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deliciousangelfestival · 2 months ago

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The Imperfect Couple - 16

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

It felt like your heart had just been stabbed, and then someone cruelly poured salt and vodka into the wound. The pain was so intense, your legs almost gave out beneath you, but you managed to lean your trembling body against the kitchen counter.

“How…” Hazel’s voice wavered, thin and fragile, “How do you know Ian?”

You tried to breathe, but each inhale burned your chest. “Hazel…” You fought to steady your voice. “Ian is my co-worker.” A flood of memories rushed through your mind—his cocky smile, the way he always knew how to make you laugh, and how he’d been there for you, your first real friend after your divorce from Bucky. Now, all of it was just that—a memory.

Hazel’s voice broke, still shaking. “They’re taking him to the hospital…” The line went dead.

The second you processed her words, your legs finally gave out. You dropped your phone, the dull thud echoing in the kitchen as the world blurred around you.

The sound was loud enough that Bucky came running from the room where Nate was resting. He found you on the floor, crumpled, tears pouring down your face, with your phone lying beside you like a silent witness to your devastation.

He knelt beside you, pulling you into his arms. “What happened?” His voice was soft but laced with urgency.

You clung to him, your hands fisting in his shirt as you sobbed uncontrollably. “Ian… he’s dead.” Your voice cracked, and you looked up into Bucky’s eyes, your own red and swollen. “And it’s all my fault.”

Bucky's hold tightened, trying to soothe you. “It’s not your fault.” His voice was calm, but his heart clenched seeing you like this.

But you couldn’t stop. The guilt, the grief—it all came crashing down, and your sobs turned hysterical. “If I hadn’t—if I had warned him better—” But the words became too broken to finish. The world tilted, and darkness edged into your vision. Before you knew it, everything went black.

Bucky felt your body go limp in his arms. “Y/N?” He called your name softly, panic rising as he touched your forehead. You were burning up with a fever. Without wasting another second, he gently lifted you into his arms and carried you to his bedroom.

As he laid you down on his bed, guilt gnawed at him. Seeing you like this—sick, stressed, and heartbroken—made him feel helpless. He should have protected you better. And as much as he hated himself for it, he couldn’t ignore the small, ugly pang of jealousy that struck him, seeing how deeply you grieved for Ian. Shaking his head, he forced the thought away. This wasn’t about him.

He moved quickly, grabbing a cooling fever patch and placing it on your forehead. He sat beside you, watching your flushed face as you slept fitfully, determined to stay by your side until you were better.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next morning, you woke up feeling like your head was floating. It took a moment for you to realize where you were—Bucky’s bedroom. Slowly, you turned your head, and there he was, sleeping beside you, still holding a body thermometer in his hand. His face looked tired, but peaceful, as if he’d been watching over you all night.

Your heart swelled with gratitude. He had taken care of you when you needed it most.

Feeling your movement, Bucky stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and when he saw you awake, he immediately sat up. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep as he reached out to check your temperature.

You gave him a small smile, touched by his concern. “I’m alright,” you said, though your voice was still shaky. “Thank you, Bucky.” You tried to get up, but dizziness hit you hard, and you swayed.

Bucky was quick, his hands steadying you before you could fall. “Slowly,” he said, his tone gentle but firm.

“I need to check on Nate,” you insisted, worry clouding your thoughts.

“I already did,” Bucky reassured you. “His fever’s gone down. He’s doing much better.”

Hearing that brought you a sense of relief, but it also made you realize how exhausted Bucky must be. He hadn’t rested enough, not with everything going on.

Still leaning against him, you looked up into his eyes, your heart heavy with a new determination. “Bucky.”

“Yes?” he answered softly.

“I won’t let Ian die for nothing.” Your voice was filled with a steely resolve. The memory of Ian’s twin brother’s death—how justice had never been served—flashed through your mind. You wouldn’t let Ian’s life end the same way. Not without consequences. Not without fighting for the truth.

Bucky looked at you, admiring the fire in your eyes despite the grief and exhaustion. His heart clenched, seeing the strength that was returning to you. He leaned forward and gently kissed your forehead. “Leave it to me,” he promised, his voice a quiet vow, as if he’d carry your burden for you.

For a moment, you felt a flicker of hope, but the weight of everything still pressed heavily on your chest. You closed your eyes, knowing that nothing would ever be the same again.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Steve sat in his study, the soft light of the lamp casting a golden glow over the mahogany desk. He skimmed through the documents in front of him, his mind elsewhere, waiting for a call he knew would come. When his phone vibrated, a brief flash of tension crossed his face. He picked it up immediately, his heart pounding in anticipation.

"Hi," he greeted, his voice calm, almost casual.

Hazel’s voice crackled through the speaker, sharp and accusing. “Is it you? Was it you, Steve?” The accusation in her tone sliced through the air, but Steve didn’t answer right away. His silence was all she needed.

"Why did you kill him?" she spat, fury lacing every word. "And I just found out what the twins did to Nate. Despicable. I will never let them near our son again!"

“It was necessary,” Steve replied, his voice low and steady. He didn’t offer any more explanation, but those few words were enough to cement the cold reality of his actions. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the polished mahogany desk, his gaze drifting toward the framed photo of the twins standing with General Carter. His jaw clenched at the sight of it. He hated that photo, the facade of family unity it represented.

"And the twins… I’m sorry. They won’t get near Nate again," he added, his voice softening, though the bitterness lingered beneath the surface.

Hazel’s breathing was shaky, but before she could respond further, Steve said, with a mix of gentleness and authority, "Come home. I’ll feel safer with you here, and I know Nate misses his mother."

A long, painful silence stretched between them. Finally, Hazel’s voice broke through, faint but resigned. “Alright.” Then the line went dead.

Steve leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply, a small wave of relief washing over him. She had listened. But just as he allowed himself a brief moment of calm, the door to his study creaked open. Peggy stood there, her eyes blazing.

“Why the surprised look?” she sneered, stepping further into the room. “Did I catch you off guard? Or were you just finishing up with your young girlfriend?”

Steve didn’t flinch. Her words, sharp as they were, rolled off him like water on stone, which only seemed to enrage her further.

“Not even going to deny it, are you?” Peggy’s voice rose in pitch, the hurt and anger clear. “So you’re not ashamed of cheating? What will the world say when they find out? The great Steve Rogers, a cheater!”

He pushed away from the desk, leaning back against it as he crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze was steady, almost too calm. “Yes,” he said, his voice a chilling monotone. “If you want to call it cheating, sure. By the law, I’m still married to you. But feelings?” He paused, the weight of his words sinking in like a blade. “I’ve never had any for you from the start.”

The words hit Peggy like a physical blow. She stumbled back, her breath catching in her throat. Her laugh was bitter, hollow. “Ha!” The sound echoed off the walls of the study. His calm, matter-of-fact delivery hurt more than any shouting match ever could. He knew this would destroy her, and yet he said it without so much as a flicker of emotion.

She thought back to the days when he was just an innocent soldier, visiting her father’s house, his manners and politeness charming her. But that image was long gone, shattered by years of resentment and lies.

“I regret every second I’ve spent with you,” Peggy hissed, her voice dripping with venom.

Their relationship hadn’t always been this cold. Steve had been old-fashioned, much like her father. He wasn’t a man of many words or affection, but there had been respect between them once. That all changed when her father, General Carter, pressured Steve to quit the military and pursue a political career as governor. Steve had resisted—he loved the military, loved his job and the people he worked with. He had been willing to die for his country.

Steve had begged General Carter to let him stay, but the old man wouldn’t relent. And when Steve had turned to Peggy for help, she hadn’t fought hard enough. She knew it was futile to argue with her father.

“He’s had a free ride,” General Carter had said of Steve, dismissing his passion for the military. “He doesn’t even spend his own money. What’s he got to complain about?”

A few days later, Steve’s resignation was approved—not by his own hand, but by General Carter’s. Peggy still remembered the day Steve took off his military badge for the last time. His face had been unreadable, but she knew it was killing him. He wasn’t just leaving a job—he was giving up his identity, and not because he wanted to.

That was the moment Steve had realized he was nothing more than a pawn. His opinion hadn’t mattered. And ever since then, he had blamed General Carter—and Peggy, for standing by, watching it all happen.

“Steve…” Peggy’s voice cracked as she clenched her fists. “You’ve become the man you hated the most.”

Steve stepped closer, his presence looming over her. He stopped just beside her, looking down with a mix of detachment and something that almost resembled pity. “No matter what’s happened between us, Peggy, you’ve been the best partner I’ve ever had.” His tone was emotionless, final. Then he walked past her, leaving her standing in the middle of the room, stunned.

When the door closed behind him, Peggy felt like she was sinking into a bottomless pit. She had given so much of herself, had tried to live up to the image of being his wife, and yet, here she was—betrayed and alone. No one understood the depth of her loneliness, the hollow ache that came from knowing she never had his love. She had only ever had his body, never his heart.

"Urggh." She clenched her chest. What hurts her the most is that Steve became the type of husband she had always longed for—but to another woman. Not her, the official spouse he had vowed to be with until death do them part.

She felt the change in him—he became more patient, started giving gifts—but it was all because of another woman. A younger, more beautiful woman. The only one who truly won Steve’s heart.

Outside the door, Steve continued walking, ignoring the faint sound of her muffled sobs from the other side. His face remained stone-cold as his assistant approached him.

“Sir, you need to see the news,” the assistant said, holding out a remote.

Steve turned on the television, his eyes narrowing as the headline blared across the screen: Breaking News: Edgar and Brock's Corruption Scandals Exposed. The dirty secrets of his competitors were now laid bare for the world to see, their reputations on the verge of being ruined forever. Their supporters and voters would never trust them again.

His assistant handed him a tablet. “Sir, here’s the latest poll data.”

Steve glanced at it, and a grin slowly spread across his face. His shoulders relaxed as a chuckle escaped his lips, building into a full, throaty laugh.

He dialed Bucky’s number, still chuckling. When Bucky picked up, Steve’s voice was smooth, satisfied. “You did an incredible job. Good work.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Back at Bucky’s apartment

"I couldn’t have done it without you," Bucky replied, his voice smooth but carrying the weight of their shared secrets.

You glanced at Bucky, watching him as he spoke to Steve on the phone, his tone calm yet calculated. Nate sat quietly on your lap, happily munching on his breakfast as you fed him, both of you finally feeling a sense of normalcy after everything. The air felt lighter, but you knew it wouldn’t last.

Bucky ended the call, slipping the phone into his pocket before joining you at the table. He sat down, his eyes briefly scanning Nate before settling on you, the unspoken tension between the three of you lingering like a shadow.

"You know what you just did, right?" you said quietly, keeping your voice low. "You’ve made him untouchable."

Bucky leaned back in his chair, his lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His demeanor was calm, almost too calm, like a storm gathering just beneath the surface. He raised a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. “That’s the point,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, eyes glinting with something dark, something you couldn’t quite place. “But don’t get too comfortable.”

His smile widened, just enough to unsettle you. "I may act like I’m not watching, like I’m playing the fool, but don’t mistake that for blindness. I see everything, and I hear everything."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper, the intensity in his gaze making your heart skip. "Just wait. When the time’s right… we’ll make our move. And when we do, they won’t see it coming."

There was a brief silence, the weight of his words hanging in the air, pressing against your chest. Nate, blissfully unaware, giggled and reached for another bite of food, while you exchanged a tense glance with Bucky. His words were cool, but you knew the danger that lay beneath them.

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ohbo-ohno · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 8 - Breeding

John Price x Reader - 1k (on ao3)

summary: You worry that your boss sees your relationship as more long-term than you do. (Reader POV, second person)

cw: implied stealthing, under negotiated breeding kink, one-sided daddy kink

You tell yourself it’s just a kink.

You’re not ready to become a mother - you’d like to be married for at least a year before even trying for a baby, and you’d like to have an established career before even getting married. For you, the idea of a bun in the oven is so far down the line it’s not even visible on the horizon yet.

But you know it’s not the same for Price. He’s older than you, has lived a far wilder life and lost it what must be nearly a dozen times over. He’s a weathered man, with deep lines on his forehead and wrinkles around his eyes, just the tiniest hint of silver creeping into his beard.

You know it’s not smart to have a fling with him. Not only is he your boss and a controversially older man, but he’s also the exact opposite of a commitment-phobe like you. He’s always looking for more commitment in fact, something you hadn’t expected considering the illicitness of your relationship with him.

You'd assumed an affair with your boss would involve mostly quickies in closets, a refusal to be in the same room as one another during the workday, maybe even pretending to dislike each other around other coworkers. Instead, he talks to you more once you start sleeping together than he had before - he parks himself on your desk at any time he pleases, invites you to have lunch in his office with him (alone), and laughs when your co-workers call him your work-husband.

So you know that he wants more, that he wants you to really be with him (he hints at far more than just that, but doesn’t dare say it aloud, which you’re glad for) past just being his secretary and his fuckbuddy.

In fact, he’d nearly torn you into two when you’d giggled and called him a “bootycall” after he called you back into work hours after you’d gone home. His face had gone from eager and affectionate to what you can only call scolding, and he’d been rougher with you than normal. You enjoy a few smacks to your ass, but that night he’d spanked you hard enough to leave you squirming the next morning when you sat at your desk. You’d been pouty about it, had glared only half-playfully at him when he smirked, but the way he ate you out on his desk for lunch more than made up for the discomfort.

And he makes these… comments sometimes, while he’s buried inside you. Things that allude to a future you’re not ready for.

Gotta come after me, sweetheart, it takes better like that.

Hips up, don’t let any of me drip out.

Gonna make me a daddy, pretty thing? Huh? Gonna take my cum and grow me a baby?

My good fuckin’ girl, lettin’ me breed her pretty cunt.

Gonna look so pretty, all round for me. Gonna take such good care of you.

C’mon, honey, wanna make sure it sticks this time.

You tell yourself it’s just a kink. He plugs you up with a couple fingers once he’s finished, says “Just to make sure you don’t lose any of my cum, can’t be wastin’ it right now,” and licks your clit until your legs shake.

He hardly fucks you in any position that isn’t bent over his desk, no matter how much you whine and beg for me. He just smacks your ass, gives you an extra orgasm or two to keep you placated. More often than not he leaves you bent over the desk after he’s finished, tilts your hips up a little higher and gives you a kiss on the temple as he sits back in his seat to get back to work.

You’d told him to use a condom the first few times, even though you’ve been on birth control for years. You’ve always been responsible with flings, been more than willing to send a man packing at the first hint of whining if he didn’t want to wear protection. A baby has never once crossed your mind as an option, and it certainly doesn't now.

So it was instinct to tell Price to put on a condom before he fucked you the first time. And he had, without kicking up any fuss about it past a furrowed brow and a grumble or two.

But then the condom broke, and you were left with his cum dripping down your thighs. You’d had a moment of panic, but he’d given you money for Plan B, and you told yourself the odds of getting pregnant with Plan B and birth control were so low it wasn’t worth stressing out over.

The condom broke the second time. And the third. And the fourth. And the fifth. And every time after that you asked him to wear one.

At some point you stopped asking, and he never remembered himself. A few muttered questions about what brand he’d been using between fevered kisses, thick fingers at your cunt a distraction, and eventually you told yourself it wouldn’t matter as long as you kept taking the birth control pills.

It would be rude to demand Plan B after every round, right? Plus, asking for cash minutes after you'd both gotten off always made you feel a bit... dirty. When you feel him drip down your thighs, when you pull your panties up and feel the mixture of both of you gather there, you tell yourself that the birth control will surely do it's job, and you try not to worry.

Now, pulling open the drawer where you keep your pills, you wonder if maybe all his talk of babies and his cum taking is more than just heat-of-the-moment dirty talk.

You stare down at the empty drawer and every time he’s called himself Daddy echoes in your ear like a choir.

#this one is aggressively meh to me so sorry #reading through each kinktober before i post the day before and like. more than i expected have very little smut #bo writes #john price x reader #john price x you #price x reader #price x you #captain price x reader #captain price x you #how do people tag for him #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober day 8

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rafesgoldrings · 2 years ago

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Rafe x trophy wife where an employee talks down to the reader (not knowing who she is or how much power she holds) and she goes along with it, pretending to not know anything about Rafe’s business until the man himself, aka her husband walks in at just the right time where the employee is calling the reader a dumb bitch for not knowing anything 👀

The guy had to be new because there’s no way one of the employees that had been there for awhile would even think about speaking to you that way, let alone actually say it to your face. It was subtle at first, each time he saw you grabbing the papers from your desk he’d offer to help you out. You thought he was just being nice after seeing the large stack of paper you had, but then he started saying snarky remarks to you. Any meeting you had with him was always full of something along the lines of ‘the adults are speaking sweetheart, why don’t you go get us some coffee and let us do our jobs’ and it took everything in you to not slap him. But you were smarter than that, smarter than him, and knew that if you planned it out, Rafe would catch him and the guy would quickly learn why he shouldn’t talk down to his fellow co workers. You sent Rafe a quick text asking him to come to your desk so you could give him something, and that wasn’t necessarily a lie…it was just a very early birthday gift that you conveniently decided to give him when you saw the asshole co worker approaching. You purposely sent him an email containing the wrong information about one of the sales Rafe made knowing it would set him off. The perfect plan to get this asshole caught. You’d gotten a reply saying he was on his way and smirked, setting your phone down and watching as the guy walked closer and closer. “Do you realize what you the hell you just did?” his face red and voice slightly raised. “No, did I do something wrong?” your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, a total look of absolute innocence on your face. You bit back a smile watching his nostrils flare, jaw clenching and chest rising with every increasing breath. “God you’re such a dumb bitch. You don’t know anything about this company. The only thing you’re good for is being the young hot thing in the office with good tits and a good ass who’s cu-“ a loud booming voice cutting him short. A smug look on your face as the guys face paled and eyes widened. Nobody wants their boss to address them in that way. That means they did something they shouldn’t have and are about to be fired. “Who the fuck do you think you are talking to my wife like that?” he looked down at your hand, noticing the giant diamond ring on your finger and name tag on your desk. ‘Y/N Cameron’ oh fuck. He tried to stammer his way through an explanation, he didn’t know who you were and he was sorry. But Rafe didn’t care, nobody disrespected his wife. You worked your ass off to help him and worked your ass off before he’d even married you to help his company. You were his equal, you deserved the same respect. “I-I’m sorry sir I don’t fucking care. Say you’re sorry and then get the hell out” apparently he didn’t move quick enough because Rafe grabbed him by the back of the neck and harshly pinned him against your desk. He cried out apologies before Rafe threw him to the ground, telling him to get the hell out of his building before he had him thrown out. He wasted no time scrambling to his feet and running out the doors, not even bothering to grab his stuff. You could only bite your lip and smirk, clenching your thighs together. There was something so hot about Rafe protecting you, he walked over to you and grabbed your hand. He’d place a gentle kiss to it and apologize for the employees behavior to which you promised him it was okay, it wasn’t his fault. The gift you wanted to give him? The very same gift you used to lure him in? A remote control to your new vibrating panties. “You’re going to kill me princess, but not before I have you on your knees in front of me. Crying, begging me to stop after about your 20th orgasm”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #trophy wife! reader x rafe #asks <3

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angelguk · 10 months ago

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jungkook angst au where you move to a new city and meet a very funny and charismatic coworker who you quickly befriend named jungkook. except it's not really a friendship because he keeps flirting with you and is very direct with how much he touches you (he gives you the nickname bambi because you're clumsy at things). the kicker is you're in a long term relationship with a guy you're SURE going to marry one day except one night you and jungkook share a drunken kiss after an the office christmas party and your completely lost in him because he breathes you in like you're air and his lungs are shrivelling in his chest and he stares at you like face is carved of the most precious gems on this earth. you don't sleep with him but you go home with him and he touches you with hands as gentle as sunlight and scathing as the burning star itself. you end up telling your boyfriend the truth right away and your relationship ends which you're so devastated by that you end up drunk calling jungkook and filled with guilt and angry towards yourself you promise him nothing will happen between you two again and he reluctantly agrees but he's angry and hurt because his harbouring a major crush on you. but you can't get him out of your mind no matter how hard you try and you end up drunk and naked in his bed a few nights later. feels too good to be true and it isn't because after fucking you brainless night after night and covering your body is tender kisses he tells you he ain't looking for anything serious and doesn't want to lead you on. he says he would feel put off if you ended your relationship to date him. so you pretend your relationship is not over and act like nothing he does bothers you even when you find out that he made out with another co-worker of yours (sara) and sleeps with her from time to time because that's none of your business. and then all of sudden he wants you to meet his brother and he's wanting to go on dates where you take pictures like couples do. he shows those pictures to his family and tells you that his mom thinks you'd have cute children together. but you're still not dating. but jungkook gets mad and pissy when he sees you talking to other guys, especially your other male co-workers, which you always to apologise for because apparently you lack "tactfulness" and do it to hurt his feelings. you try and keep it nonchalant and don't expect too much of him when he suddenly asks one late morning if you're still seeing your boyfriend and if you'll travel back home to spend time with him. you answer yes because you don't want to put him off and he goes quiet. when he complains about your sex life you try and spice things up without giving to much of yourself to him. when that doesn't work you give him everything. you talk him out of bad mood swings, you help him dissect his thoughts and uncover things about himself, you try things you said you never would to make him happy. he isn't statisfied but then he continues to do things that make you feel see and adored in ways you've never experienced before. yet it's all overshadowed by idiotic fights because allegedly one drunken night jungkook had asked to officially start dating you but you don't remember this at all and still think it's a fwbs situation. now when you give less, he's more hurt and offended while you think you're protecting yourself until one day you have a massive fight while he's away at his brothers wedding and you tell him you hate him but really you don't you're basically in love with him but now for him it's really over and he tells you such in your final conversation when you scream horrid things at each other and cry because you don't want it to be over but he doesn't care about you or feel the same way about anymore but get this! your company has assigned you on the same international project and you're stuck living together for four months in a shared apartment.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #and they were roommates #🫠🫠🫠🫠#i had to put this out somewhere #jungkook fic #jungkook pov

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loveanddeepspice · 2 months ago

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𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖

✞ synopsis: you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.

✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader

✞ rating: 18+ (minors do not engage)

✞ cw: religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), mentions of other drug use, drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)

✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.

✞ chapter: 4 / ?

✞ co-authors: redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)

✞ ao3 link: here

✞ chapter synopsis: guilt is heavy on your mind, but when given the opportunity to confess, things escalate to an admission you weren't expecting. it would seem you aren't the only one who deals with temptation.

✞ index: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5

Please comment on this post if you want to be added to the tag list for updates!

You were pretty used to people wanting to have sex with you - boys at the club that danced too close. Or the library in college, checking you out from behind when you returned books. You’d learned to ignore the stares, the not-so-subtle advances, the occasional grope on a crowded dance floor. It was just part of being a woman, you had told yourself. And truthfully, being desired felt good, even if it sometimes manifested in inappropriate ways.

It had a specific power, especially when you often looked at your hips in the mirror. Even when you felt bloated or your skin was breaking out, catching an appreciative glance from a cute guy perked up your mood. It was a reminder that despite your insecurities, your body was beautiful and alluring to others. There was something deeply validating about that.

You had seen the restraint in Zayne’s eyes, the way he had held himself back the moment he met you. It was different from the hungry leers of other men. There was a respect there, a reverence almost as if he never quite believed that you were real.

But you felt the sweat-slick desire coursing through his veins whenever he fucked you. Fucked you against the wall, the desk bent over. You had smelled the lust on his skin - his need to claim. This led you to believe there wasn’t much in his own life he had much control over - though you never asked.

Most times you were with him, you didn’t try to distract him. You pretended not to care when he slipped the wedding band off his finger and tossed it somewhere out of his line of sight. Being wanted, needed, and craved so intensely always took priority in your mind of what was right or proper. The way he touched you, kissed you, and drove into you with such fervor.

You didn’t let the ring distract you, considering it was just an object.

Until one morning, it caught your eye. The simple gold band rested on the nightstand as you sat against the headboard. You blinked and glanced over at Zayne sleeping next to you - his defined shoulder blades and strong muscles, the smooth curve of his body leading to narrow hips.

At that moment, you wished you could start over and stay in this life forever. Maybe he would have come with you if you ran away. Maybe you could have convinced him to protect you, or you could have made up an excuse for why he needed to stay by your side. Deep down, you knew those thoughts were selfish and even comical. You had been desperate and needy yet appreciative of how he had made everything else disappear.

Maybe you were his way of breaking free of the monotony of his own life. Like a character in a novel or a television show - just another man’s object of lust and curiosity. But this man was kind, intelligent, decent, and honest from the start.

And yet, in those cramped quarters of that hotel room, staring at the wood grain of the nightstand, you couldn’t imagine a single scenario where things ended anything other than badly.

It had all been so simple, falling into bed with the good doctor who worked nights - whose marriage didn’t matter or had seemed not to. Maybe, in another life, he would have swept you off your feet and carried you far away to far-off places, like Scotland, where you always wanted to visit. With all his money and experience, surely he could’ve whisked you away to somewhere beyond…

Letting your fantasies consume you as you looked at him again, dark hair against the pillow, lips parted slightly in slumber, he looked more vulnerable while asleep. The hard lines on his face softened, and the ever-present intensity drained away. It would have been so easy to wake him and lose yourself in the fire again.

But something held you back, causing your gaze to land back on the ring. You envisioned a woman with vibrant red hair who was solid and straightforward. She could be a doctor too, or maybe a real estate agent who worked 60 hours a week.

You looked toward the nightstand drawer and knew what book would be inside—one that every hotel room seemed to have. Reaching out, you opened the drawer, examining the well-worn blue cover. Quietly, you took the Bible out and flipped through its thin pages in your lap, illuminated by the soft morning light through the crack in the curtains. Without even looking, you found the page you were searching for, mouthing the passage you had read countless times before.

‘Though the Lord is great, He cares for the humble, but keeps His distance from the proud.’

A strange, eerie feeling washed over you as you thought about your own humanity, that ring on the nightstand. In that moment, a wave of self-pity but you as you realized how simple and insignificant humans really were. But you kept flipping through the pages anyway.

‘Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble at heart, and you will find rest for your souls.’

“D-does that include me?” You whispered to yourself, breaking the silence of the room. Of your thoughts. “I'm carrying a lot of garbage with me.” You snorted, bringing a thumb up to swipe at a tear that gathered in your eye. You smeared your face across your arm, sniffling, trying to suppress a tight sob.

Whatever this was, whatever you had gotten involved in, there were no solutions or promises. Talking to God seemed as futile as ever.

“I think it's best if I go home for a little while,” you said, loud enough to startle Zayne out of sleep. You closed your eyes and shut the Bible, wishing for some kind of miracle to wash away the guilt and confusion - the sin that had entangled itself around you. “I need to visit my dad,” you added, trying to steady your voice. “Get my head straight.”

Fully awake now, Zayne sat up, turning to face you. “Alone?”

His features were pinched, concerned. There was a flash of regret in your stomach, and you laughed.

“No.” You answered. Then you shook your head. Your eyes were stinging again, but you clutched the edges of the Bible and breathed deeply. “Yes, of course, alone. God, I can't believe you just fucking asked me that.”

The words were spoken harshly, but they were truthful and full of shame.

Zayne held his head high, revealing the internal conflict he may have been struggling with. He leaned back against the headboard, and you could see him trying to figure out what to say next as he gazed into the distance. Then his eyes closed, and when they opened and locked with you again, the hazel color seemed to dance in the dimly lit room. He swallowed hard before saying, “Maybe you shouldn't sleep around if it's going to upset you.”

“I'm upset with you, ” you stated firmly. Your thumb began tapping the side of the Bible. “I'm upset with myself.”

Zayne shook his head in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. The look on his face made you want to reach out and comfort him. But you knew you shouldn't. That feeling of despair washed over you again, but you welcomed it this time. It was a harsh reality and a reminder of the situation. The bitter taste of logic told you that you'd been used and that despite any genuine feelings from either of you - the actions had still been wrong.

It was a sobering realization that you loved this man, the same one you'd been sneaking around with behind his wife's back. Over and over again. Your sense of morality has failed you in the end, and you couldn't help but feel dirty, tainted, maybe even a bit worthless. You couldn't justify your actions or rationalize them anymore.

The affections of one man had caused a tectonic shift in your being, a deep rumbling that shook you to your very foundation. Your faith in God, the same one who had taken your mother from you, was wavering even more.

In a fit of emotion, you had quit your job that afternoon and impulsively bought a plane ticket. It was a familiar pattern - escape was the default when faced with overwhelming loss. And as you sat in the exit row, surrounded by strangers, you couldn't decide which scenario had felt more devastating - losing your mother or potentially losing yourself.

“Remember, honey,” Your mother's words echoed in your mind as the plane took off. “A man can make you feel like the most special woman in the world. But only God can fill that hole in your heart. Don't look for love in the wrong places, alright?”

You had pressed into the seat, tears prickling in your eyes that you blinked away. You had refused to break down here, 30,000 feet in the air, with nowhere to hide.

Walking was always your go-to activity to clear your head. Whether it was with a destination in mind or not. Your dad had offered you use of his car plenty of times since you got home, but you declined - appreciating the privacy of walking. He hadn’t caught on how much you wanted your privacy yet but hadn’t bothered asking. Or ask why you hadn’t gone to church with him since before the festival.

Since your conversation with Zayne, a heavy sense of something that felt like a weight clung to you like a dense fog; each step feels like a struggle, as if trudging through mud. But really, what had you expected? Your mind was clouded by the usual clarity that came with walking. But you knew you couldn’t stay in your room forever; eventually, your dad would catch on. Maybe he had learned from the experience with your mother how to catch onto sadness, and you couldn’t have that happen.

So you did what she used to - you drank half a bottle of wine and left the rest in the fridge before heading out into the night. You had no particular destination. While drinking, you did your best not to think about your mother or whatever else was troubling you. But that’s not what makes you feel guilty. It’s a mix of everything: your secret, Zayne, and the fact you thought alcohol could numb it all away.

As you continued to walk, the rec center by the church gradually came into view. The sign proclaiming a Bible study catches your attention and a stream of teenagers exiting the building. They had an unmistakable energy about them, with their trendy and vibrant clothing. It was intriguing, something worth pausing to observe. Life carried on, even after you stumbled down a path and nearly fell off track. It was absurd to think about how one man’s deception could cause so much…UGH!

You heard a familiar voice call your name from the building's steps, and you turned to see Xavier. He adjusted his jacket as he descended the concrete stairs, passing by a group of teenagers who chatted on the sidewalk.

“Hey,” you forced a polite grin, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “Aren’t you a bit too old for youth group?”

He rolled his eyes. “I help out the Father from time to time,” he explained. “But when it’s these guys…yeah, kinda does feel like middle school over again.” He gave a small laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m so busy, I barely make it to church or anything. This was just convenient.”

“Teaching kids about the Bible, huh?” you offered, trying to keep the conversation light. The last thing you wanted Xavier to do was pick up on your melancholy mood.

Xavier nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s nice to give back, you know?”

“Well, aren’t you lucky?” You said, admiring Xaviers' easy smile. He had always been reliable, especially when it came to helping his parents and now working for your dad. He certainly seemed to have matured more than you and understood the importance of responsibility.

Perhaps he could sense something was amiss, and hopefully, he couldn’t smell the wine on your breath at all. Regardless, he took the opportunity to shoo away some of the kids still lingering around before it got too dark for them to walk home safely. Once they were out of sight, he turned back to you.

“So, how have you been? You look a little…off.”

“Long day.” You admitted, not wanting to burden him of all people, but in some way desperately craving a scrap of real attention. “Talking about it would be too much of a hassle. I’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Xaviers' brow furrowed with what appeared to be concern. “You know, sometimes talking about it can help. Even if it’s just a little bit.” He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. “I’m here to listen if you want…”

You hesitated, unsure if you were ready to open up. Something about Xavier's presence, the sincerity in his voice, made you feel…safe. Maybe it was the fact that you’d known him for so long, or maybe it was how he always genuinely cared about others. He was so sincere and sweet, and your shoulders slumped because you couldn’t even fathom where to begin - not wanting to.

“I’m good, promise.” You forced another smile, and that seemed to do the trick because Xavier nodded slowly, though his eyes still flickered with concern.

“Alright. If you say so.”

An awkward silence hung between you both for a moment as you stood on the sidewalk, the last rays of the sun casting long shadows on the pavement. Xavier shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly wanting to say something but unsure how to proceed.

He cleared his throat nervously and rubbed the back of his neck again. “So, I was thinking…Maybe we could grab dinner sometime while you’re here? Catch up properly?” He chuckled, an apparent attempt at hiding his nerves.

You felt your face grow warm as you bit the inside of your cheek, attempting to contain the smile that threatened to break out. Of all the times he could have asked you out in school…

“Sure,” You stammered. “It’s been a while since we’ve just talked.”

“No, I mean, sorry -” Xaviers' eyebrows furrowed. “You know, like…a date?”

“A date?” you repeated in surprise.

Your laughter bubbled out of you as you looked away. After worrying for so long about being alone forever, it was strange to hear someone offer themselves to you in a way that wasn’t hinting at anything sexual—especially someone who you used to have feelings for in your youth. A tiny thrill of hope-filled your stomach. But then the guilt was quick to rush in, along with shame. It weighs on your spine and makes you force in a breath.

You met his gaze earnestly. “Are you sure?”

“Uh, well, why wouldn’t I be? You don’t think it would be awkward, would it?”

You shook your head, trying to push away any doubt or insecurities that threatened to overwhelm you. “No, no, it’s not that. I just…” You trailed off.

Xavier's expression softened, and he gently touched your arm. “Y/N, it’s fine. We don’t have to. I just thought it might be nice to spend some time together, you know? No pressure.”

You nodded, grateful for his understanding and that he was still as sweet as the day you graduated. You also didn’t want to ignore the part of you that still felt like a teenager, the small voice that begged you to say yes.

“I’d love to go out with you, sure.” You gave in and reached into your pocket, retrieving your phone and holding it out. “Can you send a text to yourself?”

He accepted it and began typing with his thumbs, the bright screen casting a glow on his nose. Once he was finished, he handed it back to you.

You tucked your phone back into your pocket, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. Despite the heaviness in your heart, the prospect of a ‘date’ seemed to lift your spirits, if only a little bit.

“I should probably get going,” Xavier said, glancing up toward the sky. “Early start at the shop tomorrow.” He looked as if he was about to say more but then seemed to think better of it. “I’ll text you soon about dinner, okay?”

You nodded. “Sure. See you later.”

Xavier gave a small wave and stepped off the curb to cross the street. When he was around the corner and out of sight, you felt the embrace of the fall evening again, and everything around you went silent.

Until you heard the gentle sound of a piano resounding from inside the rec center, the front door was still partially open, and the chords flowed from somewhere within; the melody was haunting and gentle. Sticking your hands in your pockets, you headed up the cement steps into the building, pushing the squeaky door open a bit more as you were greeted by the soft, dimly lit lobby. You followed the sound to one of the rooms in the back.

Father Sylus was too focused, slender fingers moving across the keys and producing that haunting melody that you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was. Yet, you found it strangely comforting. Your feet remembered how to move, stepping forward and muffled by the thick carpet and the perfect rhythm.

You finally recognized the tune, and a slight snort escaped your nostrils. You had been trying to find where you had heard the hymn before, but it wasn’t a hymn; it was Music of the Night from Phantom of the Opera.

He caught your eye and abruptly stopped playing, and even though you tried to suppress your amusement, he must have noticed because a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth - one that made it hard for you not to smile back.

“I didn’t realize anyone was there.” He stated, posture stiff as he sat up straighter, making you wonder if you had interrupted him. What you really should have done was not be nosy and go home. But no, now you were forced to speak to him.

“You, uh, a fan of musicals?” You chuckled a bit, taking in his expression - one of a man caught doing something they would have preferred someone not seeing. But there was something deeper to it as his expression darted to another part of the room and left yours as if looking for an excuse for something completely different.

Father Sylus cleared his throat, running a hand back through his hair. “I’ve…seen some here and there.” He moved down on the piano bench, patting the spot next to him. “Sit if you’d like.”

Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it.

But you went over, settling onto the cool leather of the bench, arms folded. The sheet music for Amazing Grace that had been taped in place for years was slightly curled up in the corners and soft with age. It was a relic that someone had likely tried to care for, but there were pencil smudges. You reached out and tapped a key absentmindedly, just as a distraction from how close in proximity you now were to Father Sylus.

“That was, uh, really good.” You spoke, crossing your legs at your ankles and tucking them under the bench. “I never really caught on to the music stuff.”

“I can’t take all the credit.” He gave a small chuckle, watching your movements, hands now folded perfectly in his lap, and his eyes settled back on the keys and the markings someone had left on the notes. “I did take piano lessons up until college.”

“What did you study?” You felt compelled to ask this question. Mainly because all your prior talks have been surface-level, skimming the waters of who you both were. But sitting here next to him, you caught on to his confidence, an educated air.

“Music theory,” he replied, the words soft and straightforward. You watched his body language. While his posture remained still, he moved a hand around in front of him in a ‘roll over’ motion. “Then eventually theology, religion, philosophy. Mostly, I wasn’t sure what I would do in the future.”

“So one day you woke up and said, ‘I’m gonna be a priest?’” You joked, not waiting for a response before formulating your next question. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you? You don’t seem that old.”

“Twenty-eight.” He told you, turning his head to look toward the stacked chairs against the walls. “I didn’t expect to end up where I am. I think that’s what often happens in life, though. You don’t have a plan ahead of time, or perhaps, have the expectations of something that doesn’t always end up as a concrete idea." He chuckled, "Like studying music theory.”

“And your family was on board with it?” You asked.

“More or less. Sometimes, I still wonder, if I had to do it again, would I?”

Your brow arched curiously at his questions of himself, the wonderingness of his tone.

“That’s a little deep for a regular Tuesday evening.” You managed a half-smirk, trying not to invade his space with the turn your conversation had taken.

“Is there a set day for discussions such as these?” He countered, turning to look at you, red eyes almost glinting in challenge. His tone was almost teasing, and nerves sparked in your belly.

“I think late Saturday evenings work,” you decided with a short hum, “Though I hear Sunday mornings are very convenient.”

“That’s fair.” He mused with a short laugh.

Taking a risk, you let the urge grip you and reached out, laying a hand on his arm. For a moment, the touch felt wrong, the thoughts swirling. But it was almost too perfect, the way he was just sitting there. Then it hit you what you were doing, and you pulled your hand away.

“Sorry,” you sputtered. “I’m sorry, that was so inappropriate.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he insisted, still looking at you. You looked away, unable to keep eye contact and rubbing your arm nervously.

“No, it was,” you murmured. You felt ridiculous, getting way too close to the goddamn priest. You wanted to smack yourself with the disappointment that you’d just tried to flirt without realizing it. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me lately.”

“You’re human,” he stated, and his expression was sincere as you looked back at him. “There’s something about you,” he tried to smile, but it fell flat. Instead, a slight frown formed, an almost curious look coming into his features. “Nothing’s wrong with you, truly.” His voice faltered, nearly a whisper at the end, and he laughed gently. “You’re just flawed; everyone is.” His eyes went back to the piano keys. “Even God himself isn’t perfect.”

“I…guess that’s true.”

Your eyes prickled. There was nothing truly remarkable about what he had said, but you dug your nails into the fabric of your jeans as you remembered your mother. You took a slow, steadying breath to try and stop the tears from coming, from recalling all those unanswered questions.

Because, like everything else that had happened in your life recently, it was vague - only a tingle of existence in a reality that didn��t feel entirely real. One that couldn’t have been planned out by a force you couldn’t see but were supposed to feel yet hadn’t in a very long time.

A hot tear escaped as you focused on the wall behind the piano, your voice cracked as you sought to get out an explanation for your sudden emotion. “I can’t - I did something and can’t tell you.” You sucked a shaky breath as you shuffled on the bench with the intent to stand. “Something really messed up, and I -”

You were stopped by Father Sylus reaching a hand out, catching your own in a grasp that felt like a flame. A grasp that broke your words as you looked at his hand around your own. When you were finally able to meet his gaze, his features were relaxed and patient, willing you to speak.

“I can’t tell you,” you repeated. “If I tell you, it means that it’s real and he exists and I - I potentially ruined everything and that I’m just a slut and a homewrecker and a sinner and I’ll go to Hell and -”

“Stop.”

It was a single word. Uttered with such confidence, it made you go still, frozen, and quiet, save for the deep breath you now forced yourself to take that didn’t entirely fill your lungs. You worried briefly that you’d scared the man away with your panicky ramblings. But he simply held your now trembling hand in his. Constant. Grounding. It was enough to make you realize the depth of emotion he spoke with.

“I’m sorry.” You forced out the words, glancing down at the floor and how his feet were directly towards the piano, his attention again on the instrument. Your next question found its way past the tightness in your chest, a sudden flare of hot guilt welling. You knew the answer; it was all fire and brimstone either way and perhaps you were looking for sympathy with how he could answer in his calm and smooth voice. “What does the Bible say about adultery?” You asked.

Father Sylus may have been of the same religion. Responsible for leading the good people of this town from whatever chaos they experienced in their personal lives, or at least not eating meat on Ash Wednesday. Still, he sat silent for a while before finally turning to you.

“I’m afraid if you’ve come to me for forgiveness, you’ll receive none from me.”

“And what the fuck is your problem?” You stood, anger and resentment rising quickly. You crossed your arms over your chest and glanced at the ceiling. “Your whole job is to - guide people! Something, instead -”

“I can’t.” He stated firmly, standing and taking a step back from you. “Because I’m guilty, too.”

“I beg your fucking pardon?” Your body tensed as you watched him suck in a sharp breath and grip at his hair, tangling his fingers through the silky strands.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke softer now, another exhale and another step back. “I am, Y/N.” The way he spoke now was measured, perhaps even a bit apprehensive. “We all make mistakes. We all sin. Especially me.”

He looked at you, his crimson eyes burning into yours. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you, Y/N. I haven’t been able to stop.”

His whole body tensed at his confession. The silence hung between you, heavy, and you realized he was waiting for your response... Not just waiting, but needing your response.

“Why?” You breathed out, heart thudding loud enough in your chest for you to feel it. “If you felt that way, why -” You paused, deciding to let yourself admit the truth. “ I - I’ve been thinking about you, too.”

The truth made your face feel hot and filled you with the most dreadful sense of shame and need - something inside you longing. You couldn’t fight the urge to keep talking, unable to hold back. “Maybe I’m just too messed up in the head. I need some fucking validation that every relationship isn’t destined to end up in disappointment that I create. Convince myself I’m more than a sex-crazed person or something.”

You wanted to say more. You tried to open up and let it all out, but you were caught as you looked into his eyes. Ones that, for a fraction of a second, not easily caught, seemed to mirror yours as he allowed himself to come closer.

It was impossible to stop yourself from stepping closer. The warm hand that reached out and cupped your cheek made any rational thought simply vanish from your mind. But you did manage to ask your question, albeit a little breathlessly: “What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re asking the wrong person.” Father Sylus released a quivering breath, hand moving down your cheek to cup your jaw, but the grip wasn’t firm or demanding but - careful. Almost hesitant.

Tilting your head slightly, the kiss was light – just the sweetest brush of heat. It sent a jolt along your skin, making it almost impossible for you not to melt into the action.

“Please,” you heard him beg, whimpering against your mouth as he pulled back just a fraction, “please tell me that I’m not a monster for this.” His voice was husky and tinged with desperation. It sends a surge of heat straight to your core.

“No.” You found the word as you pulled back, locking your gaze. “You’re not.”

The vulnerability he exudes is incredible, the words he speaks settling like a stone in your stomach as you process them. You found yourself torn between desire and shame. It was a feeling not unlike what you felt when you had first started seeing -

You stepped back, releasing the hold as breath reached your lungs in a much shorter supply. How was this any different? This was far worse, if anything.

“I - I can’t do this again.” You admitted, and in a way, your own words were painful.

The priest didn’t move from his spot, brow furrowing in confusion. “I’m sorry, did I -” He raised a hand, not touching but hovering over your arm like he meant to. His expression was ridden with anxiety now, perhaps worry.

His uncertainty made it all the more confusing.

“I thought…” You stammered, unable to collect the fragments of your thoughts. “I thought that…I don’t know what’s going on.” You swallowed the lump forming in your throat.

You took another step back, fighting the fear that encased your ribs, the twist in your gut. It was not because of his presence but what was coming to the surface now, whatever feeling was developing. “I have to go,” you breathed.

“Wait, Y/N.” Father Sylus lifted his hands helplessly, his voice turning back to the one that offered guidance, eyes scanning the floor momentarily before looking back up. “You’re not the only one that feels or gives into things they’re not supposed to.” His brow creased while his eyes glinted with a sudden passion. He shifted his weight and stuffed a hand into his pocket, the other swooping the air lightly as he continued as if he needed to move his hand to formulate his words. “It..It doesn’t make you a monster.” This last statement was said with a sudden firmness.

“Maybe not.” You replied, the head of tears forming a blurry haze at the edges of your vision. “But, no matter what we want - there will always be constraints.” The nightmarish cloud that had begun to permeate your mind ceased. “How do I keep ending up in these situations?” You forced out a laugh. “Is this what God wants for me?”

“I don’t know.” His face took on a solemn expression as he swallowed harshly and cleared his throat. “The only thing I know is that…Whatever happened before, whatever you did,” he sucked in a sharp, sudden breath—no more nervous shifting. “Regardless of the sin you confessed, I don’t believe you to be a monster. Do you hear me? I’m telling you you’re not.”

You looked at the deep set of his expression, the tender way he reached his hand up and tapped it against his chest right over his heart. The sentiment made a new swell of warmth radiate from him. He looked so earnest as he smiled, making your skin prickle again.

“T-Thank you.” You answered him slowly, a small wave of unease settling as you struggled to respond. “That’s…very kind of you to say.”

You weren’t sure if you should take his words as comfort or not as you turned, intending to leave, but there was no doubt in your mind that you felt slightly different from hearing them. “Have a good evening, Father.”

“Wait.” A sudden neediness in the soft plea made you want to scream.

Taking a deep breath and holding it tight, your eyes clamped shut, and for some reason, you were almost terrified to look back. You were terrified because you wanted to stay there, touch him, and claim every inch of him, body and soul.

Something settled, the overwhelmed feeling easing into sadness, and you turned to him, tears clouding your vision.

“What would it take to ease your pain?” He asked, watching the tears roll along the curve of your jaw as he waited for an answer. His expression had turned hopeful, as if he might be able to do something beyond everything else. He had asked the question like he genuinely wanted to know the answer.

“I don’t know.” You forced your mouth to move. The words were honest, and the agony was unrelenting.

Without waiting for a response, you turned and left.

Tag list: @celestialforce

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#lds #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #lads sylus #lads zayne #lds zayne #lads fic #sylus x reader #sylus x you

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louscartridge · 11 months ago

Text

dating bose o'brien thoughts or wtvr

bose obrien x gn reader

i do not give permission for my fics to be posted claiming to be yours, translated, or posted on another platform.

cw- reader knows bose is brainstorm, cuddling, mentions of horror movies, established relationship, reader calls bose 'baby' and /silly' once, angst/hurt +comfort if you squint, reader and bose say "i love you" to eachother.

danger force masterlist here

❥ bose is Literally the most golden retriever boyfriend to ever exist. anyways following you around and wanting to be with you. he'd (attempt to) do almost anything for you. when you're not around he gets all mopey and cant stop talking about you.

"no wonder he cant remember anything. all he ever thinks about is y/n"

❥His love language(s) are physical touch, and gift giving. Hes always clinging onto you when hes scared, or sad, or just around you honestly. You remember that one episode of danger force where shwoz's mom was "sick" and bose got her golf clubs? (Im gonna pretend he used his own money for that 💀) He uses the little money he gets from occasionally working at nacho ball, on you.

you put what bose had bought you back in the box, and onto the table that was in the middle of the couch the two of you were sitting on.

"Bose, baby. As much as i love this, and you, you really dont have to spend any of your money on me at all. Get something YOU want for yourself." you tell him.

"All i want to myself is you" he replies, his voice cracking slightly at the end making you smile while you blush at his statement.

"Ok, Ill tell you what. How about you get that new dvd you were talking about a few days ago, and we can watch it together. Then, we'll both have what we want"

❥ Obviously you guys watch shows and movies together all the time. I feel like he really likes watching cartoons with you alot too. You make him happy, cartoons make him happy, therefore- extra happy bose. You love horror movies, but as we know, bose is a bit of a scaredy cat when it comes to horror movies. However, that doesnt mean that he wont watch them with you. He knows how much you like them, and he also knows how much it means to the both of you to watch stuff together.

Youre on of the few people he'll actually watch a horror movie with. Though he still gets scared, he always feels the most safe and secure while watching a horror movie when youre there. Boes is practically hooked on your back like a koala, and his arms loosely wrapped around your neck. As hes watching the movie with you, he would occasionally yelp, and bury his face in the crock of your neck and his arms, tightening the hold his arms have around your neck slightly, all while saying "im not scared i dont know what you're talking about"

❥ This man absolutely loves cuddling. Spooning, sitting in the others lap, it didnt matter. As long as you were touching eachother, he was happy.

Hes most definitely is usually a little spoon. He feels insanely safe and protected by you. As much as he always says to the rest of his co-workers and friends that he "can protect himself" you know that sometimes he needs a little help, and he gets more scared then hed like to admit. With you tho, he had absolutely no doubt that he'll be alright.

❥ i feel like bose doesnt really care too much about sounding cheesy when hes talking to you or about you. At first he might've been a little scared to tell you how he feels about you, but after that, god he just keeps going on. He loves you and he'll sure as hell tell you that he does. He doesnt say "i love you" excessively, but he definitely says it at least twice everyday. At least once in the morning, and at least once before he or you go to sleep.

He actually said it first. One of his favorite shirts got ripped and he asked you to fix it. When you were done sewing it and gave it back to him, he exitedly grabbed it out of your hands while enthusiasticly saying "oh my god thank you, i love you" before running away.

a bit later bose came back to the couch in the mans nest where you were sitting, only this time he was wearing the shirt that you had just fixed for him a little bit ago. He sat down next to you but he seemed kinda anxious.

"Whats wrong bose?" You asked him, leaning forward slightly so you could see his face better. He was biting at his lower lip a little and looking down at his hands that were bouncing up and down from his leg bouncing. "I-im sorry if i weirded you out or anything earlier" he said not looking up from his hands. "No you didnt. Why would you? You didnt do anything" you took your left hand and softly brought it up to his jaw , turning his face so you could see eachother properly. Bose hesitated for a second before answering. "When I said i love you" it seemed as if he was holding himself back from looking at you, instead he was looking aimlessly behind you, or back down again. Only time time, instead of seeing his hands, he sees his knees slightly touching yours. You slowly rubbed your boyfriends cheekbone with your thumb. "Oh my god bose, thats what you're worried about?" You chuckle slightly. "I love you too. I said it back, you just ran away too fast for you to hear it silly" Once you said that, boses eyes immediately shot to yours. "Really?" Even tho he said it quietly, you could still hear the happiness in his voice.

"Really." You confirmed, bringing him into a soft kiss.

#x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #ff #x yn #x y/n #x you #danger force #danger force fanfic #danger force fanfiction #bose obrien x reader #bose o'brien #luca luhan #luca luhan x reader #fluff #angst #hurt #comfort

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alastor-and-adam · 10 days ago

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Headcanons about Adam and Alastor’s Relationship

Playful Power Struggles

Adam loves to declare himself the leader in their relationship, but Alastor subtly manipulates situations to go his way without Adam even realizing it.

Their arguments often end in playful stalemates, with Evelyn usually acting as the unintentional referee.

Contrasting Affection Styles

Adam is surprisingly physical with his affection—throwing an arm around Alastor, ruffling his hair, or pulling him into a kiss out of nowhere.

Alastor prefers more subtle, old-fashioned gestures, like cooking Adam’s favorite meals or sneaking him little gifts.

Despite their differences, they both melt whenever Evelyn gets involved in their moments of affection.

Alastor’s Secret Weakness for Adam’s Looks

Alastor is particularly fond of Adam’s fluffy (or “fat,” as Adam refuses to admit) belly and often uses it as his personal pillow during cuddle sessions. Adam pretends to hate it but secretly loves the attention.

Alastor also has a thing for Adam’s horns, occasionally tracing them with his fingers when Adam is asleep.

Adam’s Protective Instincts

While Adam often acts like he’s too cool to care, he’s fiercely protective of Alastor, especially if anyone insults him. His protective streak kicks in tenfold when it comes to Evelyn.

He once almost started a brawl at a demon gathering when someone made a snide comment about Alastor’s hosting skills.

Alastor’s Amusement at Adam’s Ego

Alastor finds Adam’s arrogance both infuriating and amusing. He loves to tease him about it, often saying things like, “Oh yes, darling, we all know the world revolves around you.”

Occasionally, Alastor will indulge Adam’s ego by calling him things like "the glorious First Man," just to see him puff up with pride.

Co-Parenting Dynamics

Adam is the “fun parent” who lets Evelyn get away with a bit too much, while Alastor is the stricter one who insists on routine and discipline.

Evelyn has both of them wrapped around her finger and knows exactly how to get what she wants by playing them against each other.

Shared Love of Drama

They both thrive on chaos and drama but in different ways. Adam enjoys being the center of attention, while Alastor loves orchestrating situations and watching the results unfold. Together, they make quite the entertaining pair.

Surprising Moments of Vulnerability

Adam sometimes opens up about how it feels to be the first but not the most important in the grand scheme. Alastor listens intently, offering subtle comfort in his own way.

Alastor, on the other hand, occasionally admits his insecurities about his past and power, and Adam reassures him with blunt yet genuine affirmations.

Competitions for Evelyn’s Attention

They constantly compete to see who Evelyn loves more. This often involves ridiculous stunts like singing songs, doing tricks, or presenting her with extravagant gifts. Evelyn is mildly entertained but mostly exasperated.

Shared Quiet Moments

Despite their larger-than-life personalities, they enjoy quiet evenings together, sitting by the fire with Evelyn asleep in her crib. Adam might read while Alastor hums an old tune, and for once, there’s no chaos—just peace.

Alastor Keeps Adam Grounded

Alastor is one of the few who can call Adam out on his nonsense without getting a full-blown tantrum in response. Adam might grumble, but he respects Alastor’s opinions more than he lets on.

Adam’s Nicknames for Alastor

Adam has a slew of nicknames for Alastor, ranging from “Radio Boy” to “Bambi” to the occasional sarcastic “Darling.” Alastor pretends to be annoyed but secretly enjoys them.

Alastor’s Teasing

Alastor loves to tease Adam about his “greatness,” often mimicking his voice and saying things like, “Oh yes, how could I forget? The First Man, the pinnacle of perfection!”

Adam usually responds by tickling him until he’s laughing uncontrollably.

Their Shared Pride in Evelyn

No matter how much they bicker, they’re united in their love and pride for Evelyn. They often gush about her to anyone who will listen, claiming she’s the smartest, cutest, and most perfect child in all of Hell.

The Unexpectedly Domestic Side of Their Relationship

Adam may act above mundane tasks, but he secretly enjoys cooking breakfast for the family while Alastor critiques his technique.

Alastor is surprisingly handy with household repairs, while Adam provides the brute strength needed for heavy lifting.

#just some cute headcanons about this odd couple #alastor and adam blog #adam x alastor #alastor x adam #angelicradio #alastor the radio demon #guitarradio #adam the first man #adam hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor and adam #hazbin hotel #headcanons

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jaehyunsprincesspeach · 23 days ago

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Bullet to the Heart

Chapter 5

w/c: 1.89k

warnings: none

She's leaving behind her past, escaping the trap of perfection that she's been stuck in. Moving from Busan to Seoul, the possibilities are endless... though the universe has different plans for her... plans that she never in her wildest dreams would have imagined...

chapter 4 ~~~ chapter 6

Johnny and Y/N sit in her living room in her apartment… The atmosphere is tense and quiet as Y/N thinks about Johnny’s offer… a fake marriage to get her out of an arranged marriage… Johnny sits quietly, letting Y/N think about her options. Selfishly, he wants her to agree… From the first time he saw her, she's had a sort of hold over him… something about her makes him want to help her, to protect her, to keep her safe… that's why he gave her the subtle warning to leave the cafe, and why he helped her in the alley when someone had tried to have their way with her… he can't bear the thought of her being in danger… The thought of an arranged marriage, one she doesn't want at that, makes his blood boil… he doesn't want anyone taking her away… deep down, he wants her for himself… and in this moment, sitting in her living room, offering to pretend to marry her so that she's not pulled away from him, he realizes, there's not a single thing that he wouldn't do for her.

She sits quietly… thinking and thinking… running through every possibility in her mind… There's so many questions she has, but finally, she makes a decision…

“Okay…”

Johnny’s breath hitches in his throat… okay… she said okay… she really agreed to it… His heart beats rapidly as he hears her simple response

“Okay? You're okay with a fake marriage between us?”

“Yes… but there's a lot we need to talk about… what if it doesn't work? What if my parents end up finding out? What if they somehow manage to-”

“Hey hey, Y/N, relax okay? I'll take care of it… just leave it to me okay? We’ll take things one step at a time… it's gonna work…”

She takes a deep breath, taking the leap and putting her trust in him… she gives him a small nod, agreeing to his crazy plan… He gives her a small smile, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder…

“First things first, we need to get you a ring… come on…”

“Wha- now? We’re going now?”

“Yes now, the jewelry stores will close soon…”

She follows behind him to the nearest jewelry store, which happens to be Tiffany & CO. Her jaw drops at he leads her into the store

“J-Johnny… w-wait…”

“What? What's wrong?”

“This is supposed to be fake, why are we going into Tiffany's?”

“It is fake… that doesn't mean I can't buy you something nice… plus it'll be more believable… relax, im taking care of it remember?”

She gives him a guilty look as he ushers her inside… She knows it'll be more believable if the ring is real, but she feels guilty that he's willing to do all of this for her, even more so that she agreed to this…

“How can you even afford this?”

“Don't worry, money isn't a concern to me… pick whatever you want…”

“What do you mean ‘money isn't a concern’? This is expensive…”

“I mean I have more than enough money to afford these things… you’ve finally given me an excuse to use some of it…”

She's confused, but for now, she keeps her questions to herself, deciding to just go along with it like he said… She picks a simple yet elegant ring, one that is the least expensive, but still a stunning piece of jewelry… As they move to the register to purchase the ring, Johnny requests the matching ring for the groom, as well as the wedding band that accompanies the ring, and leads her out of the store…

“See? That wasn't so bad was it?”

“Johnny… that was too much…”

“Come on, that was fun and you know it… admit it, you like being spoiled…”

“That's not the point Johnny…”

“But you liked it… admit it…”

She rolls her eyes, letting out a small huff, but thats all the answer he needs

“Exactly what I thought… Now, the next step is telling your parents… the sooner we do that, the better it will be…”

“Now? You want me to tell them now? After I just completely lashed out at my dad?”

“Yes now… we can go back to your apartment at least… you make the call, that will give me time to contact my people and get some paperwork set up to make it look like we're legally married… oh, here's your ring…”

He pulls the ring out of the bag, handing her the box before slipping his own ring onto his finger… but she raises an eyebrow at him, letting her playful side show a little

“You’re not going to propose to me?’

“What?”

“Well, this was your idea… you said it has to be convincing right? So are you gonna propose or not?”

He smirks, gently taking the ring back and pulling it out of the box before pulling her into the middle of a busy area

“W-Wait Johnny I was-”

“Y/N, you're the light of my life, the only woman who has my heart, the only woman i'll ever need. You've completely captivated me and I dont wanna find my way out of your spell… Please, will you make me the happiest man in the world? Will you marry me?”

Arisa looks around at the crows watching her… this is not what she meant… she was joking about proposing, but here he is, confessing his fake undying love for her and proposing in front of who knows how many people… she puts a smile on her lips, pretending to be excited.

“Yes! Yes I'll marry you!”

Applause and cheers ring out from the crowd as Johnny slips the ring onto her finger and pulls her into a tight hug… She hugs him back but there's something in her heart that feels… different… almost… happy? As he holds her, she feels more safe in his arms than she's ever felt… more comforted than ever… but she pushes those thoughts away immediately, remembering that this is supposed to be fake… As they walk back to her apartment she gives him an unamused look

“When I said propose, that is not what I meant…”

“What, I thought it was perfect!”

“Johnny… I was joking… you didn't need to make a scene like that…”

“Ah, but of course I did… Witnesses… Now, if your parents go asking around, or whoever this rando is that they want to marry you off too, there will be people who saw the proposal and can back us up…”

She groans in frustration

“You're making it seem like you've done this before…”

“No no, this is a first… I just know how to… convince people of things that aren't real…”

“What does that even mean? What do you do for a living?”“Don't worry about that, we've got some phone calls to make…”

As the two of them enter her apartment, she feels a sense of suspicion… she doesn't understand why he wont tell her about his job… but ultimately she decides she should listen to him. She pulls out her phone, calling her father… after a few rings, her father answers the phone

“Y/N dear, have you calmed down?”

“Yeah. Sure. Listen, I'm not going through with the arranged marriage you set up.”

“Yes you are, this is not up for negotiation.”

“I cant…”

“And why is that Y/N?”

“I'm already married.”

“You’re WHAT?!”

“Married, betrothed, taken…”

“Why did we not know about this Y/N?!”

“Maybe because I didn't want you to know. Maybe because everytime I find something or someone that makes me happy, you manage to ruin it. So I don't know what you had planned with this stupid arrangement, but it's not gonna happen.”

She ends the phone call before her father can say anything else, looking over to Johnny who is on the phone with, who she can only guess, the person he knows who can forge the marriage documents. She waits quietly as he talks on the phone. When he's done, he turns to look at her.

“Documents will be ready by tomorrow”

“Tomorrow? Seriously?”

“Yeah… I figured it was rather urgent… and the way you hung up on your dad, I wouldn't be surprised if he shows up out of nowhere. So, with that being said, you can't go to work till we get through this…”

“But I work online…”“Oh… never mind then… but you still can't be seen anywhere without me.”

“O-Okay, so what about living?”

“Well, I've got a rather large house, and a few more than a few empty rooms… I told you I would buy you everything brand new, remember?”

“You were serious about that?”

“Yeah… did I not make that clear with the Tiffany ring?”

Arisa lets out a sigh… of course he would say that… but she cant help the guilt that continues to rise within her, everytime he does something for her… She barely even knows the guy, and he's going through so much just to make sure she doesn't have to marry some stranger…

”Go gather a bag, just what you’ll need for a couple nights. We can go shopping for the rest tomorrow…”

She nods softly, moving to her bedroom to pack a small bag. Her mind is still filled with suspicion as to why he won't talk about his job. What could be so bad that he won’t talk about it? She thinks to herself as she packs a small bag, only grabbing the things that she would need for the next few days before she makes her way back into the living room. He doesn't talk much the rest of the night… as if a switch flicked in his mind… He's more serious, more intimidating, and she starts to wonder what exactly she's gotten herself into… She follows him to his car, sliding into the passenger seat after he takes her bag and opens the door for her, sitting quietly as they start down the road… Finally she can't take the silence anymore…

“J-Johnny?”

He raises an eyebrow, not directly looking at her, but out of the corner of his eye

“Yes?”

“W-Why did you get so quiet all of a sudden?”

“What do you mean?”

She hesitates for a moment, as if she doesn't understand how he can't see that his entire aura changed…

“I… You just… got quiet…”

“Dont worry about it, i'm just focused on getting you home…”

She wants to ask more questions, but something about the way he's speaking tells her to hold her tongue… She gives a small nod before falling silent again. The rest of the drive is quiet, with the exception of the classical music that falls from the speakers… a genre she wouldn't expect from him, but she doesn't comment on it…

After what feels like hours of driving, they arrive at a large gate… Johnny enters a code and the gate swings open slowly… As they drive forward, she's met with the sight of a massive estate… Her jaw drops and her eyes widen as she takes in the sight before her… there are so many questions she wants to ask, but the sheer size and opulence of the estate intimidates her, rendering her speechless… Finally, Johnny breaks the silence…

“Welcome home.”

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hermiones-amortentia · 2 years ago

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Ron is tailor made for Hermione and NO ONE can love her more than him

Ron is the person who protects Hermione the most. Whenver Draco and Snape bully her, he stands up for her. In the whole series Ron faces total 3 detentions. 2 of them because he tries to defend Hermione against Snape. He ends up vomiting slugs when Draco calls her a mudblood. Harry and Dean both try to restrain him from attacking Malfoy when Malfoy wishes death upon Hermione. He also hexes a beggar when he tries to attack Hermione thinking she is real Bellatrix. He tells Harry to look after Hermione and he is ready to face Voldemort alone.

Ron puts himself in danger to save her life. In COS he decides to face his worst fear after seeing Hermione's empty seat beside him. When the Deatheaters attack them at Tottenham court road, he jumps forward to push Hermione out of harm's way of a DE's spell. He doesn't pull out his wand to save himself. His 1st instinct is to save her. He begs Bellatrix to torture himself instead of Hermione knowing full well she has tortured Neville's parents to insanity. He also yells at Scabior not to touch her and gets punched.

Ron is extremely attentive towards her needs and desire. He cares about her deeply. In POA Ron wants to do research to help her with buckbeak's appeal. He tells Hermione to eat a decent meal when she is studying for her owls. He always notices her sudden disappearances in POA when she is using the time turner. He also notices that she has shrunk her teeth. He wants to teach Hermione his family tree and insists that she pretends to be his cousin to save her from anti muggleborn law by the ministry.

Ron can argue with her non stop without getting bored. He isn't intimidated by her high intellect and is able to doubt things she says without blindly agreeing with her. When he thinks she is out of the line he tells that on her face. Hermione would never be happy with someone who doesn't share her passion for debates and arguments.

Ron makes her laigh. He helps her to loosen up. She is so uptight and bossy, she needs some laughter in her life. Ron provides her that.

Ron actually makes himself better for her. He acts like an asshole at the ball. But at Bill and Fleur's wedding he asks her to dance with him 1st. He offends her with 'you're a girl' line. But he gives her a perfume in OOTP to show that he does know she is a girl. He reads a book to be a gentleman for her. He consoles her so many times throughout books when she is upset. He learns to value what's important for her. Like house elves.

Ron can give up fame for her. Throughout the series Ron is overshadowed by everyone. 1st his brothers. Then Harry. Destroying two horcruxes would make him more special than others. Because no one destroys more than one. He plans the whole thing how to destroy the cup. Yet he lets her stab it. Because he knows she deserves it. He also leaves his high paying auror position and not for once asks her to compromise her career.

He is on awe of her brilliance and has insane trust and respect for her. He brags about disraming her thrice in OOTP. he gives her most compliments throughout the series.

Ron also has a huge heart. He is worried about the unknown cattermoles even with a mangled arm. Hermione values that over everything as she herself says 'me? Books and cleverness. There are more important things. Friendship and bravery'

But most importantly Ron loves Hermione. And I can guarantee you NO ONE can love her more than Ron does. She knows it very well.

#hermione granger #ron weasley #romione #harry potter #harry james potter #ginny weasley #luna lovegood #severus snape #draco malfoy #bellatrix lestrange #meta #analysis

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the12thnightproject · 5 months ago

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Chapter 15: The Calm Before the Storm - Is this... a date?

Mitsunari x OC; Nobunaga x Mai

Previous Chapter

Logline - In order to protect a political alliance, Katusko and Mitsunari must pretend an engagement. But this “all business” arrangement is threatened by a coup against Nobunaga… and by feelings.

From the Military Notes of Ishida Mitsunari…

[Left blank]

Personal comments: One hundred and twenty breaths represents a very long period of time, I have discovered. Deployment of strategy postponed until I am able to discover a method of keeping Okatsu still. Consulted Nobunaga and received following suggestion. “Tie her up.” Am not certain this was in jest. After leaving Nobunaga, I came across Hideyoshi, who stopped to help one of the maids carry a heavy vase. Hideyoshi believes in protecting the people, especially those he loves. I will take that idea from Hideyoshi this afternoon, as Okatsu needs protecting. I believe I have an idea, one that will be allow me to rescue her, and keep her still for, I hope, one hundred and twenty breaths.

Lady Mai is an excellent co-conspirator. Not only was she willing and able to help me with my strategy to prevent Okatsu from having to enter the silver mine, she suggested that I use the free afternoon to take Okatsu on something called a “date.” Per Mai, a good date includes spending time together, going out for a meal or tea, finding activities you both enjoy together, and at the end of the “date,” you might share a kiss.

I will kiss Okatsu today.

If she permits it.

I hope she permits it.

“Perhaps you and I should run off.”

I wasn’t sure I had heard him correctly. “Run off?” Did he mean just disappear for good? I’ve already done that once. “Hideyoshi and Nobunaga would be worried if we did that.”

“For the afternoon. Explore the terrain around Genba. You would enjoy that, would you not?” He carried me over to where Moonlight was tied to a tree. Then with not much grace, plunked me onto her back. “I believe we are not far from Takayama. We could have tea in the castle town.”

“What about your work?” The desire to spend more time in the sunlight warred with the responsibility to help Mitsunari.

“If we had stayed at the mine, I would not be working. We could ride to Takayama, explore, and still return before the others.” Mitsunari was already turning his horse northward. Moonlight, who apparently had become very good friends with Mitsunari’s horse, followed suit. I had been outvoted. But I was ok with that.

“On the condition that if Hideyoshi finds out, you tell him this was your idea.” I was in enough trouble with the Azuchi housemother as it was.

“Hideyoshi would agree that it is good sometimes to get outside.” He leaned across his horse and nudged me with his shoulder… then caught himself in a balance check. “He often reminds me to take care of myself and to take breaks outside.”

“How long have you worked for Hideyoshi?” Mitsunari had a positive view of everyone, even the permanently grouchy Ieyasu, but his relationship with Hideyoshi seemed to be long-standing, and almost brotherly.

“You are asking me questions? Perhaps we could exchange answers to thirty-six questions.” Before I could figure out where that non sequitur came from, he continued. “Over ten years. I was a temple page – because otherwise I was an unwanted second son. Lord Hideyoshi realized my skill with numbers and asked me to join him.”

“Before you were a messenger – and an observer – what did you do?” Mitsunari ducked under a low hanging branch and ended up with pine needles stuck in his hair.

“I was a maid.” It wouldn’t be useful to mention my pre-time travel life. There wasn’t an equivalent to the University system here, and likely if even if there had been one, women wouldn’t be permitted to attend. Nor was there any way to explain gymnastics or snowboarding. I mean… I suppose I could say I was raised in a circus or something, but even that was stretching the truth a lot. “It was not terribly interesting. I was lucky that my master allowed me to train with his male apprentices.”

The trail narrowed slightly, but not enough to force us to ride single file. Our legs brushed. “You became a maid after your parents died?”

Right. I had let him think my parents were both dead. “My mother had died. I never knew my father. She would not say who he was.” This was less of an issue in modern Japan than it might be here. But immediately after I revealed that to Mitsunari, I regretted giving him such personal information. The last person I had trusted with my life story was Iekane.

He reached over and touched the back of my hand, just a quick brush of his fingers, but I felt calmer to receive it. “I am sorry to hear that Okatsu. I am certain he missed much by not being part of your life.”

I waved that away. “Where I come from, people don’t really care all that much anyway.”

One of the pine needles in Mitsunari’s hair drooped into his eye. He swiped at it, but only succeeded in embedding it more deeply. “Nobunaga wants to create a future where people don’t care about that here either, however that was not what I meant. I am sorry that you grew up without something that many people take for granted.”

That pine needle kept dangling in front of his face. I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Let me get that.” I reached over and pulled the pine needle out of his hair, combing my fingers through to make sure I had gotten all of them.

“Thank you.” He reached up and touched his forehead.

The pine needle had been covered in sap and ended up stuck to my hand. I grabbed my handkerchief and wiped it away. Then I folded up the pine needle into the handkerchief and put it back in my kimono. I promised myself I would toss it away later.

Takayama was nowhere near the size of Azuchi, although it did seem to be bustling, with people hurrying through the streets with baskets of fresh food. I could see an open market area off at one end of the town, as well as more permanent buildings with small shops. “Do you want to see if there is a bookseller here?”

He pulled his horse to a halt in front of an inn with a public stable yard. “Why don’t we walk around and see what we find? Sometimes it is good to explore without having any other motive than to enjoy the day.”

I agreed with the sentiment, although I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spent a day wandering a town without having a specific purpose in mind. I wasn’t sure if I ever had in this era. There had always been a mission, a reason. This felt almost… well, almost like a date.

Backing away from that thought – we were simply playing hooky – I fell in step next to Mitsunari as we wandered through Takayama. And yes, there was a bookseller, though it was not large. I paused by the entry. “Do you want to go inside?”

Mitsunari hesitated. “Don’t let me start reading.”

“It’s a bookseller. You’ve spent hours in them – I know, I’ve watched you do so.” I smiled inwardly at the memory of watching him practically camp out in Aki’s shop, and how I had ended up feeding him rice crackers that first afternoon.

“That is what I meant. I want to enjoy this time with you, and you know what will happen if I find a book.” If it had been anyone else, I would have said Mitsunari was afraid to go into the booksellers. And while it was sweet that he wanted to be a good host and make sure I enjoyed myself, I wasn’t supposed to be having fun.

Mitsunari frowned at me, his brow furrowed in concern. “Did I say something wrong? I did not mean to give you the burden of guarding my behavior. What I meant is that I won’t start reading because I want to spend time with you.”

I wanted to sooth away the worry from his forehead, but I held back and simply nudged him with my shoulder. “If you find something you want to read, you could, and this is simply a suggestion, purchase it.”

“Yes, that is a good – you are teasing me!” He smiled, and I grinned at the image of someone – more than likely Hideyoshi - sitting down with him and trying to explain gentle sarcasm.

“Maybe a bit.” I made a grand gesture in the direction of the military books. “Go ahead. Go forth and shop.”

The Bookseller was near the front of the store with a young woman who looked enough like him to be his daughter. No… it wasn’t simply the resemblance, it was the way he looked at her with a combination of love, protection, and pride. Or… maybe my earlier conversation with Mitsunari was simply putting an idealized father-daughter relationship in my mind? I watched them for a moment, then realized that they were examining a freshly bound book – and rather than the pages folded one inside the other, the way most Japanese books were bound, this book was in the new Chinese string bound style.

It was surprising to see such a “newfangled” book in such a small town, especially one this far from any port, that I headed over to them to ask where they had found it.

“My daughter made it,” the Bookseller said proudly. He introduced himself as Tokuro and his daughter as Sani, then showed me that the inner pages were discarded paper given to them by Takayama’s castellan.

“I’m learning the bookbinding trade.” Sani gave me a shy bow. “This is for practice. I used to make them with blank pages, but that was too much of a waste of paper.”

In my time, people were willing to pay for books with blank pages, from the cheap exam books all the way up to beautifully bound leather journals… and… I pictured in my mind Mitsunari juggling all his unbound notes, scrambling with them daily as he shuffled them about. “I might be interested in-”

Mitsunari joined me and I stopped midsentence. What I had in mind, in fact, would be a gift for him and I didn’t want to spoil the surprise. “Mitsunari, this is Tokuro and his daughter Sani, who is learning the book binding trade.”

They all bowed to each other, then Mitsunari asked Sani, “Do you not get distracted by wanting to read the books?”

She shook her head. “Thus far, I haven’t worked on any real books, so it’s been sewing, not reading.” That made sense. In the learning process, if she were using real books a mistake would be expensive. “I imagine that could happen at a later time.”

“It would happen to me.” He smiled at her, and Sani was not immune to the power of that sweetness. She blinked a few times like an animal blinded by headlights. “I wish you good luck in your training.”

“Th-thank you,” she eventually stammered.

He took my hand and squeezed it, and I was so surprised the spontaneous touch, and the zing of awareness that went through me, that I nearly missed his question. “Do you want to go to the metalsmith?”

“Why don’t you go on, and I’ll meet you there in a few minutes. I have a couple more questions about book binding that I want to ask her.” As an excuse, it was not terribly elegant, but Mitsunari didn’t protest. With a slight look of confusion on his face, he let go of my hand and left.

Eep. I had hurt his feelings, but as soon as I gave him the gift, it would explain things. I turned back to Sani. “If you still have the practice books you made – the ones with blank pages, I would like to purchase them.”

“Purchase empty books?” Tokuro and Sani looked at each other, exchanging a glance that probably said, ‘this chick is nuts, but we’re not going to turn down money.’ After a moment, Tokuro suggested an amount. “That will cover the cost of the materials, and Sani’s labor.”

Possibly he expected me to bargain, but it was a fair price. Sani retrieved her practice efforts from their living quarters, and once Tokuro wrapped them up, I headed for the metalsmith where Mitsunari awaited with a wrapped bundle under his arm – I wondered if it contained more weapons for Azuchi to test. “Did you find something interesting?”

“I believe so.” Mitsunari thanked the smith and the two of us headed out to look for a place to get a snack and something to drink.

The town’s only teahouse was crowded, and we ended up sitting at a table behind the building. “Thank you again for preventing me from having to go into the mine. It would not have been pretty.”

“What happens when you are in places like that?” Mitsunari took a sip from his tea, then very precisely placed his cup in a spot in the center of the table – where, I figured, he would be less likely to spill it.

“I start to feel like I can’t breathe or I’m going to faint. And I start remembering everything about being trapped in that box.” And… even talking about it in the outside sent a shiver through me. “Mitsunari, I’m sorry, but I really dislike talking about it.”

He was instantly contrite. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Because he seemed so horrified at that thought, I reached across the table took hold of both of his hands. They were warm from holding the tea, and the skin on his fingers was slightly calloused, reminding me that even with all the time he spent reading, Mitsunari was an experienced fighter as well. “It wasn’t your fault. Remembering sometimes makes me feel like I’m about to be sick, and … it’s too pretty a day out to be ill.”

He held onto my hands for a long moment, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I will talk about something pleasant instead. When something worries me, I think about books… or Kitty’s fur and the sound she makes when she is happy… the smell of Hideyoshi’s rooms when he smokes his pipe… and how holding your hands… holding you… makes me feel … honored.”

Oh. Wow. Well.

Where do I go with that?

And now it was my own turn for a BSOD. Mitsunari’s sweet confession sent a wave of … something through me. The thought that I could make him feel like that was both flattering and frightening. I didn’t want to inspire feelings in him. I was leaving when the job was over.

I didn’t want to leave something broken in my wake.

Ugh, Hideyoshi is right to distrust me. Not because I intend to harm anyone… but intentions count for nothing if harm happens anyway. My inner voice told me to let go of his hands.

But… I couldn’t.

He focused that sweet expression on my face, and I could neither let go of his hands, nor look away from his eyes. Until I realized… “Are you counting again?”

He stopped instantly and looked away. “Apparently it has become a habit.” He shook his head, then withdrew his hands away from mine. He picked up the package he’d purchased at the metalsmith shop and handed it to me. “The smith did have something I thought you might find useful.”

A present? Like the just-because gifts my brother and I used to give each other on non-occasions? I focused on the phrase ‘something useful,’ which might mean the Sengoku equivalent of socks? The package was somewhat heavy (Duh, Katsuko, it’s from the metalsmith!) and I hefted it a couple times before opening it up to find an iron war fan inside. “Oh. This is really cool!” Whoops. Slang. “I mean, this will help cool things in the weather we’ve been having.”

“I noticed you often forget to take a fan with you and thought you would be more likely to remember one that doubled as a weapon.” He picked it up and stabbed it toward me and – the teacup went flying.

I caught it before it could hit the ground. “You thought correctly. I can’t wait to figure out how to use it. Thank you!”

“I could teach you.” He seemed excited by the prospect.

“You know how?” I unfurled the fan to admire the sharp metal spokes – and the pretty Sakura pattern as well. Mitsuhide had wanted me to wear pink? Well, pink this!

“I have read about their use. Also, though I did not read about it, it is said that Takeda Shingen once fought off an attack by Uesugi Kenshin by using his war fan.” A faraway look was in his eyes. “I would have like to have witnessed that.”

Huh. Me too. I’d never encountered Lord Shingen, but I had indeed seen Kenshin in battle. Anyone who could successfully fight off his attack – with a fan, no less – had to have mad skills. Of course, now that they were allied against Nobunaga, I imagined they made a terrifying duo.

After a few flutters of the fan in front of my eyes, I put it aside. “As it turns out, I purchased something for you too.” I handed him the parcel from the bookseller.

“A book?” His eyes sparkled. Then when he pulled out the blank books, he seemed confused. “Is this printed in secret ink?”

“No. These are for you to write in. That way you don’t have to keep track of lots of scraps of paper or keep rolling and unrolling a scroll to find what you are looking for.” I’d watched Mitsunari re-ordering his notes often enough.

“Ah yes, these will be handy.” He ran his hand over the bound covers. “Thank you, Okatsu.”

For a long moment, he was quiet, and I didn’t rush to fill the space in between with useless commentary, because I knew he had more words and would speak them when he was ready. And after a few breaths, that is what he did. “Okatsu, why did you buy me a gift?”

Did there need to be a reason? “I thought it was something you would like. Is that not why you got this fan?”

“Oh. In fact, yes. I did think that you would like it.” He looked around for his teacup, and I moved it back to the center of the table. He picked it up, then put it back down, as if belatedly realizing he’d finished it a while back.

We sat there without speaking, simply looking at each other, until a cleared throat and glare from an old man alerted us to the fact that there were more people interested in sitting down than there were places to sit.

Mitsunari took my hand again as we strolled back through Takayama, which was nice. Too nice. I must not ever forget that I was only here as part of a charade. And so, I destroyed the comfortable silence. “I wanted you to have something to remember me by – when this is all over.”

There was a soft sigh, and he was close enough that it tickled my cheek. “I would not forget you, Okatsu. I want to-”

Whatever it was he meant to say next was lost when someone collided with me.

“Oh, excuse me!” I said it automatically, though I was not sure if it had indeed been my fault. The collider pressed a scrap of paper into my hand, but when I turned to get a better look at him, he was already on his way. Had that been a ninja?

No. It had been a woman. A kunoichi then.

Frowning, Mitsunari watched her melt into the crowd of a busy outdoor market.

“Should we go after her?” If I ran, I could possibly catch her, but I might lose Mitsunari in the process.

“Do you have a sister?”

“No.” He ought to know I only had a brother. “Why?”

“Because, she reminded me of-” He seemed to be struggling to put it into words. “She had your eyes.”

“Really?” I shrugged that off. I have brown eyes, like most of the population. Then I remembered the scrap of paper and opened it. It was short and to the point.

Hikosane is in danger. Protect him at all costs.

Note, if you've read "Twelve Lies I Told Shingen Takeda" the encounter with the kunoichi at the end corresponds to Chapter 45 when timeline A Katsuko overhears the following:

In the distance, someone’s phone chimed an alert, and I heard a female voice, sounding like it was on speaker say, “I gave her the message, but I think Mitsunari recognized me.”

Then, as I took a hesitant step along the path, I heard, “Theoretically, that would be ok, if that means they’ll take the message seriously enough to protect Hikosane.”

It's not necessary to have read "12 Lies..." before this story, but if you have, that was one of the Easter egg payoffs.

@lorei-writes @bestbryn @katriniac @lyds323 @briars7

#TBTMND #a mitsunari night's dream #throwback thursday #mitsunari ishida #ikesen mitsunari #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #ikesen fanfic #oc: katsuko #katsuverse

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box-architecture · 9 months ago

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Dream is Spiderman, but he's lime colored. I didn't wanna have to do powerset stuff or anything for him because the point wasn't about the mechanics, it was about Awesamdream

so he's Lime Spider Man.

Don't Worry About It.

He and Sam are co-workers who work in a lab of a Big Science Building, and because of an accident at work, he gets bitten by a spider and sent to the hospital. Sam Has No Emotions About This Whatsoever He Promises (He becomes Doc Ock because his co-worker/crush was Hurt and In Danger and wanted to protect him and also be evil apparently)

Dream meanwhile realizes he has spider powers now and that the lab that they work in is owned by The Evil Cooperation, yknow, the usual, so he becomes Spider-Man.

and does not tell Sam that he's spider man

who does not tell Dream that he's Doc Ock

this is normal and fine.

Sam is sort of vaguely aware that the company is Evil but like, Sam has no morals. His priorities are: confess to crush and go to dinner maybe, make cool gadgets with the money he gets with his sweet lab gig

Sam has a crush on Dream and thinks Spiderman is Rude and Evil and Awful and A Threat

Dream has a soft spot and thinks Sam is a little naive but well meaning and thinks Doc Ock is going to murder him if he doesn't dodge right now

Spider-Man works to stop the Evil Cooperation while trying to find solid proof that its evil so he can show Sam that they need to quit their jobs, while also pretending to be a bedridden Dream because the explosion/accident should have left him unable to do much of anything. He's on paid leave right now and wearing bandages as a civilian.

Meanwhile Sam is anxiously trying to look out for Dream's well-being, not realizing the spider superhero he's throwing into a car is his crush, because I think its really funny.

Sam gets him flowers and frets over him at home and is really bad at flirting but he's earnest and sweet and Dream is thinking poor guy, he doesn't even know our bosses are planning to throw the entire city underwater today.

Sam was aware he just also planned a relaxing cruise for him and Dream to be on while that was happening and is mad that Spider-man kind of ruined that plan. He is RUINING the ATMOSPHERE. How DARE Spiderman stop him from having the perfect date for Dream and saving all those lives in the process.

(he assumes that his bodycount would make him look more impressive.)

It gets to the point where Dream tries to change into spiderman in an alleyway because crime is happening Right In Front Of Him only for Doc Ock to see Dream running through the crowd and grabs him in a panic because you could get hurt!! and Doc Ock ends up fixing the crime so he can get Dream home safely because Dream Wants To Help

Dream gets used as bait for Doc Ock at some point and it goes poorly. You kidnapped spiderman and didn't even like, put him in a real trap because you thought he was a civillain. He has to let Doc Ock grab him because he sounds so fucking distressed and Dream feels bad. He Is Once Again Escorted Home And Told Not To Strain Himself.

It all comes to a head when Dream goes back to work. He's spying and doing detective work now, trying to take them down, while Sams noticed how cautious and withdrawn he's become since coming back. He doesn't want Dream to feel unsafe :((((( he'll definitely protect him. So he takes Dream to a private room and shows him the Doc Ock suit, is blushing and embarrassed as he admits it was him all along.

Dream is. Kind of freaking out, because he's just realized Sam is Ock, Ock likes Dream, Ock hates Spiderman, and Sam Has Killed People, He's A Villain. Not a fun time to realize someone you care about wants you dead. So the obvious solution is to Back The Fuck Up and Leave.

Sam's also freaking out and upset because Dream won't look at him and he's ruined it and he needs Dream to stay, but he's barely halfway to pinning Dream against the wall before Man Evil Destruction Is Happening.

So Sam tells Dream to stay there in the box room where it's safe while he investigates. Dream quickly becomes Spiderman and the Evil Villain CEO nearly destroys the world. Same old same old. It gets taken care of, Dream manages to save the day, except for the part where he gets unmasked.

And Sam. Is horrified. Because he's been hurting Dream. Dream is hurt and it's his fault. Dreams been dealing with all his injuries alone where Sam hasn't been able to help, fighting and in dangerous situations unprotected, nearly killed. And so much of it at Sam's hands.

Obviously the solution is to kidnap Dream and hide him in his evil lair so he can figure out how to fix this, remove Dream's powers and keep him safe and inside where he belongs, instead of Out Where The Evil Is.

But also Listen. Dream's face get's revealed, Sam saves them both from a collapsing building, and hoards Dream in his Secret Evil Lair, where they now Both Are Aware Of Each Other's Identity. Dream is desperately trying to Escape while Sam is freaking out over his injuries and trying to catch him But Gently, until finally he gets frustrated after a few minutes and grabs Dream a little too harshly with his claws, slams him to the floor to keep him there.

And then he's immediately up close and personal because Dream is hurt and what if he made it worse while Dream thrashes and panics, trying to hit Sam only for more claws to pin his hands down. He's bargaining, pleading, and Sam can't hear him over the blood rushing through his ears as he pulls up the shirt of Dream's suit to check for wounds. To check the scars from Dream's accident and find them ugly and raised but healed far farther than they should be for a baseline human. Along with fading bruises from the building that nearly collapsed on top of them both.

Yknow, normal things.

Listen I just want Sam to be incredibly invasive because He's Just Like That he has no concept of boundaries and especially not when Dream might be badly injured. And Dream usually doesn't even register Sam's up close touching and feeling behavior because Dream at heart can't help but enable his friends behavior, can't help but let Sam do whatever he wants, doesn't even register the invasiveness of it because That's Just How Sam Is in his mind.

And to some degree that's even true here. Dream is pink in the cheeks at his torso being exposed, but like, its not really on his mind as being sexual, he's more severely stressed at the person he cares about has been trying to murder his superhero persona and now has no idea what Sam's current feelings on him are and the bodysuit is durable enough that removing the shirt could allow for easier murder.

Also he discovered Sam was Doc Ock only an hour or two at most before this so he's pretty fucking scrambled right now. Getting hit with a building does that to you.

Sam relaxes after seeing Dream is relatively fine enough to not need hospitalization and then instantly the tone changes because Dream is beneath him, saying his name, pinned down every which way and his hair is partially out of it's bun and he's touching Dream's chest and wait.

And then Sam has to be really abnormal and keep touching Dreams chest because Its Sam, which causes Dream to pause. And then Sam brings his hand up to cradle Dreams face (he has a black eye he's been fighting past his limits Sam's fault Sam's fault-)

Listen they fuck. Sam rips Dreams suit a lot because he's petty and blames all his problems on The Suit and then he makes Dream take tentacle cock while Dream begs for reprieve but enjoys every minute of it. He wraps Dream up and let's Dream attempt to futilely grip Sam's suit while he gets railed within an inch of his life.

And Sam doesn't let up for even a moment because he's wanted this for over a year, he's prepped things for it, he had a nice cozy apartment area for Dream in his underground bunker later so they could cuddle and hang out once he finally revealed he was Doc Ock. He's got everything he needs to have Dream and he doesn't want to let go for even a moment, not at the risk of Dream leaving and losing the one person he's been trying to connect with.

Because Dream is friends with everyone, he's an extrovert, he's fun and silly and wonderful

And Sam isn't good with people and says all the wrong things and doesn't do morals and social stuff very well, but Dream never thought badly of him for being bad at that. (Admittedly they're going to have a long talk about the murder at some point) And Sam wants !!!! He just wants Dream to smile at him and tell him he did a good job and also cry out for him on his cock. Pretty sunshine boy should personally shine with tears on his face, begging for more, begging for less, begging for everything because Sam wants to be wanted so badly it hurts.

He is going to put his dick in Dreams mouth and curl a tentacle around him to Keep Him Up so he can use another to piston into Dream until he can feel the vibrations of Dreams moans around his cock.

And even if Sam feels nothing from Dream pumping the dildos attached to his limbs it's still incredibly mouth watering to watch him serve Sam's limbs, Sam's robotic arms. He's able to essentially gangbang Dream as a single person and it's a fucking prize unto itself.

I have an assortment of thoughts about how cDream is a sunshine boy that lost so much of his shine as time went on, but also how Dream and Sam are a bit too Abnormal to be any sort of typical happy/moody dynamic, especially in Canon, where Dream completely loses his shine by the end of prison and Sam isn't necessarily introverted so much as he's driven away the one reasonable person in his life (Ponk) and surrounded himself with More Enablers and people who won't question him or can't question him

They're not easily definable by that typical optimistic-grump dynamics in canon, but Dream in spiderverse has been able to keep a lot of the optimism and hope he so desperately needed in dsmp due to Spiderman getting to be a hero and being able to consider himself a good guy in comparison to the dsmp where he couldn't even get to be the hero when he wanted to be, whereas Sam here is more willing to accept the label of Evil because he doesn't equate it with being Bad because Morals Aren't Real Only The People You Care About

I thought about this over dinner because Dream and Sam are too alike in canon to be pigeonholed in the dynamic so I initially regretted using the term Sunshine Boy and Extrovert for Dream, but ultimately that isn't even necessarily what Dream is, he's too complex for that, but Sam puts Dream on a pedestal even in canon in these really weird ways that tends to turn Dream into an Idea moreso than a person. Sam sees him as sunshine, so he is. Of course Dream is friends with everyone, can do everything Sam can't, it's Dream.

And in this moment when he's ripping off the suit he's seeing Dream as the fully dynamic person he is for the first time, and it's upsetting, it's different, it's hard to cope with, but he has to because if he has to choose between a fantasy he never gets or Dream, a full fledged reality bouncing on his cock, kissing him in the mornings while they eat breakfast, holding hands, despite the imperfections?

Letting go of Dream isn't an option, so he adapts

And that's how he and Dream ultimately meet in the middle, as characters. Letting go isn't an option, so they change to become the thing they need to be. The world changes them.

#backposting #awesamwastaken #spiderdream au

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