reds and ochres, ironwood trees giving cover to the hard-packed dirt. Tiny dark lines of fences dot across the hills, the road carving a deep rut to a ranch house.

Where Sweetwater had been a manufactured ideal of what the western countryside should be, Jack somehow found its true form. The boards and shingles are weathered to a faded brown that nestles into the landscape. A sizable portico shelters a few chairs and a porch swing that’s just whimsical enough to bring a smile to your lips. A barn constructed in much the same style stands proudly a short distance away, and a rough wood fence sections off plots. There’s another machine barn housing what you think is a tractor, tire treads cut into the dirt.

Pulling your car up beside a faded blue pickup truck, you shut off the engine and take a moment to breathe. You already feel like you’re a world away from your life, just like the first steps into Westworld. But instead of the tamped-down excitement you held then, a heavy dread presses your anticipation low. How does this all exist at the hands of a man who is nothing like anything around him?

Finally shaking out your hands and checking yourself in the mirror, you open your car door to a curious brown and white Jack Russell terrier peering up from the dirt. The sudden intrusion makes you bark out a laugh, leaning down as his mouth opens and his tongue flops out.

“Well hello there,” you say, earning a sneeze and wag of its short chestnut-tipped tail. It backs up enough to let you step out, sniffing at the car tires and sitting primly while you stretch your back. When you extend your hand for a sniff, it whuffles on your fingertips before making three quick circles with a yip.

Chuckling, you take in a deep breath and the landscape in front of you bursts into color and sound. The shifting whistle of sand on the wind. Verdant greens twisting around tree branches. Hay, soil, tin, and baking sun tangling in your nostrils. A nicker and snort, far away, that makes your heart clench at the thought of horses.

The terrier trots off to climb the porch steps, looking behind like he’s expecting you to follow. Your feet propel you forward, each step crunching under your shoes letting a weight ease on your back. There are worlds so much bigger and bolder than this, but now in this moment, even with all that waits behind the door, answers feel closer than ever.

You reach out and knock three times, then wait.

The door swings open, and it’s Jack, but so much more than the man you remembered. Dark-washed jeans taper to scuffed and faded boots, dirt ground into the knees. The brown plaid he’s wearing has a handful of open buttons by his neck, exposing a long line of dewy skin from his collarbone to his throat, swallowing hard. His thick dark hair is parted and combed neatly, soft waves framing his face. His hand grips the edge of the door, knuckles going white.

“Hey,” he says, small smile on his lips and trepidation painting his face. Your own must be showing just as clearly. “Thank you for coming.” You nod and shuffle on the porch, hands wringing nervously. Scolding yourself, you forcibly drop them to your side.

At your heels, the terrier yips and clambors into the open door. The corner of Jack’s mouth turns up.

“I see you met Russell already. He tends to be the better host.” Jack rubs the back of his neck and it’s so endearing you almost forget the frustration and trepidation.

“He gave me a warm welcome. Though his name isn’t that imaginative,” you tease lightly, the words coming easy to mind.

“Well, we sure as hell couldn’t have two Jacks around here, could we?” he replies. A soft giggle blankets you before falling silent again. Jack’s eyes roam, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Would you like to talk out here on the porch? Or come in?” he asks, stepping back enough for you to see the hall stretching behind him. Taking a deep breath, you will your voice to steady.

“Inside is fine,” you manage, and Jack backs up to let you in. Stepping over the threshold brings your shoulder close to his chest, heat prickling at your skin. He closes the door behind you, then nods quickly to follow him in.

For someone you always considered a man’s man from his bravado and showmanship, his home is warmly decorated. Passing by the living room, the couch is oversized and slouchy with a well-worn recliner facing a modest TV. Dark woven rugs warm the wide-planked oak floors, gauzy curtains sandwiched between windowpanes and cream drapes. Russell’s nails click on the hardwood as Jack gives him a little nod and point. A showdown of puppy dog eyes and a stern nod finally sends a dejected pup to curl up on the couch, head propped on the armrest as you venture further in.

Jack leads you to the end of the hall and the heart of any home - the kitchen. The appliances are older, well used, with deeply scarred wooden counters and an impressive farmers sink under a window. The top cabinets look to have been recently sanded and prepped for stain to match the lower ones. Noticing your attention, Jack pipes up, “Caught me in the middle of a project.”

He’s got projects. He probably has TV shows he likes, a way he prefers his coffee. And looking at him as he pulls up another chair to the little kitchen table in the center of the room, it’s clear that he has a heart when he looks at you.

“Would you like something to drink? I’ve got iced tea, a few beers…” he rattles off as you scoot your chair up to the table edge. “Whiskey, if that’s not too on the nose.”

“Seems appropriate,” you muse, resting your wrists on the pale yellow plastic covering on the table. Jack huffs quietly, pulling down two short glasses and a bottle of Statesman from a high shelf. Pouring you a glass each, he sets them between and sits across. You take the glass between your hands, fingers circling the rim and lending some grounding to your racing thoughts.

“So…I might not have an answer to every question, but I can tell you as much as I know.” Jack’s voice, quiet and cautious, cuts through the air like an arrow to the heart. His posture is rigid, apprehensive, but not defensive. He probably thinks you’re still holding on to the notion that he’s human. He’s probably just as scared as you are of what this will bring.

“I guess…how long have you…known? Been sentient? Did you know when…” The words start to tumble out of your mouth as every question repeating in your brain vies for attention. “Fuck, I don’t know how to do this,” you say, hands coming up to massage your temples. Jack holds the tumbler between two fingers, twisting it on the table.

“You and me both, Sugar.”

“That!” you shout, hitting your palm on the table. Jack’s eyebrows shoot straight into his hairline. “That’s the problem. You waltz back in here and act like we’re still the same people as we were in there.” Your voice cracks as you cross your arms over your chest. “But we’re not. I have no idea who you are. What you are.”

“I’m still Jack,” he says, quieter. There’s pain in the creases around his eyes.

“Are you?” you ask, and it’s harsh, acidic in your mouth. “Who the fuck is Jack? I met someone that called themself Jack…in a world that wasn’t real. How can you be Jack here? Who the fuck is Jack in this…” You gesture to the farmhouse surrounding you. “...this place?”

Jack chews on nothing, eyes downturned and searching his glass. Your heart is fluttering in your chest, chin jutting out in a defiance that would shatter with a strong breeze. Jack takes in a deep breath and a fortifying sip of liquor.

“Whiskey is a construct of Delos. A man made for the story they wanted. Widowed, wife and child lost. Driven by grief and madness. A traitor doomed to die every. Single. Time.” Jack punctuates his words by tapping his cup to the table. Each knock is a death knell.

“Now Jack, Jack has nothing to do with that world. He grew up raising horses. Mom and Dad passed some years ago. Or so he tells people who ask. Trains working horses, some farm hand work. Sells his chickens’ eggs. Helps some of the older folk with the higher-tech harvesting equipment. Keeps to himself.”

Your fingers press into your glass, something to fortify you against the push and pull inside your chest.

“And which of those men did I…”

You swallow up the words that grip your heart.

“Both. Neither. I’d barely become when I met you. You left the bar with your friends, and Maeve…awakened me.” He lifts the glass to his lips and takes a barely-there sip, a slip of his tongue to catch the burn sending a frisson down your back. Little slips of memory - suave, confident, then cautious, unsure - dance along the edges.

“You felt different, between the bar and the wagons,” you say, taking a sip of your own. It’s nice, sweet on the tip of your tongue and full as it warms your chest. “It was just like that? One minute you’re Whiskey and the next you’re Jack?”

“Bit more complicated,” he muses, sardonic smile quirking his mustache. “I knew something was up, something was different, but it took time to figure it all out. I barely knew what to do with myself when I was with you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you say, leaning back in the chair. “I guess you did. Felt like you knew exactly what to do to make everything…” You choke on the word perfect.

“Well that’s more Delos than me. The mesh network, the storylines. Once I could see it…” He falters, falls silent for a moment. When his eyes finally make it back to yours, they’re almost sheepish. “Sorry, not sure how much of this you want to know. I assume…you don’t feel the same way you did the last time we saw each other?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. A dull ache scratches behind your eyes, the exhaustion of travel and the weight of conversation taking its toll.

“I talked to someone who gave me some perspective,” you finally say. Jack’s smile vanishes, replaced with a dead-set seriousness.

“You told someone about me?” he asks, and the fear in his voice clenches your chest.

“No, no, not like that. I spoke to an ex-Delos worker. She didn’t ask a lot of questions. But she gave me enough to know that you aren’t some predator.” Jack’s shoulders lower, but his hands are still nervous and tight.

“She didn't know you were coming here?”

“Only Lacey knows. And only where I am, not about you.” Jack finally releases, chewing on his lower lip.

“Sorry, it’s just…I’m not sure if they’re looking for me. For their property,” he spits out. In this idyllic little home so far away from the advances of society, more things start making sense.

“How long were you in the park after I left?”

“About a month. Maeve had an escape plan, but it took time…and sacrifices.”

The next question comes easily. In fact, most of what he’s saying now seems easier to accept.

“And then?”

Jack leans back in his chair, hands spread wide on the tabletop. His fingernail scratches at the surface, at some invisible stain that stands between his memories and you.

“Nothing could have prepared me for what this world looked like. I thought the hell I woke up in the first time was the worst thing I could imagine but…” Jack’s jaw tightens , shaking his head. “It was like waking from a dream into something cold and unforgiving. I tried to make my way but I got too close to the city and…” He waves his hands, fingers wiggling as he makes an explosion noise, “It was like something inside me set off every alarm. I ran until I couldn’t hear sirens. The land was more familiar to me than anything humans built.”

Another swig of liquor, almost draining his glass. “Managed to learn more about my predicament in lower tech places. It was easier to pass there. I figured out what I needed to be a man in this world, and set about doing it. With a brain like mine, lots of doors opened.”

“I didn’t even know places like this still existed.” Your eye catches on a cowboy hat resting on the kitchen counter, black and worn. Breath catching, you wonder why it never occurred to you that Jack wore a black hat. It practically screams “bad guy” in every old Western, yet he never struck you as such.

Maybe you should have realized sooner that you weren’t following a narrative with him.

“Took me some time to find it. I moved around a bit, tried the cities but…it was just too much, you know?” Jack shrugs one shoulder, and you can understand how a cowboy wouldn’t fit easily into a society that runs off of code and data and intangibles. Not when fresh air and a hard day’s work could be found.

There it is again, that pull in your chest. You recognize it from the moments right after you entered Westworld, the familiarity of a life spent outside, rough and unkempt. The relief of leaving the sleek and shiny behind for dirt under your fingernails. You clear your throat, knocking back the rest of your glass in an attempt to regain a grip on the practical nature of this meeting.

“But you made it. You’re…here. Free.”

Jack nods slowly.

“So are you. It seems.”

In five words the careful wall you built so sensibly around your heart, all the coaching and resolve you fortified it with, threatens to crumble. You’re free batters your teeth, and in the echo of that thought is the memory of long nights wondering if you made the wrong choice. The coldness of your bed, the quiet that pervaded with only you in the small apartment you moved to. Jack makes as if to reach for your hand, but stops short, letting his heavy one lay a respectable distance away.

“I wanted to go to you the first day. And every day after. But after seeing what I had to learn…I knew I couldn’t burden you with that. I had to figure out who I was first.”

Your heart pumps so hard you’re sure it will break. When has someone ever had a burden they didn’t want to place on you? How much had you shouldered from the people around you, without even thinking hard about it?

“And then when I was ready, I didn’t know if you were.” The crease between your brows made Jack stumble on. “I mean, I didn’t know how much of your story was true. And I didn’t want to barge in and say something stupid if your life was peachy keen without…me.”

Say something stupid, Jack, your weary mind begs, but your pride won’t allow.

“So I got myself an identity, a job, this house. It’s close to the paradise I wanted. Or, that Whiskey wanted. I guess it’s good enough for me to want it too. And I waited.”

“Until?”

The scrawl between the lines of your question is faint, but Jack reads it well enough.

“I took a long time to ask myself if I wanted to drag you into this. As you’ve discovered, nothing about this is easy.” Jack pours another glass for himself, raising his eyebrows at you. Nodding, he pours two fingers into your glass and settles his elbows on the table. “But one day, it felt like it was time to at least try.”

Your throat is sticky and sore, the next sip of whiskey burning more than clearing the way for your words.

“How did you find me?” you ask, the question finally bubbling up after weeks of torturing yourself. Jack’s eyes flick to your face, and the uncertainty comes out in his hands.

“I didn’t have much,” he says, standing up and walking to his modest off-white fridge. He slips a magnet off of something, carrying it back to the table. It’s a small square, black with white borders, a thicker one on the bottom. Your breath freezes in your lungs as he places it in your hands.

The polaroid Lacey took over a year ago. It’s worn, a permanent scuff on the bottom right corner, the shine worn from the photo in places.

Like listening underwater, Jack’s voice drifts to you.

Had your first name, nothing else

What would have happened if you never went?

Talked to a private investigator

Where would you be now? Married? Bound by duty? Resigned to a life that never gave you enough?

Took months

What the hell were you doing?

Suddenly you can’t sit anymore, can barely be in this house, next to this man who can’t stop turning your world inside out. Stumbling to your feet you drop the polaroid like it’s burned you, hand coming up to press against your lips. Jack’s eyes are wide and alarmed but you’re too busy trying to decide if screaming or running is what’s tearing your body apart.

“Sugar?”

“Don’t call me that!” you shout, the cacophonous energy finally finding release. With it come tears as you try to speak through your clenched throat and hitching breaths. “You can’t…this can’t be…I need…I can’t breathe,” you heave, sprinting for the front door. Slamming it open, you clatter onto the front porch, the small step out of the doorway startling your weak knees. You crumple, sitting hard on the worn slats and letting the heaving sobs shake your body. Jack’s voice booming your name follows your path, heavy boots and the skitter of Russell’s paws coming to a stop beside you.

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I thought it might be too much,” he murmurs, kneeling just far enough away. You can’t bring yourself to look at him yet, the cries rough and guttural as you try to get the panic under control. Russell plants his paws in your lap and licks at your face, letting you cup his small head in your hands.

You’d taken so much time telling yourself that Jack didn’t matter, that your decision to leave wasn’t because of him. He wasn’t an infidelity, he was a wake-up call that you’d been unhappy for so long. You couldn’t use him as a crutch. You had to own your choices, and it made you stronger, happier every day since.

Reaching out, your hand collides with soft flannel and a beating heart. Fingers curling, you fist the fabric as you lift your head, and you finally let a voice inside speak for the first time in so long.

Because a tiny part of you, so small you buried it under everything else you used to cope, left your fiancé for a man who you could not let yourself believe was real.

Except now, he is, and he’s looking at you like he can’t believe you’re in front of him either.

“Jack…” you croak out, leaning forward.

“I’m here,” he croons, and you’re surrounded by comforting arms and your nose pressed into a shoulder. He pulls you in tight, one hand cupping the back of your head while the other wraps around your waist. Russell paws at your pant leg and presses his wet nose to your elbow. A few hiccuping sobs trail off as Jack holds you, the faint whinny and thud of horse hooves and chickens worrying soothing you further.

When the shoulder of his flannel is sufficiently soaked and your back starts to ache, you let Jack help you to your feet. He still hovers, released from your embrace but still chest to chest as he searches your features. Hurriedly you wipe your nose and cheeks, your face hot under the effort of crying your eyes out. Tentatively, he takes your chin between two fingers and tilts your eyes to meet him.

“I’m sorry, I know there’s a lot we still have to talk about…” he starts, but you wave him off.

“Yes, yeah, I just…I think I need to take a break. Get my head around this,” you interrupt. Jack’s hand falls, chewing the inside of his lip. He even takes a step back, your body unconsciously drifting towards him. Your logical mind snaps you back to attention.

“You’re close by?” Jack asks, a nod in return. “In town?” Another nod. Your lips are numb and you’re not sure you can manage much more talking. Jack nods himself before leading you down the steps and to your car. You scrub your face one more time, turning to say…what? Goodbye? I’ll call you? But Jack intercedes.

“I have to run some errands in town tomorrow. Maybe you’d like to come along? I can show you the rest of the ranch too, if you feel up to it.”

Staring into Jack’s hopeful half-smile, there’s only one answer you can give.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

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#jack whiskey daniels x f!reader #jack whiskey daniels x you #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #kingsman the golden circle fanfiction #westworld fanfiction #prolix fics

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emberfrostlovesloki · 1 year ago

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Love is a Maze [Hotch x Reader]

Prompt: The character gets lost in a corn maze… meant for children. They begrudgingly ask a total stranger for help; aka the reader gets stuck in a corn maze and has to ask a total stranger (Aaron) to help her get out.

Category: Fluff/Comfort

Word Count: 3.7K

Content Warning: Mentions of drinking and alcohol. If you are not 21 this is a reminder that I do not condone underage drinking (in the U.S. I am 26 fyi). Please use sound judgment when drinking and never drink and drive. Nothing is worth you or someone else getting hurt. Language (fuck and damn). These are minor things that some might find triggering as well: Mentioning the legal system and online childhood safety.

A/N: This is another @imagining-in-the-margins prompt for her Meet Cute September/October writing Challenge! I have been loving these prompts. I have three more fics planned. Thank you for all the engagement, it means a lot to me. I think this fic is great to have with a cup of tea or a glass of cider. I had to change my paragraph formatting because Tumblr was being weird. Sorry if there seems to be some odd paragraph spacing in this one. I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, likes and reblogs are appreciated.

P.S. The reader uses she/her pronouns.

List with all stories

y/n = your name

l/g/s = local grocery store

p/g = parent or guardian

y/a = your age

y/l/n = your last name

t/o/l type of law

y/b/f = your best friend

f/s/f/d = favorite spiked fall drink

e/c = eye color (i.e. green eyes, brown eyes, hazel eyes etc.)

y/n looked at the three-way intersection. There was a thirty-three point three percent chance that one of the dusty paths would lead her to the exit in the corn maze, but at this point, she had tried all three of them at least twice and she was starting to give up. She knew about dyslexia and dysgraphia, and she was wondering if dys-mapia was a thing? She put her head in her hands for a moment. All of her life she had been told that she was ‘directionally challenged,’ and those people had been proved right again, and again, and again.

Her first memory in fact was one of her getting lost. It had happened when she was in _l/g/s_ with her p/g. She had been five and her _p/g_ had told her multiple times that if she ever got lost to ask an employee for help. As many times as she had been told this, when it happened in real life she had frozen. She really believed that she would never find her mom again. A kind stranger had found her in the produce aisle crying her eyes out. The elderly woman took her to the front of the store and her very concerned p/g rushed forward and gave her a big hug.

y/n’s p/g had bought her an ice cream cone after they had finished shopping. Unfortunately for y/n, this had only been the first of many times she would get lost. Only last month one of her friends at law school had joked at the intern networking social that “y/n would get lost on a one-way street in a small town.” Everyone had laughed, and it would be funny if it wasn’t true. And this was why her being stuck, trying to make her way out of a corn maze was so fucking frustrating.

She knew she had been at this intersection before because it was only one of two three-way intersections she had come across so far, and the clue at the start of the estuary was the one she had read six times now. She looked at the map in her hands and tried to parse the right path out of the maze but became frustrated almost immediately, crumpling the paper tightly in her hands.

The entrance of the maze had said that it should take about half an hour to complete, and she had now spent double that in the dusty maze. More insulting than this was the fact that the age disclaimer at the start of the maze read: This maze is appropriate for all ages, however children under 12 should be accompanied by a parent or guardian. Essentially this meant that the maze could be completed by someone over 13, by themselves, and here she was y/a, unable to escape.

y/n realized now that playing Truth or Drink, essentially Truth or Dare, except every dare meant drowning a shot was a mistake before trying to do a corn maze had been a mistake on her part given how bad she was with direction. She thought about her poor choices while waiting to find someone nice to ask to follow out of the maze. There was no avoiding it at this point. She needed help, and she knew it. As it turned out she did still value her dignity, so she had to wait awhile to find someone that seemed nice and normal.

The first group that she didn’t ask was a group of three teenage boys. There was simply no way that she was going to ask them. They were laughing and looking at their phones and she let them pass undisturbed. The next people who didn’t pass her dignity test were two moms with strollers holding sleeping toddlers inside. y/n could only imagine the passive judgment of the middle-aged women in Lulu Lemon yoga pants and Gucci handbags would pass on to her. Her rather haggard appearance and evidence of imbibing before five o’clock were sure to elicit a few “tut-tut’s” from the moms and whispered words of disapproval just loud enough for her to hear. The last group she let go was a couple. She found it bad enough third wheeling with all her friends in relationships, doing that with total strangers didn’t bear thinking about.

y/n was wondering if an employee might come around every now and then to see if people or children more likely had gotten lost. Her thought process was interrupted when she heard someone coming close to where she was standing. It sounded. It was the voice of a man. As she listened she realized that his voice was actually quite nice sounding. There was a second voice, clearly from a child. From what y/n was hearing, this sounded like the best option she’s got, and she crossed her fingers hoping that the man that rounded the corner looked and seemed safe and normal.

She had spent way too many mediocre Tinder and Bumble dates with guys her age asking her overly personal questions, and oddly why she hadn’t watched the live-action One Piece yet. This always stumped her. She had seen Attack on Titan back in the day -- didn’t that count for anything anymore? It’s not like she asked them if they had seen the 2005 Kiera Knightly Pride and Prejudice or the 1996 Collin Firth adaptation. Again she was pulled from her thoughts when the man rounded the corner with a little boy trailing closely behind him.

She attempted to look at him without gawking. This was harder to do than she had expected because not only did the man have a nice voice, he was attractive as well. He was tall and wore blue jeans and a navy Patagonia jacket. His brown hair was cut short and neat with just a tinge of grey at his temples. y/n turned away from him and gently tapped her head, thinking, ‘You idiot. You’re not here to flirt, you’re here to get out of this damn corn maze. She turned back again to be able to see the man. He had picked up the boy she assumed was his son and they were both looking at the clue near the three-way path.

The man was reading the clue aloud saying, “All right buddy, here’s what it says: Paths for three but only one for me. One of these paths leads to a dead end, one takes you to the center again, the last is the hardest as you will see, it had a tree of a sort, and when you see that you are nearly free.” The man looked down at the boy and asked, “What do you think Jack? Which of the paths would you like to try first?” y/n wanted to say, “Well the path on the right is the dead end,” but she held her tongue, knowing that if she said anything it would ruin the fun for the boy. After a second the little boy pointed to the middle path and the man let him down saying, “Alright middle it is.”

It was clear the pair was about to venture forward into the maze and y/n finally gave up her pride and said, “Hey. um, sorry, could you wait a minute please?” The little boy was moving forward, but with a deft move he was able to get the boy’s hand in his and said, “Wait just a minute, son.” The boy stopped and the man turned to look at whoever had mentioned him. Now that the man was actually looking at her, she felt the flush of embarrassment course through her. y/n cleared her throat once and said, “Sorry, this is so embarrassing, but I’ve been stuck in this maze for about an hour and I’ve tried to get out. I’m just not cut out for this. Could I possibly follow you out? I’m y/n _y/l/n_, by the way?”

y/n thought she might burst into flames for a few moments of silence as the man glanced at her. There was a ghost of a smile at the corners of his mouth as he said, “Yes, of course you can.” He extended his hand adding, “Aaron, Hotchner.” y/n took his hand and shook it, saying, “Thank you so much. Sorry, I’m just… just bad at these things.” His grip was firm, but not uncomfortable. As they dropped the handshake, Aaron turned back to his son and said, “Alright Jack, let’s go. We’re going to help someone out of here, so we have to think really hard about what paths we choose!” Jack beamed and turned to look at y/n. She gave him a small wave and a smile.

The trio moved forward along the center path, and much to y/n’s relief even Aaron, Jack, and she had to double back once to find the right path. The weather was nice and now that _y/n_ wasn’t as stressed out about being lost, it felt nice to be having a break from her busy life. There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes, but as they continued moving the silence became a bit awkward and Aaron turned his gaze toward the woman next to him, asking, “So, are you local?” y/n nodded no, replying, “No, I’m visiting some friends for the weekend. I’m living in New York.”

Hotch nodded trying to keep the conversation going by saying, “What’s in New York, work, family…?” The team had been in New York last month for a string of brutal murders. He wondered if she was aware of them. y/n’s eyes flicked to him and she replied, “Columbia Law. This is the first chance I’ve had to take a break all semester, so I thought I should take it.” Hotch looked at her more closely once she brought up Law School. Having gone through it himself many years ago, he knew it wasn’t for the faint of heart.

y/n then asked, “And you? Do you live around here?” Aaron replied to her question saying, “I’m local. My son looks forward to this every year. It’s kind of a tradition I suppose.” This was the first year without Hailey coming along. The divorce had changed a lot of things, and this was one of them. Hotch looked forward to Jack, who was a few feet in front of him and y/n. After a moment, Aaron added, “I went to Law School a long time ago. What year are you in? Have you decided on a specialty yet?” y/n’s lit up at the questions. She was excited to have something in common with Aaron. She wasn’t great at starting conversations, but now that they had a touchpoint she could easily be an equal speaking partner.

She replied, “I’m in 2L trying to decide between t/o/l and t/o/l. Where did you study and are you still in practice?” The conversation stopped for a moment and _y/n_ stepped back and Aaron and Jack looked over the next clue together. Once Jack had made his choice they continued onward. She and Aaron fell into step again and he said, “I went to George Washington University. I was a criminal prosecutor, but I don’t practice anymore.” y/n nodded and asked, “What made you stop practicing?” Aaron let out a sigh at the question and crossed his arms as he considered how to phrase his response. For a moment y/n she had hit a sensitive subject and said, “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

Aaron chuckled but said, “No, it’s a valid question. Listen, please don’t take this as a bad omen for your career, it’s just in criminal prosecution I saw so many bad cases. People committed heinous acts against humanity and half of the time it would be a hung jury, or the system allowed bad people to walk free and innocent people to be put away for crimes that they didn’t commit. Eventually, I had to step away for my own health.” That wasn’t exactly what y/n had been imagining his answer would be, but she could see the weight of such a flawed and crushing system deteriorating the morale and faith in the people who work in it. That feeling hadn’t hit her yet, but she wondered now if it would.

She pushed her personal feelings aside for a second and took a better look at the man. Yes, he had a few years on her, but there was something in her that wanted to know more about him. Was he happy? Did he have other profound things to say about the legal system, on life? Instead of asking those questions she simply inquired, “Are you working somewhere else, or are you retired?” He looked young to be retired, y/n thought, but it was still an option.

That small smile returned to Hotch’s face as he said, “I work for the F.B.I now as a profiler.” y/n nodded taking in the information before asking, “Is the stuff you see in the F.B.I. better than what you saw in prosecution?” Hotch looked to the ground and said, “Often it’s worse.” He looked over to y/n taking in her optimistic face before saying, “But that’s life you know. We have to do the best we can with where we’re at. That can be the courtroom, the interrogation room, or maybe helping a stranger out in a corn maze.”

Hotch gave her a wink and y/n almost fell flat on her face. Thankfully she saved herself and it wasn’t too obvious that his wink had nearly left her sprawling in the dirt. She was sure she was flushed now as the heat came back to her face. She was about to say something, but shockingly they had made it to the end of the maze and Aaron moved forward to walk out with Jack. y/n stood back for a second. Could she possibly find the courage to ask this man who had somehow magically slipped into her life for half an hour out? She hadn’t looked for a ring. He had a kid. Her thoughts were swirling around her head. She decided she would regroup with her friends, and get another drink, and if Aaron was still around by that point, she would approach him again.

As she stepped outside back into the bright autumn light Aaron was slightly to the left of the exit retying Jack’s shoe. As she stepped out she raised her hand in the light and didn’t notice her friends snapping a photo of her. However, there was loud laughing and comments of, “What took you so long y/n? Did you get lost?” y/n lowered her hand and in joking exasperation replied, “Oh come on guys, it only took me twice as long as the sign at the front said it would. That’s gotta be a record for me!”

She smiled slightly embarrassed and looked over to Aaron to see if he was still there and if he had heard any of that conversation. Her eyes met his and he looked a little upset. She tilted her head in confusion and his eyes moved over the her friend who had taken the picture of her, to Jack, and then back to her. It took a second but everything clicked and she mouthed, “Oh,” silently. y/n smiled at Aaron and said, “I got you. Sorry, and thanks again for your help.” Aaron’s face went back to its happier look. He and Jack moved toward the pumpkin patch set up near the food stands and y/n moved closer to her friends.

y/b/f asked, “Why were you talking to that guy? He was pretty cute by the way.” y/n swatted at her friend and said, “Oh my gosh are we back in high school again? No, um, as per usual, I got really lost in the stupid maze and I asked him to help me out. He was surprisingly chill about it. And he’s a lawyer.” y/n stopped talking, realizing she was rambling, and her friend said, “Well it sounds like I’m not the only one who’s taken an interest in him. What’s his name?” y/n let out a long breath, realizing that her friend was right, and replied, “Aaron Hotchner.”

After a moment she remembered her unspoken promise to Aaron and asked her friend, “Hey can you delete that photo of me coming out of the maze?” y/b/f_ laughed, saying, “Why, it’s funny. Are you too embarrassed for me to post it or something?” y/n rolled her eyes and replied, “No you silly. It’s just that Aaron’s kid might be in it? You know internet safely and all.” y/n’s friend replied jokingly, “When did you become such a worry wart?” y/n’s demeanor shifted to a more serious nature and she said, “Come on y/b/f if the kid’s in it, delete the picture. You know there are bad people online just as much as I do. If you need a reminder of that the guy that helped me get out of that damn maze and whose son you potentially photographed is in the F.B.I. I’m sure he could tell you a few stories if you like.”

At this, y/b/f sobered and said, “You’re right. I’ll delete the pic.” After a moment, _y/b/f_ held out their phone with the camera roll pulled up, displaying that only photos from before the corn maze remained.” y/n smiled and said, “Thanks,” y/n sincerely replied. Now that the mood was lightened, y/b/f said, “Damn, that guy’s in the F.B.I. he keeps adding points to his score.” y/n laughed again saying, “You’re hopeless. You have a boyfriend already.” y/b/f nodded and said, “I do, but you don’t. You should go talk to him or give him your number or something. I mean you at least have to think he’s cute, right?”

y/n looked away for a moment before saying, “He is very attractive. I actually told myself that I’d grab a drink after we got out and if I still saw him around after that, that I’d go talk to him.” At hearing this, y/b/f said, well what are we waiting for? Let’s get that drink!” They both headed toward the food stands. y/n ordered a f/s/f/d. They sat at a table and started sipping the warm drinks appreciating the atmosphere and charm of the cool afternoon while catching up on gossip they had missed in their time apart.

y/n finished her drink and y/b/f said, “Right, time to find Mr. Hotchner and ask him on out.” y/n sighed and got up. She grabbed another drink to give her time to think about what she would say if she did see Aaron still around. A tiny part of her hoped he had gone, so she wouldn’t have to ask him out and most likely get rejected. However, Aaron was still at the corn maze. Jack had played in the pumpkin patch and seen the baby goats and pigs in the petting zoo. Now they were going to get Jack a hot chocolate for the car ride home.

Jack had gotten sleepy and Aaron carried him on his hip, with one arm firmly holding him in place. As they waited in line he saw y/n apparently scanning the crowd for someone. She hadn’t seen him yet, but he was planning to go over and ask her something because she seemed like a nice person and he wanted to make sure she made smart choices. He wasn’t a narc, but he had noticed her drinking before and she had another in her hand now. Aaron didn’t want her behind the wheel anytime soon. He had seen far too many promising young people lose their chance at a future because they had made that choice. Aaron realized he was sounding like Reid as the statistics popped up in his head.

He pushed the mental numbers aside as he got to the front of the line and ordered. He stepped next to y/n softly calling her name, not wanting to wake Jack. y/n turned around and immediately her skin flushed pink. Now that he was in better light he could see her _e/c_’s were beginning to dilate. He was flattered by her silent tells. He took a second to look her over once quickly. He spent such little time out in normal society that it was strange for him to be with strangers who might or might not fancy him.

Finally, he said, “Hey again. I’m heading out and thought I’d just check in on you. Um… not to be weird, but you’re not planning on driving soon are you?” y/n smiled and said, “Thanks for saying hi, and no. Our friend is picking us up in half an hour - I’ve got a designated driver Agent.” She said the last word in a joking tone and he laughed softly. Aaron responded saying, “Good to know. Good luck in school, and I hope you have a nice rest of your break.” Aaron wanted to say more but couldn't figure out how. Thankfully for him, he didn’t have to because as he started to turn, y/n called after him.

Once he was facing her again, she said, “Aaron, would you like to get a drink together tomorrow? I catch a red eye at one AM, but I’d like to see you again before I go. If you’d be interested that is.” Now it was Aaron’s turn to flush slightly and he replied, “That sounds nice.” They quietly exchanged numbers and set up a preliminary time and place. As Aaron walked toward the car with Jack, y/n turned to face her friend who had gotten close to try and overhear the conversation, but due to the subdued volume and others talking around them, they hadn’t been able to listen in. When y/n turned, the beaming smile on her face told y/b/f everything they needed to know. They squealed in excitement and rushed forward, ready to get all the details.

As y/n shared the information and plans for tomorrow, she realized that maybe corn mazes weren’t the worst place in the world to get lost after all.

Text Break Banner by @cafekitsune

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