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slytherbun · 3 years

Text

jeep

pairing: adam ruzek x reader

summary: in which an innocent day becomes dirty when your boyfriend adam makes a move on you in the car.

word count: 1.4k

warning adam being...well, adam with sexual content.

requested by inactive that used wheel game. (car sex)

note: i don't know what to say about this. let me describe it with though this emoji...🥵

edited note: wheel game is inactive now. <3

you and adam have been dating for a month and were still apart of that beginning obsessive phase where you couldn't keep your hands off of each other.

you were partners for two years before that and currently the case had closed and the two of you were in the grey jeep that he just pulled into the back of the precinct parking lot.

when adam pulled into a spot towards the back corner, you unbuckled your seatbelt and turned so you were on your knees in the seat.

you leaned forward to grab your coat in the backseat since it was chilly this evening and the famous chicago winter was approaching.

adam watched your every move and licked his lips at the sight. you had on your favorite pair of jeans that fit you like a glove and the curves from your hips were in plain view of his eyesight.

he quietly unbuckled his seatbelt so he didn't alarm you and leaned over closer to the middle console that separated your two seats.

as quickly as adam could, he spanked the palm of his hand right over your whole butt. you bit your bottom lip to hold in a moan.

"adam!" you squealed and turned around. in the process your hair whipped across his face.

you noticed what happened and sucked your lips in, trying not to laugh. when you sat back down in the seat, you put your fingers through your hair. desperately trying to fix the mess that was made so you didn't have too many knots later.

adam saw your obvious struggle at the unfortunate hair incident and couldn't help but chuckle. "guess i deserved that." he teased.

"guess so." you grinned and he rolled his eyes playfully. "you weren't supposed to agree."

"but adam," you drawed out his name. "hmm?" he questioned and leaned forward to place his hand on your thigh, already knowing where this was going.

"you know exactly what you're doing even when you try to act all innocent." he stayed silent at your confession to see if you'd challenge him. instead, he hummed as if he was confused about the current exchange.

you sighed and rubbed your thighs together to relieve some tension. he watched your every move and muttered "fuck it," before he leaned over and moved your thighs open.

"what did i tell you?" adam asked almost in a growl. "i don't know what you're talking about." you smirked, using his words against him. adam made a 'hmm' sound at your response and leaned back into his seat.

you raised an eyebrow in his direction and he put his hands out, gesturing a 'have at it' wave and your eyes immediately widened with the fact that he tapped out.

he smirked at your baffled expression and shrugged and put his hand through his hair. his fingertips brushed the hair to the side, to fix the part with the longer strands.

"how about this. if you play with your pussy and come, you can ride me."

you couldn't decline his offer. after all, this was payback from the other day when you didn't let him finish during a blowjob. he'd been teasing you all day today and you had enough of it.

"okay." you said simply and pulled your dress up to flash him with the lacy panties that you were glad you picked out today.

adam cursed under his breath and slightly adjusted the tight pants that he liked to wear. you noticed his subtle fix and smirked while pulling aside the lace.

the cold air blowing from the vent reached your pussy and you shivered from the feeling below. splaying your fingers on your clit, you moaned softly at the feeling and started to rub.

after you found a pace to work with, you used your other hand to reach up and cup your tit.

adam loved them so of course you had to use his weakness against him. "fuck." you whispered when your abdomen started to tingle and tighten.

"do you like playing with yourself or do you like it better when my fingers touch you?" he asked and you broke out of the trance of pleasure to glance over and see his cock out.

adam glanced over your body. your hair was a mess and frizzy against the seat of the car. he could see little drops of sweat across the middle of where your scrunched brows met. your nipples were out, budded and hard.

he could see the wetness from your fingertips and his mouth watered, wishing he was between your thighs instead of your hand.

he must of unzippered himself while your eyes were closed and focused on passing a current forming orgasm.

the sight of his glistening precum sent you over the edge. "you." was all you could say before you finished all over your fingers.

adam groaned, a little jealous you finished without needing him but he still didn't regret the choice made. "put your fingers in my mouth."

you leaned, closing in on his space and the two fingers that were used disappeared in his mouth. you watched him suck them, his tongue taking in every drop and your eyes dilated.

he finally released them what seemed a slow eternity later with a pop and you smirked at the noise. "that's the noise that sounds like when i just finished sucking your dick."

adam narrowed his eyes at you for the teasing comment and patted his lap. "come here and take your reward, sweet girl." you nodded, pleased at the nearing end of the proposition.

somehow, you fumbled around and over the console in the car before you were comfortably hovered over his erection.

your clit throbbed needing to take some tension off and knew you were close to his long, thick member.

"come on baby. sit down on me." adam encouraged, knowing you needed to be sweetened up to fall over the edge of bliss.

without warning, you hooked your panties aside again and sank down on him slowly. his velvet head disappeared inside your pussy.

his teeth clenched at the overwhelming feeling. he almost wanted to push your hips down all the way on him but he held out.

inch by inch disappeared while your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging in his back. the intense euphoria was all too much but a moment later you bottomed out on top of him and moaned.

"shit y/n please hurry up and move." he groaned with his hands wrapped around your ass, fingers pressed into the skin and probably making marks.

you pulled your body up, releasing his cock but not so he fell out before you went back down again so his pelvis met yours.

he pulled you up again by his grip then pushed you back down quickly in an almost aggressive manner. "adam more," you begged, leaning down to rest your head against his.

he took your plea and used that motivation to grip your hips more steadily before moving you up and down at a quicker pace.

your hips met his thighs every other second. his cock pounded into you rough and harshly and you gasped in pleasure.

"fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck." you practically chanted. you were so close to finishing, he threw you like a doll up and down on his length, working your hole for his own agenda of an ultimate orgasm.

you blew out a breath to try and get strands of hair away that stuck to your face but they just stayed while he continued to hit every vulnerable spot inside of you.

he started to rub your clit and you almost jolted out of place from the sensitivity. he wanted to feel you tighten around him and mix your come with his.

adam got his wish and finally, he spilled inside your pussy while you milked his every drop.

he fixed your panties, looping them back around you comfortably again before placing you down softly.

he rested you against his chest and laced his arms around your waist. you caught your breath, while adam was still practically heaving against you and you giggled.

"what?" he asked you after feeling your back moving from the laughing fit. "i'm sorry it's not funny but the saying about leaving someone breathless." you trailed off and he got the gist of your joke and he slapped your ass again.

"oh!" you moaned, cheeks flushing at the fact you were turned on again even though his cum was still making its way out of you.

he smirked. "that's what i thought."

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pocketfulofrogers · 3 years

Text

To Outlive the Devil

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Summary: A good save and a case practically solved leads to intelligence almost losing one of their own. Can you get out before it’s too late?

Notes: Canon violence, nothing worse than a typically dark episode. This is a past and present cut together story and it’s just shy of 4k.

Now

Your bleary eyes open up to a cold and damp bedroom. An abandoned… apartment? The peeling wallpaper had given way to yellow stained drywall. From the small window on your left, it appeared as if you were several stories in the air, but there were no distinguishable landmarks that told you if you were even still in Chicago.

As you begin to come to your senses more, you feel the thick rope tied around your wrists and ankles. The rough material burns against you skin and you notice you already have sores.

How long have I been here?

Your memory is fuzzy and your head throbbed violently. It isn’t until you shift uncomfortably that you realize it’s a heavy metal chair you’re tied to.

Slowly your body begins to pick up on the danger your muddled brain had managed to identify and your pulse begins to quicken. As much as you try, your heartbeat continues to pound in your head as you try to twist your arms free.

The pain that responds is only a small price to pay for even the chance of freedom. Desperately, you continue to twist and pull until one of the knots manages to loosen up enough for you to squeeze your hand out. It’s just a short sprint to the front door in front of you.

You will your frozen fingers to work faster as you pinch and tear at each knot and then internally scream at your stiff muscles to carry you forward just a little bit more.

When your hand reaches the doorknob and it isn’t locked, relief floods your system. But when you’re able to wrench the door open, the person behind the door barely registers in your mind before everything goes black once again.

Then

Jay leans against his fist on his desk and tries to keep his frustration at bay. They’d been at this for two days straight and had been on the case for the last three months. “That’s two bodies in as many weeks. Is no one else starting to think…”

“That maybe hunting Chicago’s very own Criminal Minds level serial killer couple is out of our depth?” You interrupt, tilting your head towards him. “Doubt it.”

In fact, over the last two weeks, it’s the only thing you could think about. A younger woman named Madison roped, at least you were hoping she wasn’t a willing participant, into a horrific and violent life by a man you had yet to learn the identity of. You’d spent many nights pacing your bedroom, ranting and theorizing to Jay when all he wanted was just a bit of sleep.

The further you dove into it, however, the less hopeful you became for a quick arrest.

Voight had about ripped your head off when you suggested passing the case to the FBI and got to hear the ‘this is our city’ speech once again. But the truth was you were running out of ideas, running out of leads to chase down the rabbit hole, and running out of time.

“I hate to say it, but Voight’s right.” Antonio almost looks pained, but he continues on before you can question him. “The first time these two surfaced five years ago, CPD went full force. They shut it all down, had every uniform pulling overtime, and tried to smoke them out. Instead, it scared them into hiding.”

“Five girls in three months, Dawson, they’re escalating.” You take a breath before looking him in the eyes. “I can’t keep notifying parents.” There’s a certain pang in your voice only those who have had to watch a parent’s life crumble around them can hear. Jay reaches out to squeeze your forearm for just a bit of comfort and you run your fingers over his.

It’s enough.

“Then we end this.” Voight’s eyeing you, sympathetic to where you’re coming from, but not willing to give up yet. “Let’s find these monsters and make them pay.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you nod and turn to Adam. “Ok, let’s go over everything together, see if we can find something we missed.”

“Since it’s all we have, let’s revisit the address on Madison’s unemployment file.” Jay suggests.

Adam looks confused. “The house was condemned last year, torn down in the spring.”

“I know, but what about the name on the house, did anyone look into it?”

“Figured it was a stolen identity.” Kevin pipes up. “Clara Knight, died in 2012 of a heart attack at 66. No other properties in her name.”

“Knight?” Mouse perks up and starts shifting through his files. “I found a few erased emails from a Robert Knight, but I couldn’t find any relation or connection.”

Adam is already typing ferociously. “Got a death certificate for a Robert Knight, 68, died a few months ago. Seems like the guy barely existed.”

“Any children?”

“A daughter.” His face is grim. “Murdered in 99, she was 16.”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle. “Pull up a picture of her.” You don’t need to see it to confirm what you already feared, but still the image of her face churns your stomach. A beautiful blonde girl with the hope of the whole world in her smile. “He’s been at this a lot longer than anyone thought.”

“Any property still in his name?” Voight asks.

Anxiety rippling through your chest, it feels like an eternity before Mouse nods. “His nephew Isaac put his house in Roseland on a tax form.”

Now

When you come to, the first thing you notice is that your restraints have been changed to zip ties and for a moment you’re concerned about your circulation. You’re worry is cut short by the cup of water on a table to your right, the plastic straw close enough for you to reach it.

The sudden realization of the searing pain in your throat and the cracked skin on your lips lets you know it’s probably been about two days. It’s the dryness of your tongue that overrides every single rational thought of concern that maybe the glass beside you isn’t safe to drink. But, fifteen minutes pass with no incident so whoever it is probably wants to keep you alive.

The thought sends ice down your back.

Alive for what?

“What do you want from me?” You scream into the empty apartment.

Then

“We need a vacation after this.” Jay declares as he leans the seat of the car back a little. “Somewhere warm with water so I can look at you in a tiny bathing suit all day.”

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t miss the small smile you give before bringing the binoculars up again. “We’ll see what we can do about that.”

“Hey lovebirds.” Adam calls over the radio from the car down the street from yours. “Have you seen anything yet or are you too busy staring into each other’s eyes again?”

It’s Jay’s turn to roll his eyes. “Didn’t you just take your third piss break?”

“Hydration is very important.” He defends.

“I told him to wear the diapers.” Alvin adds. Adam tries to defend himself, but you can barely hear him over Kevin’s laughter next to him.

Just then, out of the corner of your eye, you see the movement of a curtain, the flash of blonde hair, and the air shifts. Jay immediately catches the tense set of your shoulders and starts asking questions.

“They’ve got a girl up there.” You tell him through gritted teeth.

“Are you sure? I didn’t see anything.”

You nod and get out of the car despite the hushed protests from Jay as he follows you. To do what? You weren’t sure yet but you had felt so powerless these last few months that maybe you weren’t being the most rational right now.

The curtain moves again and, rather than getting caught, you quickly spin around and push Jay against the car before crashing your lips to his. Other than a noise of shock sounding from the back of his throat, he doesn’t miss a beat.

“North corner window.” You mumble against his lips and slide your hands up his chest, tilting your head to the side to give him a better angle.

When he pulls away, he brings his phone up and looks you in the eye. “We’ve got confirmation on the nephew Isaac, but he’s got another girl up there. If we bust in, he might get spooked and hurt her.”

It’s quiet longer than either of you would like.

“What should we do, boss?” Adam asks for you.

“Do you think you can get in quietly?” Voight asks.

Jay waits for your nod. “We’re on it. Going silent.”

Picking the lock was nothing. Sneaking around a house you know nothing about except for a quick glance at a blueprint from 2005 was the difficult part. Jay splits the two of you up, sending you upstairs while he clears the lower level. Circumstance didn’t allow you the option to argue with him that splitting up in a situation like this is the worst thing to do.

He was your partner and it was your job to always have his back, as difficult as he makes it, but he’s rounded a corner into the living room before you get the chance to cuff him to you.

Your breath catches in your throat when a step on the stairs creak, but you keep moving until you find a girl in the second room you clear. She’s blind folded with on leg tied to the bed. She tenses when you approach, but relaxes once you’ve gotten close enough to whisper who you are.

“Tracey.” She says he name with a whimper and your heart breaks as you cut the rope and take off her blindfold.

When she sees you’re really who you say you are, she throws herself into your arms and begins to cry. There’s nothing more you want to do than to sit here and comfort her, but your ears picks up on a man’s voice you don’t recognize.

“Ok, Tracey, I know you’re so scared, and I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I need you to be brave a little longer.” You pull back and look her in the eyes. “My partner and I came in here alone. I need you to tell me where the man and woman who took you are.”

She nods. “I don’t know where she went, she left a while ago. He’s here, downstairs I think, in his office.”

There’s a crash downstairs, the sound of broken glass and your blood runs cold. Immediately, you look for any other way out, but there’s nothing. No balcony, no window, nothing. Voight’s on the radio already, but you silence him.

“Stay directly behind me.” There’s a kind of urgency in your voice that puts her even more on edge.

Creeping down the stairs, you can hear Jay struggling in the kitchen, but it sounds like he’s holding his own.

“Bringing the girl out.” You whisper into your radio and glance back at Tracey. “As soon as we get down, I want you to run to the door. Do not stop. When you get across the street there are people who will help you.” She nods but she looks terrified. “I swear I won’t let him get anywhere near you.”

It’s the door opening that alerts Isaac that something else is going on. You round the corner with your gun drawn and the scene before you makes your knees weak.

Jay is bruised and cut up, struggling against the man behind him, the arm around his neck, the gun pointed at his head.

“She said you were cops, but I told her she was paranoid.” Isaac snarls.

“Madison? Is she here?” You ask, your voice as level as your gun trained on his head. Voight is yelling over the radio, but you tune him out. “I’d love to meet her.”

He snickers and smiles wickedly. “Even if she could be caught, neither of you will be alive long enough to see it.”

He only manages a twitch before you pull the trigger and land a shot right between his eyes.

Jay falls forward, breathing heavy and you rush towards him. “Jay’s hurt!” You call out when the door is broken down. Adam kicks the gun away from the obviously dead suspect and you let them handle the scene.

“Where does it hurt? Did you get hit? I told you it was stupid to split us up! How’s your breathing?” Your hands are frantically searching every inch of his body. He has to grab your hand and grip it tight in his to stop the assault of questions rapid firing from your lips.

He sits up with a groan and kisses your knuckles when he sees the panic on your face. “I’m okay. Because of you it’s just a few cuts and bruises.” He manages a smile and you almost cry right there.

Voight places a hand on your shoulder. “Tracey is on her way to Med. Medics said she’s going to be okay. We’ve got another bus on the way for you. Nice work you two.”

Now

The creak from the front door opening pulls you from a daze and you wince at the sunlight flooding the room. A blonde woman stands before you with a duffle in her left hand and a gun in her right.

She tilts her head to the side. “You’re still alive. What a shame.”

You struggle to focus your eyes from the concussion you’re assuming she must’ve given you. “Maddison.” You croak out. “What are you doing?”

She drops the duffle next to you and grips your hair to pull your head back, pushing the barrel of the gun into your temple.

“I’m going to make you suffer.” She hisses and roughly lets you go. “I tried to warn him that you were watching us, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Isaac?”

“Don’t say his name!” She screams and the sound cracks through your skull. “He told me to get some supplies, but when I cam back, I watched from the back window as you murdered him.”

You shake your head and try to reason with her. “Maddison, he was hurting people. He was going to kill my partner.”

“Partner.” She repeats sarcastically. “You mean Jay Halstead, your boyfriend of 3 years?” Maddison moves in front of you to revel in the fear that has filled your eyes and smiles sinisterly. “Yeah, I know who he is.”

You start quickly, the panic in your voice betraying the training you were struggling to hold onto. “If you want to kill me fine, do it. But don’t hurt him, Maddison. Please, he’s done nothing.”

She tsks as she opens the duffle and begins to pull out long metal pieces until finally, a long-barreled shot gun. “Why would I kill you when the alternative is so much better?”

You begin to struggle against the restraints as your mind starts to put together scenario after scenario of awful images. Maddison pays no mind to you begging and pleading to see reason. Instead, she pauses from building some contraption to walk over to you and jam a needle in your neck.

When you come too again, she’s sat casually in front of you. “I thought hitting you in the head again might actually kill you, and that’s not what I’m going for, so… you’re welcome.”

You glance around again and notice the barrel of the shotgun behind you just to the left of your shoulder. “Yeah, thanks.” You deadpan looking back at her. “What’s with the ‘Saw’ set up?”

She raises a brow. “Hold onto that strength while you can.” She points out the wires and hooks running along the floor and ceiling to trace it back to the door in front of you. “I used to be a STEM major. Did you know that?” She doesn’t stop long enough for you to respond. “Turns out I still remember a few things.”

You stare past her towards the door and then look quickly back to the gun, beginning to piece together her plan.

“Yes.” She coos. “It’s exactly what you’re thinking. The first person that opens that door, if he happens to be the right height, will get a life ending shot to the face. And I’d like to ask you what the chances are that anyone other than your boyfriend will be the first through the door.”

None.

For the first time you feel utterly defeated, hopeless. Madison watches closely, soaking in every moment of your anguish.

“Now you’ll know what it feels like.”

Then

You phone buzzes for the fourth time in the last hour. “Yes?”

“He’s actually insufferable, where are you?” Will speaks quickly, his tone seeping in irritation.

You laugh. “April already sent me out to get him food because he was whining so much. I am in route with a burger and some other stuff from his favorite place. Should be there in 15.”

“Thank god.” He says quietly. “Would you give it a rest? She’s 15 out with enough food to hopefully put you in a coma so I don’t have to.” You laugh as Will continues to yell at his brother.

“I almost died! Where’s your compassion?” You hear Jay yell back and only laugh harder

“You have ONE bruised rib and a concussion. I’ve seen high school football players handle worse with less complaining!”

“If it’s not so bad, why won’t you let me leave?!”

“I’m stepping up the pace, be there soon.” You laugh and hang up.

The Chicago night was chilly, but something else causes the hairs on the back of your neck begin to prickle. You don’t stop walking, don’t even pause a single step. Instead, you glance in a shop window and catch the reflection of a woman, a flash of blonde, not too far behind you.

Casually, you switch the bag of food to your other hand, but before you’re able to grab your gun, there’s a pinch in your neck and everything goes black.

Now

Jay had forced his way back to work sooner than anyone recommended. You’d been missing for 5 days. Disappeared with no trace other than your cell phone and a bag of cold diner food spilt on the sidewalk. If it were up to him, he would’ve been at his desk the moment 30 minutes hit and you weren’t there.

Alvin called two hours later telling him what they found and Adam and Antonio had to physically restrain him, Will almost sedated him. Voight promised him that they’d find you, and Jay knew they’d do everything they could, but he needed to be a part of the search.

“Did she have any enemies?” Alvin asks and he doesn’t flinch when Jay begins to laugh sarcastically.

“Any enemies? Do you hear yourself? She had tons. We all do. But let’s stop pretending like her being taken the day we closed that case isn’t connected.”

Alvin tries to sympathize with him. “We have to ask. You know the drill.”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “Are you seriously going to treat this like any other missing person? It’s Y/N, Al! Y/N!”

“We know.” Voight says from his office door. “I made a few calls, Jay, we know where she is.” For a fraction of a second, Jay is frozen, but the thought of what you could be going through right now moves him. He’s grabbed his jacket and is in the car before anyone else has moved.

“I thought only the CIA had access to things like that.” Adam whispers lowly in the car into Kevin’s ear.

He shrugs. “Do think it’s out of the question that he’d break several constitutional laws to save any one of us?”

Adam sits back in his seat with pursed lips, nodding.

You struggle against the restraints long after Madison leaves you with only a gag in your mouth. The multiple cars pulling up and all the people shouting told you that you were running out of time. As of this very moment, you were locked into your fate of watching the man you loved die.

This was not an option.

The hard plastic digs into your ankles and wrists, your movements quickening with each door you hear them break down. You try to scream, to warn whoever was on this floor that there was a danger they couldn’t possibly see, but your muffled cries wouldn’t carry.

Tears soak the bandana shoved in in your mouth and you try to scream again.

No! Stop! It isn’t safe!

You hear Voight’s voice a few doors down and begin to try and rock the chair back and forth. It was considered heavy for a good day, and today was not that. Having not eaten or really moved in so long had left you weak and foggy. The adrenaline coursing through you veins only aiding a little in your efforts.

The sound of the front door breaking down sends a jolt of energy through you and you send yourself flying in front of the gun just as the bedroom door opens.

Jay raises his weapon at the sound before his brain can register what has happened. His wide eyes find yours just before you’ve hit the ground.

“Y/N!” He screams and rushes towards you. Frantic, shaky hands move quickly to remove the bandana and zip ties before applying pressure to your shoulder. “I need a medic!” He calls franticly over his shoulder, but when he turns back to you, he has to shut down the thought that you might not make it that long.

“You found me.” You try to say, but instead sputter blood onto your cheek.

“Oh, God.” He gasps. “You’re okay, you’re going to be fine.” But the more he says, the less you hear him.

“I love you.” You try to reach out to his face and graze his cheek, but your fingers won’t cooperate and only leave smudges of blood across his skin.

When your breathing starts to quicken and become more raged, he knows time is running out. So, in defiance of the orders and suggestions coming in through his ear piece, he lifts you up to cradle you to him and runs.

An annoying, incessant beeping is the only thing you can hear, but when you move to reach for it, a shooting pain stops you cold. You groan softly and pry your eyes open only to see both Will and Antonio hovering too close to your face.

Will starts to wave a flashlight in your eyes and you push him away. “When was the last time you guys brushed your teeth?”

Antonio chuckles softly and places his hand atop your head, his thumb brushing softly. “We got her.” He says quietly. “She couldn’t help herself. She stayed close to the scene to see the fallout and Kim caught her.”

Will nods his head towards Jay who was sleeping soundly in what you had to imagine was a very uncomfortable position. “We’ve been keeping an eye on him as well as you. Do you want me to wake him?”

You look back over at him and smile before turning back. “Better not. These are the last few moments of peace I’ll get for the next year at least. You would think someone would be a little more grateful towards you for saving their life, but I can already hear how mad he’s going to be.” Only a small part of you is joking.

“Well, I’ll get shot next time and we’ll see how you feel.” Jay’s sleep riddled voice carries from the corner, but he hasn’t opened his eyes yet. “I’ll give you an hour.” He adds before settling back in.

Now that’s the love of my life.

#jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #Chicago PD #hank voight #antonio dawson #alvin olinsky #Adam Ruzek #kevin atwater

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ckneal · 3 years

Text

There’s a midam AU idea that’s been living in the back of my mind for months now, but it’s been slow going. Mainly because I suspect that doing the idea justice is going to mean doing more research than I’m used to, and maybe even rewatching the series proper to help me fill in some of the weak spots, and I have so many other story ideas that are frankly just easier to work on, two of which are already slated to be multi-chapter works. . . But I’m in the mood to type up something longwinded, so here we go. Keep reading if you’d like to see a rough outline of the first few chapters of this story I really hope to write out properly sometime.

(Warning, this is a long one.)

So, this story is loosely based on the Hundred Years War that took place between England and France from 1337-1453. But it’s only very loosely inspired. Very, very loosely. As in, I was reading a book, I read about one thing that happened, it germinated in my head, and then suddenly I had a plot developing that featured my current favorite ship. Additional sources of inspiration include one of my favorite fantasy series, and a personally beloved trashy romance novel. Because it’s fanfiction, folks. There are no rules here.

Of course, in this AU, the entire world is going to be made up, with neither side of the war distinctly being assigned the role of England or France—or Flanders or Burgundy, for that matter. I barrowed an inciting incident, and few smaller details from history to help things along here and there, but with no regard for keeping all the French things assigned to one group and the English ones to another.

That said, the inciting incident took its inspiration from the Battle of Poiters, a conflict during which England not only won against the French, but also took their king hostage. King Jean II was later ransomed back to his people, but at a sum that was so high, France could not afford to pay it all at once. England still returned France’s king, but new hostages were provided to serve as collateral during the interim, including the King’s son.

So. . .crown Prince Michael Shurley completely decimates King John Winchester on the battlefield, and sends his demands to John’s queen, Mary Winchester. The two kingdoms have been locked in a territory dispute for several decades, and this is one of the more humiliating events to befall the smaller kingdom yet, especially since they are unable to meet all of Michael’s demands. When the Winchesters begrudgingly admit this to the Shurley representatives, they’re caught off guard when they’re offered a trade: John Winchester will be returned, so long Dean Winchester takes his place as collateral.

Things are less than stable in the Winchester kingdom however, with more than a few factions quietly scheming for power. John and Mary were an arranged marriage that was originally held up like a fairytale when the two seemingly fell madly in love during their mandated courtship, but the years afterward had changed them. Civil unrest sparked by the war had brought out a lot of disagreements between the Winchesters and the Campbells and their approaches to governing.

John’s supporters are the ones to step forward with a plan, and convince Mary that it’s vitally important the people are not alarmed by their king’s capture. Mary initially finds it distasteful, but it’s talked around and adjusted and reframed, as John’s people ferret out more and more information about the vital party involved, until she finally agrees.

Because John Winchester just happened to have a bastard son. The resemblance to Dean might not be particularly remarkable, but no one at the Shurley court has ever seen the Winchester heir before. Plus, Adam Milligan has spent the entirety of his teen years studying to become a physician, of all things. He’s perfect for their purposes.

Ten years prior, the Shurley court had had to deal with its own bout of civil unrest, when King Chuck Shurley’s second eldest son had attempted to overthrow him with the support of several nobles from one the kingdom’s richest providences. Lucifer had allegedly been driven into exile following his defeat, and Chuck had been said to have contracted some sort of mysterious illness. According to rumors, the king had shut himself up in his private chambers and refused to admit anyone apart from his remaining children. Even servants were barred from tending him directly.

They snatch Adam away from his studies and force him into compliance by dusting off an archaic law left over from before the start of the war, when the kingdom relied on a conscription military force rather than a standing army full of career military professionals—this law empowering the crown to call on any of its citizens for a minimum forty days of military service per year. They tell Adam that his mission seems more dangerous than it is—really, all he has to do is pretend to be Dean, and use his medical knowledge to figure out exactly what mysterious illness has bedridden the enemy monarch.

Sam and Dean—the proverbial heir and spare of the kingdom—are not at court to meet their younger brother, when he’s hastily fitted for a royal wardrobe and put through a crash course on court etiquette. Sam is very publicly put on display at a holiday festival in another part of the kingdom, while Dean is sent orders to quietly stay behind at a country estate while his valet, Kevin Tran, is sent on to court. Neither of the princes is told about the plan until after Adam has already been shipped out, with Kevin in toe to help Adam along with the impersonation.

No one involved is in anyway comfortable with the mission. But it was only supposed to be for forty days. Adam was assured that the necessary funds to pay off the ransom would either be raised by the end of the minimum mandated service, or they would make contact to extract him. The Campbells and the Winchesters both allegedly had spies in the Shurley court, and they would make themselves known when the time was right.

Adam is given the impression that the latter had been told to him with the intention of making him feel safer. It did not work.

He’s terrified when he arrives—almost would have preferred being promptly thrown into a dungeon upon arrival, instead of a room full of foreign nobility who one and all give off the impression that if cut they’d bleed straight silver, and look at “Dean,” the hostage prince and purported military genius from the tiny, vicious country across the channel, as a curiosity to be studied. He’s assigned two guards (who I decided will be Anael and Samandriel, based entirely on the tags I threw together at then end of this post, during which I decided that I love these three together), who follow him around relentlessly, but beyond that, he’s. . .pretty much treated like a guest. If a stiflingly monitored one. There are limitations on where he can go and what he can do, but for the most part he’s just sort of. . .there.

Most unnerving of all, however, is the small package that Adam finds in his room when he first settles in. Kevin swears he has no idea who left it. It has the Campbell’s insignia clearly worked into the pattern of the paper it’s wrapped in, and inside he finds a knife small enough to conceal on his person, and a number of different herbs and powders that he recognizes from his studies—though of course, he’s more familiar with remedies to counteract their effects.

In other words, he finds an assassin’s-first-kill-job kit, and instructions on how and when to use it, if opportunity arises. This had not been part of the deal when Adam reluctantly signed on.

Unbeknownst to Adam however—though suspected by some parties in the Winchester court—Adam cannot assassinate Chuck Shurley, because Chuck is not there. Shortly after Lucifer’s insurrection, Chuck had quietly disappeared. Michael had only been a teenager at the time. He invented the story about Chuck being ill on impulse, certain that Chuck would be back sooner than later, and Raphael had gone along with it because, being twelve years old, Raphael was not yet old enough to question Michael’s judgement. It is now an awkward point between them.

Adam soon becomes another.

Michael regularly checks in to see how Adam’s getting on, in a way that Kevin assures Adam is entirely appropriate, since Michael is under the impression that Adam is going to be a fellow monarch someday, and is likely trying to be courteous. Adam inherently feels somewhat flustered around Michael though, which is not helped by the fact that Michael is somehow always present whenever Adam puts his foot in his mouth socially. On more than one occasion, he’s thankful that almost no one has actually been to his homeland, allowing Adam to blame an astonishing number of fuck ups on cultural differences.

Michael and Adam’s early one on one interaction are intensely awkward. Adam will forget to wear gloves, and then Michael will comment that Adam’s hands are oddly devoid of callouses for someone who’d practically been raised with a sword in his hand, leaving Adam to scramble for some flimsy excuse about hand cream. Adam will inquisitively ask questions about what sort of illness would be severe enough to leave someone bedridden for a decade but not kill them in that time (Kevin frantically motioning over Michael’s shoulder to convey that that is NOT the right way to fish for details on such a sensitive subject), and Michael will struggle to find an excuse around the quietly bubbling panic, because he hasn’t had to try to explain anything about his father since that first year, and he is not a particularly gifted liar.

And then there’s Raphael.

Unlike Michael, Raphael is suspicious of “Dean” right from the start, pulling Michael aside to point out things that don’t seem quite right according to what their informants have told them about Dean Winchester.

“Doesn’t he look a bit young?”

“Some people look younger than they are, Raphael.”

“I was told Dean Winchester had dark hair.”

“Dark blond is dark.”

“Aren’t his eyes supposed to be green?”

“They’re obviously blue.”

“That’s exactly my point.”

The forty days come and go with Adam and Kevin nervously waiting for some sort of sign from home. Roughly two weeks later, a messenger arrives with unexpected news for Michael’s court: the Campbells have officially broken ties with the Winchesters in a violent bid for power that has left the kingdom at war with itself.

According to Kevin, the civil war has probably slowed things down a bit, if it’s as bad as the rumors say. . .

Adam and Kevin are stranded.

“Don’t worry though—I know Dean, and he knows our necks are on the line. He’ll keep out of sight until they manage to get us out of here.”

Adam finds it difficult to put faith in the virtues of a brother he’s never met, but doesn’t have it in him to question Kevin’s faith. He worries about his mother, who might have been safe in the countryside, but also might have made the trek to the capitol when it came out that Adam had been abducted for the sake of persevering the royal family's throne. He can’t be sure.

And to top it off, Michael takes to stopping by Adam’s room every couple of days to privately talk about the movements of the various factions—who has been sighted where and in what condition, where they’re rumored to be headed. Adam interprets it as an attempt to shake out inside information. One day, Adam finally tries to set him straight by saying it doesn’t matter how many ugly details Michael throws at him, Adam can’t help him because he doesn’t know anything—and is promptly put to shame when Michael looks at him in surprise and says, “You misunderstand. I assumed that you would want to know these things, because they are your family.”

Michael leaves, and Adam’s guards exchange a look. When asked, Samandriel awkwardly tells Adam that the royal family used to have a fourth child. Gabriel. He was lost during Lucifer’s insurrection. Pirates overtook his ship. They’d never received a ransom. Michael had purportedly offered a standing reward for any news of Gabriel, and put an unwise amount of resources into searching for him until it threatened the war effort.

Adam and Michael start talking more frequently from there, starting with an apology on Adam’s part. It’s tricky at first, because Michael starts out asking questions about Dean Winchester's military exploits—it is the most likely common ground between them, after all—and Adam has to hastily change the subject every time. By the two month mark, they’re talking affably, and rumors start to circulate through the courts as Michael's routine check ins on Adam start getting less formal and more frequent.

On the four month mark, rumors get even worse. Raphael finally sits Michael down and really gets into all of the things about “Dean” that don’t add up, item by item. If he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t know anything about his country’s military exploits, he’s far too convincing given his reported record, and Raphael has it on good authority that more than half of those “cultural differences” in etiquette that keep cropping up are completely unfounded—and look here, three different informants have sent lists of Dean Winchester’s physical characteristics, and the foreign prince DOES NOT MATCH.

“Michael, something is not right here.”

“Fine, I’ll talk to him about it now.”

And Michael storms off to address “Dean,” while Raphael calls after him that he should wait until morning. Because it is the middle of the night.

Adam just happens to be up reading. Michael’s familiar with the book. Michael gets distracted, and they talk all night. The sun’s coming up when Michael finally leaves, and a servant happens to see him slipping out of Adam’s room. Suggestive conjectures promptly follow, and Raphael exasperatedly admits they only have themself to blame.

And this only gets worse, because now Adam and Michael have transitioned into being friends. No more guarded conversations where one is convinced the other is about to catch them in some sort of lie. When Raphael mentions that some of the lesser nobles are starting to think Michael and Adam are courting, Michael’s fidgeting is not at all lost on them, as Michael assures them that of course that isn't the case. He and Dean are merely establishing friendly relations that will serve them well down the road politically—

“After the war is over?”

“Of course, after the war is over.”

Adam’s been stranded in the Shurley court for almost a year by the time that he finally slips into his room and sees a sealed message set out on his bed. Adam doesn’t recognize the insignia as belonging to either the Winchesters or the Campbells, but it’s signed with the initials “SW” at the bottom. It mostly contains a lot of vague phrases that make Adam wonder if he was supposed to be versed in some sort of code. As far as he’s concerned, the only important information comes at the end: Kate Milligan has been safely relocated for the duration of the civil war.

Relieved, Adam goes down to dinner, where some sort of seasonal holiday is being celebrated, and has a bit more wine than he normally would. The Shurley court is one of those stuffy courts where seating is stiffly dictated by tradition. As a foreign prince, Adam’s assigned seat is at the same table as Michael, although, according to Kevin, his placement's much further down due to his being a hostage. After a few drinks, and after most of the nobles have cleared off from the table to talk and celebrate elsewhere in the hall, Adam sees no reason not to get up and relocate down the line of chairs to sit closer to Michael. It was against the rules, but Adam was aware enough not to sit in Raphael’s empty seat, and he’d been seen with Michael so often that Anael and Samandriel barely even blinked, because Adam obviously wasn’t about to attack their prince or anything.

However, it is worth noting that while talking to Adam, Michael consumes a decent amount more wine than he would normally have as well.

Later that night, Michael’s walking Adam back to his room, and he starts to comment that Adam seems happier than usual. But even when sober, Michael would struggle to say something like that—if he’d even attempt it while sober—and Adam winds up biting his lip as he watches Michael’s mounting embarrassment, as a simple compliment inexplicably morphs—words seemingly forcing their way out as Michael tries and utterly fails to stop them—into a compliment about how Adam is beautiful—that is, he’s always beautiful—that is, Michael can’t help noticing Adam most days—that is. . .

. . .Michael is adorable. And in a moment of pure, thoughtless impulse, Adam leans in and kisses Michael right there in the corridor.

Michael is profoundly shocked, and his reaction delayed. Adam had only gone in intending to briefly press his lips against Michael’s, but as he’s pulling away Michael abruptly leans in and reseals the kiss, and Adam in turn takes that as an invitation to pull Michael closer. And a few minutes later, Raphael happens to walk down the hallway and find the two of them enthusiastically kissing against the wall.

And Raphael promptly turns around and goes back the way they came, only stopping at one point to flag down a servant and order them not to let anyone else walk down that particular corridor for at least an hour, hoping that Michael and Adam’s “friendly relations” wouldn’t result in anything too inappropriate.

As it happens, nothing particularly inappropriate happens. Nonetheless, Michael still wakes up the next morning, fully clothed in his own bed, in panic because the first thought to distinctly make its way through the ungodly pain in his head is that he’d taken liberties with a guest the night before. The heir to a foreign power at that, a peer, a hostage! Michael never thought he was capable of something so dishonorable--he’d had Dean pressed up against the wall as if they were a couple of ill-bred urchins, and how does one even go about apologizing for something like that?

(Of course, if Michael were thinking clearly, he might have remembered that Adam had actually been the one to back himself up against the wall, with Michael obligingly following along, quite malleable to whatever positioning Adam wanted so long as Adam kept kissing him.)

Michael’s behavior was beyond unacceptable. If his father hadn’t already abandoned them, he’d likely disown Michael out of pure shame. There was no telling what kind of damage he’d done to the relationship between their kingdoms. At best, Michael’s uncouth actions would be a dirty secret between them in the years to come, after Dean married, and Michael was left barely able to look Dean’s spouse in the eye. If Michael were a lesser noble, his parents might demand he married Dean outright.

And suddenly Michael sat up in bed, realizing he could marry Dean. His mind begins racing, because of course he could marry Dean! It made perfect sense. They enjoyed each other’s company, and with both of them being heir to their respective kingdoms, their union would effectively end the war. It might be complicated—especially given some of the odd customs Dean had introduced to Michael’s court—but marriages had been used to cemented alliances often enough, and the thought of marrying Dean elicited a curiously hot feeling in Michael’s stomach, remembering the way Adam had pulled him close the night before.

(Fun fact, England and France actually did try to do this with the Treaty of Troyes in 1420; it did not go as planned.)

Michael goes through the rest of his day in an uncharacteristically upbeat mindset, because now it all seems to just be a matter of organizing things, and he is good at organizing. He would have to write to either John or Mary Winchester as soon as the situation in their kingdom settled, and formally ask for Dean’s hand, and he and Dean should have a chaperone present at all times moving forward to avoid scandal--though there would be no way to sidestep scandal altogether, of course. Adam was still technically Michael’s prisoner.

More than likely, the Winchesters or Campbells would demand Michael relinquish his claim to at least half of the territories that they’d spent the last few decades fighting over, but that would be fine. It’s traditional in Michael’s country to give gifts to one’s in-laws, and Dean is a future monarch. Anything too little would be insulting, and all would be consolidated eventually when Dean and Michael assumed their respective thrones. . .

Michael is still walking around delightfully living in his own head when Raphael pulls him into an empty room to discuss what they witnessed the night before. While not the most shocking scenario they could have imagined, they were not expecting to hear their brother announce that he and Dean Winchester would be getting married.

“And how are we to explain away our father’s absence during the proceedings, Michael?”

Michael’s good mood promptly withers. Because of course Chuck would be expected to play some part in arranging his son’s wedding. Ill or not, at the very least, he would be expected to make an appearance at the wedding. To have no part in it at all would be suspicious, not to mention rude.

While Raphael intended to snap Michael back to his senses, they had not meant to shake Michael into an immediate depression. They try for a gentler tone.

“You know, Michael. Our father has been gone for over a decade. He left no formal plans, he's sent no word. By any standard, he's abdicated. Perhaps this isn’t the right time to introduce a political marriage. Perhaps we should consider your assuming the kingship, and then come back around to formalizing your relationship with Dean—”

Michael, of course, is against this. Because their father is alive, and he will come back, and it will not be to find that another one of his sons had greedily tried to usurp the throne.

Seeing Michael about to fall back onto a familiar tangent, Raphael chooses the lesser of two evils and takes the conversation back to “Dean.” They ask which out of the two of them proposed to the other.

Michael abruptly realizes that he's forgotten something.

Meanwhile, Adam starts his morning on a much happier note. His headache is less punishing than Michael’s, and while feeling the normal amount of embarrassment that comes with drinking a little too much, the feeling does not extend to kissing Michael. His mother’s safe, he’s nailing his Dean impression, and Michael apparently likes him. Things could not be better. Until Adam remembers how the latter two items on that list are linked.

Michael is not like a classmate back home, who he could chat up, get a drink with, and maybe start seeing regularly if all things went well. Michael is, in fact, the acting ruler of one of the most powerful countries in the world, which just so happens to be at war with Adam’s, and under the explicit impression that Adam is similarly situated in the world.

Adam promptly begins freaking out.

And then Michael finds him.

Adam’s in the library at the time. Michael walks in and quietly dismisses Adam’s guards, and Kevin, leaving the two of them completely alone. Adam doesn’t realize what Michael’s doing right away, though he’s spent enough time with Michael to recognize how nervous he is as he starts talking about a proposal to end the war—selling the idea, as if Michael wouldn’t be enough on his own—and then sheepishly tapering into the idea that both he and Adam seem to have feelings for one another. And if Adam were able to go back in time and strangle his tipsy past self, he would, because then he wouldn’t have to see the look on Michael’s face when he says no.

And no, Michael does not understand.

Adam can hear years of living in the public eye at work in Michael voice, as he just manages to keep his voice level in asking, “Even if it would mean peace?”

"I'm sorry, I just—I can't."

". . .I see."

Michael excuses himself, and Adam collapses onto a couch, assuring himself that no was the only right answer, and he shouldn’t feel terrible—which, of course, since Adam’s spent the last couple of months flirting with Michael while posing as someone else, is not an easy idea to buy into.

Michael and Adam avoid eye contact at dinner, even as Raphael—who has zero doubts as to who initiated what the night before—practically burns holes into Adam’s skin with the looks they shoot down the table.

And then a messenger comes in. One of the wealthiest duchies in the kingdom (the same one that had once supported Lucifer, and of course would be populated with demon characters in the narrative) has declared its independence, having formed an alliance with the Campbells, and has launched an attack not far from the castle. Several villages have already been attacked along the way. Michael accompanies the armed forces he sends out to quash the uprising.

Raphael is left behind to fortify the castle and take in the refugees, who the messenger assured them are not far behind. Unlike Michael, Raphael rarely saw combat. Officially, it was because Raphael had adamantly insisted on training as a healer rather than a warrior, which was true enough. Unofficially though, Michael and Raphael are both fully aware that if anything happened to Michael, Raphael is the only one left to inherent the crown.

Samandirel and Anael escort Adam back to his room. Samandriel assures Adam that no one thinks he had anything to do with the duchy double crossing them, but it would probably just be safer for Adam to stay out of sight until things calm down. Anael is more closed-lipped about the situation.

From his window, Adam watches the first of the villagers come trickling in, and even from his vantage point he can make out burn wounds, makeshift bandages and hastily thrown together tourniquets, and he’s in hell, because it seems the only two options in front of him are to worry about Michael, or feel absolutely sick with guilt because he’s a trained physician and he should be down there helping.

Finally he pokes his head out into the corridor and asks if someone can find Kevin for him. Anael raises an eyebrow that “Dean,” who’s usually inordinately self-suffice for a prince, is suddenly insisting that he needs to see his manservant, but Samandriel is already helpfully heading down the hall. A few minutes later, Kevin is in Adam’s room, confused, as Adam asks him to take off his clothes.

“You can have mine, just switch with me, okay?”

“Uuh. . . Don’t you think mine will be a little tight on you—”

“Less talk! Strip!”

Michael had probably errored in assigning the same two guards to watch over Adam. After a year, the three of them had gotten to be on fairly familiar terms. Adam waited until Samandriel started to get chatty, and slipped quietly out of his room when Anael was distracted—neither of them having had any reason to think Adam would try to escape, because he had been nothing but compliant since the day he arrived.

From there, he goes straight to the infirmary.

Raphael had set up tents in the courtyard to accommodate the high number of people in need of care. Adam was a year out of practice, but the atmosphere was still familiar to him, and he slipped into the chaos unnoticed. Raphael doesn’t notice him until they are well into the thick of things, and Adam’s as covered in grime and gore as anyone else present. Adam had just gone for more bandages and the two of them nearly ran into each other, and for a split second Adam thinks Raphael just might not recognize him until hand closes around his arm like a vice.

“What exactly are YOU doing here?”

Then Raphael notices the stitches Adam had just finished putting in for his latest patient—and Adam’s stitchwork is immaculate, not the clumsy, half-hazard work of a solider who picked up the mechanics of it over the course of their career.

"YOU did that?"

Adam starts to fumble out an answer, but they are interrupted because then Michael is being brought in. The fighting is over. Raphael and Adam promptly drop everything.

Michael has a concussion. He’s also been lightly stabbed. You know, just lightly. Needs stitches though. Raphael is adamant that Adam leave immediately, but Michael, who is delirious, sees Adam and absolutely refuses to let Raphael send him away. Raphael winds up patching Michael together while Adam—annoyingly, to Raphael—is sat next to him, holding Michael’s hand. Adam winds up sitting next to Michael all night, because it’s the only way to keep Michael from getting up and tearing his stitches like a feverish moron.

Initially, Raphael refuses to leave too, not trusting their brother’s suspiciously competent love interest, whose family was purportedly allied with the traitors who’d just attacked their people. There are still more wounded to tend to, however, and Raphael begrudgingly has to step away—making sure to leave orders that a guard be present in the room the entire time that Raphael is gone.

Little does Raphael know, Adam would have lowkey given a limb to have Raphael stay. Michael’s demeanor is a lot less closed off when he’s feverish and concussed. Shortly after Raphael leaves, Michael starts apologizing for proposing earlier, and Adam feels like he’s been stabbed in the gut. And as he’s lying there, looking at Adam’s hand in his, Michael starts saying things he would not normally blurt out—like that ending the war was not the main reason he wanted to marry Adam, because the last year has been the best he can remember, and it is entirely due to spending time with Adam—even if Adam was only there by obligation—and he would do anything to make Adam happy, even if they weren’t together—and Adam is just stuck there, highkey dying on the inside.

Then Michael sees his face.

"I apologize, you’ve already said you do not want to marry me, I should not have brought this up—”

Michael starts to get out of bed completely unconcerned about his stab wounds, and as Adam’s pushing him back down, the words “That’s not true!” just sort of. . .fly out.

Then Michael’s suddenly looking at Adam, and his face is suddenly very sober, and Adam can feel his own face turning red.

"That is, I. . ." Adam realizes, suddenly, that he’s fucked. Telling Michael the truth is somehow both the right and wrong thing to do at the same time, and Michael is definitely in no condition to hear it either way. “How about, if you still want to marry me when all this is over, then I’ll say yes?”

The next morning is a string of stressful events for Adam. Raphael shooed him out of Michael room at dawn, and Adam went straight back to his own. Kevin, Samandriel, and Anael had all been reprimanded for Adam’s escape, with the latter two being replaced as Adam’s guard under Raphael’s orders. His first interaction with Ishim and Maribel does not bode well for them becoming friends.

When Adam tells Kevin that he’s thinking about coming clean to Michael, Kevin panics. News from the Winchesters had dried up weeks ago, even for Michael and Raphael’s sources. Kevin argues that they’d be better off attempting to escape on their own if the charade was getting to be too much for Adam, especially after last night—but even then, they should wait awhile longer. Why take any chances right now? And Adam doesn’t know how to go about explaining the why. . .

And it gets taken out of his hands anyway, when they step out of the room and find that it’s somehow leaked that Adam and Michael—who had completely misunderstood what Adam meant by “when all this is over”—are engaged.

Kevin doesn’t get another moment alone with Adam to discuss how stupidly dangerous this whole situation is, and Adam, no matter how hard he tries—can’t seem to get a moment alone with his fiancé to try to explain that the situation is not what he thinks it is. Everyone had vastly underestimated how far the rumors about Michael and Adam secretly courting had gone, and Adam can barely take three steps without a noble or courtier or someone pulling him aside to offer their congratulations, and as Adam gets closer to Michael’s chambers, there’s Raphael, circling like a shark and Adam does not want to make his confession to Raphael before he sees Michael.

Come dinner time, Adam finds that his seat had been reassigned. He now sits directly to Michael’s left. He keeps trying to convince Michael to step out into the hall with him for a second, while Raphael, seated in their normal place to Michael’s right, continuously circumvents him, firmly believing that Adam has done more than enough in private.

Then there’s a scream. A servant comes running out into the dining hall, carrying a bloody knife. They run up to Michael—up until the guards step forward to stop her, but she’s not attacking. Instead she hands over the knife and says that she found in the corridor outside the king’s chambers. She had been worried, so she broke protocol and went in. The king’s bed was drenched in blood.

Adam looks over and feels a chill when he recognizes the same knife that had been included in the murder kit he found in his room on day one.

If Raphael had looked up, Adam had no doubt that Raphael would have read something in his face, but they didn’t get the chance to. Michael and Raphael are busy staring at each, the only ones in the room who know beyond any doubt that the implication could not be true, because there had not been anyone in that bed to assassinate in over ten years. Neither of them is given the chance to try to spin the knife’s implications in any direction, however. While the court is still reeling in shocked silence, a guard walks in—completely oblivious—and announces that a messenger has arrived with urgent news.

Adam looks up, and finds he has room to panic more, when he sees Anna Milton walk in, a serving maid in the Winchester court, and as she drops a curtsey to Michael, she identifies herself as one of Raphael’s spies. She had held her place in the Winchester court for as long as she could, but when her real identity had been uncovered she’d had no choice but to flee, and she’s come with monumental news. The civil war across the channel has ended, the Campbells having been forced to seek asylum with their allies outside the kingdom, John Winchester deposed, and Dean Winchester installed on the throne in his place. She had witnessed his coronation herself the very day they identified her.

And Adam feels very cold, as if his blood had actually managed to turn into ice, which would have explained why he couldn’t seem to move, as every eye in the room immediately turns to him.

And that would be the end of part one.

#midam #adam milligan #supernatural michael #samandriel #supernatural raphael #anael #kevin tran #my thougths #i'm very tempted to throw jack in a joan-of-arc-inspired role

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savagetrickster · 4 years

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Crushing on You (HCs) | BNHA

Request: First of All, i love your navigation its really unique :) Then mhhh what i wanted to request are just some headcanons about shoto (and other characters u like) in which they get really soft zu their crush or s/o, just some fluffy things that come to your mind when u think about it uwu !and dont stress yourself with anseering this request, take ur time!

anime | character(s): bnha | todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki

word count: 1.9k+

a/n: thank you anon, it took me a really long time to make my current navigation; glad you liked it! sorry for the delay, i’ve been trying to squeeze in writing time between my work schedules and finally managed to complete this as well. Whew! i expanded a little more on your requests while trying not to go off-track hahah! also, i really want to add more characters but time could allow me to write for these two. hope you like my take on how they would behave regarding their crushes! i kinda rushed through this piece so the sentences may not string well together hahah and there may be some errors; it’s not beta-ed.

How did he find out about his crush on you?

Shouto is as smart as a pile of bricks when it comes to anything that isn’t…well, hero stuff? So when he harbored special feelings for you at the start, he wasn’t aware of that. Completely oblivious and hilariously dense about it.

The first few times his heart raced and his cheeks grew warm in your presence, he didn’t make the connection between these and you. He went to see the doctor thinking there was something wrong with his heart and was the reason why his face would feel warm. Nights before his appointment at the hospital, he couldn’t sleep.

It turned out that everything was fine; his heart is perfectly healthy. So the next thing he thought, making a connection to you - is he allergic to you? Or did you have some sort of secondary quirk you kept secret?

Often, he found his eyes gravitating to you, like you were some kind of magnet. You were the first thought he wakes up to and the last before he went to sleep. There were times he felt oddly possessive of you when you talked with the guys.

Despite all these, none of these made him realize his feelings for you. He passed them off as curiosity since you were the only one who made him feel strange.

He only found out why when he shared his suspicion about you - is he allergic to you? Or did you have some sort of secondary quirk you kept secret? - with Midoriya, particularly the latter.

How does Shouto behave around you after his realization? All the years growing up the way he did, having a crush on someone was foreign and bizarre to him. Knowing only quirk-related and hero whatnots with limited social interactions in his maturation years, he was…afraid. Afraid of his own feelings for you. He has no idea what to do and couldn’t face you without accidentally coming off as ‘curt and cold’ to you. He avoided you like you were the plague; he couldn’t help it - he felt like he could combust into flames (lol) from how much you made him blush.

You had always enjoyed Shouto’s company and admired his talents as a hero, sharing an amicable connection with him despite not being in his circle with Midoriya and the rest. You liked him. Liked him too much.

So when he was suddenly blunt and cold to you + very obviously avoiding you, your heart broke.

The day you confronted him out of frustration and with a broken heart, he realized how wrong he was to act like this.

>> a short fic based on the paragraphs above is coming soon!

He didn’t want to hurt you because of his own fears. He apologized to you but decided to keep his feelings for you a secret from you - the last thing you two needed a distraction like this when you should be focusing on forging your paths as heroes.

As he promised, he suppressed his feelings and maintained (struggled to) the way he was with you; simply friends.

But he definitely has a soft spot for you.

He has developed an overprotective streak for you; his eyes were always on you.

he’s always the first to react if you were in danger. And if there were any stimulation exercises with the class, he would be adamant about staying near you, asking whoever who is on your team to switch with him (of course, without you knowing)

He is very attentive about what you liked or disliked. Taking notes in his head like it was his duty.

there was a time when he overheard a discussion between the girls and you, gushing about the types of clothes you girls like to see on a guy. Taking interest in what you like, he eavesdropped and heard you like pullovers on guys. And on the very next day, he bought himself a few, of course using his Endeavor’s credit card, and wore them as soon as they were ready to worn.

He takes very good care of you and is always concern. Too concerned for a mere friend. He is always there to catch you in case you fall.

menstrual cramps? one day, he walked into the lounge of Class 1-A dormitory and found you clutching onto your stomach, obviously in discomfort and pain despite already taken a pain killer for your cramps. You desperately needed a heat pad to help ease the shit your uterus had to put you through every month.

at first he had thought about using his fire quirk to help you but quickly scratch that idea because he knew he didn’t have that kind of control to not hurt you by accident. The only solution is to get you a water bottle of warm water which loses its temperature pretty quickly. from then, he made it his goal to obtain superb control over his fire quirk, even to the extent of asking Endeavor for help in refining his control just for you. So that the next month when you had to go through the same pain, he was ready to use his fire quirk to relieve your discomfort.

fever? shouto caught onto news that you caught a bad cold and were down with a high fever. You laid in the darkness of your room, feeling feverish and your body was burning up. that day, he spent the whole night in your room, tending to you the best he could. Pressed his hand to your burning forehead, ice quirk activated; cool enough to make you sigh but not too cold to freeze you by accident - having only used his ice side growing up, his control is excellent. somehow he ended up holding you, cuddling your feverish head to his body on your bed, regularly activating his ice side to keep his body cool.

When he thinks about his future after graduation, he always include you. In fact, you are part of a much, much bigger picture in the future he envisioned.

it is in his plan to confess to you after graduation. he already knew enough about you, having paid attention and staying near you throughout after he found out that you were special to him. over time, his crush on you wasn’t as simple anymore. Something stronger and more permanent was beginning to bloom in his heart as he continued to safeguard you and watch over you like a silent guardian.

Get ready to adopt he name ‘Todoroki’ in the future ‘cause he’s pretty determined to take things further with you. First, his girlfriend and of course his wife and the mother of his children.

How did he find out about his crush on you?

I would like start Bakugou’s part right off the bat by saying that the expression you see in the heading^ made for him is exactly how he would react once he realized he has a crush on you.

Bakugou here looks like he is in disbelief (as if having such feelings was absurd), bewildered and irked. Yes, damn right he will be irked. He finds harboring such feelings for you or in fact, anyone unnecessary, ridiculous and stupid. He didn’t have time for such a thing.

Bakugou isn’t as dense as Shouto about this sort of things; if he did find his heart pounding around you, he’s sharp enough to know that you had an effect on him and suspect that he has feelings for you, but this doesn’t mean he is going to acknowledge it. He would dismiss it quickly and move on to more important stuff like his goals. One day, he grew really jealous and extremely irritated when he saw two seniors hitting on you while he was on his way to class after lunch with Kirishima and Denki. Surprisingly, he handled the situation pretty calmly despite how irritated he is. He walked forward, speeding up ahead of Kirishima and Denki and smoothly tugged you away from the persistent upperclassmen with a firm but gentle grip around your bicep.

From that incident, Kirishima and (sorry Kirishima is probably pretty dense about this sort of things but of course no one could beat Shouto in this area lol) Denki being a rather perceptive guy when it came to matters of the heart, was quick to pick up on Bakugou’s crush on you. Bakugou kind of grudgingly acknowledge his feelings for you that day. Was it because his friends being pushy, constantly teasing him about it? Or was it witnessing that upsetting scene you were in?

Maybe both? But that did not mean he was going to act on it. He is still pretty stubborn about remaining unbothered about this “useless, pointless sentiment”, quoted Bakugou pretty often to his friends. How does Bakugou behave around you? Bakugou Katsuki is a freaking kuudere - i.e. a character who is often cold, blunt, and cynical. They may seem very emotionless on the outside, but on the inside they’re very caring — at least when it comes to the ones they love. Though he deems his feelings for you a “useless, pointless sentiment”, it has become a second nature to him to worry about you regardless of how adamant he is about “not giving a fuck about you” as he had gruffly said to shut his friends up.

He becomes subtlysoft!Bakugou around you.

he is rather toned-down and mature when it comes to you. his explosive (haha) temperament is milder and he exhibits bits of gentlemen traits around you.

his brash, rough voice softens when he talks to you without him realizing. He is more patient and calmer around you than the rest of his classmates or even his closest friends like Kirishima. he rarely yells at you and addresses you by your name, and not insults he typically used on others e.g. extras, nerd, idiot.

He is protective.

he is always quick on his feet in getting you out of sticky situations most of the time. tied to being subtlysoft!Bakugou in my previous point (duh), he demonstrated his ability to be cool-headed and efficient when he got you out of the situation with the two upperclassmen.

sometimes if he could in stimulation exercises, he would be try to get you to come along whenever he went on his own way with Kirishima and Denki.

“stay close.” he would mutter in a grudging gruff tone as he bashfully tug you along, away from the rest of the class as we all know he always do in the canon.

He is rather thoughtful and considerate when it’s you.

once you didn’t turn up for school and he kept glancing over at your empty desk, concerned. he found out that you were down with a bad cold and was being taken care of by Recovery Girl in the infantry. Exams were just two weeks away so he secretly took down notes for you.

When you recovered, he made fun of Kirishima’s “shitty grades” and somehow managed to get Kirishima to start a study session with you included; his main motive was so he could help you catch up without you learning about his true intentions. (kuudere much, Bakugou -__-)

you are a priority, and eventually a goal as well.

as bakugou matures alongside you and Class 1A through the years, he will gradually accept that life isn’t only about hero stuff, being number one or putting that stupid nerd Izuku in his fucking place. (i love midoriya okay, this is just bakugou being bakugou hahah) Or at least he didn’t want his life to be merely about all that. You were also his goal, in fact, one of his biggest goals. He isn’t exactly a big fan of screeching little spawns of the devils but he could live with it if they were part of a future with you.

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og-danny-dorito · 4 years

Text

[ Tanjiro Headcanons To Fuel The Fluff/Angst Tank ]

He Is Baby™ thank you very much and i love him with my whole heart

- hi hello i would like to share my thoughts on this baby cause i love him v much

- he gives me the vibe that he would def love anything strawberry related. like strawberry milk, strawberry shortcake, strawberry yogurt- the list goes ON

- he would eat them more often if they weren't so godamn expensive, and most of the time you can only find those kinds of products when in the city and he mostly travels through the woods rather than through heavily populated areas. he does get them when he can though, and usually has some stocked up when he and nezuko leave rural areas

- thats not the only fruit he likes though! hes also a huge fan of cherries but he gets those even less since they're even MORE expensive. he also very much likes mint chocolate chip icecream! something about the clash of dark chocolate and refreshing mint is just so good to him, and usually he’ll try to look for that specific flavor if theres any icecream places nearby. my basis for that?

- thankfully though he doesnt really buy things from others since he just gets most of his food from the surrounding forest. you see, tanjiro literally lived in the woodlands for most of his early life before the whole 'incident', so hes accustomed to being more of a hunter-gatherer when it comes to those sorts of things

- he knows a whole bunch of stuff about forest plants and topography for that reason specifically, and can make food out of pretty much nothing due to having to go through some rough winter times that required scavenging

- overall though hes a pretty good cook! his father and mother both liked to cook and bake and all that before they died, and, being eager to help and learn, he usually watched them when they did or asked to help with preparing the food

- he actually probably has a lot of domestic skills, now that i think about it. things like sewing up ripped clothing or repairing damaged items are almost muscle memory to him since he was raised to value what he had and not aimlessly spend his money due to his humble beginnings

- he’s actually more comfortable with simple things rather than lavish ones since thats what he grew up with. being a demon slayer means that he does get commissioned to do things sometimes or paid for it, but he usually gives most of his money to poeple who need it after spending some of what he has on more efficient and useful things like better fabric for clothes and repairs for things that he doesn't have the skill set to fix himself

- due to this humble attitude he has for things, he barely ever really treats himself to things he enjoys. he usually puts others before himself and thus forgets about his own needs, leading him to often deny taking care of himself if he deems to 'not have enough time' or 'not being important enough”

- usually forcing him to sit down and eat or at least take a moment to drink some tea can calm his nerves a ton, even if its only just for a second

- i'm pretty sure that his favorite drink is green tea (or strawberry milk), actually. its just so naturally calming and relaxing that he usually uses it as a staple for calming himself down or taking a breather from the stressful life he's lead so far

- for someone that barely takes care of himself hes awfully adamant about others taking acare of themselves. oh, you haven't slept in three days because of work? guess what you're going to sleep right now. no, dont Mention how he keeps moving even though he should be in bed because of a broken rib, your needs come first now go to sleep

- deeefinitely the mom friend type in more ways then one. its p obvious that he already takes care of Nezuko, Zenitsu and Inosuke as good friends of his, but hes kinda adamant on taking care of them almost like they're younger than him or something. this doesnt mean that they can’t take care of themselves of course, he just kinda feels the natural instinct to protect people he values if he can (mainly due to the fear that he’ll suddenly loose them without making it clear he cares about them first but we will unpack that suitcase LATER in the list)

-for that reason i can safely say that he's probably fantastic with kids because of his gentle nature. hes just so soft and pure that children naturally feel calm around him? its weird how like a baby will literally stop crying in a city full of people just because they saw tanjiro wave and smile at them and as SOON as hes out of eyesight they start crying again. also tanjiro holding a baby? you CANNOT tell me this man wouldnt softly sing some lullaby he remembers from his childhood to a child cradled in his arms, fast asleep. and the smile he gives to the person who finds him like that is BLINDING i cannot comprehend the purity-

-the EXACT same thing goes for animals. its straight up canon that he understands (to an extent) what birds are saying when they're chirping to one another, so its probably safe to assume that he might understand a little bit of what other animals may be saying when they communicate

- yet another effect of living in the forest most of his life and being way too observant at his age :p

- when dogs bark he responds to them out of instinct, knowing what they mean. when some pig just randomly snorts at him don't be surprised when he just says "oh, thank you!" in the most earnest tone possible because he probably knows what the animal said and is responding to it honestly. answering like he's pretending to know what it means would be dishonest, and thats too out of character for the sunshine boy

-its also gotta be mentioned that tanjiro physically rejects the concept of being dishonest. i swear to god I'm not making this up- when hes lying its so easy to tell because his face is physically rejecting the concept that hes not being sincere

-this goes for pretty much anything- he cant really blatantly lie without shifting in place or making a weird expression. its no expection that when asked about his feelings that he can barely keep a straight face by saying that he's "okay"

-theres just so much pent up grief and sorrow for so many things that its hard to really say that he's "just fine" or "alright" some days. the accumulation of trauma and guilt has lead up to this constant dread boiling in the pit of his stomach that he'll fail one day, and this would've been all for nothing

-he'll die one day without his goals being met, without Nezuko being healed, without his friends safe, without so many things that he thought he could fix that will eat him up until he fixes them. he doesn't have frequent depressive episodes all that often anymore since Sakonji helped him with that (kind of, it was kind of a group effort by his other superiors, the Pillars, too with some reassurance and advice since a good portion have Been There Done That with the survivor’s guilt and the like) in terms of teaching him how to meditate more frequently and search for positive outlets for his negative feelings. he helped him accept that it was okay to feel bad about it, but he couldn't give up, no matter what. because “What worth was your dream if you just gave up in the end?”

-and so he doesn't. he never gives up, on anything. he refuses to give up when his friends are in danger and the odds are against him, or when hes face to face with an eldritch demon who's been alive longer than the numbers he can count. tanjiro is incredibly persistent in his efforts, big or small, and makes a conscious decision every time to not abandon what he worked for because the phrase "What worth was your dream if you just gave up in the end?" motivates him to be better than who he was yesterday and try his best to reach his dreams

- because of this he's a heavy believer that most people can change. i say most because I'm pretty sure he knows Muzan will never change, or some of the other terrible people in the world. he's accepted over time that he can’t help everyone, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try his hardest in figuring ot if they are truly, genuinely, capable of being better. so he's incredibly supportive of people who actually do make efforts to improve themselves because he knows how hard it is to come from such a bad situation/bad mindset and reteach good values and habits

- that doesn't mean that poeple are expempt from their punishments of course- everyone deserves the consequences of their actions to be better to know what to improve on, but he has sympathy for the poeple who's consequences stop their lives short (example, countless demons that he feels terrible for because they came from really bad situations)

-since he knows how hard it is to improve on anything- he’s very very supportive to people who do that for themselves or for others. in fact, he would go out of his way for about anyone to make their life a little better but if he sees someone struggling their way to their personal best he'll happily be a help to them in any way that they can. oh, you were training really hard today and had no success in perfecting a certain technique? its alright, you can just lay down right now while he fixes your bath water and tomorrow he'll help you out with it in any way he can. hes the best cheerleader!

-overall tanjiro is very sweet and kind, even though he has personal problems with his own demons and feeling as if he's a burden most of the time. for all this suffering, he views the prosperity of the people around him worth it and is selfless to the end of the line for those whom he cares about

[ ~Thank You For Reading!~ ]

#tanjiro #tanjiro kamado #tanjiro headcanon #tanjiro headcanons #tanjiro imagine #tanjiro imagines #demon slayer #demon slayer tanjiro #demon slayer headcanon #demon slayer headcanons #demon slayer imagine #demon slayer imagines #kimetsu no yaiba #KNY #kny headcanon #kny headcanons #kny imagine #kny imagines #water breathing

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 4 years

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Better Late Than Never?

I had a few other ideas in the creative queue that I planned to do first but after watching TLC and Smackdown, this one just pushed its way to the front. Kevin is one of my long time favorites and not just because he’s from the place where I live. I seriously think that despite having been Universal Champion, US Champion, and a major player for years, he’s still undervalued by WWE. Aside from his skills in ring, he is one of the Top 10 and possibly Top 5 promos in the world, whether as a heel or babyface. I hope 2021 is the year that he finally gets fully acknowledged.

SO... Here’s a story featuring Kevin that’s about someone seeing just how wonderful he is.

Pairing: Kevin Owens x reader

Word count: 3,627

Content advisory: swearing, references to sexual activity

You definitely need to be more diligent about moisturizing your legs. There’s a fine, powdery finish that lays over your dark skin like a kind of mildew or fungus and you can see a delicate web of white lines where your body cries out for hydration. You run your fingers along your tibia, wiping away the offending dust. It’ll be back in a few minutes but you like the feeling that it’s something that you can get rid of when you choose to. However, unless you plan on rubbing your fingers over your legs constantly, you need to be more diligent about moisturizing.

It’s one of those details that’s become kind of fascinating during the hours you’ve been sitting here, getting a headache from the endless background noise and recycled air of the hospital, consciously stopping yourself from turning into one of those strident Karens who get up in the nurses faces and yell because they want their loved one to take priority over everything else.

‘Loved ones.’

Even thinking the term makes you feel nervous, makes your dry skin shiver. You’re here in this hospital sitting vigil next to the bed of a man who’s been your friend for years, a sometime sparring partner, a frequent travel buddy, and a recent one night stand. But now he is very much a loved one and you wish he’d wake up from his medicated slumber so you could tell him.

“I love you, Kevin Owens.”

There are a lot of visible welts and bruises on his skin. There’s a contusion on his cheek that’s so swollen it looks like someone’s inserted a balloon under his skin, a bruise so dark you can see it through his beard, and various ugly yellow and purple marks all the way down his torso. You know because, after the nurse had left the two of you alone, you lifted up his chintzy medical gown to survey the damage.

You were allowed to do that, you figured. That’s one of the things that couples who loved each other never had to be shy about: showing their ugly parts and imperfections. If he would just wake up, you’d be happy to show him how dry and dusty your skin had gotten. If he’d just wake up.

More concerning than the bruises are the split on his wrist and the bandaged ankle that’s been elevated to reduce the swelling, and the two dislocated ribs. Those are things that can put a wrestler on the shelf for months. You know, because you’re just getting the chance to get back in the ring yourself after you somehow managed to break your ankle in two places at once jumping from the top rope to the floor, a move you’d done a hundred thousand times without incident. You don’t want that for Kevin, not when he’s been on such an upward trajectory lately, not while he’s been so able to remind the powers that be of what an incredible talent he is. That ankle is already held together with Mac-Tac and positive thinking. It would break both your hearts to see him sidelined now.

That’s how a woman in love reacts under these circumstances, you think. When her man is threatened, she becomes dangerously protective. She’d do anything possible and probably a few things that aren’t in order to save the person she’s in love with. And if the bastard would just wake up for a few seconds, you’d say that.

Tenderly, you run your fingernails through the wiry scruff of his beard, careful to avoid touching the bruised skin. You let one finger, your so-called ring finger (that’s never had a ring on it) over the corner of his lips. You consciously choose that finger because the human body exerts the least pressure on it. You want him to wake up but not because you’re poking at him. But you can’t resist touching him a little.

Even when you and Jey had been together, you and Kevin had been affectionate. It was one of the many points of conflict that you’d had with Jey, along with the fact that you swore so much that he was worried about introducing you to his mother, that you were a shit cook, and that your parents’ marriage had made you extremely dubious about the whole concept.

You might consider marrying Kevon Owens, though, because he thought it was funny that you swore, that you had a tendency to drool in your sleep, who thought you were beautiful when you woke up even though you had crusts in your eyes, who was fine with ordering takeout or trying to cook something together that occasionally worked out.

And maybe he would have asked if you hadn’t been so weird about everything. That was on you.

You wouldn’t have described Kevin as one of your closest friends but he was definitely a guy you got along with, dating back to before you’d both signed to WWE. You’d even fought each other a couple of times, the last one being a PWG event where you’d failed to tuck your head up properly taking his signature package piledriver and ended up with a concussion.

He’d apologized every time he saw you for six months, even after you were both in NXT, until you’d finally figured out a way to assuage his guilt about the whole incident.

“You don’t need to keep apologizing, big boy,” you’d cooed, “just because I couldn’t handle your package.”

Then that had become a huge joke between you, and everyone assumed it meant that something had happened, that the two of you had done the horizontal mambo and were trying to get over it. You’d almost felt offended because you knew Kevin wasn’t exactly thought of as a hot property. At the same time, there was something about his rough persona, the character of a guy who’d just take what he wanted that made you think of what it would feel like for him to grab your wrists and pin you to the bed and…

Well, the two of you were always just friends. You were both experts at banter and setting the other up for funny lines. And you even found it easy to travel together, which coworkers found pretty remarkable.

Normally, Kevin traveled with Sami, and if Sami wasn’t available, he traveled alone. But he’d come to accept you because he’d realized that any kind of travel put you to sleep almost immediately, which meant that he could have the peace he wanted and you could sleep without the guilt that other travel partners gave you for not doing your share of the driving, or at least being good enough company to keep them awake and alert by being good company.

An announcement sounds, exceptionally loud as they all seem to be, over the internal broadcast system.

“Housekeeping to triage with a wet mop and a bucket!”

You don’t even want to think what that means, but Kevin stirs just the tiniest bit and you’re excited that he might actually be coming out of it. Without even thinking about it, you lean over and press a soft kiss to his cheek, close to his lips, like he’s Sleeping Beauty and you’re Prince Charming.

His facial muscles twitch a little but he remains unconscious. You are not Prince Charming.

About a year ago, you’d started dating Jey Uso. He was so incredibly hot to you that you could barely stand to look at him. He’d joked around with you all the time and rather than come up with your usual retorts, you’d been unable to do anything but giggle uncomfortably. Naomi, who was your closest friend at the time, had sworn up and down that the two of you were perfect for each other.

“Everything that I think makes Jey a dick compared to Jimmy to me makes it like he was meant for you,” she’d gushed.

And she was right. After half a dozen times she’d insisted you ride with them (which had forced you to stay awake), made you eat with them, gotten you to hang out with them, you were totally smitten and you had a pretty good notion the sentiment was mutual. One night, the four of you had gone bowling and you and Jey had just spontaneously started making out. Considering it was girls against boys, it had kind of ruined bowling night. No one had cared.

After that, you’d seen Kevin a lot less. You were a couple and you were more or less connected at the hip to another couple. But after eight or nine months things had started to go sour. And then Naomi and Jimmy got sidelined and it became obvious that you and Jey had stayed cool more or less for their benefit.

You’d been the one to end things. He’d been adamant that what you had was worth fighting for, whereas you knew that the two of you were just too different to mesh in the long term. Being funny and being wrestlers wasn’t enough. It had felt unreal that he’d fought so hard to stop you from leaving him when he hadn’t seemed that happy having you with him. Sometimes, you’d wanted to relent because the good times with him had been some of the happiest of your life. Sometimes, you’d wanted to relent because sex with him had been amazing. But you’d managed to stand your ground, even though your ground left you pretty lonely.

It wasn’t that Naomi didn’t understand, but once you’d broken up with Jey, things with her became awkward. And you were suddenly on lousy terms with Jimmy, who’d been a pal to you. Other friends were hard to talk to because you’d basically dropped them when you’d hooked up with Jey. But Kevin was happy to welcome you back. The two of you fell into the easy, comic interaction you’d had before and it was the first time in months you’d felt like yourself.

A couple of weeks ago, it had gotten weird. Well, not weird. It had gotten sexual. You and Kevin had been excited about the fact that you both had matches on TLC, the first time you'd been on the same PPV. You’d started with actual champagne, or at least whatever sparkling wine the restaurant had in your price range. Then you’d moved on to real wine for your celebratory dinner. Then there was this amazing cocktail bar that had materialized right across the street from your restaurant and it wasn’t like either of you was tired.

You’d been the one to make the move. You’d had a hunch that at some point, Kevin had developed a crush on you, something that had been put on ice during the time you’d been with Jey, but that had started to thaw in the time the two of you had been back to your old ways. You were two drinks into sampling what the cocktail bar had to offer when you’d dove in, smashing your mouth against his and pressing your tongue into his astonished mouth. The two of you had actually ordered a third round but had barely touched the glasses because you were all over each other, making out like horny teenagers before it occurred to you that you could just go back to your hotel and fuck like you were both so eager to do.

And fuck you had. Everything between the bar and being in the hotel room naked was a blur, aside from the fact that you’d been going at it so heavily in the back seat of the cab that the driver got irritated and threatened to throw you out. You’d had a jubilant time throwing each other from one position to another and it seemed like Kevin had made you cum in every single one of them. And yet nothing had been so satisfying as looking at his face when he finally orgasmed, like every part of him, body and soul, released at once. You’d pretty much passed out together, embracing.

When you saw him the next day at the Performance Center, he’d wrapped his arms around you and tried to kiss you in full view of other NXT and WWE personnel. You’d twisted away from him, unsure of what you wanted to do, but knowing you weren’t comfortable just having some new relationship in your life announced to the world without so much as a conversation.

“Sorry,” Kevin had said, head bowed, “was that not ok?”

“No it wasn’t ok,” you responded tartly. “I never said we were a couple or anything. We fucked. We’re friends and we fucked once. That’s it.”

Kevin nodded but it looked more like his head was bobbling after a hard kick. He’d slunk away and the two of you hadn’t seen much of each other in the days since. You’d wanted to talk to him but it seemed like every time you got close to him, he’d run away or rush to the safety of a group of male friends.

At first, you’d told yourself that you just wanted to tell him that you wanted things to go back to normal, but as you thought about things going back to normal, you realized that wasn’t what you wanted at all. Then, on the Friday night before TLC, looking at him as he staggered to the ring and declared to Roman Reigns that he’d take the WWE Universal Title or die trying, you’d realized that you were in love with him. You’d rushed to find him afterward but somehow, he’d eluded your grasp. But the thought remained at the front of your mind: you were completely in love with Kevin Owens.

It had pained you seeing the beating that he took at the hands of Roman and Jey. In theory, Jey was attacking Kevin to ensure that Roman, the head of his tribe, won. In reality, you knew that Jey was dishing out extra punishment because he believed that you’d broken up with him for Kevin. Ok, you had to admit that maybe he’d picked up on something you hadn’t. But it killed you seeing Kevin suffer because of it.

After the match, Kevin had once again eluded you, but that Friday, when he was helped away from his match, bleeding and bitter, you’d been waiting at the top of the ramp. You’d tagged along as they’d laid him onto the stretcher and attached an oxygen mask because they weren’t sure he was breathing properly on his own. And when the EMTs had asked if you were his significant other, you’d immediately nodded and jumped into the ambulance. Kevin had just enough time to look confused about your presence before the IV full of painkillers did its work and he slipped into blissful oblivion.

They’d kept him medicated while they did various scans and scopes to evaluate the extent of the damage he’d suffered. And so, hours later, you were still perched at his side, waiting for him to come around. The doctor had insisted that he was better off asleep since that allowed him to rest and heal. You nodded in understanding, even as you imagined yourself shutting the IV drop off so that you could wake him up and let him know what you were feeling.

You’d memorized every crack in the institutional-standard paint, every scratch on the tile floor, every nuance of the voice that periodically crackled over the loudspeaker, but you were determined that you were going to stay in place. You were going to tell Kevin Owens that you loved him the second he woke up and if he recoiled the way that you had when he’d tried to hug you.

After about a hundred and thirty-eight years, his eyelids flutter and his brown eyes open, still glazed with drugs. It takes a couple of minutes before he registers where he is and who you are and what’s happened.

“How bad is it?” he croaks, his throat crackling from dryness.

You pick up the plastic cup of water on the tray next to the bed and push the attached straw to his lips. He obediently sips, his eyes focusing on you as he recovers himself.

“You took a lot of hits. You weren’t really up to the cage match. So it’s not great,” you inform him.

He twists away from the straw and stares at the ceiling.

“I’ll be fine,” he groans, his neck muscles tensing. “I always am.”

“Yeah, well you’re not going to be fine for a while. So just drink water and relax.”

“I don’t know why you’re here. You don’t need to feel guilty because your boyfriend fucked me up and fucked me over. You can go home.”

“He’s my ex-boyfriend. And I’m not here because of him. I’m here because of you.” You gulp, realizing that your moment has come. “Because I love you.”

Kevin grimaces and his eyes flit towards you but he angles his head away.

He thinks you mean it like a friend, you guess. He doesn’t understand what you’ve just said. You grab his hand and pull yourself closer to him, so that you’re leaning halfway onto the narrow bed with him.

“I love you, Kevin. And I’m sorry I was stupid when you tried to hug me and I’m sorry that I’ve been stupid and haven’t realized it before. But I really love you.”

He doesn’t say anything but he looks at you with an expression of innocence and surprise and he pulls on you a little so that you’re forced to crawl onto the bed with him.

“I’ve been sitting here for about eight hours trying to figure out some wonderful way to say this to you,” you whine. “But now my ass is asleep and my eyes are burning and I can’t think of any other thing to say. I love you. I don’t know how long I’ve felt this way and I don’t know why I never acted on it. I just need you to understand-”

“Ok, ok, I get it,” he says with a sigh. “You love me. That’s great. I love you too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m the one who thought it meant something when we had sex, remember?”

“Hey,” you retort, placing your hand against his jaw and turning him to face you, “I did too. I just didn’t understand what it meant at first.”

Your lips come together softly and then urgently, until he twists away.

“Ow,” he says, rubbing at his jaw.

“Yeah, you definitely took a hit there.”

“You know, every time I hit Jey, I was thinking of you.”

“You know, everyone thinks you deserve to be the champion, but me most of all.”

Giving him a coquettish smile, you allow your hand to trail down to his thigh, curving towards the inner part. You can immediately feel a twitch from the one part of him that is definitely not injured.

Sliding your hand under the thin fabric of his robe, you take hold of his member, already semi-erect, and begin stroking it, swirling your hand over the head and trailing your finger down the sensitive seam, reveling in the grunts and hums of pleasure this elicits from him.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

the sharp cry startles both of you enough that you sit up a little. The nurse, a middle-aged woman with wispy grey-brown hair pulled back from her care-worn face, stares furiously at both of you.

“You can’t be doing anything like that,” she says sharply. “And you can’t just go climbing on the bed.”

Face burning, you slide back into your chair.

“Now sir,” she says, haughtily turning her attention solely to Kevin and averting her gaze from the visible bulge under the thin bed sheet, “how would you describe your pain?”

“Painful,” Kevin quips, making you giggle a little.

“On a scale of one to ten,” she snaps.

“I’m a professional wrestler, so I’d say five was a normal day. Let’s call this a seven and a half.”

“So would you like the doctor to increase your dose of painkillers?”

“No,” he says thoughtfully. “I’d like the doctor to say it’s ok for my girlfriend to curl up in bed with me and take care of me.”

You smile broadly the second you hear him call you his girlfriend.

The nurse rolls her eyes and walks away but as she does, both of you notice her covering her mouth to conceal how hard she’s laughing. Without even thinking, you clasp hands and as you watch her leave the room, you turn to look at each other.

“You mean it?” you ask him.

“Mean what?”

“That I’m your girlfriend.”

“Is there something else you wanna be?”

“I just want to be the woman you’re in love with and the one who you want to come home to.”

“Well that’s a given.”

You lean in and kiss his cheek.

“Ow.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I hit a bruise.”

You let your lips trail over to his eyebrow and press a kiss there.

“Ow.”

“I didn’t notice the cut,” you gush apologetically.

He squeezes your hand and smiles at you, full of his incredible warmth, even though it’s tempered by the drugs he’s receiving.

“Well I love you,” he sighs. “And don’t you worry. I’m about a half a CC of this juice from dragging you onto this bed and having my way with you.”

You wind your hand and arm around his, so that you can pull him close enough for a kiss.

“I hope they up your medication,” you murmur, “just so that I can make you relax while I show you everything I want to do to you.”

#wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #kevin owens fanfiction #kevin owens imagine #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling imagine #wayward wrestle writing

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

Text

Incentive

First prompt for Sokkla Saturdays; a quick one before I head out to work.

After finding her wandering around in a daze, Sokka gives Azula his super cozy, comfort pajamas.

Azula lifts her sleeve and frowns, it droops down and well over her hand. “Th-this is huge.”

“Well if someone didn’t forget to put on clothes today then we wouldn’t have this problem.”

Azula’s face flushes lightly. She sighs and her eyes grow distant. She wonders, for an uncountable amount of times, what is wrong with her. What sort of person forgets to put on clothes? No, it isn’t that she forgot, it is that, at the time, it just made sense to wander outside topless. Her therapist is adamant that this kind of behavior isn’t particularly abnormal for someone with her condition.

Sokka ruffles her hair. “It’s alright, we all…”

“Stroll around the block topless sometimes?”

Sokka sighs. “Do embarrassing things sometimes.”

“Not like this.” Azula mutters. “I don’t even remember why I…” She trails off, suddenly thankful to be buried under excess fabric. If need be she can pull the collar up and over her face.

She does it anyways, at least up to her nose. It smells like him and that is a comfort in itself.

Not that she needs to burry herself in fabric. He pulls her in close and she rests her head against his bear chest. “You don’t happen to know where I left my shirt, do you?”

He shakes his head. “I can help you look for it.”

“No, not now. Can we just…?” She gestures to the sofa.

“Sure thing.” He smiles. He scoops her up and carries her from the kitchen counter to the sofa and gives her hair another ruffle. “I’ll get us something to drink. Is coffee fine?”

“I hate coffee, you know that.” She mutters.

“Just testing!” He declares. “Hot choco?”

Azula nods. She watches him disappear into the kitchen. For a while she stares blankly at the wall, turning over and over in her head, the question of what is wrong with her. There are days, sometimes weeks, without incident. Days where she can pretend like she isn’t touched at all, that her mind is quiet and sturdy and secure. Times when she almost forgets that she needs her medications. And sometimes she forgets so well that she doesn’t take them, she thinks that she no longer needs them.

And then she finds herself wandering around the streets, dazed and topless.

She rubs the sleeve of Sokka’s shirt against her cheek. It isn’t just the sleeve, the entiere sweater is much too large for her. So large and baggy that she can probably get away with wearing it as a dress. And somehow it’s excessive length is soothing. Pacifying.

She stretches herself out on the sofa and rests her cheek against the cushions. She is so tired…

She feels the cushion dip and the scent of melted chocolate meets her nose. There is the sound of a mug carefully knocking against wood. And then the sensation of rubbing on her back. “Guess I should have let you borrow my pajamas huh?”

Azula’s eyes light up. “The flannel ones?”

He nods.

“You still can!”

“Alright, but I don’t let just anyone wear thee flannel pj’s. This is only because you’re really upset.” He gets up and comes back with the coziest looking pajama set in his arms. The ones that she has had her eye on since he wore them on their camping trip last autumn.

A little too enthusiastically, she tosses his shirt to the floor. He opens his mouth to say something but she is certain that he comes to the same conclusion as she; that he has already just seen her topless so where’s the harm in seeing it a second time. She pulls the shirt down and smooths her hands over it. It is so warm and soft. Sensations that work their way into her smile.

She quickly swaps out her jeans for the much cozier pajama pants.

Sokka grins. “There, happy? Now all you need is…” he plucks the still steaming mug from the coffee table and positions it in her hands. “Perfect.”

Azula nods and has herself a sip. “What if I want to keep them?” She brushes her fingers over the sleeves. They are still much too baggy for her and she will probably have to hold the pants up when she stands, they are already slipping down her hips. But they are so comfortable.

“No way! Those are my favorite pj’s!”

She puts the mug to the side and Sokka snuggles up against her. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you wear them whenever you have a rough day like this one. Kay?” He asks. “Just promise me that you’ll try to have good days.”

“I’ll do my best but it’s…”

“I know.” He gives a gentle smile. “I just need you to promise me that you’ll take care of yourself or actually ask for help when you can’t this time.”

“And then I get to use the pajamas?”

Sokka sighs, “yeah.”

“I suppose that you have a deal, Sokka.”

He squeezes her tighter. She supposes that, that is more than enough. But, by God, the pajamas are a wonderful added incentive.

#Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Sokkla Saturdays #Avatart The Last Airbender Critique #Fanfiction

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inkheart01 · 3 years

Text

The Crossover conundrum

Or the DOOM x EFTS crossover nobody but I was interested in

Alternative title: Someone builds a dimensional hole puncher and the first one thru is Doomguy

I'll edit when I have enough brainpower to make words do the pretty thing. Bonapitete. Enjoy. Here's my disaster. adios

The day started like any other, though Calle didn’t know whether to call it day, night, dawn or dusk, or everything and anything in between considering she was floating around in a giant warship in some sector of the galaxy that she had no possible way to pronounce. She took pride in knowing that she was the furthest human away from Earth. No, that was a lie. Last she had checked, Jade was on the other side of the ship. But still, the sentiment was valid.

A rough blow to her shin spurred the young woman out of her stupor. She whipped towards the culprit, who was buried half under a giant ring, deep in the guts of the mechanism. Calle didn’t know what it was and didn’t want to.

Jemma pushed herself out from the behemoth, signing for a helping hand before clambering back under, pale face stained with dirt and mousy hair slick from sweat.

Calle reached towards the nearby mess of supply’s, handing Jemma exactly what she had asked for.

Which meant that moments later, she had front row seats to watch as the girl channelled her inner high schooler and rocket out from under the ring, tossing the literal hand with all the strength and speed of a professional pitcher.

And then she came for Calle, going straight for the talkers ankles as she ran, laughing and crying in mad glee.

Almost lost in the cacophony of joy, the machine beeped loudly, once, twice, three times.

Then it screamed.

Bathing the room in a violent red glow, it sprung to life, gears and cogs churning as it wailed, beeping and flashing in a wild symphony of horror.

The two girls sprung to action, Calle slamming the button to the intercom, screaming over the chaos as Jemma lunged towards the beast, twisting knobs and levers in a mad attempt to silence it. Time seemed to drag on ph so slowly as the two battled against the towering ring, desperate to quell it before the ship tore in half from its quakes.

They almost missed the door shuddering open like a camera, an influx of children and aliens pouring into the room and into action.

Jade was still in her flight suit, and Calle briefly realised that she would have to apologise again. The self-proclaimed pilot never got to fly.

Ian raced to help Jemma with the controls alongside Rochelle and Hunter, the towering aliens orange complexion drowned out by the violent red.

The only one who seemed to sink deeper into the glow was Max, who, alongside Hayley and Bayley and Adam, took up defensive positions around the machine, guns drawn and ready for anything that emerged.

The rest, Calle, Jade, Eviee and Maeve rushed to tear into the machine but were forced back by another shudder.

Which meant that the whole of the Lazarus’ VIP crew had first-class access to the portal swirling with a sickening green, and a metal giant emerging.

Towering and frightening, the human emerged from the portal, shotgun at the ready and so impossibly imposing.

Clad in green armour, the man was a sight.

And then he charged. Far too fast for anything human, he barrelled past Jade, past Ian and Adam. Straight for the triplets standing guard.

Calle cried out a warning, unable to help as the siblings leapt aside, followed closely by the man.

And then, almost in slow motion, the door opened again, revealing the tiny shape of Emily, bathed in light. She stood with her bear clutched tight, eyes wide and searching. “Teddy?”

And the man froze, turning to the six-year-old in shock.

Taking the moment of opportunity, Max lunged, all 11feet and 4inches of alien crashing into the man like a freight train.

But the man was quicker, spinning out of the Rashikk’s way. But he didn’t account for the aliens head-tail.

Quick as a whip, the length shot forward, desperately trying to wrap around his armoured neck, but with little luck. And so Max lunged again, dodging the arm blade and pulling the man to the floor with a strength that anyone who had seen a Rashikk fight, would know was a mere fraction of their might.

And anyone who knew Max, also knew that he was just waiting for an opportunity to unleash hell.

And that presented itself in the armoured man on the floor, who, with startling strength, pushed the alien off and lunged for his Shotgun, the weapon having been knocked aside in the calamity.

But Adam was faster, nimble and quick, he scrabbled for the gun, tossing his rifle to Calle who easily slid into his place, gun aimed at the man and finger on the trigger. Adam slid under the man's arm, gun in hand as the warship lurched.

The armoured man slid, unaccustomed to Vivaane’s piloting, or the alarming nimbleness of the Lazarus, and Max took the opportunity to force the man's helmet off and knocking him out in the process.

Hours later, after the crews buzzing had died down, Captain Kalishnamara strode was not the medical wing, intent on finding out what the incident was this time.

But nothing could prepare her for what she saw when the doors opened.

Eight humans flitted around the room, Emily was perched on Max’s bed, bear in her lap as she laughed at her adopted father's antics. Eviee and Jemma, ever the scientists, were drilling into the half armoured man confined to the room, a dark robot at his side, translating. Jade, Rochelle and Ian were watching, transfixed as the Rashikk triplets tried and failed to beat Adams score for the fastest time to take apart and re-assemble a gun.

And then there was the Askiir, Maeve, the one she trusted the least, who was hovering nervously around Eviee. She had nothing against him personally, but when one gas the ability to manipulate emotions, there will always be a slight distrust, at least in her experience, Eviee seemed fine with the lanky bug.

Jade was the first to notice Kalishnamara and snapped to attention seconds before everyone else, bare the two newcomers, and Emily who was using the wrong hand, but no one held that against her, and if they did, the Lazarus fleet was always ready for a hunt.

“At ease. Alright, I’ll keep it simple. Someone’s already given me the incident report and I’ll get around to it when I have the patience”, Eviee made quick work of translating the Rashikk’s odd symphony of clicks and whistles that made up their spoken language. “All I want to know is if there is a body count”

“Not today”, Bayley answered cheekily, earning a laugh from those in the room that could understand, and leaving the last two to Waugh’s for Eviee translation.

“Good. Let’s keep it that way a little longer”, finally moving from the doorway, she stalked towards the newest members of her VIP crew, noting something peculiar in the way they communicated.

Leaning down as not to be overheard, she motioned to Jemma. “You both speak in the language of hands, yet you cannot understand each other without translations. Why is this?”. Though she was still not fluent in Jemma’s hand language, she understood enough of the basics to cobble together a sentence.

‘Different hand language. Different Home’

“I see. Thank you”. The captain rose to her full height, and the man glared, unknowingly annoyed at feeling oddly small not once, nor twice, but three times since coming through the portal. Was this what everyone else felt when he walked past?

Eviee dutifully translated the aliens oddly melodic language, a strange sound to come from creatures so adept at war.

“On behalf of the Crew and Residents, I welcome you aboard the Lazarus” the robot thanked her, introducing himself and the man. Flynn and Vega. Odd names, but who was she to judge. “I am Captain and Fleet Commander Kalishnamara. But you may call me Lisa. It is a nickname, as I am told.

“You will be regarded as VIP guests while aboard, much like everyone in this room. Please, referring from breaking any of my men why we try to get you home. Now, any questions?”

“Just one actually”, Vega spoke up, “how can you understand them?”

It took Lisa an embarrassingly long time to realise that the robot had been talking to Eviee, who was desperately hiding her laughter from the confused Captain. But still, she managed to pull her source up and reveal the thick golden band around her bicep. “Universal translator. It hurt like hell but is incredibly useful. The downside, both speaking parties have to have one to be able to communicate.”

Flynn turned to look towards Emily, who was squealing as Max and Rochelle bickered.

“What’s the diagnosis doc?”

“You want my diagnosis? Your gonna fuckin die!”

“Don’t worry about her”, Eviee waved off the giants concern. “She doesn’t have one. We’re working on an alternative”

At that same moment, Lisa turned towards Max. “I was told that no major injuries were sustained. Why are you in Ned at?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. The beds are just comfortable”

Lisa sighed as she left the room, muttering about needing a drink. Followed by Jade, Calle, Ian and Adam, the rest of the Chaos club, two aliens, a robot and a confused mountain of a man and a six-year-old and her stuffed bear.

The day ended like any other, in that the Days without Incident board was wiped clean, five new reports were written up, and the crew was abuzz. The only new thing being that the armoury was now locked, indefinitely.

#EFTS #DOOM #God these kids #its a wonder there still fucking alive #Doomguy: Sees child #Also Doomguy: The fuck is you?#G/T #If you squint #Minigiants maybe #my writing #FUCK YEAH EFTS #Escape From The Stars

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tsarinastorm · 4 years

Text

Until Somebody Stops Having Fun-Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 1

Rating: Explicit

You met Adam at a party at the bookstore you owned. The bookstore would host poetry nights, book clubs, release parties, and numerous other events. You were even working on developing an app for your store to help bring it into the twenty-first century. You had moved to New York on a whim, deciding to pursue writing yourself, then you ended up merging writing with your legal background to become a literary agent. You loved helped getting writers the best possible contracts, through that you met Andy, who left you the bookstore. Andy decided to take an early retirement and spend his time traveling. Not a relationship person, you had liaisons or flings, however whatever this was with Adam felt different.

Things with Adam were still new, only two weeks, and it was still very exciting. He had been coming over every other night, you’d hook up, talk, and get a bite to eat. He’d normally sneak out after you fell asleep, he’d be quiet and lock up. Then he’d message you one or two days later asking if you could meet again and if he could come over. Tonight, he was coming over after his theater rehearsal, and he said he was bringing takeout. You had never talked about what you were, if anything at all besides fuck buddies, and a part of you wanted to clear the air, while the other part didn’t want to mention it in case it would ruin whatever you had. You didn’t want a relationship yet but you had wanted some clear title on the situation.

You throw on a cozy sweater, take off your bra, and then put on a pair of cheekie underwear. You decide to veg out since you had some free time and it would still be a while before Adam would show up. Your two dogs, Benji and Barney, beagle mix brothers you rescued, join you on the couch. After you put on the same show you’ve been binge-watching lately, and before you know it you’re dozing off.

TWO WEEKS AGO

This was a limited release party hosted by one of your friends, and things seemed to be going well until you could hear an altercation taking place. When you move towards the scene, you can see a petite blonde woman screaming at a large, dark-haired man. Before you can step in between them, she takes her drink and throws at him, the liquid going all over his face, hair, and shirt. As you go towards the woman to tell her to get out before you call the police, she’s out the door. The man tries to dry himself off and is somehow un-stunned by the woman’s reaction. You go up to him, offer him a napkin. He takes it and says, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Hold on, I have towels in the back. C’mon.” You say and you can tell the man takes a moment to register your statement because there’s a pause before he follows you. Trotting towards the back linen closet, you can’t help but look over your shoulder at the man. First, he’s much taller than you, and broad-shouldered. Second, he’s got a unique looking face that you find very attractive. And the hair, you’re a sucker for good hair. Your night has definitely become more interesting. You can see him eying you up too, or at least you hope that’s what he’s doing.

You hand the man the towel, and he gives you a slight smile. As he wipes himself off, he says again, “Thanks, you really didn’t have to help me.”

“Now, c’mon I couldn’t just let that happen, unless you deserved it.” You say as he hands you the towel back, and you notice how his hand brushes yours ever so lightly. He raises his eyebrows and says, “That happens a lot with us. I usually deserve it.”

“Did you cheat? Are you an abusive asshole?” You ask and he shakes his head no to your inquiry. You tell him, “Then you didn’t deserve that.”

“I’m Adam, by the way. Adam Sackler.” He says and offers you his hand. You take it and introduce yourself to him. He then asks, “Do you work here? You look familiar.”

“I actually own it. That’s why I know where all the towels and good stuff is. I’m also an agent, hence the party.” You answer and you see him smile at you. “Damn that’s impressive. I’m an actor and I write some too. I did a short film not long ago.”

“Aren’t you the Torpica guy?” It clicks in your head that’s why he looks vaguely familiar. He however, looks embarrassed and starts defending himself, “Shamefully yes. I routinely get told from guys that they can’t get their dick hard on Torpica.”

You laugh at his last comment before asking him, “Broadway or non-Broadway?”

“Broadway for now. I’m in The Seagull.” You’re impressed, The Seagull is one of your favorites, and Broadway is always huge for actors. He must be talented you think to yourself. His eyes lock onto yours like a predator locking unto prey. Just not yet though. You move slightly away from him and start walking back to the party. He follows you, and soon the two of you are mingling with others at the party like you never met.

Honestly, you’re a bit disappointed because you thought that was going somewhere. Maybe that’s why the girl threw her drink on him in the first place. It was New York after all, you could end up seeing him again and again, or he’d become a ghost you’d only see once. Time would tell.

********

Apparently, Adam would not be rid of so easily. The next day your shop opens, he strolls in within a half-hour of opening. At first, he tries to appear oblivious, looking through the shelves, then stealing a glance from you before he finally decides to approach you. You smile and he gives you a crooked smile that makes your heart flutter.

“Hey, I guess I wanted to see you again.” Adam says when he’s only feet in front of you. You raise your eyebrows in fake shock, step away from the register, then ask, “Really? Are you intrigued?”

“Very, very intrigued.” He says and his eyes stay locked with yours. The sensuality is practically rolling off this guy, even if he’s not the best at small talk. You’re going to have to step it up a notch than you usually use on your conquests, so you ask, “What do you want to know about me?”

“Everything. Or whatever you want me know.” He stammers, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. You begin moving around the store, Adam joins you, and you chuckle as you tell him, “Good catch. Not looking for a stalker.”

Before you know it, the two of you are in chairs side by side in the classics nook on the upper level. You had to have your employee, Annie, cover your post downstairs. Adam had been here for two hours, and the two of you talked bad dates and bad nights. You were surprised to hear that a woman throwing a drink on him wasn’t even in his top ten. You then moved onto your favorite books, writers, poets. Then he says, “You’re a fan of the classics, then?”

“I certainly am. But how did you know? My favorites were varied.” You ask back, leaning into him, then you take a drink of your coffee. He responds with, “This the first real place you took me in this big store. We’ve been here the longest.”

“You do pay attention. It’s very calming up here.” You stand up and start browsing the shelves that you already check every day. Adam comes up beside you and you can feel the heat rolling off his body. The two of you start talking about the classics: which ones are overrated, which ones are underrated, and which are wrongly categorized. He asks you what you’re currently reading and he’s surprised that you’re on a poetry kick, mainly a female poetry kick. He confesses he’s read a lot of Chekhov to help him with the role. This chitter-chatter between you feels effortless and natural, even when it’s awkward at times. When his eyes hit 100 Years of Solitude, he adds, “I once dated a girl who was related to Gabriel Garcia Marquez.”

“Okay, I’ll admit you certainly live a very interesting life. Now I’m curious about your other relationships? Mainly the girl who caused the scene in my store.” You say and you’re wondering if he’ll open to you, or if the wall will come up. It’s really none of your business, but the fact he brushed off that incident with the drink makes you wonder what his love life must normally be like.

“That was Jessa, and that was a whole clusterfuck of a situation. It was batshit crazy. But it’s kind of a long story.” He admits and runs his hands through his hair. You turn to smirk at him, angling your body to lean against the bookshelf while you purposefully graze your fingers along the back of his hand, “I have time.”

Then, you hear about his soapbox of past relationships. Hannah, fuck Hannah, Natalia, also a bitch, MiMi Rose, who was just awful, and Jessa, queen of toxicity. That’s why you never really wasted time dating or in relationships, they get so fucked up so fast. You listen to his side of the story, only commenting to let him know you’re still paying attention to him. He has flaws like anyone does but you can’t imagine anyone treating him poorly. Adam seemed like a sincere and genuine person. He then tells you, “You know, I don’t think anyone’s ever just listened to me before. Except you, that was nice.”

“No problem, I’m sorry you’ve had such rough luck in relationships.” You say back and you really didn’t mind listening to him. He was funny, charming, and nice to be around, listening to him was easy.

“I brought most of it on myself. What about you?” He admits. That’s the million dollar question. Every guy you’ve ever been interested in or has been interested in you, wants to know. You hate discussing it, and normally you’d leave mystery around it, but Adam was open and honest with you. You should be open and honest with him.

“I don’t really date or do relationships. I’ve had one serious boyfriend in the last five years.” Your eyes drift downwards even though you try to prevent them from giving in. What it is about this man that makes you feel vulnerable and is turning your world upside down after two days? Adam gently places his hand on your shoulder, trying to cheer you up from your sudden downshift in mood. When you look up at him, his amber eyes look confused like he’s trying to work out a difficult math problem in his mind. He finally asks you, “Why not? No doubt you must have men crawling over you all the time.”

“Commitment issues. It’s just not my thing.” You try to brush it off. Adam’s not fazed by your negativity or your attempt to push him away. It seems to strengthen his resolve.

“Well, if you think that’s going to deter me, you don’t know how persistent I can be.” He says while giving you a smile. Most men you would blatantly shot down by now, or you would eat them alive, but something about Adam felt right, and it felt good. And it terrified you.

*****

The next evening, he shows up as you’re closing up the shop. You invite him to come with you to a party, and you’re surprised that he agrees without hesitation. The party is in a penthouse in Noho, owned by one of your acquaintances. She was the type who was born into money, so she hopped from thing to thing, been in and out of school several times. She was one of your writers, for a short time before she moved onto something else, but apparently she liked you well enough to invite you to her ragers. You and Adam make your way towards the bar, where you order your usual drink and you’re surprised when he orders seltzer water.

“You don’t drink?” You ask. He tells you, “I’m an alcoholic.”

“Damn, if I had known I wouldn’t have invited you here. I didn’t even think.” You feel bad, you just assumed he wouldn’t have a problem with the party. Now you felt bad that you could be tempting him or making him feel uncomfortable. It must show on your face because he leans in, and touches your shoulder saying, “It’s really okay. Don’t feel bad about it.”

You nod your head, and you eye the dance floor. He watches you, then he offers his hand, and asks you dance. He has crazy dance moves and you can’t hide how it makes you smile. You throw your classic, go-to moves. Then he pulls you into him, spins you and dips you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. You come back up, and your body is flush against his, you can feel every muscle he has, even his heart beating in his chest. You can smell his cologne, and you’re feeling lightheaded, not from the alcohol but from him.

Adam’s face is inches from you, you can feel his breath on your cheek. You think he’s leaning to kiss you, but instead his hand moves to the small of your back as he whispers in your ear, “Want to get out of here?”

“Sure.” You smile, he grabs your hand and you move your way through the crowd.

*****

About an hour later, you’re sitting in this eclectic diner across from Adam and you’re still trying to read him. He’s certainly very interesting and tells you about himself while at the same time telling you nothing really. You decide to appraise him with your three question game.

“Bookstore, e-book, or audio book?” You ask as you take a drink of coffee. His answer is bookstore. Check. “London, Paris, or Florence?” “Mac and cheese, sushi, or Mexican?” “Fitzgerald, Wilde, Kafka?” “How do you take your coffee?” He answers all of your questions satisfactorily. You’ve decided that you’re taking him home tonight, but you have to check off a few more rational boxes first.

“Criminal record?” This one makes him laugh and he explains how his one ex called the cops on him. You think he’s explained enough, so you move on to the next major question. “Married or in a relationship?”

“Single” He says with emphasis. He already explained that the British blonde chick was Jessa, his ex who he still fucked sometimes. Next, “STDs,” you ask coolly, watching closely for any reactions. He answers with, “I’m clean and get routinely checked.”

“Where do you live?” He tells you Prospect Heights, and that is a shock to you though he does definitely strikes you as a Brooklyn guy. Then, the most important question you do a drum roll on the table before leaning in to ask in a low voice, “How often do you masturbate?’

“Twice a day at least,” he says like it’s no big deal, like you just asked him his favorite food. You can’t hold back a laugh. You’re pleased with his honesty, and raise your hand to request the check. Then, the two of you were in your apartment, with him fucking you from behind on the couch. You later moved to your bedroom, where you rode him, then you woke up that morning to him eating you out. So yeah, you were impressed. You had never had that many orgasms from a partner before.

Later that morning, after he makes you eggs for breakfast, he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, you lean into him. After giving your head a quick kiss, he says, “We should do this again sometime. I had a good time, I think you had a good time. Or I can take you a date.”

You feel yourself tense involuntarily. Adam removes himself from you, so he’s now standing in front of you, waiting for an explanation. It’s not fair how perfect he looks, how are you supposed to have this conversation when an Adonis is standing in front of you? You tell him, “It’s not you. It’s me. I’m not really the dating type, relationships make me feel claustrophobic.”

“Really? I don’t believe you” He says in a sing-song voice as he leans in to press kisses on your each of your cheeks, and then down your neck. Your hands go straight to his hair again to lace through the soft tresses. You feel your voice get airy and your concentration starts to go as you say, “Yeah, I’m too busy, kind of self-involved, and I’m not the type who goes to meet your family, goes out for anniversaries or anything.”

“So what do you do then?” He murmurs against the skin of your collarbone, where he’s now left a bruise. His lips don’t stop caressing your skin, grazing the tops of your breasts, and you can feel his hand slip the back of your thigh. You grab onto his hair, and bring his face to meet yours. His pupils are darkened with lust, and you answer his question with, “Liaisons. I do liaisons.”

Adam inches forward to kiss you softly, and it’s you that asks for more, running your tongue along his bottom lip. He grants you entrance as his hands go to cup your face, then rest on your neck. You’re stunned by the passion and sweetness of this kiss, you really might be a goner for this guy. He pulls away, his face turns serious, then he tells you, “I promise I won’t take you to meet my family, but I do really like you so no long term promises.”

“I can guarantee that you’ll want me to meet your family. I like you too.” You chuckle back, and he starts laughing too. His large hands palm your ass, before moving upward to rest at your waist. This affection is nice, nearly addictive. His eyes flicker when he asks, “What happens now?”

“We fuck. Hard.” You say and he’s on you kissing you, as he picks you up to head towards the bedroom once again.

********

PRESENT

You’re awoken from your nap by Adam buzzing into your apartment. The noise makes Benji and Barney howl slightly. You try to shush them as you go to let Adam in. Once you open the door, he eyes you up and down. You suddenly feel self-conscious because you’re still not really dressed and your hair is up in a messy bun. Adam looks like he wants to eat you.

“You look hot as fuck.” He says and quickly follows you inside. You barely make it through the door before he’s on you. He drops the takeout, and his jacket to press you against the door. His lips crush yours, and his tongue is instantly licking into your mouth. Your hands fly around his shoulders to run through his hair as he grinds his hips into you, he’s rock hard already. His lips descend upon your neck while his hand makes its way into your panties. His fingers waste no time dragging along your wet folds.

“So wet, already? My dirty slut ready for my cock?” He taunts while his thumb circles your clit, and he thrusts his middle and index finger into you. You moan while his other hand squeezes your tits. You’re going to cum soon if he doesn’t slow down, apparently he’s in that kind of mood because your moans only encourage him to add more pressure, and rub circles fervently. You feel the pleasure build in your lower stomach, and creep down your legs, then Adam abruptly stops his ministrations to your chagrin.

“Ah, what the fuck?” you groan. Adam’s fingers are still between your legs, his thumb drawing light circles on your clit. He looks so smug, with a sly smile and blown out pupils.

“You didn’t answer my question. Answer and you’ll get to come.”

“Yes, your dirty slut is ready for your cock, Please let me come.” His thumbs presses down on your clit again, and thrusts his fingers into you, crooking up to your spot. Then your orgasm rocks through, leaving your muscles to clench, while your head drops to your shoulders. He watches you as you come down, then he picks you, you wrap your legs around his waist. You kiss him everywhere your lips can reach and your hands search under his shirt for his skin. He sets you down on top of your table with your legs spread wide, and he’s placed himself in between them.

You reach to pull off his shirt as he then pulls yours off too. He then turns to your panties and they’re quickly removed from you. As you kiss him, your hands unbuckle his belt, unbutton his jeans and start working his cock. Your hand jerks his cock and spreads the bead of precum around the tip. He moans and thrust into your hand.

“Can’t wait any longer to fuck you.” He says as he guides his cock into you. You lean back nearly flat against the table and pull your legs up to give him the deepest angle. His thrusts start off rough and hard, then are more drawn out, leaving you both moaning. He picks up the pace again, you can hear the sound of your bodies slapping together, his balls smacking against your ass. He leans into to kiss you, you hitch your leg behind his hip, while his hand sneaks down to work your clit. Your second orgasm is building fast and you can tell from his thrusts he’s close too.

“Ah, I’m gonna come!” You shout, then you clench around him. There’s filth coming out of his mouth.

“ Fuck, your cunt is milking is my cock! Such a cumslut! Where does my cumbucket want me to cum?” He says jaggedly. You tell him, “Cum on my tits, I want you to cum on my tits.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses as he pulls out and pumps himself. Soon, there’s streams of his cum on your chest and on your stomach. You both catch your breath, then he kisses you sweetly, retrieves his shirt and cleans you up. You thank him and get up to recover the takeout that he left by the door. Silently, you heat up a plate for yourself then one for him. You take the plates over to your coffee table in front of your couch. Adam looks very distressed for some unknown reason, you hope he didn’t want to actually eat on that table after you fucked on it.

“Adam, is something wrong?” You finally ask while you shovel food in your mouth. You’re starving so if he’s having a post-coital meltdown it will have to coincide with dinner.

“Are you mad at me?” He asks and you have no idea why he thinks that you’re mad.

“No, why would I be mad?” You ask.

“You know I have no idea what I say before I cum. I didn’t mean anything I said about you” He answers and looks down.

“Oh my gosh, I’m not mad at you. Do you seriously think I’d let you stay here if I was offended or thought you meant it?” You tell him. What he said during sex didn’t bother you at all, that was how dirty talk worked. Of course he didn’t mean it seriously.

“I guess not.” He says then smiles before finally digging into the takeout.

“I happen to like your dirty talk, I find it very sexy.” You say and stand up to take your plate to the dishwasher. You’re sure to perk your ass out as you walk in front of him, enjoying seeing how his eyes follow you.

The next morning you wake to find yourself surrounded by a hulk of man sleeping beside you, or precisely, partially on top of you. Adam must have stayed the night after round two. You had always considered yourself in touch with your sexuality, but with Adam you felt utterly insatiable, always wanting more. No matter how many times you came. You maneuver out of bed towards shower. You let the hot water relax you, then as you’re lathering up, Adam joins you.

After yet another round of fucking, you’re now both fully dressed and ready to go about your days. The two of you walk out of your apartment building, and once you’re on the street, he pulls you flush against him, asking, “When can I see you again?”

“Don’t get attached to me, I’ll break your little heart. But you really want to do this?” You ask and he nods his head yes. This would be your time to define this relationship. You pull him back in the street to give the two of you some privacy. He says, “I want to do whatever you want me to do. No labels, or labels, I don’t give a shit. I want to be with you.”

“Alright. Friends with benefits then. I’m free from Sunday to Tuesday afternoons, but sometimes catch up on work those days. I work long hours at the store on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday because there are readings, book clubs and releases. I hate getting up early in the morning, and am monster without coffee. In the bedroom, I like some choking, bdsm. I’ll try any toy, I’ve never done anal but I’m willing to try it with the right partner. I’m on birth control but I’d still prefer you to wear condoms and come outside sometimes. Just don’t come in my hair. But I’m sure you already know half of that.” You say, taking a deep breath and he’s followed your whole statement as evidence by his slightly amused face. He kisses you deeply, pushing you against the brick wall and says, “I think can do all of those things.”

“I’ll come by your place, tonight then.” He says as he walks down the street and you smile and nod your assent. You’re looking forward to seeing him again, and wonder how long he’ll stick around. Normally, your dalliances never lasted more than a month or two, but Adam was unique.

#adam sackler #adam sackler x reader #adam driver #adam sackler smut #reader insert

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loveafterthefact · 4 years

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Love After the Fact Chapter 17: On the Road

Keith works on his leadership skills, and mends his relationship with one of the respected members of castle staff.

First Previous Next

There’s a knock at the library doors before they open. Keith sets his datapad and tablet aside, managing a smile that’s more polite than anything else. Lance smiles back, far more genuine. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Wanna get out of here?”

“What, like out of the library?”

“Out of the castle.” Lance dances into the room, gossamer cloak sweeping the floor. Keith notices that his lips are painted, his eyes lined with a gold kohl. He’s wearing more ornaments in his ears than normal. So long as he himself doesn’t have to put that kind of effort into anything, he’d be delighted to get out of the castle for a bit. “What are you reading?”

“Atra Yelverton’s ‘The Natural Art of Leadership’. It’s… dense. I don’t like what he says, either.”

“Which bit, specifically?” Lance peers over at the tablet.

“Yelverton says that ‘a true leader possesses charisma, an inherent trait that can neither be learned nor taught. Additionally, many of the qualities which an effective leader possesses are inborn as opposed to learned.’ In other words, he says that leaders are born, not made.”

Keith’s ears droop. He’s aware he’s not a leader. He’s quiet and stunted and knows more about roughing it in the wild than he does leading anything.

“Well, you'll be pleased to know that while there is some truth to his teachings, he’s also been proven largely discredited. Skills that make someone a leader can be learned and applied, though certain people are more effective leaders than others and some are not effective at all.” Lance gently takes Keith’s hand, guides him to his feet. He gathers his spouse’s datapad, leaving the tablet at his desk.

"So what makes the difference?"

“See, everyone is born with a base quintessence, right? Blue, yellow, green, red, purple, or black. Some, usually people who are exceptionally complex or who are transitioning, have a blend of two or even more.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Certain-” The Altean squeaks as he bumps into the seamsmaster turning a corner. “Hello, Ventroneius. So sorry!”

“Your Majesties! Good morning!” The turquoise-scaled Altean smiles, pushing their powder-blue hair out of their eyes.

“How are Anahal and Orzal?” Lance asks, carrying himself and his spouse through formal pleasantries. Keith tries to learn his tricks.

“Anahal is as beautiful as ever and Orzal is teething and thus eating the furniture whenever our eyes aren’t on him. So, wonderful, really! How about yourselves?” So Anahal is their spouse and Orzal must be their son.

“We’re doing well, thank you. Today we’re going into town. I think it might do some good for Keith to be seen amongst the commonwealth. They have quite a negative idea of him, since they’ve not yet actually seen him.”

“They do indeed. I've heard the courtiers laughing about it. The commonwealth fancies him quite the monster, I can tell you. I think they imagine him more Zarkon’s size, to be honest.”

Keith sighs. He’s standing right here, and Vetroneius won’t even acknowledge him. It rather hurts his feelings, if he’s honest with himself. Although he did hurt Vetroneius’ feelings when they first met… Did he ever apologize?

“Well, I won’t keep you. I can tell you’re itching to get somewhere. You’ve grown a spot or two since last winter Crown Prince Lancel, so do come down to be fitted for a new cloak soon. Bring Prince Yorak with you.”

“Will do! See you then!” Lance tries to pull them along, but Keith hangs back, calling after the seamsmaster. Lance put them back on being-in-the-same-room terms, now it's up to him to work out the rest. If he can.

“Vetroneius!”

The Altean in question turns, eyebrow raised in question.

“I- Um. I’m sorry. A-about the gloves. It’s- They took my knife first thing when I got here, and- My claws were all I had left to defend myself with. I didn’t realize the significance they held and I didn’t explain why I didn’t want to wear them and-” Keith sighs. “I’m sorry I ruined them. I know you worked hard to make them for me.”

The Altean studies him for a moment, face inscrutable. “It must have been quite alarming, to arrive in a place that is meant to be your new home, and be treated like a criminal upon your arrival.” Vetroneius sighs. “Nevermind, your Majesty. From this moment forwards, let’s consider it a fresh start between us, shall we?”

“Yes. Thank you. For everything.”

Vetroneius smiles, bowing deeply, and Keith gives him a small bow in return before Lance squeezes his hand, tugs him along toward the gate. “Come on! We have to get shreika from the stables before we can go!”

Shreika are nothing like red elk. They have four legs with four toes ending in little hooves, are covered in green and pink scales, have a ridge of spines down their necks, and a tail full of feathers. They also have forked tongues. One opens its mouth to shriek and it sounds like a screaming baby.

“Why does it sound like that?!” Keith yelps.

“I’ve no idea. It’s unnerving, though, isn’t it? But despite their looks, they’re quite lovely. Though there was an unfortunate incident with a shreika and one of Allura’s mice once… Chu was fine, thank the Ancients, but we learned a lesson that day.”

"Lesson being?"

"Mice are delicious."

“And it’s just like riding an elk?”

“I’m not sure I know what that is. You squeeze it with your legs to make it go or go faster and you use the reins to tell it which direction to go?” Lance clicks his tongue and his shreika lowers its front legs into a kneeling position. Keith hesitantly does the same, swinging his leg over the saddle. To his relief, nothing horrible or embarrassing happens and the shreika gets to its feet without incident.

“Where are we going?” Keith asks, squeezing the animal’s side with his legs. It moves oddly, with a sort of side-to-side motion like a grounded sky lizard. It’ll take some getting used to.

“I was thinking the local florist. They have a more concentrated variety of plants, so we might pick a few different things to try in our garden.”

“It’s going to get crowded in there soon.”

“I know. Adam’s already on it. We might set aside a section of the grounds for you. Adam could teach you a few things… I’m glad I made that garden. You seem to really like it.”

“I like being outside. Grew up outside, for the most part. Only came inside to sleep, really. More recently, living in castles, I find the enclosed space makes me uncomfortable.”

They approach the gate, the one the guards wouldn’t open the few times Keith hand bothered to try.

“State your name and business,” a guard demands.

“Their Majesties Crown Prince Lancel and Prince Yorak. Our business is our own. Open the gates.”

With a single wave of the guard’s hand, the white metal gates opened without a sound. Keith thinks to himself that a gate should make some noise, so that people might hear if it is being moved when it’s not supposed to be. He might take the futile step to mention it to Alfor.

The ride down the hill from the Castle of Lions into City Square is a long one, taking just over a varga. Keith hardly minds. The animals are singing, the trees chiming in the breeze. Various flowers hum and resonate. The sky is a cloudless blue overhead, the sun shining cheerfully.

It’s only the second time in over a phoeb that Keith has smelled free air.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? I haven’t left the castle since… Quiznak, it’s been more than two phoebs now. I married you, and before that I had my birthday nonsense to deal with.”

“I was born on the dark of the moons,” Keith offers, hoping Lance might find it interesting.

“Say what now?”

“On the night I was born, both of our moons were new, meaning that they were dark. It’s rare.”

“Wow. All I know about moons is from my studies. We don’t have a moon, obviously.”

Keith sucks on his bottom lip for a moment. “You can see one of them sometimes. From here, I mean. It looks almost like a star; very tiny.”

“Will you show me?” Lance is excited, the little pink spots in his blue opal eyes glittering as he offers Keith an open grin.

“Sure.” Keith smiles.

The moment Lance's back is turned, he scowls. Lance is one of those people where every time he smiles, the people around him smile, including Keith. There's something about him that makes Keith want to make him smile more. He doesn't like it.

Except he does.

"Do you know a lot about the stars? I always wanted to learn, but I never got around to it. Too busy with other things."

"My father taught me. I know their names, but your sky is a bit different."

"Will you teach me? I'd love to learn. I've always wanted to see the stars. Go to space. It's so romantic, out there with so many opportunities and things to discover."

"I learned a long time ago. I'll teach you what I remember." Keith sighs. "It is beautiful in space. You feel... free. Like you could go anywhere. Do anything. Be anyone."

Keith's ears droop, tail limp against his mount's scaly hide. He remembers the one and only time he found himself in space.

Say the word, and we will never reach Altea. I swear it.

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #galra keith #altean lance #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

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collecting-stories · 5 years

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Dreams - Daryl Dixon

Request: Ready for it, Taylor for Daryl please ? - anon requested.

A/N: Probably not exactly what you had in mind but I love this hook/chorus and wanted to make it the main focal point of the fic. Sorry, I took some poetic liberties.

In the middle of the night, in my dreams, you should see the things we do, baby, I know I’m gonna be with you - ...Ready For It, Taylor Swift

\\\

Your chin rested in your palms, elbows on knees as you took what was likely the most relaxed watch position in history. The thirty plus days without incident, as documented by the rummaged sign Beth proudly displayed in her cell, was making you lazy. So much so you considered, for a brief moment, wearing shorts to watch. It was hot out and the metal death trap twenty or so feet off the ground felt like it was roasting you alive most days and lately you’d been drawing the short straw - midday watch.

The only promising factor was that Daryl was back from the four-day run he and Michonne had embarked on. Which meant he was helping Rick plough. Which meant you could stare at him instead of the disgusting post-dead clinging to the fences. He was, naturally, unaware of your stalkerish staring but then oblivious, emotionally unavailable men were your type. He’d been even more checked out since Merle died, reserving any moments of camaraderie for Michonne or Rick or Carol. That wasn’t surprising. They’d found you somewhere between the farm that burned down (so the story goes) and this prison and they’d been good enough to take you in, just like they’d done for these folks from Woodbury, but you weren’t one of them. Still an outsider to the group the most they offered you was a scrap of conversation here and there. Glenn and Maggie, and Lori before she died, had been the kindest. Even bratty Beth with her moodiness and her self-revolving universe was nicer than most. Michonne was nice, but she had been an outsider too. An asset that lost the status pretty quickly, most of the time you missed each other. She was on watch at odd hours. And besides, it was Daryl you really wanted to talk to.

Like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

You’d been nothing special prior to this. And they’d found you after a rough patch, accosted by a group before theirs you’d been hiding in the back of a minivan and Daryl had opened the door on you, sending you both into a minor panic. Hershel had bandaged the sprained ankle you had and Lori had offered some of the Tylenol in her bag to ease the pain from the bruises on your face. Healed by now you only had occasional trouble from your ankle which was why Rick always put you on watch and never assigned you a run or asked you to fix the traps outside of the fences.

The complacency was making you go a little stir crazy. Or more than a little, judging by the entire hours that you spent daydreaming about Daryl.

“How are you killing anything if your gun is no where near you?” Glenn asked, nudging your side with the rifle you’d left inside the watchtower while you sat outside.

“Don’t remind me.” You sighed, taking the gun and laying it across your lap.

Glenn sat down beside you, just as relaxed. “What are they doing?”

“Building a fence for the pigs?” You shrugged. “I’m not sure, I’m just in it for the view.”

“Imagine if you spoke to him like a normal person.” Glenn teased. You had become quick friends with Glenn and he was privy to most of you new-world secrets, including your infatuation with Daryl.

“I talk to him all the time in my head.”

“That doesn’t make you sound crazy.”

“No crazier than the rest of us.” You shrugged.

“Hey, kid!” And wasn’t that the other problem? That of all the nicknames Daryl could have possibly chosen to bestow on you he had gone with ‘kid’ as if you were Carl or Beth’s age and not in fact, in your late twenties.

You leaned through an opening in the railing to gaze down at him. Tanner than usual from the sun, a hint of a burn forming on his shoulders and you were mentally running through the list of odd items collected in your cell to see if you had any aloe you could offer him before that started to peel. When you continued to stare Glenn cleared his throat and nudged you.

“Sorry, what’s up?” You asked.

“Ya wanna see how to check the traps?”

You’d been bugging for weeks to help in a capacity greater than sitting around in this tower everyday but you imagined the most you’d get was babysitting duty or helping Hershel should anyone feel a little under the weather. The only thing more surprising than being given an actual task was that Daryl was the one offering up his assistance.

“Yeah, totally.” Way to sound like an adult, you nearly cringed at the sound of your own overtly excited voice.

Being outside the fence again you were bombarded with the same feelings you’d been fending off before you met the group. That anxious bubble of dread was just under your skin and you could feel yourself zoning out. It didn’t help that Daryl was just a few steps ahead of you, leading the way further into the woods as scenarios of all the ways this could go bad ran through your mind.

That and how good Daryl made living in the middle of an apocalypse look. How could someone manage to look both gross and fuckable at the same time? Maybe it said less about him and more about your absolute devotion to this infatuation with him that you were thinking about how much you wanted him to shove you up against a tree right in the middle of the fucking forest.

“Ya paying attention?” Daryl’s voice broke your concentration and you looked up at him. He was already halfway through disarming one of the snares to check for anything inside. A rabbit.

“Uh, yeah.” You nodded and bit your lip.

“Here, put this in the bag.”

“That’s what this bag is for?” You asked, grimacing as you took the dead rabbit and laid it in the tote bag slung over your shoulder.

“What’d ya think it was fer?” He looked at you like you were the stupidest person on earth.

You could only shake your head and shrug. Honestly he could have stood there and told you exactly what the bag was for and you would still have no idea. You had a terrible habit of zoning out whenever Daryl was talking to you. The movement of his hands and his lips and the way he looked when he was trying to find the right words to explain something was one of your favorite things and your mind went more than a little haywire trying to take in all of it at once.

“Come on, we got three more to check.” He kept walking and you stood there for a minute, letting him get ahead of you before you finally caught up.

“How’d it go?” Glenn asked, leaning on the door frame of your cell.

You frowned, lifting your leg so he could see the bandage that Hershel had to wrap your ankle in. Distracted, as it were, you had taken a rather nasty fall that resulted in what Hershel determined was a sprained ankle. Naturally you had tripped up right in front of Daryl, embarrassing but not entirely unfortunate because he carried you back to the prison.

“I fell.”

“I heard.” He smiled, clearly trying not to laugh out loud at you.

“Who told you?” You were sure that everyone was talking about what an absolute waste of space you were, especially now, but you wouldn’t mind knowing exactly who was spreading news of your fall.

“Daryl told Rick about it.” Glenn said, “told him you’re too distracted out there. I said you never have a problem when we go on runs.”

“Why cause you hate me?” You grumbled, standing carefully, “I should apologize.”

“For the upteenth time?”

“Yes.” In actuality you’d been so embarrassed over the entire ordeal that you hadn’t apologized at all. You had just fumbled over your words until you decided it was probably better to just stay quiet. But you felt guilty that Daryl had agreed to take you out there and you had fucked the whole thing up by being your usual self and getting far too distracted by everything about him to pay attention to even the ground you were walking on.

Daryl wasn’t hard to find, sitting at the base of the stairs that led up to the second level of cells. He was whittling the end of a stick, probably making a new arrow. You’d watched him make them plenty of times before, though that made you sound like some stalker. He looked up as you lowered yourself on to the step beside him. Your heart was pounding against your chest and your hands felt clammy from being so nervous.

If you could be half as confident in front of him as you were in the millions of daydreams you had about him.

“I’m sorry, about earlier.” You confided, “I didn’t mean to be so lousy out there.”

“Ain’t yer fault, yer outta practice.” He shrugged. Nicer than he had to be.

The part of his conversation with Rick that Glenn had left out was how he lost any composure, resentful that Rick had even considered sending you out there in the woods. Even if it was just to check snares. When you’d fallen Daryl had been terrified that you were more seriously hurt than just a sprained ankle and you had laid there while he checked you for any other injuries. Then he’d carried you back to the prison as quickly as possible, aware that you were in a compromised position if any walkers showed up. He was pissed, to say the least, not that Rick had suggested taking you out to the woods but that Rick had thought you would be okay to check snares after you hadn’t been on the other side of the prison in months.

“I still feel guilty, I could’ve gotten us killed.” And now you were apologizing like the whole thing was your fault.

“Wouldn’t a let that happen.” Daryl replied, eyes still trained on his arrow. It was easier to talk to you when he had something to occupy himself, so that all his concentration wasn’t on you. Or the way you smiled. Being in the woods with you was hard enough.

“I know you wouldn’t have, I just mean...I totally compromised us.”

“Like I said, it ain’t yer fault.” Daryl was adamant that you understand that he was not mad at you. Himself, yes, but you. Never.

As many hours as you wasted sitting on that watchtower and keeping an eye on whatever he was doing, he was watching you as well. Sometimes he would come in the kitchen area and sit there fiddling with his crossbow just so he could be around you while you helped Carol. Or he would offer to help you anytime you were tasked with a job. He knew nothing would ever come of it, even in the world the way it was now there were social standings and he knew you would never be interested in someone like him.

“When yer healed up we’ll go out again. Just ta get used ta being out there. Ain’t gotta do anything.”

“A nice walk in the woods together?” You asked, smiling at him. You could think up a million scenerios in which the two of you were out there together, walking in the woods with the seasons changing. None of them involving snares or runs or walkers.

“So long as ya don’t trip over yerself again.”

“It was an accident! You said it wasn’t my fault.”

Daryl grinned, looking away from you so you couldn’t see the change in facial expression but you caught it just in time. Your own smile appeared, maybe it wasn’t so far fetched that he could like you.

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#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #Daryl Dixon fanfic #twd fanfiction #twd au #twd imagine #twd fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead fanfic #collecting stories imagine #cs discography series

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whitherliliesbloom · 5 years

Text

An Order of Dandelions

He could never forget the scent of caramel coffee in the air, or the sight of the gentle smile that graced her expression as she waved him goodbye. It was a call for him to visit again, an urge and temptation he would never refuse.

Modern AU ✿ Illya/Alphinaud ✿ 3,464 words

"A new cafe again, young master?"

He's used to hearing that question asked to him as the scenic view of the city passes him by, his hand idly stroking a length of fur upon his lap as he answers with nothing more than a firm nod.

His chauffeur may not understand it, but Alphinaud was a firm believer of expanding your horizons, trying something new, or some variation of the saying.

He could most certainly not hurt to afford spending his money on the same few chain coffee stores near the campus or his home, and just a few years back he'd even expressed his disbelief at his twin sister's insistence on eating out at those rustic fast food joints rather than the far more trustworthy alternative of five star french cuisine. A disbelief that prompted him to visit a rustic cafe for coffee once, and ever since that first visit, he'd become a devoted convert.

He was enamored by the modest settings of cafe, the more often than not extraordinary decor that put even the fanciest of restaurants he's seen throughout his life to shame. The prices for the food and drinks were extraordinary too - extraordinarily low for quality he'd consider no different from alternatives 5 times the price.

He'd gone from curiosity of a naive rich man's son to a full fledged cafe hopping addict now.

This time, his sights were set on a quaint little cafe he's heard his classmates mentioned once in passing during their lunch time conversations. They said nothing more than the bare minimum to get him curious - that the coffee was delicious, the decorations were pretty and that the barista was apparently nice.

A purr snatches his attention, and the boy turns his head to smile down at the cat that laid belly up upon his lap.

"I shall watch over Romeo as usual, young master."

"My thanks."

Brief words of thanks are punctuated by the sound of the tires braking against the asphalt as the car stops gracefully outside of the quiet little building.

Rows of potted flowers hung just above the window that would give passerby a glimpse into the seating area within. White wooden tables and chairs neatly lined up against the wall where even more potted plants decorated the rustic white planks, green vines taking the place of the ever popular fairy lights he's seen a good number of cafes use. And though the window gave a good view of the handful of customers already seated within, and the sheer amount of plant life that shared that space, the counter is obscured from view behind the wall. He’d assume there would be a short line of people waiting for their orders to be taken.

A small sign was parked right above the window, framed by what else but a wreath of leaves and flowers of every colour of the rainbow.

The Lavender Brew

A suitable name for one so obsessed with plants, Alphinaud thought to himself. Not that it was a bad thing, of course. He hasn't even stepped foot outside the car and he's already sold on the concept.

"Let me know if there's anything else you need, young master." The bearded man in the driver’s seat finally turns to speak to him, and Alphinaud flashes a smile of gratitude in return.

"I will, Pierre. I shall return shortly."

Much to the dismay of the blonde cat that had just been resting so blissfully upon his master's lap, he's quickly scooped up and dropped onto the back seat, evidently less than pleased as it let out a low pitched meow.

Alphinaud is used to the demands of his cat however, and has no regrets with opening the car door and closing it behind him without even a second glance back.

A bell chime greets his entrance into the cafe, and he's immediately hit by the familiar scent of coffee intermingled with floral notes he was less accustomed to. He notes with a low hum that he was right about there not being too many people waiting by the counter.

A display refrigerator he hadn't been able to see from the outside stood proudly next to the counter, housing a myriad of palm sized cakes and pastries along with handwritten cards noting the name of each dessert and their respective prices.

Eye catching as the desserts were, his attention is drawn to the chalk board on the wall behind the counter, where more of the same handwriting now listed a menu of drink items with their prices. Espresso, mocha and lattes he's very much used to.. a subset list of both floral and fruit juices less so, but it further adds to the naturalistic theme this cafe seemed so adamant to follow.

His line of sight breaks upon catching a flash of white at the corner of his eye and he turns his head back down to finally look at the barista.

Long straight white hair fluttered to and fro after the girl as she rushed from one end of the station behind the counter to the other, frantically preparing the orders of the patiently waiting customers who were far more interested in whatever was being displayed on their smart phones. A pink ribbon broke the monotone of her pure white hair behind her head, and he notes to himself with a small amount of amusement that the white patterns on the ribbon were of lilies.

When the lady finally turns around to hand the customer a take away cup of their order, a timid little 'thank you so much!' breathlessly leaving her lips, Alphinaud's eyes widen slightly in surprise.

Wide violet eyes that practically glisten in the light, almost porcelain-like light skin and a button nose. The woman's sense of dress is simple, but most suited for her. Coupled with how she stood more than a foot shorter than even he and her youthful appearance, he'd garner a guess that she was no older than him, and perhaps even younger.

If this were the very same barista his classmate had been speaking about, he'd have to very much agree with their prognosis about her 'cuteness'.

Alphinaud may be rich, but he most certainly isn’t entitled. At least, he’d like to believe he isn’t, a claim so many others of his age had throw thoughtlessly his way with zero regards of his feelings. And so he has always made it a point to emulate the behavior of what his father titled ‘commoners’. From occasionally picking up groceries for himself, to the now comfortable routine of standing in line at a cafe as he takes in the sights around him.

He quickly scurries to the end of the queue and attempts to make full use of his time waiting by thinking on what he’d like to order until his train of thought was rudely disrupted by the rough rattle of the bell as the door to the cafe opened.

“Hey, lady! This isn’t what I ordered!”

A man stomps in, pushing past the first customer in front of the counter to slam his disposable coffee cup onto the table. It barely makes a sound, but the anger in his voice is enough to contort the barista’s expression into one of unbridled fear.

“U-um-- W-What was it that you ordered again, sir?”

“I ordered a goddamn Americano, not Macchiato, idiot!”

There isn’t a single pair of eyes in the cafe that wasn’t directed towards the bellowing man now. Though the gazes of the patrons within the cafe had ranged from mild curiosity to annoyance, the trembling barista behind the counter had been left alone with a wavering stare of terror.

“I-I’m so sorry! I’ll prepare a Macchiato for you right away, sir!”

“I ain’t got time to wait for you to make another shitty cup of your brew! You’ve already wasted enough of my time making me come back here to tell you this!”

Hushed whispers passed among the handful of customers that had been waiting in line, presumably badmouthing the audacity of the man to quite literally scream in the face of a woman who seemed about ready to fall to the floor. Inaction and idle gossip however, has never quite been Alphinaud’s style; it was never the Leveilleur style.

“There must certainly be a better way to express your dissatisfaction than to yell at a lady like that.” The boy’s words pierces through the air, and the man directs his narrowed glare towards him.

“What’s that gotta do with you, kid?! Stay out of it!”

“You’re making a scene, sir. You claim that she wasted your time, and yet are you not wasting the time of everybody waiting in line yourself?” Unwavered, Alphinaud folds his arms across his chest. “I’m certain the police would say the same if we were to call them here.”

The threat certainly seemed to get through to the man at least. His eyes almost spitting fire out at the insolent teen who seemed to have no intentions of backing off. The boy’s well dressed, probably well to do.. if he were to lay a hand on him, then surely no good would come of it.

Finally stepping back, the man hurriedly leaves the cafe, though not without leaving a final signal of his ire by slamming the door. The sound of the door smashing shut, and the echoes of the bell as it noisily chimed for the next several seconds was enough to cause the poor barista to jump in her skin.

“Don’t let jerks like him get to you.” one of the customers, a woman with a freckled face and curly brunette hair waved her hand to catch the young woman’s attention. “He probably won’t ever come back, anyway.”

The sentiment seemed to be shared by the other customers, who were quick to turn their attention back to their own business after sparing a final sympathetic glance at the woman behind the counter.

Alphinaud hadn’t expected anything out of the incident, really. Such actions was only natural, or at least something that should be expected out of the future heir of a corporation. He could not hope to lead others if he did not have the courage to stand up for what he believed to be right, or at the very least defend those with a lesser voice than he.

It was but a small unpleasant blight during an otherwise uneventful day.

“U-um... Thank you so much...”

It wasn’t until the other customers before him had been served and the line in front of the counter had dispersed that he heard her voice directed towards him. It was almost like a whisper, a single light chime in the wind. The girl’s hands clasped together in front of her chest as she stared up at Alphinaud with glossy violet eyes.

The sincerity in her words caught him unaware at first, but he was quick to shake his head and flash her a smile as a return.

“You needn’t thank me. I just did what was right.”

“B-but...” the girl stutters, fingers now fidgeting restlessly as her eyes darts to the planks of wood beneath her feet. “You...you protected me.. from that man and...”

Protected certainly is an unexpectedly huge word to be using for something so trivial, but Alphinaud could only imagine what such a valiant act would appear to be in the eyes of a woman who seemed barely capable of keeping eye contact with others.

“And I am certain many others would have done the same if they had the chance, miss.”

The girl averts her gaze, hands falling apart to allow one to brush strands of white over her ear. There’s no one behind him in line, but she still makes an attempt to recall her professionalism all the same.

“W-well,” she begins, her voice almost a whisper for a moment, before it becomes louder. “What would you like to order, sir?”

Alphinaud leans back slightly on one heel as he considers, glancing briefly at the blackboard menu decorated with small chalk drawings of flowers and leaves.

“How about you surprise me?” he asks pleasantly with a smile. He catches sight of her name tag as he looks back to her. Illya. “And call me ‘Alphinaud’, please.”

A light dusting of pink rises to the girl’s cheeks as she shuffles her feet nervously, still not quite looking at him. Pale pink lips tremble as she attempts to choke out his name as requested.

“Y-yes...S-si-.. Alphinaud.” Somehow, something twinges lightly in his chest as he hears her say his name. Perhaps the floral scent of the cafe is getting to him. “My name is...Illya.”

Her expression turns into one of consideration as she turns away from him slowly. He doesn’t think to tell her he’s already seen her name.

The light hiss of steaming milk fills the air as Illya begins preparing him her brew, evidently having decided upon something. Her movement is swift, evidently familiar with her station as she mixes a concoction of what he can tell to contain milk and some powder together. A minute later, she brings him the cup, lightly settles it upon the counter, and names the price.

“Ah...I sh-should have told you earlier...I’m sorry -- “

“No, no, it’s quite all right, nothing to worry about,” he reassures her, already pulling out his card to pay. The payment terminal makes a light beep as he taps it. He spares her another smile as he folds his wallet away. “What is it?”

“A-a...caramel latte.”

Oh -- he’s never had one of those. But he did ask her to surprise him, and she certainly did. He picks up the steaming cup and takes a sip.

It’s -- sweet. Almost cloyingly so.

Somehow, he manages to keep a grimace from rising to his features. Alphinaud has never been a big fan of overly sugary drinks. He’s used to the dark and bitter richness of his usual orders, but telling her he’s not fond of it, especially after what had happened earlier felt a tad cruel.

His panic spikes when she, hesitantly, asks him how it is, and he has to pray that he’s managed to remain composed.

“It’s...good.” Relief washes over him like a tidal wave as he sees her pretty violet eyes light up. “It’s certainly surprising! I’ve never had one of these before.”

“I’m so glad.” The sheer sincerity behind her words is near enough to take his breath away, though why, he’s not entirely sure.

“I-Illya,” he stammers a moment, internally cursing himself, as he nurses his cup and takes another small sip. “How did you come to own such a quaint cafe?” Ordinarily, he wouldn’t attempt to make such conversation, but it doesn’t feel right to simply leave, and there’s nobody else waiting either way.

“Oh...” Illya trails off, her gaze averting yet again. “I-it’s -- it used to be my parents’. My mother put me in charge of the cafe after I graduated high school.. A-And since I’ve always liked flowers, I t-turned it into a florist shop as well...”

One pale eyebrow quirking in surprise, Alphinaud turns slightly to glance at one of the many displays of flowers and plants festooning the establishment. Now that she mentions it, he can indeed see that some of them have price tags attached.

From an assortment of potted cactus plants and flower, to smaller trinkets that he assumes to be mini terrariums.. it’s plain to see much love and care was put into the array of plants that was put on sale.

“What a wonderful idea! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cafe quite like this before. I think it’s very unique.”

Dusts of red returns to the white-haired girl’s cheeks full-force, though this time a smile accompanies it.

“I’m...glad to hear that. I-it’s not that great though.”

Silence passes between them as the young man takes another sip of his drink. For some reason, he wants to say something else. Illya looks unoccupied, perhaps a little out of sorts, as she stands at the counter. The other shop patrons are sitting at their tables, some engaged in conversation, others nose-deep in their phones.

It wasn’t that he was exceptionally chatty. But something about the girl compels him to want to take an extra effort at conversation, somehow.

Come to think of it, Illya looks about his age, doesn’t she...? Does she man the cafe the entire day...?

“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” he asks her suddenly. She startles, eyes wide as she looks up at him from beneath her fringe of pale hair.

“U-um...I’m...twenty...”

Ah, so only a few months older than he is.

“Is that so? I turn twenty in about another 6 months myself.” he offers, since it’s only polite. “Are you...” There’s a brief pause as he rethinks his words. “In school?”

Whilst it’s common to begin university or college at the age of nineteen or eighteen..he’d rather not fluster or embarrass her if perhaps she’d started late...or had any difficulty...that’s simply not his style. And she’s already nervous enough.

“I...If you mean college... I never went.” Her gaze is downcast, shoulders tense in something that might well be shame. “I...my parents...we didn’t have enough...”

The hitch in her voice was almost enough to cause his heart to ache, and he can already hear a nagging voice in his conscious chiding him for being so foolish as to bring up such a sensitive topic.

“Oh. I see.” She doesn’t need to continue for him to understand. The taste on his tongue is sour, and he takes a mouthful of latte to soothe it. “I’m sorry.”

“I-it’s okay!” Illya quickly waves a hand to placate him. “I’m...I’m happy here. I-it’s all right.” For a moment, Alphinaud has the sinking feeling she’s trying to justify herself to him. But then --

“I’m happy that I get to carry on my parents’ hard work.”

The sincerity in her voice and expression is nearly enough to floor him, and he can’t believe he had been so self-centered and patronizing as to assume she might be...ashamed of working at a small little cafe filled with flowers. That soft, gentle smile --

He has to swallow around the strange lump in his throat.

“It’s certainly very admirable. I’m...glad I got to meet you here, Illya.”

He’s glad he wandered into this quaint little shop of warm drinks and pastries and flowers. He’s glad -- to have defended her, to have allowed her to send his preconceived notions and beliefs flying with those tiny hands of hers, for the warmth rising in his chest like a steaming coffee.

Illya’s violet eyes dart up to meet his, shocked. Before she can say anything else, there’s a light ring at the door as someone else enters the shop. Clearing his throat, Alphinaud gives the white-haired girl a nod and a smile.

“Thank you for your time today, Illya. And thank you for the...latte.”

He hesitates a single moment, and the girl is too flustered to say anything. There was a moment of silence between the pair as he waits, hoping for a response. He could not help the hint of disappointment he felt as he watched Illya avert his gaze, a hand moving up to comb strands of silky hair back behind her ear.

“Goodbye.”

Alphinaud turns, and just as he was about to fully step out the door he’d opened however, he hears her squeak out a question.

“W-Will you be coming back someday, Alphinaud?”

Like a javelin through his chest, he nearly stumbles from the skipping of his heart beat. Color rises up his face, almost dark enough to match the red of the roses that stood proudly among the display the shelves.

“Of course.”

Alphinaud dares to cast a final glance back, and immediately regrets his decision when she sees the bright smile that graced Illya’s face. Her hand raised, waving sheepishly at him.

He finally steps outside, but not even a gulp of fresh air was enough to steady the racing of his heart, nor did the impatient meows of Romeo who had peeked his head out the opened car window. The cup in his hand still feels warm, and yet it paled in comparison to the heat that filled his head.

Alphinaud raises the beverage up to his chapped lips, gulping in the last of the brew that tingled his taste buds and lets out a low hum at the tender sweetness. He feels immense regret at the fact that his cup was now empty, but that was simply all the more reason to pay The Lavender Brew a second visit.

He may well just have found his new favorite drink.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #alphinaud leveilleur #illya skawi #we've come so far #fanfic #alphinaud #modern au #mine #THANK YOU TO LAURELISMUN FOR HELPING ME WITH A GOOD PORTION OF THIS FIC #WRITER'S BLOCK IS AWFUL YO #especially when you're like studying for exams difnioffasdaiod #this has been rotting in my drafts for several weeks #glad to finally be rid of this garbage #other verses

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shooter-nobunagun · 4 years

Text

Quarantine UST 10

//Aaaand we’re almost there, I guess! Alas for those of us in real life, it isn’t over, but hopefully I wrote something that was relatable and also entertaining.

I say ‘almost’, because truth be told, I thought I was gonna be able to wrap this up in 10 chapters, but when you start writing smut things automatically get longer XD;; so this chapter will be split in two.

Warning, NSFW (because let’s be real, the UST is what we’re all here for)

[Sio]: omg Asao-san I can’t believe it O_O

[Asao]: ?_? Did something happen?

[Sio]: we...actually did it...!! or okay not exactl y but some thing!!!!! shfiosadfheior sf hdaf h

[Asao]: ?? Wait what? Do what? Hang on, let me call you instead

The phone rang once before the sniper snatched it up. “Ohmygod Asao-san! I can’t believe it but we, we...”

“Are you alright Sio-chan?”

“Ah, iya iya, sorry—I’m fine, it’s nothing bad, it’s just...well...!”

“...Did something happen?”

Something happen? That was the understatement of the century. “Y-You could say that...it’s just...I’m still kind of in shock...”

Her friend made a disgruntled noise on the other line. “What happened Sio-chan? It wasn’t something bad, was it? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“R, Right...” Still, the sniper was hesitant; this was a pretty big milestone in terms of relationship progression, and it wouldn’t be a lie to say things had happened fairly quick. “It’s just...we did...that!”

“...That? What’s ‘that’?”

“U-Um, well, y-you know, like...” She squirmed in embarrassment, fidgeting with her sheets until they were wrinkled. “W, We...touched each other...! Like, down there...”

“Oh. I...see...”

“...Yeah. It just...kinda happened...”

“...Well, was it good?”

“Asao-san!! Really, that’s all you can say?!” Sio nearly screeched into the phone, her face a brilliant red but her friend couldn’t help but laugh on the other end. “Moou...”

“Sorry, sorry,” there was a pause as Asao caught her breath, “I’m not sure what more to say, except you probably wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t want to? But, it sounds like you enjoyed it?”

Now it was Sio’s turn to be flustered. “Y, Yeah...it...felt really good, actually...” she mumbled as her body flushed hotly. The roughness of his fingers, yet he was gentle and touched her with such finesse, despite his strength. “A-And I...rubbed his...you-know-what...and it actually was all hard, like everyone says it is...”

Asao’s light giggles floated through the speaker. “Aww, my Sio-chan is growing up! Well, congratulations on your first intimate experience! I hope it wasn’t too awkward or forced? It’d better not have been...”

“No no, he was really kind about it! Like, I mean okay, yeah it was kinda awkward, but...” As she recalled how she and Adam fumbled with each others’ bodies, trying to figure out what worked and what felt good, the sniper couldn’t help but smile. “But Adam...he really made sure I was comfortable with it first...and he’s so cute when he gets all nervous and stuff...” Sio giggled. “Whenever he blushes, it’s sooo cute; I can’t believe he’s Jack the Ripper.”

“Ah okay, well I’m glad to hear that. So I guess you two really are serious about each other, huh?”

“Ah...yeah, I guess so...” It’d always seemed obvious, but now that her friend brought it up, Sio wondered. Would it be okay to continue this relationship after they got back to DOGOO? Adam had made it pretty clear he was willing, but would it really be alright? “I mean, I hope so...though, I think we’re both in agreement to keep it on the down-low for now. At least until we can figure out how to...y’know, spill the beans. Or I don’t know, maybe everyone else will just figure it out eventually.”

“Sou sou. I think that’s a good idea,” said Asao. “Still, I’m very happy for you, Sio-chan. And I’m grateful you trust me enough to talk to me about this type of stuff. I know it’s probably really awkward for you...”

“A-Asao-san...” The sniper was touched by her friend’s sincerity. “Of, of course...if anything, I really should be thanking you for being such a good listener; honestly, I don’t think I could’ve made it through this whole time, much less with all these things going on, if you hadn’t been there for me...”

“Heheh, well that’s what friends are for, right? You’re always welcome to talk to me about anything, truly. Even if you think it’s something mundane or weird, trust me I won’t mind. I’m always happy to hear from you.”

“Mmn!” Sio wiped her eyes. A friend like Asao seemed almost too good to be true, sometimes. “B-But, yeah...I’m glad Adam and I were able to...er, do something intimate like that. Even though I was really embarrassed at first, and I don’t think either of us really knew what we were doing...it felt, comfortable with him. I wasn’t scared or anything.”

“It’s because you trust each other now, Sio-chan, I’m sure of it,” and Sio nodded at her friend’s words. “Well, I know you said you’re heading out of there soon, so hope you two can make the most of your time!”

In the beginning it seemed like forever until they could leave, but now, on the eve of their departure (pick-up was scheduled for tomorrow morning, just after breakfast), it seemed like it all passed in a blink of an eye. Sio looked at her half-stuffed duffel, groaning as she remembered she still had to finish packing the majority of her belongings before going to bed. Just before the group scattered after dinner, Adam reminded everyone that tonight was their final night in San Francisco, and to make sure they had everything.

‘I don’t know exactly when they’re arriving, but best be ready by then. I don’t want anybody suddenly remembering they left their phone or whatever when we’re halfway back to the Logan.’

Swinging her legs, she got off the bed and folded up the rest of her laundry, packing it neatly into her bags. As she smoothed the clothes in, she quirked a smile. ‘Heh, hard to believe when I first came here, I didn’t even know anything about laundry, and now I’m washing and folding my own clothes. When I go home, I’m sure mom will be surprised...’ Not just laundry; but also cooking, taking care of herself, making decisions on her own... Sighing, Sio felt that wave of nostalgia creep up again, only this time it was in anticipation of departing.

‘This place...sure was an experience, huh? I learned a lot of things...not just about myself, but everyone else...’

Sitting around the table and bantering about movies after dinner, or arguing over which restaurant was worthy of a return order. Fiddling with the ancient record player, and playing so many rounds of board games she lost track of how many they actually ended up playing... To her surprise there was an ache in her chest, as the sniper realized there might very well never be another time she would get to experience such a lifestyle. Even though these bonds and memories would last long after they returned to their base, it wouldn’t be the same. To live and get to know each other beyond comrades, and see her teammates as friends and family, and even more than that... Sure, the hovering threat of COVID-19 always stayed in the back of their minds, but overall, this had been a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

And Sio didn’t want to trade anything for it.

Finally stuffing the last of her clothes in except for her uniform, she glanced around the room one last time. With most everything packed away, it was finally (almost) as neat as the day they’d arrived; when Adam first visited her, she could see the way his eyebrows raised at the way her clothes were flung haphazardly across pieces of furniture; her belongings just strewn all over the tables and chairs. Especially when it contrasted with the spic-and-span appearance of his room.

“Huh, I wonder if he’s done already? Knowing him, probably.” The sniper glanced up at the attic staircase, where the door was shut. Luckily the temperatures had cooled again to a more reasonable range, otherwise Sio had a feeling Adam might’ve actually taken up her offer to sleep in her room. Not that she would’ve complained. Gingerly she crept up the stairs, gently knocking on the door. “Adam? Are you there?”

“If you’re looking for Adam, I think he’s still in the shower,” Sio whirled around at Jess’ voice. “Last I saw, anyway. Did you need something?”

“Oh, Jess-san...not really, I guess I just...feel kinda restless.” The sniper hopped down the stairs to the landing, where her blonde teammate was toweling her hair off. “So you’re packed and all that?”

“Pretty much; I didn’t bring that much to begin with, and you know how Adam is about being punctual.” The two shared a laugh at that comment. “So, any plans for our last night in this quasi-house arrest?”

“Uh...not really. I’ve just been packing up and making sure I haven’t forgotten anything. What about you?”

“Me? Well, likely nothing special; mostly just taking in the view, enjoy sleeping in a real house one last time. You know, the small things.”

Sio nodded. “Yeah...heh, it’s weird to think that tomorrow, we’ll be going back to being e-gene holders and all that stuff.”

There was a warm hand on her shoulder, Sio looking up in surprise at Jess’ thoughtful expression. “This time we spent together here...it’s something special, isn’t it? Of course, I think everyone would agree it would be best if this pandemic didn’t happen in the first place, but I think this proves, that even in times of crisis, there are good things to be gained.” Giving the sniper one last pat, the blonde went off to her own room.

As Jess suggested, the bathroom door was indeed closed when Sio passed by. Remembering that embarrassing incident right on their first night, she made sure to knock quite loudly this time, instead of just barging in. “Um, Adam? Are you in here?”

“Yeh? What’s up, Sio?” A second later the door creaked opened and her now-boyfriend stuck his wet, shaggy head out. “Sorry, did you need t’ use the loo?”

“Ah, no it’s not that; I just, was kinda looking for you, and Jess said you were probably still showering...”

“Well, I’ll be done in a minute, if you don’t mind waiting. And no, I’m sorry but you can’t peek this time,” he teased, Sio stuttering and blushing as she flattened herself against the wall.

“So, did you need something?” Adam emerged in a cloud of steam, still running his fingers through his damp silver locks. “You all good to go for tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah, pretty much...um, sorry to bother you and all...”

Adam shook his head. “It’s not a bother, love. Anyway, did you want to do something, or...?”

At that question Sio turned a bit pink. Perhaps it was too much to ask, given that they would essentially be thrown back into the fire tomorrow, but then again maybe that was why now was a good time to just ask. “Um, I was just wondering if we could...kinda like, hang out and chill before bed or something. I-I mean, we don’t have to do anything like watch a movie or play games, b-but just, uh, I figured since this’ll be our last night here I just wanted to...spend some time with you...”

“...Why do you have to be so bloody adorable?” Sio only barely looked up in time before she was folded into his embrace; the sniper eagerly burying her face against his broad chest and enjoying his clean, just-out-of-the shower scent. “I’d love to, Sio. In fact, I was kind of hoping we’d be able to spend some more time together, before duty calls and all that. So, where do you want to go? My room? Or yours? Or would you rather just sit around in the den?”

“A-Actually, I...kind of like your room. I know you said it gets stuffy, but...well, maybe it’s because attics are rare in Japan, but I dunno, it’s kind of cool,” she said shyly, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “I think it’s cozy.”

Adam raised an eyebrow in amusement, but nodded. “Sure, if you’re alright with it. Lucky for you it’s not as beastly as it was yesterday...”

“Well, if it’s too hot, you’re always welcome to...share my room...” Sio mumbled, tugging at the hem of her shirt. “I don’t mind...”

“Oh love...” Sighing, he scooped her into his arms, Sio squeaking a bit. “It’s alright. I appreciate the offer, but it seems tonight’ll be bearable. Of course, if it does turn out to be too much...I’ll keep it in the back of my mind.”

He winked, and Sio blushed. They slowly ascended to the attic, which was a lot sparser than it already was: most of Adam’s belongings were neatly packed into a standard-issue duffle, alongside a sturdy backpack that presumably held his personal items, with only his uniform for the next day hanging neatly in front of the closet. The bed was, as usual, neatly made, and the only thing out on his desk was the laptop computer.

“Wow, so neat...” Sio couldn’t help but utter as they stepped in, Adam chuckling at her comment.

“Eh, it’s just my preference. Plus it’s easier to find things when they’re not scattered all over the place,” he glanced at the sniper, who was busy making herself at home on the covers. Not that he demanded she become a neat freak, but certainly, tidiness did not seem to be high on her list of priorities...

“Mm, hard to believe it’s all gonna be over tomorrow...” Sio sighed, suddenly feeling melancholy all over again as she snuggled against Adam’s pillow. “It feels...weird. Like, logically it’s nothing to be sad over, but still...I’ll miss it. I’ll miss...this.”

There were no words, not even when she felt a pair of strong arms encircle her into a warm embrace. It always amazed Sio how she and Adam went from constantly arguing with each other about the smallest details, to now where they could sense each other’s moods and thoughts.

“No one’s saying we can’t continue when we get back, you know.”

“Yeah, that’s true, but I meant more like...this. Y’know, just living together in a cool house, screwing around and playing video games, not having to worry about saving the world—well mostly...”

“Like a family, yeh?”

“...Yeah. Family...” Her fingers gripped his arm and Adam tightened his hold; Sio wished she could burrow herself completely inside him, even though he was already wrapped around her. It was an inexplicable feeling of wanting to literally be one entity with him; to melt and join until she didn’t know where she ended and he began. Nuzzling furiously, she squirmed and wormed her way to what felt like the deepest reaches of his arms—until her head rested firmly against his chest, the sniper curling into a tight ball against his entire body.

Well, that’s new. Adam raised an eyebrow as the girl suddenly began wriggling around, as if she wanted to hide away somewhere... Finally she seemed to be satisfied, snuggled against his chest with her head buried just below the crook of his neck. He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he gently patted her back, the girl seemingly appreciating the soothing gesture.

“...Don’t fret, love. I’m sure this won’t be the last time we experience something like this. Even if it means waiting until the war’s over...that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

“Hmm...I want that, too...” The pets along her back were very relaxing, the sniper feeling herself drift off as she listened to his heartbeat. So warm...everything about him made her feel safe and sound, content to just stay like this forever. “Mmm...I wish I could just sleep like this...”

“...Well, if you do want to, we can,” Adam replied quietly, not wanting to disturb her peaceful state. Even though the thought of sharing a bed with her still made him a bit nervous (if only because he was worried about whether or not he could control himself), something told him to not squander what opportunities they had left. “I mean...if you really are comfortable with it, then I don’t mind. After all, it is our last night here; might as well make the most of it.”

That woke the sniper out of her nap. “E-Eh?? R, Really...? I-I mean I didn’t mean anything serious by it; just, um, that...” But that wasn’t really true, was it? “Well...I, I’m sorry for imposing on you all of a sudden...but if you, you’re okay...th, then, I’d...I’d like to.” Then, as if finally realizing what she said, the sniper turned beet red and dove back into his chest again, Adam laughing all the while.

“Sure. Then, if you don’t mind letting go for just a couple of minutes so I can set the bed up properly...” He cleared his throat slightly and Sio unwound her arms with a nervous laugh. “Don’t worry; when we’re all settled in for night, you’re welcome to use me as a body pillow.”

The sniper blushed and hugged a regular pillow as she stood to the side, while Adam spread out additional blankets and smoothed out the sheets.

“Alright, you’re welcome back on now.” Adam patted the blankets and Sio shyly scooted underneath, still flushing pink as she realized they were about to spend their first night.

Together.

‘Calm down Sio, and get your mind out of the gutter! We’re just going to sleep like regular people, not do like, like...that...’ Indeed, if anything it seemed like Adam was quite calm about the whole situation, now leaning back against the pillows with what appeared to be a novel in his hands. Now she felt silly, as if she should have prepared something to wind down for the night as well. Unfortunately, Sio did not have the foresight to bring any books or whatnot, and so could only pull the covers up to her chin and lie there stiffly, wondering if it would be rude to ask Adam to turn off the lights too early.

Is she uncomfortable? Adam spared a side glance towards the girl, who was currently lying next to him as if she were in a coffin rather than his bed. Holding his novel closer to his face, he pretended to be engrossed in a particular line, instead of trying to cover his blush. Even though he suggested it, just knowing they were about to actually sleep—in the same bed—caused his heart to race, though he was better about not showing it compared to Sio.

‘Do something, you idiot! No doubt she’s feeling awkward about all this, and you’re just off doing your own thing.’

“Um, Sio? Are you comfortable enough? I can grab some more pillows or another cover if you’re cold?” He reached over and offered the girl an extra pillow, but she only shook her head, eyes averting his gaze as she pulled the blanket up even higher until just reached her nose.

“N, No...I’m okay, Adam.”

“Well, alright...just, let me know if you need anything, yeh?”

“Hai.”

The painful silence continued for a while longer, Adam attempting to read a few more pages of his book while Sio laid there, eyes staring at the ceiling even though she was quite tired.

“...Actually, Adam?”

“Yes, Sio?”

“...Do you mind turning off the light? I know you want to read, so I’m sorry—but it’s kinda hard for me to sleep when the lamp is on...”

Adam mentally slapped himself for being so insensitive. “Apologies; I should have thought about it or at least asked you. You must be right knackered, and you’re right—we should get some actual sleep.” Before Sio could say anything else he clicked it off, and Sio heard the sound of rustling fabric as he slid underneath the blanket.

“S-Sorry about that...I didn’t want to interrupt your book...”

“Nah; it’s not that important, I just like to wind down a bit before going to sleep. I’m sorry, next time I’ll read outside so I don’t disturb you.”

Next time? Sio’s heart gave a flutter as Adam casually mentioned it, though she tried not to read too much into it. ‘I highly doubt Command’s gonna like it if we keep sneaking into each others’ rooms when we get back...’

“...Thank you, Adam. I appreciate it...” Even under the cover of darkness, the sniper couldn’t help but be self-conscious about her blushing cheeks.

“You’re welcome, Sio. Well...good night, then. But don’t hesitate to wake me if you need something; I left the window open a crack for some air, but if you find it too drafty, go ahead and close it.”

“Mnm-hm. O-Oyasumi, Adam.”

Adam seemed to be taking all this in stride, as Sio heard his breathing slowly even out until she was sure he was asleep—or close to it, anyway. Alas for the sniper, while Adam preferred mundane activities such as reading to relax before bedtime, her own method was...a bit more, involved, so to speak. Especially as the object of her desires was literally lying right next to her, and although they weren’t touching he was close enough for to feel the heat that seemed to be emanating off of him. To Sio’s immense embarrassment, there was another part of her body that was heating up rapidly, as all sorts of kinky ideas started popping around her mind.

‘No, I can’t do that...! That’d be so wrong...masturbating while I’m sharing a bed with him...not to mention rude, to boot!’ Still, even as she tried to convince herself, another part of her brain was already casually thinking of ways to keep her little self-care activity on the down-low.

‘Maybe if I’m really quiet, and just go slowly he won’t notice...ah stop it Sio, you perv! What the heck are you thinking...!’ But the more she tried to squash those feelings, the stronger they bubbled up; before she knew it, a hand was already wedged between her legs, and with a few strokes the sniper resigned herself to obeying her hormones. ‘Jeeze...and they say guys are the ones who are totally horny all the time...I’m starting to think that’s not actually the case...’

Still, the sniper had enough sense to try and keep her movements to a minimum. The hardest part would be keeping quiet; most of the time she could swallow her moans or muffle them pretty well, but if she managed to hit a particularly sensitive spot... She forced her fingers to go slowly, keeping her legs shut instead of spreading them wide as she preferred. The pleasure didn’t build as quickly as it usually did, but soon enough she felt her panties becoming damp, and gingerly she slipped a finger inside to stroke her swollen clit. A moan surged forth but Sio managed to clamp her mouth shut just in time, instead breathing hard as the same finger rubbed back and forth, teasing her slick nub. A wild sort of thrill started running through her, replacing the fear she felt minutes earlier. ‘Maybe I really am some kind of pervert...getting all excited like this, masturbating in secret while trying not to get discovered...’

Next to her, Adam’s breathing remained even and relaxed. For one second Sio wondered what would happen if she woke him up and asked him to touch her, but quickly shot it down. ‘N-No, I can’t...he’d probably be disgusted, or get upset about being woken up...’ She got herself into this situation, so it was up to her to resolve it. Despite the restraints, Sio could feel herself edging ever closer; her insides were tightening up as she touched her clit, even sliding a finger in to let her walls convulse around something other than emptiness. As a precaution, she put one hand over her mouth, just in case. Sweat caused her t-shirt to cling to her body, Sio wishing she could fling the covers back, but that would wake Adam up for sure.

‘A-Almost, there...I can’t believe, I-I’m, actually gonna cum like this...!’

She gasped silently for air, breathing in great gulps to prevent herself from crying out. Now lying on her back, legs spread as much as she could without bumping into him while she fingered her slick hole, feeling the slippery juices run down her thighs as her thumb tweaked her sensitive clit that was about to send her straight over the edge...just a little more, another couple of tight circles and she could feel the sparks of pleasure as her body started twitching...

“...! Mnnmph...!” In an instant Sio felt her body pulling tight, her inner walls clenching down on her finger as she breathed hard into her pillow while she trembled. Hot liquid gushed out around her hand, her insides pulsing as the orgasm made its way through her entire body.

She lay there, letting her body calm down from the high while she strained to hear Adam’s breath. It still sounded the same, though who could actually say? Sio decided to not think about it too much and just feign ignorance. Like they say, out of sight, out of mind, right?

Unfortunately, in her post-orgasm haze, she forgot to be careful about spreading her limbs out and accidentally kicked him in the shins.

“Wha th—Sio? Is everything alright?”

“A-Ah, A-Adam I’m so sorry—” Mortified, she immediately pulled her hands out of her panties and desperately tried to wipe them on her pillowcase. ‘Eww, gross...!’

“‘S fine, it kind of comes with the territory...” Adam’s voice certainly sounded as if he’d been asleep, though Sio thought she detected some odd tremble or other. “Anyway...you alright?”

“Y, Yeah...sorry, I hope I didn’t hurt you...”

“No, you just...startled me.”

At least, that was putting it mildly. What Sio didn’t know was that Adam had most definitely not been asleep—not fully, anyway. Adam had always been a light sleeper, and now with the addition of his training as an e-gene holder, his senses were sharper than ever. So when he heard the sheets start rustling (very slightly), he thought nothing of it—until he realized there was a rhythmic pattern to it. At first he tried to ignore it; he was just imagining things, there was no way the sniper could ever think to do something as risqué as...touching herself, while they were sharing the same bed, could she? But the more he tried to will himself into sleep, the more he seemed to be able to hear; admittedly the sniper had done a good job in being subtle, and probably to anybody else it wouldn’t have seemed suspicious at all. But Adam was no ordinary human, and as he adjusted to the night sounds, he realized not only was she moving rhythmically, but there was a very slight ‘moist’ sound, along with a sudden deep breath every so often...

Oh yeah. Sio had definitely been masturbating.

As soon as that realization hit, Adam felt himself get very hot...and to his horror, his own erection started perking up. Cursing at his hormones, he had debated on whether he should pretend to snort or something to get her to stop, or just lie there in a sweet torture; hearing his girlfriend discreetly pleasure herself but unable to do anything himself.

Well, mostly anything. At the time, Adam’s reasoning was ‘well if she’s doing it then so can I’, but when he found his hands stroking himself, it took every ounce of self-control to not just turn over and touch her right there and then. So both of them just lay there, each pretending to hide their lust from the other while simultaneously wishing they could just touch each other instead. And now he was left with a rather painful hard-on, while Sio managed to somehow finish herself off.

“Well, sorry about that...good night...” Sio ducked her head underneath, sighing with relief. Luckily it seemed like Adam didn’t notice...though this whole deal made her realize that even something as normal as sleeping was drastically different when you were sharing a bed with someone else.

Just as Adam was debating about resuming his own activity, a pair of hands subtly slid around his waist, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. ‘Shit, I was the one who said she could cling onto me, too...’

“Mmm...you’re so warm...and comfy...” Behind him, he could feel Sio nuzzling against his back, her slender body nearly wrapped around him like an octopus. Normally, he would’ve welcomed such a gesture, but as it was, it was all he could do to pray and hope her hands wouldn’t touch that one very specific part of his body that was now literally stiff as a bone.

Unfortunately, it seemed Sio possessed a pair of wandering hands, and there was nothing he could do as he felt them gently brush against his torso, before they casually slid down and just brushed the tip of his erection.

He gulped.

Sio, meanwhile, froze the second her hands brush something incredibly hard and hot. ‘Oh crap...is this his...and it’s...!’

Both holders seemed frozen in place as this awkward situation developed. Adam could feel her heartbeat drumming against his back, just as surely she could feel his pulse while being nearly smothered against him.

‘Well Adam, what have you gotten yourself into now...’

#documentation #quarantine UST #//yeah i actually couldn't keep up my update schedule #//this was mostly due to being swamped for work

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