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sesamestreep · 4 years

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stack the deck with wild cards (chapter 5)

(read on AO3)

(start from the beginning)

SUMMARY: Valentine’s Day arrives, and so does Jyn’s appointment.

A/N: Second to last chapter, same warnings as before (TW: pregnancy, abortion, unsafe sex), check the AO3 links above for more details. We’re almost done, folks! Last chapter is just a little epilogue because I’m corny like that, and I should have it up by tomorrow or the day after at the latest. I’m sending you all imaginary bouquets of flowers for sticking with me this far!!

On the day of her appointment, Jyn wakes up to the third alarm she set for herself, which has got to be some sort of record, since she sets around twelve on a normal day and she set about twenty for today so she could be sure she wouldn’t miss her appointment. It gives her way more time than she actually needs to get ready, and she’s too nervous to eat anything, so she can’t even kill the extra time by making herself breakfast. She takes a long shower, because her roommate is away for the weekend and can’t give her a hard time about it, and puts on an outfit that’s comfortable enough to come home in after the procedure, and contemplates actually styling her hair, just for the hell of it, but then discards the idea as silly.

The buzzer for the door goes off while she is trying to think of a better way to waste time and distract herself, and she’s impressed with how early Bodhi is. She presses the button to let him in, just as her phone starts ringing. Bodhi’s name and photo (a selfie he took with a flower crown filter when she wasn’t guarding her phone carefully enough after one of their gigs) pop up on the display. She swipes at the screen to answer it, feeling confused.

“Hey, I just let you in,” she says, warily. “That was you, right?”

“Not exactly,” Bodhi says. “Listen, you’re going to hate me for this, but—”

She panics immediately at his tone and interrupts. “Bodhi, please, you have to come with me, okay? You promised and I—I need you!”

“Jyn, I would never abandon you. I just did something slightly annoying because I thought it might help.”

“What did you do?”

“I sent an emissary in my place,” he replies, managing to sound guilty and proud of himself at the same time. “He really wouldn’t stop asking about you, and he seemed so worried, that I thought it would be—”

“Please tell me you didn’t send Cassian to accompany me to my abortion,” she says, pressing her forehead against the wall. This cannot be happening.

“Listen, I will understand if you never forgive me, but you’re both being complete idiots about this whole thing. Just tell him you like him, and let him take care of you like he so desperately wants to.”

“Bodhi, this is not some sort of romantic comedy, okay? I’m going to get an abortion. This is not any person’s idea of a dream date!”

“Of course it’s not. I know that,” Bodhi says. “But it’s not a dealbreaker for him either.”

Jyn rolls her eyes, even though he can’t see it. “And how would you even know that?”

“Because I asked him.”

“You…?” She looks at her phone in horror, as if that will change what she’s just heard. “You asked him if it was a dealbreaker?”

“No, I asked if he was still interested in you,” he replies, casually. Like this is no big deal.

“And what did he say?”

“Jyn, he’s at your doorstep,” Bodhi says, patiently. “If that’s not answer enough, ask him yourself.”

She closes her eyes, hoping that will somehow put an end to the whirlwind of emotions she’s feeling. She’s obviously annoyed with Bodhi for putting her in this position when she’s already stressed, but she also can’t deny that she does want to know Cassian’s answer to that question. Mostly, though, she just wishes none of this was happening, that she could just go back in time and make better choices two months ago.

“If you’re really uncomfortable, I will meet you at Planned Parenthood for your appointment,” Bodhi continues, when she doesn’t say anything for a few moments. “I would never actually leave you hanging.”

“No, of course not! You would just shamelessly meddle in my love life on the day I’m having an outpatient medical procedure,” she says, even though she does feel better. There’s a reason Bodhi’s her best friend, after all.

“Well, you’ve always done very well under pressure,” he jokes, and she laughs before she can stop herself.

“If this blows up in my face,” she says, just as she hears the knock on the door, “you’ll owe me forever.”

“I’m good with that,” Bodhi says, breezily. “Give Cassian a kiss for me.”

“Go to hell.”

“Text me if you need me. Love you. Bye!”

Jyn hangs up without responding, because she’s still in a mood with him, regardless of how good his intentions might have been. She starts to fidget with her hair before she realizes that’s stupid—Cassian already knows what he’s getting into—and goes for the door just as another knock echoes through the apartment. She undoes the lock and the deadbolt and the chain with clumsy fingers and opens the door to find Cassian there in what must be his casual weekend clothes and a heavy winter parka. He’s also, inexplicably, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Are those flowers?” She asks, like an idiot, before she can stop herself. She clears her throat, trying to soften her tone and hide her surprise. “I mean—Did you bring me flowers?”

He gestures upwards with them, as if he’s just remembered they exist. “These?” He asks, glancing at them. “No, actually, these are for the other woman I’m accompanying to an abortion today.”

Jyn feels a smile start to form. “God, I hope that’s not true,” she says, before realizing it sounds kind of possessive. “I mean, for your sake. I wouldn’t want you to have to deal with this situation twice. That’s all.”

“It was a joke, Jyn.” He smiles, embarrassed, and then adds, “You’re the only person I’ve impregnated recently.”

“That you know of,” she replies, trying to keep things light, but he doesn’t take the hint.

“The only one,” he says, devastatingly sincere, instead of joking with her. Then, he hands her the bouquet.

She looks down at it, at a loss for words momentarily. “Did I even say ‘hello’ to you yet?” She asks the flowers.

He laughs. “You didn’t, but I figure you’ll get around to it eventually.”

“Hi, Cassian,” she says. “Would you like to come in?”

“Sure.”

She steps aside to let him into the apartment and looks again at the flowers, a bouquet of ranunculus in different shades of orange, from peach to a dark cayenne color. She doesn’t know much of anything about flowers—how much they cost or what the nice ones are—but she feels like she might have picked these out herself if she’d seen them at the store and that’s all it takes to make her nervous again. She leaves Cassian to hang up his coat on his own and heads into the kitchen. She’s standing in front of the sink, lost for what to do next, when he joins her.

“Do you have a vase?” He asks, after a moment.

Jyn shakes her head. “I don’t think so,” she admits, before she laughs at herself. “Sorry. It’s just—No one’s ever bought me flowers before.”

“No one?”

“No. I’m going to kill them.”

Cassian blinks at her. “The….flowers?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that seems rude. You barely know them.”

“Not on purpose,” she says, closing her eyes to concentrate on not laughing again. “By neglect. I can’t take care of plants.”

“They’re basically dead already, Jyn. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m just saying, if this is some kind of test—”

“How would this be a test?”

“To see if I’m nurturing, or maternal, or—”

Cassian puts his hand on her back, gently, like he’s expecting her to shove him away at any second. “It’s not a test,” he says, carefully. “I thought we talked about this the other night…”

“We did, but—” she says, still staring at the flowers in her hands and unable to articulate what she’s thinking. “Why would you buy me flowers?”

He shrugs, looking lost himself. “I just thought it would be nice. It is Valentine’s Day, after all, and I know you’re probably fine, but you seemed a little stressed about the appointment the other night. So, I thought I should do something to cheer you up, if I could, and then there was a florist on the way here, so it felt like a sign. I don’t know why, really, I just thought that it would be a nice thing to do. But if you don’t like them—”

“I didn’t say that,” she says, cutting him off.

“Oh,” he says, surprised. “Okay.”

“You didn’t have to bring me anything, though. I told you I don’t care about Valentine’s Day.”

“Well, I do.”

“Really?”

“Apparently,” he says, looking away. He clears his throat, obviously looking for a change of subject. “If you cut the ends off of those stems, I’ll find something you can use as a vase.”

“You’re just inviting yourself to rummage through my entire kitchen now?” Jyn asks, feigning offense even as she’s grabbing the scissors to follow his directions.

“That’s exactly what’s happening, yes.”

By the time she’s finished with the stems, Cassian is back by her side, filling up a clear plastic sports bottle he found in one of the cabinets. He takes the flowers from her and begins arranging them in the bottle, cutting a few of them shorter so they sit better. He sets the whole thing on the counter to admire his handiwork and looks at her for approval.

“You can’t be serious,” she says.

“Why not?”

“It’s a water bottle!”

“So?”

“It looks silly.”

“It’s the best I could do on short notice,” he says, with a shrug. “Next time I buy you flowers, I’ll make sure to get you a proper vase too.”

“Next time?” Jyn asks, faintly.

“Yeah. Next time.” He pulls a dead leaf off of one of the stems and refuses to meet her eye.

“Cassian,” she says, interrupting him. “What are you doing?”

“Me? I’m clearly making an idiot out of myself.”

She puts a hand on his arm to get him to look at her. “You’re not, I promise. I just don’t know what’s happening right now.”

“I think you do, actually,” he says, carefully, like he’s afraid to keep going. He does anyway, though, after a moment. “I think you know what it means when someone shows up at your place with flowers and threatens to do it again in the near future. And I hope you know what it means that I want to go to this doctor’s appointment with you today. I mean, maybe I’m wrong, but I think I’m being very clear with my intentions.”

Jyn shakes her head, trying to get her thoughts in order. “You’re right. You are being clear. I’m just confused because—why would you want to date me?”

“Because I like you.”

“Right, but—and I know that I’m not actually supposed to do this, because it’s not sexy or confident or whatever, but—I don’t understand why,” she says. “I mean, I’ve made every step of this as difficult as possible for you and I wasn’t even trying to put you off. That’s just what I’m like in a relationship. So, why would you want to put yourself through that?”

Cassian finally stops fiddling with the flowers and really looks at her. “Right,” he says, his tone caught somewhere between offended and disbelieving. “Who would ever want to date someone like you? You’re just smart and creative and sarcastic, not to mention beautiful. It doesn’t make any sense why I’d want to be with you.”

“Cassian…”

He doesn’t let her interrupt, though. “No, actually, you know what? I don’t think you’re asking the right question here.”

“I’m not?” Jyn asks, baffled. She’s never really seen him upset like this before, aside from the glimpse of it she got the other night when he came over and she inadvertently hurt his feelings.

“No, you’re not,” he replies. “I don’t think I need to provide an itemized list of everything I like about you. I think you should take my word for it that I’m not trying to date you because I’m confused, or because I feel obligated to you in any way, or because I just don’t know you well enough. I’m not desperate and I don’t have low standards, either, in case that’s what you’re trying to tell yourself. I want to date you because I think we could be good together and because I want to get to know you better.

“So, clearly, I know what I want. The important question, then, is: what do you want, Jyn?”

“I don’t know!” She responds immediately, without thinking, startled by how certain he is and how earnest. She knows, though, that answer won’t actually satisfy him. More importantly, he also just deserves a real answer at this point, even if the idea of trying to put how she feels into words makes her queasy. Either that or it’s just her pregnancy rearing its ugly head again.

She takes a moment, once she’s had her little outburst, to really think about it and she sighs before she dives in. “I’m sorry, it’s just—All of this has been so confusing, from the very beginning. I just wanted to hook up with you one time, so I could put myself out there again and feel like somebody might actually want me. And it worked, but not in the way I thought it would. I thought it could just be a rebound, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, afterwards. I still can’t.

“You put this idea into my head that I could have someone like you, someone who gives a fuck about me and what I want, who respects me and likes me, even though I’m always late and my apartment is always a mess and I don’t have a 401K or whatever, and that scared the hell out of me, because it was just supposed to be a casual, one-time thing. But I knew, after the first time, that it couldn’t really be like that between us. I knew you’d give me anything I asked for, but I just wasn’t ready to ask for more. Which is why I never called, afterwards.”

“What about now?” He asks. He doesn’t sound hurt, or like he’s judging her; he just wants to know. “Are you ready now?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, carefully. “I’m not sure I’m in a place where I can be someone’s girlfriend again just yet. I’m still dealing with a lot of things that came up during the breakup. And it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to wait, or put up with that, when none of it is your fault.”

“I don’t have to ‘put up with’ you, Jyn. I like you, remember?”

“Even now? When I’m being confusing?”

He smiles. “Even now.”

“What if we made a compromise?”

“We don’t have to do this. Really,” he says, shaking his head. “I understand your reservations and I respect them, even if I hate the idea that your idiot of an ex-boyfriend gets to ruin anything else for you after he’s already put you through so much.”

Jyn just blinks at him, confused, though she’s not sure why. Nobody likes her ex, but hearing Cassian talk about it is somehow different. They barely knew each other when she was dating Reece. She didn’t think he would have left much of an impression. “You think he’s an idiot?” She asks.

“I think he’s the stupidest person to ever live,” he says, with more conviction than Jyn’s ever heard from him, which is saying something. Cassian tends to have strong opinions about most things. “Not only because he treated you so terribly, but also because he let you go in the end.”

“Why didn’t you ever mention this before?”

Cassian shrugs, helplessly, like she’s backed him into a corner. “Well, I was trying very hard to seem like a normal guy who didn’t have a crush on you, and bashing your ex-boyfriend seemed like an easy way to show my hand, so I avoided talking about it with you.”

She can’t help it, at that point. She just needs to get this out of her system, she rationalizes, as she puts her arms around his neck to drag him down for a kiss. It’s just that not kissing him was getting so annoying, when he was just standing there being so handsome and patient and perfect. He leans forward, chasing her a bit, but she pulls away after only a moment.

“I mentioned a compromise…” she says, watching him cautiously.

“I’m listening,” he replies, with his eyes still closed.

“I’m not sure I’m ready to be in a relationship again—not yet, I mean. But I do know that sleeping with you didn’t get rid of the feelings I have for you, and ignoring them and you for two months didn’t help either.” She bites her lip. “I’m sorry for that, by the way.”

“I know,” he says, quietly, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry too. I should have—”

Jyn puts her fingertips to his lips to stop him. “Wait,” she says. “Let me finish.”

He nods, but says nothing.

“Clearly, I can’t ignore my feelings for you, or pretend I’m just interested in having casual sex with you. So, what if we did just date ? We could hang out and get to know each other better without worrying about what we’re calling it or what kind of future we might have.” She moves her hand to grasp at his shirt, as if that will somehow convey her sincerity. “I know that probably sounds like I’m letting you down easy, but you have to believe me when I say that’s not it.”

“Okay.”

“I just really need to take things slow right now because I—Wait, did you just say, ‘okay’?” she asks.

“Yes,” Cassian says with a small smile, the one she’s starting to recognize he always has when she’s acting like an idiot, as if he’s charmed by it instead of annoyed.

“What, just like that?”

“Yes, just like that. Listen, I have my fair share of trust issues, too. I’m not going to pretend I don’t. So, I can’t say that I really believe you’re going to wake up one day and want to be in a relationship with me, because that’s just not how my brain works. But I really want to believe that and, if you do change your mind or decide this doesn’t work for you, I’ll still have gotten more time with you than if I walked away right now. So, yes, I agree to your terms.”

“Well, good,” Jyn says, anti-climatically. She really thought that he was going to require much more convincing. She’s not sure what to do with herself now. “Uh, actually, that’s great. Because I got us reservations at this really cool place this morning. I think you’re really going to like it.”

He lifts an eyebrow at her, thinking it over for a second before it clicks. “Are you talking about Planned Parenthood?”

“Yep.”

He shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, even as he leans in to kiss her again. She doesn’t bother thinking of something clever to say in response, she just pulls him in closer. It’s every bit as good as she remembers, for all they’re just standing in her kitchen and she’s wearing a ratty old sweater and about to get an abortion. She lets herself get swept away in it, despite the very practical conversation they’ve just had and all of her concerns, and allows the possibility that she might get this, Cassian kissing her and holding her face in his perfect hands and making her feel warm and melt-y, for a long time yet.

After a few moments like that, Jyn pulls back suddenly as she remembers something. “When I said I wanted to ‘take things slow,’ I hope you know I didn’t mean it sexually,” she says, adamant. “I think we should have sex again as soon as possible. With protection this time, obviously.”

Cassian laughs, and she can feel it as he kisses her neck. “Thank you for the clarification.”

“So you agree?”

“That we should have sex soon? Or about using protection?” He asks, and then shakes his head. “What am I saying? The answer is ‘yes, absolutely’ to both of those things.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“We do have to get to your appointment, though.”

“Well, clearly I didn’t mean right now .”

He laughs again. “I know,” he says, looking so enamored of her just then that it renders her momentarily speechless. She’s not sure anyone’s ever looked at her like that before. “But my point stands.”

“Yes, okay, you’re right,” she says, trying her best to sound annoyed with the reminder, for all that she’s actually stupidly happy. She kisses him again, just because she can, and it successfully distracts them for another few moments until Cassian pulls back with a groan.

“Jyn, seriously…”

“I did mention that I’m always late, right? This is just something you’re going to have to get used to.”

“I’m calling us a cab,” he says, stepping back as he gets his phone out of his pocket. He waves a finger at her, trying so hard to look stern that she can only laugh in response. “No more distractions.”

“A cab? What are we, Rockefellers?”

“No, but we’ll be late otherwise,” he replies, already dialing. “And besides, I’m not going to be cheap on our first date.”

“I was kidding about that,” Jyn says, stepping close enough that she can toy with the string from the hood of his sweatshirt rather than look into his eyes. “We do not have to consider this our first date.”

He reaches out with his free hand to run a thumb over her cheekbone. “It’s too late for that,” he says, while he waits for someone at the other end of the line to pick up. “I’m already considering it. Go get your jacket.”

She gives him a small salute, which she’s immediately embarrassed of, but that same fond look passes over his features again before she turns away. Her nerves about the appointment come back when she’s alone in her room, putting on her coat and getting ready to leave. She knows it’s perfectly routine, just an outpatient procedure, but she can’t help but worry that something totally unexpected will go wrong. And now she has to worry about Cassian being around afterwards, and what she’ll say or do and how it might scare him off completely.

That fear lasts only until the moment she comes out of her room to find him waiting for her by the front door. His eyes light up when they see her, there’s just no other way to describe it, and the nerves suddenly feel more like anticipation than dread. This is their first date, she reminds herself, unorthodox though it may be. She smiles back, still a little uncertain but trying to hold onto the idea that this could be good, that this thing between them could work.

“Shall we?” He asks, like they’ve got reservations at the Plaza and not an appointment at Planned Parenthood, and holds out his hand to her. She takes it and, for that moment, she doesn’t even have to try to feel certain about this. She just does.

#rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #bodhi rook #stack the deck verse #rogue one #star wars #obvious child #obvious child au #pregnancy #pregnancy tw #abortion #abortion tw #my fic #my writing #anyway here's wonderwall #otp: built on hope #otp: your mother and i have been together ever since

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jayankles · 4 years

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Cool Place

Pairing: Jared x Reader

Word Count: 207

Request: shoveling snow

Vancouver was a cool place. Both figuratively and literally. You always had to tell yourself to wrap up or turn the heat up. The one thing that you could count on in Vancouver was always the snow and unsafe driveways.

You threw on one of your warmest, thickest jackets and grabbed a snow shovel. Jared would be home from work soon and you had nothing else to do. All house work had been done, the food was on and this snow was getting a little too dangerous.

You were almost done with the driveway when you heard a beep from the end of the road, your head lifted and smiled when you saw Jared’s SUV rolled towards the driveway.

Jared quickly approached and stopped at the end of the driveway, hopping out of the car and sweeping you up in a fun and unexpected kiss.

“Well, if shoveling snow was this much of a turn on for you I should do it everyday.” You giggled, pulling away from Jared, “I’m probably not going to do that but still I liked the kiss.”

Jared chuckled at your words and set you back on the ground, taking the shovel out of your hand and finishing the handiwork for you.

Let me know what you think?

Forevers: @super100012 @lupine-princess @plaid-lover-bay25 @atc74 @growningupgeek @sophiebobzz @docharleythegeekqueen @poukothenerd @grace-for-sale @mrswhozeewhatsis @jesspfly @supernaturallymarvellous @sammysgirl1997 @roxyspearing @mogaruke @be-amaziing @deanandsamsbitch @frankiea1998 @hennessy0274-blog @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @iwantthedean @capsheadquaters @emoryhemsworth @notmoose45 @essie1876 @cassieraider @brewsthespirit-blog @its-my-perky-nipples @riversong-sam @jotink78 @captainradicalpassion @jadalecki-jackles @spnbaby-67 @holyfuckloueh @gh0stgurl @alyssa6marie @esoltis280 @bumber-car-s @alexwinchester23 @x-waywardaf-x @thisismysecrethappyplace @randomparanoid @kellianz

jared: @im-turnip @deans-baby-momma @shamelesslydean @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @sandlee44 @smoothdogsgirl @plaidstiel-wormstache

#jared x reader #jared padalecki x reader #jared fluff #jared x reader fluff #they are the cutest #love this little snippet #into their lives #jayankles #jayankles writes #bailey writes

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astxlphe · 5 years

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Day 3: Indulgent // Akumori / Moriaku

(sorry it’s a bit late @bsd-rarepair-valentines-week)

...this is way out of my comfort zone, but I needed this out of my system for now. It’s kind of an experiment?

I’m usually a fluff person okay.

Also Mori is hard as hell to write I’m sorry.

Content warnings:

generic unhealthy relationship warning, unsafe, nsfw at the end large age gap, possessive / controlling behaviour, blood play, knife play towards the end too. Pain play too? Is that a thing? Sadism / masochism?

I think that’s it? Also everything is consensual.

Akutagawa comes back from the Guild ship victorious, with his clothes mending themselves, drying blood all over his shirt and patching his face.

Mori stares at it.

Everything about it, about watching it smear as the boy wipes it away with his sleeve, is attention grabbing.

Maybe it’s the way it making him think of what he looks like with bloods splatters all over him, staining his skin and clothes.

All black, and white, and red — fitting. Those are already his colors.

Once Akutagawa has finished reporting, Mori simply nods. “I see— a job well done.” He plays with one of the pieces on his chessboard while the boy straightens his back in pride. “You have reopened your injuries,” he notes — and sighs, because of course, the boy would not be mindful of himself.

Mori stands and motions for him to follow. “We have some time before Chuuya-kun finishes his own mission,” he goes on. “Come here, I’ll take a look.”

Akutagawa is not as reluctant to it as usual, likely because he’s tired — fighting while injured is taxing, even for him— or because he knows Mori is not offering a simple medical checkup.

He watches him peel his clothes off his body, not taking his eyes off him once, and lets his fingers linger where the skin is the most stained. The boy hisses in pain under his breath as he stitches him up.

The sound makes him smile, he presses his lips on his nape and Akutagawa relaxes under his touch, sighing quietly.

There is no time for more, however. The phone rings, Chuuya’s name flashing on the screen.

“I’m afraid we will have to finish on a later date.”

A fleeting, barely noticeable irritation passes over Akutagawa’s face, but Mori shakes his head.

“Business first, Akutagawa-kun. Business first.”

The Guild is out of the way, but there is little time to celebrate. More is on its way.

In the meantime, Mori has a business to run and compensations to put together for those under their protection who were impacted by the war against the Guild.

He listens to Akutagawa’s report on the latest skirmish his Black Lizard had to intervene on. The day is young, and Mori has time. No pressing issues until at least another hour, he calculates.

Plenty of time.

“How do you feel about picking it up where we left off, Akutagawa-kun?”

Without a word, Akutagawa nods, moving on the other side of the desk. Mori pushes him back a little, making him sit, and takes a hold of his chin to study his face.

There is fresh blood on his face, dotting his face like crimson freckles, belonging the last enemy he has killed. It’s the only sign he has been in a fight at all.

Mori’s finger spread it, leaving a wide, red mark on his cheek.

This is the blood of the people who dared cross the Mafia, cross him.

And Akutagawa wears it like a trophy.

“You did good today,” he gives him, and Akutagawa immediately perks up.

“It was nothing, sir. I—”

Mori forces his face up and shuts him up with a kiss. There is a muffled whine from the boy as he deepens it, as his teeth catch on his lower lip and bite down, hard. Akutagawa’s hands grip at Mori’s coat and they can both taste iron on their tongue.

From the corner of the room, Elise makes a grossed-out noise. He makes a mental note to send her away next time.

He pulls back. Akutagawa’s face is red, blood dripping from his lips to his chin, and Mori tugs at his collar to get an opening at his neck.

They’re interrupted by an urgent knock on the office’s door.

Akutagawa immediately lets go, quickly fixing his coat and wiping his mouth clean. They're back in less compromising positions by the time the door opens, and Mori schools his features to appear as unbothered by the interruption as possible.

“Some small organization has been trying to take parts of our territory,” the newcomer explained quickly. “They’re taking advantage of the fallout of the war with the Guild.”

“I see.” He smiles amiably and turns to Akutagawa, who manages to look only mildly embarrassed. “Akutagawa-kun?”

“I’ll take the Black Lizards; we will handle it.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Akutagawa bows, turns on his heels and leaves.

“They won’t trouble us for long,” Mori tells their unwanted guest. “Don’t worry.”

It’s not often Mori indulge in a treat, a little something to enjoy himself, but he can make an exception. He watches the boy go — tall and thin, wrapped in his black coat, looking almost delicate.

Giving Akutagawa what he wants is easy.

“Close the door, will you?”

Akutagawa stills. “The executives will arrive for a meeting in ten minutes,” he says.

“One more reason to get to it, isn’t it? And please, do not to forget the lock.”

He hasn’t finished his sentence that the lock clicks into place and Akutagawa crosses the office to meet him.

Mori stops playing with his scalpel and sticks it into the wood of his desk.

What Akutagawa wants is simple enough: a word of praise, to have worth in someone’s eyes. He’ll deny it to hell and back, but he, as much as the people he claims to despise, puts his own worth into the hands of others.

He wants appreciation.

How foolish of him.

But how can Mori not appreciate how pliant Akutagawa is under his fingers? How he allows him to touch and kiss and cut as he sees fit?

Akutagawa is a brat, prone to run off ignoring orders and act rashly, he knows it.

But this is one of the few times Akutagawa is fully obedient, so how can he not enjoy the docility of his usually spirited attack dog?

The boy starts to take his coat off, but Mori stops him, taking a hold of the edge of his clothes. “I would rather do this myself, if you don’t mind.”

Of course, he doesn’t.

Sliding the coat off his shoulders, he lets it fall in a rumple on the floor. The cravat goes next, and by the time Mori’s hands are getting to his belt, Akutagawa holds onto him and pulls him into a messy, needy kiss.

Mori permits it, too.

He caresses from the line of his collarbone to the curve of his hips to the soft skin of his thighs, and Akutagawa gives up control, letting Mori move him as he wishes.

Akutagawa’s eyes are fixed on the scalpel still stuck in the desk, almost standing straight, only a few inches away from his face. He has been staring at it since they have gotten started.

Mori smiles, catching the skin of his neck between his teeth, gives it bite and moves his hips.

It draws a gasp out of the boy’s mouth. His body trembles, fingers clench, trying to grip on the smooth wood under him.

Soon, the scalpel finds its way in Mori’s hand. Akutagawa shivers as he rests the blade on his skin — from the cold of it and from anticipation.

Scars already litter his back, and he traces them lightly. Most dating back before he even joined the Mafia, others a result of training and lost battles, and a few fresher: one, claw-shaped and the other an obvious remnant of the fight against Fitzgerald.

Some Mori has left there himself.

He presses his scalpel a little harder on one of them, just under the shoulder blade.

Blood pearls, and Akutagawa’s inhales sharply. He lets out a choked moan when another cut is made, the sharp pain of it leaving him breathless. It runs slowly down his back, following the lines of his muscles, until Mori fingers dip in it and spread it on his skin like red paint.

He moves again, harder this time, and Akutagawa’s voice rises, quick and struggling to get the words out of his mouth — it’s a litany of Mori’s name and please for more.

Mori obliges, dragging the blade on his skin and snapping his hips until Akutagawa cries out, until his whole body tenses and goes boneless. Mori’s own release comes soon after, and he takes a few second compose himself.

Leaning back, he lets the boy catch his breath, admiring his handiwork, from the bloodied skin to the patchwork of red marks all over his neck and shoulders. He waits for the moment the pain dulls, for his muscles to relax and for the bleeding to slow.

All black, and white, and red.

They’ll need to disinfect all this before he can go. “Don’t move,” he orders, and Akutagawa lays motionless, waiting. He takes supplies out of one of his drawers and cleans the cuts, one by one, carefully.

They may be finished for now, but the tension in the boy’s jaw as the dull throbbing turns into stinging pain again has Mori’s blood singing.

“You were so good for me today,” he tells him, running a hand through his hair as he works.

His loyal, faithful dog.

When he’s done, he pulls away, his hands leave his body, and Akutagawa pushes himself up to start looking for his clothes.

“I have a spare shirt I will give you,” Mori says, stopping him as he goes to grab his own.

“Mine is fine.” He inspects it with a critical eye. “If there is blood on it I can—”

“Nonsense, nonsense!” Mori waves him off, before finding the shirt in question. He grabs his wrist and tugs him away from the desk to drape the shirt over his shoulders.

The boy obediently puts his arms through the sleeves.

Buttoning it up, Mori hums. “It suits you.”

It’s the right length, but a little too large on the shoulders. It doesn’t matter.

Few things are more satisfying than having someone wears the clothes you choose for them. While he likes Elise's constant complaining about it, he doesn’t mind the change to Akutagawa’s more indulgent disposition on the subject.

As he fixes the collar, he makes sure the bruises on his neck stay visible.

Besides, it keeps away people who might want a taste of what’s his.

#bsd #bsdrarepairvday #moriaku #akumori #unsafe #cutting tw #blood tw #see content warnings above the cut #tumblr i'm begging you don't break the read more on this one #i can't believe i'm going to post this #i'm not confident at all about this #boy what else is new

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shysneeze · 7 years

Text

Wet Dog (Sirius Black x Reader)

Request:Heyy! I was wondering if you could do a Sirius x fem!reader version of Whoolly Jumper. Maybe where reader is in Gryffindor and her and Sirius don't really get along but then while she's smelling the potion she smells campfire, leather and when she says wet dog, the guys all look at Sirius in shock.

Warning: Cussing, my writing, injury etc

Author's Note: This is probs shit, never written a Sirius imagine but here you go :)

"Watch out, (Y/L/N)."

(Y/N) stumbles to the side as Sirius Black strides ahead of her into the potions classroom, followed swiftly by his apologetic friends. She can only roll her eyes as she follows, giving Remus Lupin an exasperated look as he pats her shoulder sympathetically. She’s already preparing herself for a long afternoon.

"Don't you look ravishing today, (Y/L/N)." Sirius mocks as she takes her seat in beside him. "Bed head and all."

"What can I say, Black.” She smiles mockingly sweetly. “ I got my inspiration from you."

Watching his smirk fall is one of the most gratifying things (Y/N) is sure she’s capable of. As school player and obnoxious prick, a title given to him by the girl herself, Sirius Black is not someone (Y/N) has ever found herself get along with.

A prank gone wrong in their earlier school years, leaving her the undeserving victim of some nasty boils, destined them to a life as enemies, who’s day’s revolve around their petty banter and scathing remarks.

“Of course you did.” Sirius recovers. “I am dashingly handsome.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Sirius goes to reply despite Remus’ warning nudge to his side when Slughorn begins to explain the lesson, approaching the cauldron in front of the class as it bubbles above the flame, letting off a pinkish steam.

“Amortentia.” He begins with a smile. “Can anyone tell me what it is?”

“A love potion, Sir.” (Y/N)’s replies with a raised hand.

“That’s right, Miss (Y/L/N).” Slughorn beams. “Well done.”

“Show off.” “Sirius coughs.

“Not my fault that you’re feeling threatened.”

Remus long sigh is loud enough to have them both temporarily sheepish as Slughorn continues to explain the lesson, either ignoring or obvious to the way Sirius and (Y/N) have begun to bicker the minute Remus’ disappointed look faded.

Only once the class has dispersed to take turn at smelling the infamous potion do they let up, separating with mirrored glares to different cauldrons let bubbling across the room.

Her sour mood is soon overshadowed by the same buzz as everyone else. Amortentia’s unique smell makes it a fascinating potion, and like most, (Y/N) can’t deny her excitement at getting to decipher what it smells like to her, or rather, who.

"Well, (Y/N)?" James Potter nudges her side once together at the front of the short queue. “What do you smell?”

“Give me a chance, boys.” She chuckles.

Remus has the decency to look apologetic, though his eyes carry curious glint to them much like James’. Giving him a knowing look, she turns with a small laugh to lean forward over the bubbling cauldron, inhaling deeply, and expectantly.

It takes a moment for them to hit her, to diffuse into separate, identifiable scents rather than the initial confusion that causes her nose to scrunch. Behind her, James and Remus exchange a curious glance, finally a glimpse into their mysterious friend.

“Campfire.” She confesses first. “Leather and... wet dog?”

She pulls back with a grimace, a disgusted look twisting at her expression. Behind her, James’ jaw has slackened and Remus’ brows have pulled into a confused frown that has concern prickling at her skin.

“What?”

"Did you say wet dog?" Remus asks.

"Yeah.” She grimaces. “Do we know anyone with a dog?”

"No!" James interrupts.

His eyes betray him though, already staring across the room towards Sirius. She follows his gaze with a questioning frown. She’s about to question Siriu’s relevance when she spots Lily beside him, smirk finding her cheeks quickly.

“I suppose you smelt Lilies?”

“Ha- yeah.” James laughs, almost mechanically. “Yeah.”

“Hm.” She grins. “How did I guess.”

“I wonder.” Remus joins. “Not like he talks about her all them time.”

“Of course not.”

Their worried looks still hold though, eyes darting between each other warily. She tries to dismiss it though, weird behavior isn’t uncommon amongst the infamous Marauders.

She focusses her thoughts instead on who on earth might smell of wet dog.

She’s not sure what she expects, walking into he empty hospital wing in the dead hours of the morning, but Sirius Black certainly wasn’t even a consideration. She peers down once again at the parchment clutched in her hands and inhales sharply as the pieces come together.

She’d been reading in the common room as is her usual weekend tradition, forgetting time and not sleeping until the sun is creeping in the windows, when a scrunched ball of parchment has appeared from thin air and fallen into her lap. On it, an almost illegibly scrawled out request for her to come to the hospital wing, ASAP.

"Sorry." Sirius sighs. "I didn't know who else to message and I knew you'd be up..."

"It's fine. “ (Y/N) assures. “What’s wrong? Is Remus okay?”.

Sirius’s brows pique before he’s grimacing again at the movement, cracking the slow healing gash on his forehead. Moving closer at the sound of his hissed breath, her own breathing halts for a second as she catches the real issue in the light of one of the dim candles.

He’s grasping at his side with one hand, the other clutching at the table he’s sat on. Through his torn short, she can see the crimson stain of blood seeping through the fabric and coating his fingers. She can see him grinding his teeth in pain, breathing in sharply before forcing out a question.

"You know?" He asks. “About Remus?”

“Yes- what happened?”

“How?”

“He’s a friend.” She explains quickly. “I figured it out- what happened to you?”

“He’s fine, but he got me pretty bad.”

He’s so flippant about it, as if it’s happened a million times before and he doesn’t care, but (Y/N) face freezes in disbelief. Her next question bursts out so loud she’s grateful for once that Madam Pomfrey isn’t here.

"You were out with him?”

"You said you knew!"

"That Remus is a werewolf.” She exclaims. “Not that you were out there with him- do you know how unsafe that is?”

His chuckle at her reaction is short lives as it sends a ripple of pain through his side and has him hunching over with a chocked out groan. She’s coming forward instantly. steadying him upright again.

"Merlin." She exhales " Take your shirt off, Black."

His lips twitch into a smirk.

"Awfully bold tonight, aren't we, (Y/L/N)?"

"Sirius, you are bleeding.” She warns sternly. “Don’t tease me right now.”

He nods, grunting as he peels his shirt off, revealing the source of all the blood, a jagged gash running down his side, the skin around it dotted with deep red bruises, not yet given the time to turn that signature purple colour.

She’s quick to riffle through a few cupboards for a healing kit, grabbing some sterilising alcohol and a cloth, soaking it silently as he watches on, a mixture of mesmerised and concerned.

"Um, this is going to sting.” She warns, blowing some strands of hair from her face frantically. “Like a lot.”

“I’m a big boy.” He assures.

“Fine.” She says. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

His body jolts the minute she touches him, breathed hissed through his teeth as he grasps for soemthing to hold onto. She reaches out for his hand with her free one, clasping it in her own and squeezing reassuring. He meets her eyes at the feeling, taken aback by the way their hands fit so perfectly together. She gets lost there for a second, in their little moment.

“There.” She clears her throat after a moment. “I did warn you.”

She pulls away to go for the bandages, the absence of her hand in his causing a sinking feeling in his chest he’s never felt before. He can tell she’s avoiding his eyes as she begins to bandage his wounds.

“Thanks.” He says. “For doing this.”

“You’re an idiot.” She mumbles, moving away to inspect her handiwork. “I hope you know that.”

"Noted.”

"Care to explain how it happened though?"

He contemplates it for only a moment, realising how contradictory it would be to lie after what she’s seen, what she’s healed for him. His body slumps slowly with a sigh.

“Remus is our friend.” He starts. “We couldn’t let him go out there alone, so we- me, James and Peter- became animagi to help him out every full moon.”

“Because he isn’t bothered by other animals...” She exhales upon realisation. “That’s really clever.”

Her frown eases, the harshness of her voice disintegrating with the newfound respect that warms her chest. She steps forward again, looking up at him sheepishly.

“You’re not that much of an idiot.”

“I don’t know.” He jokes. “I lost control of my animal form and startled Moony.”

“Still.” She assures. “It’s very admiral of you to do that for a friend.”

“No one deserves to go through what he does.” Sirius shrugs. “If I can help even a little, it’s my job to do so.”

She finds herself smiling at this new side of Sirius Black, a side that’s sweet, gentle. She shakes her head in disbelief as she runs a hand down his bandaged side, gently.

“What’s you’re animagus?” She asks friendlily. “Please tell me its a chicken.”

“Ha, you wish.” He holds his side a she laughs. “I’ll have you know, I’m man’s best friend.”

“Huh?”

“A dog.” He explains with a soft smile. “Big scruffy looking thing.”

She stills her hand on his torso, barely noticing how it’s wandered across his skin, resting on his shoulder before she pulls it back. He begins to frown at her slackened jaw and wide eyes.

"Oh my god."

"What is it?"

"Wet dog!"

He blinks at her, standing with a frown, groaning as he pushes himself from the table to glare at her.

"Well that's just rude."

"No, in the amortentia.” She exclaims, fingers curling in her hair in frustration. “Leather and wet dog.”

“(Y//N)-”

"Fuck sake, that was you?” She rambles. “Are you serious?"

"Last time I checked that was my name, yes."

"Fuck off, Sirius." She snaps. "I can't believe I like you of all people."

It’s like it all comes down at once, the reality of the night, no longer clouded by each warm touch and lingering gaze. Sirius Black is a player, an obnoxious prick and the subject of an affection she was sure she’d never feel for him.

She goes to turn away with a scoff and a disappointed feeling in the pit of her stomach when, behind her, Sirius lets out a sigh and his hands are tugging her back by her waist, twisting her around until she’s stumbling into his chest. He holds her gaze, eyes full of questions as their lips are frozen millimeters apart.

She finds herself nodding, reading him perfectly enough to know what he’s asking. Then, their lips are clashing in a kiss, their bodies stumbling backwards until hers hits the wall behind her. It’s all so rushed, finger curled in hair and heavy breaths.

She has to force herself to pull back, his lips chasing hers as she gently forces him back and with a pant. His fingers are still curled around her waist, but his eyes are as wide as hers.

“What- what just happened?”

“I’m pretty sure we just made out.” He admits. “And it was pretty fucking good.”

“No, no we can’t start doing that.” She decides. “I’m supposed to hate you.”

“Why!?” He bursts. “You can’t seriously be mad at me for something I did when I was fourteen.”

“I had boils for days.” She hisses.

“I was fourteen!” He retorts. “Merlin, (Y/N), I can’t believe I like someone who holds such a grudge.”

She freezes, breath catching nervously in her throat as she looks up at him again.

"What did you smell in the potion?”

"Old books and flowery shampoo." He admits. "Your shampoo."

"How do you know what my shampoo smells like?"

His blush is something she’s never seen before. It creeps up his neck and reaches the top of his ears instantly. A bit of her she’s no longer able to ignore observes how sweet it is, cute even.

"I notice things..."He mumbles. "I'm very observant."

"Well your smells were all nice smells.” She argues. “Wet dog... why did it have to be you.”

He's smirking again, a smirk that she’s always dying to wipe off his face, but never before has she wanted to do so by kissing him, never before has it been so infuriatingly attractive... although perhaps it has, perhaps all that hatred has been hiding something else.

"Can kiss you again?"

She doesn’t recall nodding until they’re kissing again, his hands moving from her waist to cup her cheeks, his hands warm on her skin as they were in her hand. His lips are gentle, so much more so that she’s ever imagined and she knows they’re something she’ll never be able to live without again.

"I'm sorry I pranked you when I fourteen." He apologises. “I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

“You thought boils were the way to go?”

“I know right.” He grins. “Apparently all I needed to do was get my self badly injured.”

“Oh shut up.”

“You like me though. “ He teases.

“Yeah.” She sighs, pulling him in again. “I do...”

#Sirius Black #Sirius Black x reader #Sirius black imagine #Sirius x reader #Sirius imagine #Sirius Orion Black #Marauders #remus lupin #James Potter #peter pettigrew #Sirius #harry potter

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vendasflyscreens · 3 years

Text

Flyscreen Repair Professional

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green-eyeddragonfanfiction · 7 years

Text

Time: Chapter 9

Summary: Soulmate!AU/Reincarnation!AU. Female!Reader lives in a world where alien invasions and hordes of death robots occur and past lives and soulmates are very real. Like most people, she gets brief glimpses of her past. although a person’s past lives and their current life may have little to nothing in common, soul mates tend to transfer between lives, the core of a person staying the same throughout the eons. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Warnings: Language, angst, unsafe vehicular etiquette (wear your fucking seat belt) Word Count: ~5,444 (Jeez, really? It didn’t feel that long while I was editing it) A/N: I took forever to get chapter 8 out so I’m trying to make it up to you by getting this one out asap. Enjoy, guys. It’s Steve shipping time! And, uh, sorry for this one. It’s a doozy.

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

You pushed all of your thoughts about Bucky and Steve to the back of your mind. This would take all of your attention. Airports were tricky when you spoke the language everything was in, but this would be an adventure.

“New York, here I come.”

Dean, bless his heart, had come to pick you up from the airport. He chatted happily the entire way back to the cafe, voice filling the space of his messy SUV. Under his care the cafe was thriving. It was doing just as well if not better than it had while you ran it. He sobered a bit when he talked about the recent events surrounding the Sokovia Accords. Your attention snapped to him when he said there had been reports that the Avengers were duking it out in a southern German airport.

“Wait, didn’t you fly in from there?” he asked, turning to look at you while you were stopped at a red light.

“I flew in from the larger one in west Berlin,” you said.

“Oh, damn. It would have been awesome to see the Avengers fight firsthand. I hope they capture that Barnes dude. I don’t know why Cap is helping him. He’s a monster,” Dean said flippantly.

You grit your teeth. You knew Dean didn’t know any better. “Maybe he has a good reason. I trust Captain America,” you said stiffly.

He gave you a confused look out of the corner of his eye. Although he didn’t know exactly why, he knew you well enough to know he’d pissed you off somehow.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said amicably. You relaxed a little bit. Dean was a good kid. He didn’t deserve your anger.

“Any more news about the Avengers? Recent news, that is,” you asked.

“Nothing solid, but they’re speculating that The Winter Soldier and Captain America escaped,” he informed you. “And it seems like the rest of the people that helped them are going to be locked up somewhere top secret.”

“People helped them?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah, there was some leaked footage. Let’s see. There was Wanda Maximoff, the magic-y chick that blew up a building a week ago... the Falcon - no shocker there, him and Cap are best friends-... and some dude in a red suit that could get huge and could also disappear. No one knows who he is-,” he said, ticking them off on his hand as he spoke. “Oh, and the archer dude. Hawkeye,” he said, holding up a fourth finger.

“Shit.” Steve is gonna beat himself up over that one, guaranteed.

“Yeah, it’s crazy. They must trust Cap a lot to defend that Barnes dude like that,” he said, shaking his head slightly.

He pulled into the garage that was a block away from the cafe (and your apartment, which was above it). It was easier to park here than look for it on the street. Dean was one of the few people crazy enough to drive in New York. He usually took the subway, but drove occasionally, and you were grateful that he did.

“You’re 22 now, right?” you asked as you exited the car. You went to pull your duffel off of the back seat, but Dean had reached it before you, hauling it out and slinging it over his shoulder. “Thanks,” you said, and he nodded at you, smiling.

“Yeah, why?” he asked.

“Pizza and a six pack enough of a payback for picking me up?” you asked, grinning.

He chuckled as you walked towards the garage exit. The lights flickered, casting odd shadows on the grimy cement walls around you. You hated this garage.You swore you’d get stabbed in here one day. You didn’t want today to be that day, so you walked a little more quickly to the elevators.

“Yeah, that’s more than enough,” he said as he pressed the button to call the elevator. “Everyone’s really excited to see you, you know,” he said, smiling at you as you both stepped into the elevator.

“I’m excited to see them, too. I’m actually a little surprised everyone’s still there. I would have thought they’d be upset I made a nineteen year old look after the shop,” you said, grimacing slightly.

“A couple of them were pretty upset at first, but they saw how long you’d taken to train me. After I took over and they realized I could run the cafe they backed off. Whenever there’s a hiccup some are still quick to blame me, but the rest are pretty level-headed about it,” he said as the elevator climbed floors. It reached street level and you both walked out.

“Well, that’s good. I chose you for a reason,” you said, patting him on the shoulder. He smiled and blushed a little at that. You paused. “Hey, listen. I don’t know how long I’ll be staying. Don’t think you’re done watching over my cafe yet,” you said, a hint of teasing entering your voice as you said the last part.

“Can you really call it your cafe if you haven’t been running it for the last two years?” he asked, equally teasing.

“Whose name is on all of the paperwork?” you asked crossing your arms as you leveled a steely glare at him.

“Yours, but only because they wouldn’t let you sign everything over to a twenty year old,” he said, crossing his arms right back at you.

“Shit, I’d hoped you’d forgotten about that,” you said, uncrossing your arms and slumping slightly.

He laughed at your expense for a minute then sobered. “What’s this about leaving again?” he asked, glancing at you as you turned the corner onto the street the cafe was on.

“Well I’m going to be visiting Brooklyn for the next few days. I don’t entirely know what’ll happen,” you said, wishing you could explain more.

“Uh huh... and can you explain why you’re going to be in Brooklyn?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Uh... I’m hoping to see an old friend there?” you said, hoping he wouldn’t question you further.

He gave you a long stare, silently judging you. “Whatever you say, (Y/N),” he said finally.

Finally, you arrived in front of your store. “Oh, beautiful! How I’ve missed you!” you exclaimed, wrenching open the door to the cafe.

You were immediately bombarded by aproned baristas. You tried to shush them as a few customers shot you dirty looks over their laptop; You’d obviously interrupted some very important screenplay or fanfiction writing.

The girls dragged you to the back of the shop, asking you all kinds of questions about Romania and your flight back, which you happily answered.

“Tadah!” Taliyah said, revealing a beautifully decorated cake with “welcome back” written on it in light blue frosting.

“It’s yellow cake with chocolate frosting, your favorite!” Katelyn helpfully chimed in.

“Not even five minutes back and you’re already trying to get me fat again?” you quipped, grinning at both at them.

“Well if you don’t eat it, I will,” Dean said from behind you.

“Shit, Dean. I totally forgot. Here, lemme take that,” you said, reaching out for your bag. He deftly dodged you and moved to the stairs at the back of the room that led up to the apartment immediately above it. The door to the apartments floors three and above were next to the shop’s entrance, but you were lucky enough to have an entrance to yours linked directly to your shop.

“It’s not a problem. You catch up with Kate and Tali,” he said, throwing you a smile as he went to go throw your stuff upstairs.

“Tell us all about Romania,” Kate said, grabbing a knife from the kitchen area to cut the cake with.

Over the next twenty minutes you talked about your time with your aunt and uncle. Dean joined you back downstairs a few minutes into your stories. You talked about how you worked a merchant stall in an idyllic, quaint old part of Bucharest and how you helped your aunt start up a business. Tali and Kate took turns popping in and out of the cafe to take care of customers and all four of you munched happily on welcome back cake.

“Ok, but you had to have found someone you liked there,” Tali said, grinning eagerly from her spot on a bar stool that she’d parked next to the door to the cafe’s main room.

“Yeah, come on. There had to be a cute guy... or girl?” she asked waggling her eyebrows at you suggestively.

You laughed at the ridiculous face she was making. You wanted to tell them about Bucky so badly, but you couldn’t. Maybe you could tell them about Grant, though? No, it was too risky. “No, no. There was no one, male or otherwise,” you said, smirking at their crestfallen expressions. “I have to get going. It’s been at least two days since I showered,” you said. You sniffed yourself experimentally and wrinkled your nose. Yeah, you were definitely rank. You let out an exaggerated gag for their benefit which made them laugh. They gave you another hug (brave souls) and told you once again how much they missed you.

You trudged up the stairs to your apartment, old stairs creaking under your weight, and locked it behind you. You took a moment to appreciate Dean’s handiwork. It was like you hadn’t even been gone for two years. Although things were still in boxes, it seemed like most of your furniture had been uncovered, the floors swept, and surfaces of things dusted. The bathroom was in a similar state. He’d even located a towel for you. You found your duffel in your bedroom, sitting on top of your bed. You realized he’d found your sheets, too. You supposed you weren’t that surprised. He’d helped you with a lot of you packing. He’d meticulously labeled the boxes of everything that was staying in the apartment. You pulled out your shampoo and body wash. They were some of the few things you’d grabbed from your aunt and uncle’s house before you’d left. You also grabbed a change of clothes, not really looking too closely at what you’d grabbed, and headed to the bathroom. It seemed like Dean had been conscientious enough to run the water for a little while. There was still some water in the base of the tub and when you started the water it ran clean immediately and stayed clean, no rust or dirt in sight. You stripped while you waited for it to heat up.

When it was hot enough you stepped in, closing the curtain behind you. You washed your hair and body quickly, but stood in the spray for a long time. At some point you’d sat down in the bottom of the tub, but you didn’t remember doing that. The panic you’d been obstinately denying and ignoring was clawing its way through your chest.

Steve and Bucky were missing. They’d gone off to who knows where, their friends most likely taken to a prison in Fuckthatville, Godknowswhere. Without Natasha, Fury, or Sharon to tell you what was happening, you were in the dark. You didn’t know if they were alive. For the first time in a long time you stared at the letters on your wrist. Your soul brand usually made your heart ache, but this time it was different. It made you feel even more panic and helpless. Your boys- Rosie’s boys- were out there risking their lives. They always would, you knew. It was in their nature. But not knowing was worse than anything else. Rosie had never lost them, you knew; They’d lost her. Rosie didn’t remember much from the last years of her life. From the few things you could find, it seemed like Rosie had died at the age of sixteen, long before Steve had become the Captain at 23 and Bucky supposedly died at the age of 27. You didn’t know the pain of losing them, but you knew it would break you. Steve had Bucky when you’d died, but the closest you had was Dean, but he was no Bucky to your Steve.

You stood suddenly, nearly losing your balance as blood rushed back to its proper place. You wouldn’t let yourself think like that. They were fine. You’d see Steve and Bucky in a day or two at Rosie’s old Brooklyn home. You strained your mind to try and think of the address. Things not directly relating to Steve were pretty hard to remember. Even Bucky was fuzzy in most of Rosie’s memories. The only reason you remembered as much as you did was because he was always with Steve. The water had gone pretty chilly while you’d been having a silent breakdown in the shower. You shivered as you turned off the water and grabbed your towel.

“They’re okay. They’re gonna be okay,” you said, repeating the mantra as you dried off and got dressed. Your internal clock was telling you it was time to sleep and you agreed. They almost definitely wouldn’t be in the U.S. for at least eight hours. Maybe less if they used some sort of high-tech fancy jet, but you were willing to bet work as dangerous as theirs would hold them up for a bit.

You walked back into your room, freshly showered, and threw the duffel off of your bed and onto the floor. You didn’t even bother to get under the blankets, flopping face-down onto the bed.

“Sleep now. Nothing you can do to help. Brooklyn tomorrow,” you told yourself. Your mind and body were unwilling to rest, but eventually the lack of good sleep and stress-induced fatigue pulled you into dreamland.

You spent the next two days going to Rosie’s old place. Turned out the actual house had been torn down a long time ago and an apartment complex had been erected in its place. But it was still the correct address. Rosie recognized some of the old buildings in the area through your eyes. You’d been through the neighborhood a couple of times before but avoided it on principle. Rosie’s memories were shockingly vivid- almost hallucination-worthy. It was annoying on a good day, jarring and upsetting on a bad day.

You staked out the house at a cafe across the street. Their coffee was crap compared to your place’s, but you drank it just to give yourself something to do. You’d watch people on the street pass by. Certain sounds or feelings would trigger a Rosie memory, and you’d be teleported back eighty years. A breeze played with your hair and tickled your nose and suddenly the road was filled with people and beautiful, curvy classic cars. Nearly all of the men wore suits and hats. The women wore long, modest dresses and their hair was nearly universally short or pinned up on their head. You felt like you were at least two feet shorter and glanced next to you; Steve was laughing brightly at something someone had said. He was still weak and sickly in your memories. He was so different, yet still the same Steve you knew today.

Suddenly the world warped back to the present and you sighed. You hoped more than ever before that they’d be back soon. You were getting tired of Rosie’s visions. Every day you waited made your anxiety heighten. Every day they didn’t return made the long list of their possible fates in your head get even longer, but only one became more and more likely.

Day three brought some relief. You grabbed the paper from the stand at the front of the cafe and nearly dropped your coffee as you read the title.

“Bucky Barnes Innocent of Sokovia Accords Bombing” it read. Your heart thudded in your chest as you took your usual seat that gave you full view of the complex across the street.

You read the article, eyes quickly consuming every word. Due to evidence uncovered by parties unknown, it was made clear to the UN he wasn’t the one responsible for the bombing. Apparently, however, he was still wanted for the murders he committed as the Winter Soldier. You grimaced. You supposed that was to be expected, at least. But at least his name was clear of a crime he didn’t commit. Not that you believed it had truly been Bucky who had committed all of those murders. No, he’d been a brainwashed weapon of Hydra- a gun pointed at whoever they wanted. He was different, now. You’d seen that every day you spent with him. It was in his eyes; his laugh. He was a good man. A truly good one. You sighed as you closed your paper, then glanced up at the complex and nearly choked on your coffee.

Across the road was Steve and the woman you recognized as Wanda Maximoff. He gave you a small wave and then bent over to whisper something in Wanda’s ear as he pointed to you. She gave you a warm smile and waved at you, too. You gave them a tiny wave, your eyes wide with shock. Steve raised an eyebrow at you and motioned for you to come over.

You stood a little too suddenly and the cafe patrons around you gave you funny looks, but you didn’t notice. Steve snorted and covered his mouth with his hand. You could tell he was grinning broadly beneath his hand. Wanda’s smile widened, eyes sparkling with humor.

You crossed the road, checking to make sure it was clear before you stepped off the curb and tried to act as naturally as you could. If Wanda and Steve’s reactions were anything to go by, you were failing spectacularly.

“Stevie!” you said as you hopped up onto the curb and threw yourself into his arms.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, slightly surprised, but wrapped his arms around you anyway.

He smelled just like Rosie remembered. It was comforting. You let him rub your back gently for a minute, completely content, with no intention of letting go, when Wanda cleared her throat next to you.

You jumped back and away from Steve, startled. Had that been you or Rosie? You couldn’t tell.

“Uh, hi. Wanda, right?” you asked, extending your hand.

She smiled at you and shook your hand. “Yes. It’s (Y/N), correct? I’ve only heard it about fifty times the last few days,” she said, throwing Steve a tight smile.

“Ah, uh... I’m sorry?” you said, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly.

“Oh, don’t be. It was nice seeing that side of Steve and Bucky,” she said, smiling for a second before her face fell.

“Oh, right. Where is Bucky?” you said, looking around for him as though he’d pop out from behind a car or something.

Steve wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Stevie...?” you said, voice questioning. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, and he closed his mouth again. He tried again, but the same thing happened.

“Steve, don’t tell me he’s-” you began, barely daring to breathe.

“He’s not dead,” he said, finally looking at you. You breathed out a huge sigh of relief, but quickly focused on him again.

“Why isn’t he here, then? Was he worried he’d draw too much attention to himself?” you asked, confused.

“That’s, ah. Well... you see...” Steve rambled, unable to find the words he needed.

“We should get out of here. I don’t know how long I can continue making people ignore out presence. I may slip up, and we definitely don’t want that to happen this close to Stark,” Wanda said. It was only then you noticed her eyes were glowing red and small tendrils of red energy were seeping out at her feet and fingertips.

“Right, let’s go, then,” Steve said, more confident now that he had something concrete to do.

He grabbed your hand, engulfing it in his own. Without either of you thinking about it, your fingers laced together. It felt so natural you didn’t even think to question it.

“Where are we going?” you asked Steve as the three of you walked briskly down the sidewalk.

“Well, we’re trying to find a safe place to hide right now. I forced them to let me stop here so I could see you,” he explained. “The more immediate answer to your question is: the car,” he said, smiling down at you.

“You’re on the run? Still?” you asked, confused. “Even after the truth about Bucky came out?” he cringed minutely at the mention of his best friend’s name and your eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, we violated the Sokovia Accords. We’re still wanted criminals. Bucky especially,” Steve explained.

“I don’t know, I think I’m pretty high on their shit list, too,” Wanda said from a few feet in front of you. You’d been so caught up in Steve’s presence you’d almost forgotten about her.

“We’ve been over this, Wanda, you’re not-” Steve said, starting what sounded like a very old and very tried conversation.

“I know, I know. I learned from my mistakes and did the best I could in a tough situation. Don’t need to repeat it all again,” she said, smiling over her shoulder at Steve. “Just stating facts,” she said, turning back to face the road in front of her.

You arrived at the car a moment later, piling into the backseat with Steve, letting Wanda take the wheel.

“Can you even drive, Wanda?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Well Nat taught me a little bit, but if there’s a problem I’ll just stop us from hitting anything with my powers,” she said, smiling at you in the rear-view mirror.

You and Steve exchanged worried glances, but she was already pulling out of the parking spot. You gave her your address and decided to leave that particular problem for later, hoping her powers and Steve’s reaction time would save you from any horrible would-be accidents. You turned to face Steve and watched how he froze, Rosie reading his tense posture easily.

“Stevie?” you asked, tone serious. Usually calling him by that got him to relax a bit, but he didn’t budge. It made you worry all over again.

“Yes?” he asked, tone trying and failing to be casual.

“Bucky. Explain, now,” you demanded, crossing your arms.

“Which part?” he asked, grimacing.

“The most recent development that has you acting more squirrelly than defying the collective authority of nearly every nation in the world did,” you said, glaring at him.

“Ah, yeah, that part,” he said nervously, clasping his hands together.

You stared at him, unblinking. He sighed deeply and took your hand, which you stiffly allowed him.

“I suppose there’s no easy way to say it. Buck’s gone back into cryo,” he said. It looked like it was almost painful for him to keep eye contact with you while he said it.

“Cryo?” you asked, not understanding.

“Cryostasis. He’s frozen. He’s been in and out of it over the last seventy years he spent as The Soldier. I think the last two or so years were the longest he’d been out in a long time,” Steve explained as he watched you carefully.

“He... went back to being frozen? Of his own free will?” You said slowly, trying to process the new information.

Steve nodded slowly, not liking the way this seemed to be going. “There’s- There’s something else,” he said tentatively.

“What?” you asked, looking up at him, eyes hopeful. He braced himself for the inevitable tide of hurt his next words would cause.

Steve knew about what had happened between you and Bucky. His best friend had told him everything while sobbing. He hadn’t known for sure it was their Rosie, at first, but when he’d figured it out he hadn’t been able to end the relationship.

Steve didn’t blame him or hate him like Bucky was afraid he would, because Steve knew. He’d known for nearly eighty years.

Eighty years ago, back when Steve had been staying over at Bucky’s, he’d woken up to Bucky’s arm hitting him in his sleep. He reached to move it off of him and froze when he saw the letters. Bucky’d told him a few years ago what his soul brand said after Steve had shown him his own, excited after he’d found Rosie and her brand had his own initials. The initials Steve saw on Bucky’s left wrist now were the exact same on his own wrist. He held up his own wrist in comparison. R.A.F. glared up at him, the text on each the exact same. He knew soul brands tended to change fonts for different people. Some appeared scratchy and bold while others were thin and curly. The text on Steve’s wrist exactly matched that on Bucky’s wrist. It was an elegant, flowy, bold script.

He’d been unable to sleep the rest of the night, but vowed to never say anything about it to Bucky unless Bucky did first. He always kept a close eye on his best friend, always worrying about him. Steve wondered why Bucky didn’t want to shove them out of his life, but when Steve thought about how lonely he’d be without Bucky and Rosie, he’d understood.

He’d told Bucky as much when Bucky confessed everything to him. His friend had pulled him into a tight one-armed hug, his tears soaking Steve’s shirt as he murmured thank you’s.

“Take care of her, Stevie,” he’d said on the day he went into cryo in Wakanda. “And... tell her one more thing.”

“He... doesn’t want to be with you anymore,” Steve said, nearly unable to finish as your face fell and became almost emotionless by the time he’d finished. “... (Y/N)?” he asked, squeezing you hand tightly.

The comforting gesture was enough to break the spell of disbelief and you felt a sob tear through your body.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve sighed, face twisting in sorrow at the anguish you were clearly feeling. He pulled you from your seat and into his lap. He cradled your head to his chest and ran his fingers through your hair, murmuring comforting words into your hair as he placed gentle kisses on top of your head.

He wanted to explain further. Seeing you like this was killing him, but Bucky had been clear.

“Just that. Nothing else. No paraphrasing. It’s better this way. Promise me, Stevie,” he’d said.

And Steve had promised, seeing the desperation in his friend’s eyes.

It was a promise he was struggling to keep as you wailed into his chest.

“You’re lying,” you choked out between sobs.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), but I’m not. I’d never lie to you. Not about this,” he whispered as he stroked your hair with one hand and your back with the other.

His touch was the only thing keeping you from falling apart at the seams.

“Why, Stevie?” you gasped, clutching his shirt tightly. You needed answers. Explanations.

“I don’t know, darling. He didn’t tell me and he wouldn’t explain,” he said, tone apologetic.

You looked up at him, heartbroken, and he cupped your face with his hand, wiping away your tears with his thumb. He gently kissed away the tears on your opposite cheek, just like Rosie used to do when they were kids. The gesture nearly brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. It was unfair that you were comforted by these memories when they weren’t even yours.

“We’re here,” Wanda said quietly from the front seat. You looked out the window. Sure enough, you were parked a half a block away from your cafe and apartment.

“C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you somewhere safe and quiet,” he said as he opened the door and lifted you up one-handed, hand under your butt. You wrapped your arms around his neck to help steady yourself. He closed the car door before he placed his other arm firmly around your back.

“Through the back of the cafe,” you croaked. You placed your head on Steve’s shoulder and tried to stop crying. You didn’t want your staff to see you like this.

Oh god, your staff. They’d have a conniption if they saw you being carried in by Captain America, followed by the Scarlet Witch.

Wanda seemed to sense your sudden anxiety. “It’s alright, the people inside won’t see us. I’ll make sure their minds don’t acknowledge us,” she said, smiling slightly at you.

“Thank you,” you managed to squeak out just as Steve said “Thanks, Wanda.”

She smiled at the both of you and nodded as her eyes began to glow. Tendrils of red energy snaked out from her hands and through the door and windows. Steve opened the door and it was as though no one even heard it, or saw three people come walking brazenly through the middle of the shop.

“Cool place. Is this yours?” Wanda asked, smiling. It seemed like she was trying to cheer you up. You wished she wouldn’t. Her kindness reminded you of what had happened and made you want to cry again. You nodded your head, cheek brushing against Steve’s neck. “Nice,” she said, peering around as she followed Steve.

“Through here?” he asked, nodding his head towards the door in front of him.

You knew the shop well enough you didn’t have to turn around to check, simply nodding your head again instead. He opened the door with one hand, once again supporting you with one hand for a moment before he brought his arm back to cradle you to his chest. He walked through the kitchen area and up the stairs that were shoved up against the back wall. He stopped at the top as he tried to open the door. It was locked.

“Got the keys, sweetheart?” he asked, peering down at you. You nodded, extracting one arm from around his shoulders to dig around in your pocket. You pulled them out numbly and unlocked the door. He opened it and stepped inside, Wanda trailing after you. You didn’t bother putting the keys back in your pocket, throwing them on the table besides the door. It took Steve only a moment to realize your bedroom had to be to the right. The only thing to your left was your tiny kitchen. He started walking down the hallway, pausing only slightly when Wanda spoke up.

“I’ll wait out here,” she said, smiling at you as she took a seat on your squishy sofa.

Steve nodded his head in acknowledgement of what she said and continued down the hall. He glanced in each doorway, passing the laundry room and bathroom before he finally found your bedroom. He nudged the door open with his foot, careful not to let any part of the door frame hit your body. He carried you over to the bed, deftly avoiding any particularly solid-looking things on the floor. You’d been so stressed you’d hardly bothered to clean while you’d been home. You might have been embarrassed if it wasn’t Steve and there weren’t bigger things on your mind.

He bent his knees, removing one hand to carefully pull back your blankets before he laid you down gently onto the bed. He walked to the other side, pausing to pull his shoes off at the foot of the bed, and crawled under the blankets next to you. He sat up against the headboard, reclining on some pillows, and pulled you against him. You sighed softly and rested your head against his chest. He raised his hand to run his fingers over your hair, the other held your hand, rubbing circles into the back of it with his thumb.

This was how he and Rosie used to lay together when they were younger and he’d been having nightmares. It was how he held her in the hospital when the nurses weren’t around.

“I’m not her,” you whispered. You had to tell him. Had to make him understand. But you were afraid. You couldn’t lose him after you just lost Bucky. You still loved Steve. You still loved them both so much.

“I know,” he murmured, placing a gentle kiss onto the top of your head. You laid like that for a long time. You should have been crying, but your tear ducts wouldn’t listen. You wanted to cry. You wanted to rage and scream at the heavens and pull Bucky’s ass out of cryo and beat the sense back into him.

But you didn’t do any of those things. Instead you stared at the wall blankly, cocooned in the safety of Steve’s arms as he murmured loving, comforting things into your hair.

You looked inside of yourself, trying to assess the damage. You were shocked to find nothing there. You felt nothing.

Bucky hadn’t broken your heart, he’d obliterated it.

Chapter 10

This series is finished, but if you want to be tagged in my other fics, check out this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!

☕ Buy Me a Coffee! ☕

#steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #Bucky x Reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfiction #wanda maximoff

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setsuntamew · 7 years

Note

"Smokey the Bear would cry if he could see what you're about to do" + Juhaku?

this was supposed to be a drabble, but it kind of got away from me! I hope you all enjoy cute dorky teens in love :D

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Hakuryuu says, carefully stepping over a branch as he follows Judal through the woods. They’re not supposed to be out of their cabins after hours, but he was so insistent that somehow he convinced Hakuryuu to break the rules.

“It’s not that bad,” Judal says, turning back to grin cheekily at him. Oh, that’s part of what happened. His cute smile is irresistible. “We’re almost there!”

Hakuryuu nods along, letting Judal lead him further off the main trail. If they get lost out here, they’ll be in so much trouble, and he’ll never hear the end of it.

Judal stops so abruptly that Hakuryuu nearly runs into him. “Okay, stay here for a sec,” Judal tells him. “And don’t look!”

“Sure,” he agrees, a little confused but mostly intrigued. Judal bounds off through a thick section of trees, leaving Hakuryuu alone with his thoughts and the slowly setting sun. He really hopes Judal knows his way back to camp.

Eventually Judal comes crashing through the trees again, looking nervous but excited. “Come on!” he says, taking Hakuryuu by the hand and dragging him into an open clearing. There’s a blanket laid out in the middle surrounded by thankfully unlit candles. It’s very cute.

“Ta-da!” Judal says, gesturing at his handiwork. “Here, sit down.”

“This is...nice,” Hakuryuu settles on, not sure how to explain how both touched and confused he is, and he’s pretty sure he’s failed to do either. Judal doesn’t seem too concerned though; he’s digging in his bag for something instead. Hakuryuu sits down, watching him and taking in the atmosphere.

Judal pulls out a lighter triumphantly. “Got it,” he says proudly, hopping up to light the candles around them.

“What are you doing?” Hakuryuu asks.

“Setting the mood,” he answers simply, lighting more and more without care.

Hakuryuu looks at him, dumbfounded. “Smokey the Bear would cry if he could see what you’re about to do,” he says, so horrified he’s unable to figure out anything better to say.

Judal laughs. “He’s a cartoon bear, what does he really know about fire?”

“Judal-”

“Besides, I thought it would be pretty this way...I wanted to talk to you, okay?” He sits down, almost knocking over a candle, and Hakuryuu cringes. Hopefully they don’t cause a forest fire.

“I see.”

Judal fidgets, pulling at a thread in his shirt nervously instead of meeting Hakuryuu’s gaze. “Well, you know you’re like, really cool. And attractive. And I’m really afraid of summer ending ‘cause I’ll have to go home and not see you every day anymore, and I’ll miss that. And you,” he says, finally looking up. “‘Cause I really like you, okay?”

Hakuryuu can feel his cheeks burning because he’s flustered and touched and so, so excited that for once, someone he likes actually feels the same way. Judal looks just as red as him but he makes it look adorable instead of embarrassing.

“Candles are romantic, you know?” he explains, still trying to defend his plans. Hakuryuu knows it’s unsafe, but it’s sweet how hard Judal is trying.

“I know. I know you meant well, but in the future we should try not to burn the forest down,” Hakuryuu says, taking Judal’s hands. “I really like you too. I wouldn’t have come out here with anyone else, romantic candles or not.”

Judal looks dumbstruck. “Oh,” he says softly. “That’s good.”

Hakuryuu smiles at him and Judal scoots closer. “I’ll miss you too. But-”

“I don’t wanna think about missing you right now,” Judal cuts in. Hakuryuu blinks at him and then nods, and they stare at each other for a moment, taking in the soft sounds of dusk and gentle light from the candles.

He’s not sure who started it, but they come together in a clumsy, happy kiss. Judal is kind of moist and bitey, but he’s so enthusiastic it doesn’t matter. It’s relieving and fun, and Hakuryuu gasps when Judal breaks the kiss, though he crawls into Hakuryuu’s lap and kisses him even more, needy and excited. Judal runs a hand through Hakuryuu’s hair and over an ear, and he can’t help but moan.

Judal pulls back again, this time to grin. “You have sensitive ears or something?”

“I- I guess?”

Judal pounces on him, peppering his face in kisses as he laughs happily. “You’re so cute! I’m so glad you like me.”

Hakuryuu rolls over, pulling Judal with him and into another kiss. This is nice. This is so much nicer than he could have ever hoped for. They tumble across the blanket, and every break for air feels far too long. Over and over, Judal keeps kissing him until they almost land directly on a candle.

“Judal!”

“Shit! Shit, shit, I forgot!” Judal yells, grabbing his bag.

“I warned you,” Hakuryuu says, and Judal groans.

“I know,” he admits, pulling out a water bottle and dousing the flames. “Sorry...I just wanted to do something nice, but I guess I’m a real moron.”

Hakuryuu shakes his head. “You meant well. I thought it was very sweet.”

In the last lingering light of sunset, Hakuryuu can see the joy on Judal’s face, and that’s the best part yet - until he kisses the cute smile back off Judal’s face.

[read on AO3] [fanfiction.net]

#juhaku #judal #hakuryuu #ren hakuryuu #magi #fanfiction #this is so cute it hurts me #I loved writing it #so much fluff #dragonofeternal

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 7 years

Text

Out of Office: Goto and Miho - Honeymoon

Took her a while, but here is the enamored pair at one point in their honeymoon. The sand was still warm from the day, and the glow from their sun-drenched bodies - Miho’s wrapped over Goto’s - kept them cozy even after the sun had disappeared behind the oceanic horizon. Their bodies relaxed after an active day, the world welcomed them into night to the rhythmic sound of nearby waves and the gentle appearance of bright sparks against the velvet sheet of the sky.

Exhaling a luxurious, contented sigh, Miho gazed upward at the twinkling expanse then stretched her hand out toward them.

“Can almost reach,” she murmured, fingers splayed.

“What do you need stars for?” Goto queried, kissing into her slightly salt-crunchy hair.

“True,” she grinned, turning her hand over.

Somehow, though the only real light came from the crescent moon slowly rising above, Miho’s engagement ring, her wedding ring nestled against it, still sparkled.

“I’m going to love you forever,” she told him, not for the first time.

“Forever is a pretty long time,” he pointed out. “You sure you’re not going to get sick of me?”

“I’m outraged you’d even ask,” Miho snorted, giving his chest a sharp slap.

Goto grimaced at the initial sting, but the heat that lingered in the shape of her palm was pleasant.

“I intend to be with you for this life, and the one after and the one after that, until the universe tears apart,” she added haughtily.

“I’ll look for you,” he smiled, stroking her hair. “Always.”

An easy silence settled over them, and Goto closed his eyes. He could have fallen asleep there until Miho began tracing around his bare nipple with her fingertip.

“Seiji, do you believe in fate?” she asked, her voice drifting upward, upward, into the dark unknown.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, looking up at her as she rolled and draped herself over him. “I think a lot of people use it as an excuse for a lot of things, so they don’t have to take responsibility for their actions, but…”

“Hmm,” Miho hummed, pushing herself up to straddle him, teasing sinuous traces from his collarbones toward his belly button. “But?”

“But,” he continued, his body shuddering involuntarily beneath her touch and his hands slid up her thighs, “the belief in fate; you don’t think if a person believes something is fated, that could drive them to do all in their power to reach that goal?”

“Like you?” she said, swirling patterns across his abdominal muscles, marking their definition with feathery lines.

“Like me,” he confirmed warmly, giving her legs a squeeze. “Though you certainly gave me a hard time.”

“You know though, don’t you?” she breathed, her brow suddenly creased. “That from day one I was in love? Desperately afraid but so painfully wanting you to touch me? Hearing your first words and knowing I wanted them to be the last I ever heard?”

Staring up at her, even in the dim, Goto could still see faint flecks of that fear. Before he could attempt to allay it, however, Miho beat him to it.

“I don’t know about fate,” she declared, her tone now sober, serious, “but looking at you, being with you, I feel like… like I spent an eternity trekking barefoot across a desert, seeing wavering mirages of happiness that disappeared as I drew near, and then… you’re this great body of shimmering, clear water I’ve finally stumbled upon. You’re my destination, and I’m plunging into your depths…”’

“Shouldn’t I be doing the plunging?” he interrupted.

Miho blinked, and for his cheek he was rewarded with another blazing red print of her hand on his chest.

“Shut up, I’m being poetic here,” she growled, leaning forward with her hands either side of his head, glaring down at him. “Fate or no fate, being with you, being this happy, feels like something I’ve been striving for far longer than the real time we’ve been together.”

“I know,” he whispered, smoothing his palms up her bare sides until large hands pushed the hair from her face. “Having you is like… I’ve kept some promise to myself.”

“Make me another promise?” she breathed against his lips, her words brushing with delicious anticipation of more.

“Anything,” he responded huskily as she lowered her hips and brushed her body against his lightly.

“Don’t let me sleep until dawn,” she grinned, then nipped playfully at his bottom lip.

Hungrily Goto pulled her closer and stole away her breath, tangling one hand in her hair and feeling down her spine with the other until they were both dizzy.

“Haa, but not on the beach again,” he told her a little darkly when their lips parted. “I’m still finding sand in uncomfortable places.”

Snickering at the recollection of what they’d done yesterday, Miho rocked back and scrambled to her feet.

“I suppose it is your turn to choose,” she mused flippantly, taking his hand once he’d folded their beach towel over his shoulder.

“I didn’t realise we were taking turns,” he chuckled, lacing their fingers and beginning to walk. “You’re just a target of opportunity,” he explained. “And sometimes, even when I know it’s not appropriate, I can’t help but touch you.”

“So adorable,” she smirked, her favourite way to make him blush.

… okay, her SECOND favourite way to make him blush.

Arriving back at their waterfront bure, Goto stopped Miho from entering.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed, and Miho’s brows raised.

“Mhm,” she murmured, complying after a moment.

Her husband reached around her and opened the door, guiding her in by the shoulders until he could close them in seclusion.

“What are you up to, Lieutenant?” Miho wondered suspiciously, sensing his arms moving around her before she felt the touch of something soft against her face.

“How much do you trust me?” he asked, tying the blindfold around her head snuggly, then checking she couldn’t see.

“What the hell kind of question is that?” Miho scoffed, a little stiffly stepping forward as Goto urged her to.

“A necessary one,” he replied, his tone suddenly very serious, almost the tone he used when he was in work mode. “Stand still, and answer the question.”

“You know the an… the answer,” she replied, faltering a little when he disengaged from her completely for a few seconds, before tugging at the strings keeping her bikini top fastened. “I trust you with everything. My life, my body, my soul, my future.”

“Likewise,” he hissed into her ear, but only his breath touched her now as he pulled her top away. “Take three careful steps forward, lay down on the bed, and put your hands above your head.”

Swallowing, Miho shuffled along, before positioning herself in the centre of the bed, reaching behind her to grip one of the vertical slats in the bedhead. She imagined handcuffs – wouldn’t be the first time – but again she felt the cool, smooth texture of soft cloth being wound around her wrists before the ends were secured to the bed.

Goto stood, breathing slowly as he looked down at his handiwork, realising this would perhaps be as much torture for him as it would be for her.

“Hey,” Miho prompted after an extended period of silence. “You didn’t sneak out did you?”

“No talking,” he told her, the heavy, ominous weight of his ‘interrogation’ tone forming goosebumps on Miho’s exposed skin. “I’d gag you, but it’s important you’re able to say the safe word if you become uncomfortable with anything I do.”

“Safe word?” Miho coughed. “Seiji, have you been reading a beginner’s guide to bondage?”

Silence.

“You totally have!” she exclaimed, beaming and wriggling about as she giggled. “God damnit I can’t see you blushing right now, and I know you’re blushing.”

“Maybe I will gag you,” he grumbled as he slid down his board shorts and kicked them aside. “Pick your safe word.”

“Hmm, Domo,” she declared, still chuckling.

“You have an unhealthy obsession with that thing,” Goto huffed.

“It’s okay, it’s balanced out with my healthy obsession with your thing,” she volleyed.

“No more,” he commanded, placing his hand over her mouth. “No more words unless it’s that word. No sound at all.”

He said it, but he knew it was going to be impossible for a vocaliser like Miho.

She nodded as he removed his hand and licked her lips. Exerting as little pressure as he could manage, Goto undid the knot of Miho’s sarong. Helpfully she lifted herself from the bed, allowing him to remove it, and then her bikini bottoms.

It wasn’t cold, the tropical night air dry and warm, yet the deep pink of Miho’s nipples called for Goto’s attention: tall and hard.

And he hadn’t even touched her yet.

“What are you breathing so hard for?” he asked, and Miho’s lips parted. “Ah! No sound,” he chided, moving silently around the room to collect the implement he required.

With a fake, sulky pout, Miho shifted impatiently, rubbing her legs together.

“Be still,” he told her, sitting slowly down beside her, causing the mattress to move beneath his mass.

The fluffy tip of the long white feather trembled above the right side of Miho’s collarbone, hovering in Goto’s light grip until he wriggled it ever so lightly from one side to the other.

As predicted, Miho broke the rules instantly, gasping at the ticklish decadence of such a soft sensation.

Goto was a courageous man, Miho knew this, but she found it hard to imagine what it must have taken for him to take the leap – albeit a small one – from relatively vanilla to dominance. She had to wonder if Subaru’s teasing had something to do with it.

Whatever the reason, the darkness beneath her blindfold, the barely-there touch of the feather as it fluttered lightly around her breast, exploded unprecedented anticipation. Her body flushed with heat as she imagined the intensity of Goto’s stare as he sketched lazy patterns down her torso.

“Spread your legs, wide,” he ordered curtly. “Bend them up.”

Inhaling shakily, Miho obeyed.

She felt suddenly very exposed, not unsafe, but quivering with uncertainty and excitement.

“I’m going to suck your clit into my mouth,” he told her, his voice suddenly deeper, a thrumming, reverberating echo of the waves outside.

The feather moved – behind her left knee, tantalisingly slow up the inside of her thigh toward the inner crease of her leg.

“I’m going to torture it with my tongue,” he continued, drawing an invisible line around the top of her leg, up to her belly button, and back to her left nipple. “Press, and rub and swirl and maybe even… bite.”

As he said bite, he turned the feather around, and quite sharply stabbed the shaft into her nipple.

The yelp Miho emitted, the way her body jumped, made Goto flinch and lift the offending weapon.

The book Kaga had given him as a ‘wedding present’ did indicate the submissive partner might very well respond alarmingly, but he hadn’t expected Miho’s reaction to be quite so energetic. Yet when her body relaxed again, she swallowed hard, and as she licked her lips once more they parted in a luscious grin.

Teeth bared because it hurt, but smiling because it hurt so good.

“That sounded awfully like noise, Miho,” Goto pointed out, placing the feather’s tip against the centre of her other nipple, this time pressing down slowly.

With great interest he watched her expression change the more pressure he placed on it. There was a strange conundrum in the clear pain it caused, yet her body tensed and writhed in such a way he knew was an expression of pleasure. So he persisted, pulling away only when her lips peeled back to reveal teeth clenched.

“I’m going to drag my fingernails down your body,” he told her, scratching the slightly sharp tip of the feather around her areola, hard enough to leave a red line in its wake. “I’m going to leave lasting marks,” he went on, scrawling thing etchings over her white breast, using her bikini tan-line to indicate where his efforts would be hidden by clothing.

The bedhead groaned as Miho pulled against her bindings, and Goto found himself frowning – not because he thought she was uncomfortable, but because he didn’t realise how much effort it would take to resist devouring her.

Leaving glowing scrollwork across her chest, he flipped the feather and dusted lightly over the fine abrasions. As he worked his way lower again, Miho’s breaths shortened even further, and Goto found his other hand sought out the hardening length of his cock without conscious thought.

“My fingers are going to work between your folds,” he explained, stroking himself slowly as he brushed the feather’s softness down her slit, and he heard Miho swallow back a moan just before it escaped her lips. “They’re going to slip through your desperate wetness, and lazily circle your burning entrance. And you want me to push inside you, your whole body is on fire, hopelessly begging for me to drive deeply and stretch you…”

A whimper punctuated the shuddering of Miho’s legs, a sound that required Goto to bite down on his own lustful sound. She was oozing in eagerness of his follow through, and even though Goto’s own flesh cried out for him to bury himself in her, he was determined to drag it out. He wanted to see if he could…

“All of my weight will crush the air from your lungs, leaving your dizzy,” he narrated, “but as you gasp for air my lips are going to steal away your breath, my tongue filling your mouth.”

“Sei…” she cried weakly.

“No,” he snapped like the crack of a whip, but he was so hard now, so hard it was becoming a painful.

When the point of the feather’s spine touched Miho’s hood, her body shuddered and her legs twitched toward closing.

“Don’t move,” he chastised, dragging a barely-there route around her clit, but not touching it, and the tension in Miho’s body visibly increased.

Despite his instructions she was emitting a continuous stream of agonizing breathy whines, and her chest heaved as he dragged the feather through the drench between her labia in slow motions.

“I’m going to poise at your entrance,” he growled, precum slicking his shaft as he worked it, the images in his mind surely as vivid as in hers. “And I’m going to stop there, just pressing with the head of my throbbing… rock-hard cock… before driving it into you, so deeply, fill you so completely, and thrust, again, and again, and again, until you can’t stand it anymore…”

As he finished his sentence he finally dragged the feather’s tip upward against her clit – and with an uncontrollable, chortling gasp, Miho’s legs reflexively closed, her knees knocking loudly together as she trapped Goto’s hand. Her entire torso lifted from the bed as she came, her mouth now open but her breath seemingly trapped as her body shook violently in rapture.

She had no control now. None.

He… he also found himself quivering at the sight of his beautiful wife cumming so intensely, and any thoughts of further torture fled. Releasing his grasp on the feather, Goto climbed onto the bed before Miho, and had to exert considerable strength in order to pry her ecstasy-locked legs apart.

“Enough talk,” he rasped, shuffling forward and lifting her as to rest against his thighs, before sliding his erection through the significant flood of her juices.

“No…” Miho attempted to articulate, barely a word at all. “No it’s…”

Faltering as he ground the pulsing tip of his desire against her enflamed bud, Miho let out another cry and seemed on the precipice of another orgasm.

“It’s too…” she sobbed.

“That’s not the word to stop this,” he pointed out, and then fulfilled his promise, leaning suddenly forward and thrusting into her with full force.

Her next exclamation was consumed by him, as he finally brought their lips together.

There was ravenous urgency to his movements, pounding so powerfully Miho’s legs clamped around him, clinging as she was tumbled over the edge for a second time. Goto had had to hold back and watch her, all the while imagining the raw pleasure being physically united with her brought – but now there was no restraint.

The spasmodic clench of her walls as he fucked her through the aftershocks of each climax, dragged him toward his own end. All that effort hardly touching her at all, wanting it so much, and seeing her react so incredibly, made each sensation now so acute, Goto wasn’t sure he could stop even if Miho did sing out the safe word.

The entire bed leapt with each furious penetration; Goto pounded Miho into the mattress with growing ferocity, gnawing along her shoulder until he bit down fiercely. Managing to snarl only half her name through his teeth, he rammed forth with what was left of his energy and filled her.

And again

And again.

Hot and deep.

Until he was completely drained.

“Miho,” he whispered breathlessly, remaining within her but rolling their bodies on their sides.

“Fuc…king hell,” she heaved, licking her lips that he then gently kissed.

Reaching up, he languidly unbound Miho’s wrists and pushed away her blindfold. Immediately she wrapped her arms over him and snuggled against his sweaty chest, her quick breaths cool against the salty moistness of his skin.

“That… you…” she murmured, still struggling to form coherent thought. “Who are you… and where were you before I… before I married that Goto guy?”

Filled with endorphins that left their bodies humming softly, Goto chuckled into Miho’s damp hair.

“I’ll take care of him,” Goto told her gruffly. “There’s no way I’m letting anyone take you from me.”

“How do you plan to top this?” she sighed out, all tension from her body gone.

“I have some ideas,” he responded with surprising flippancy, gently kissing her once more before leaning back and grabbing a hand towel from beside the bed. “I know you’re always going to be dirty,” he grinned, “but let’s get cleaned up for now.”

For a moment Miho grieved for the loss of Goto’s warm, but no sooner had she grabbed the towel and moved to gingerly wipe her still tingling nethers, Goto dragged her to the edge of the bed and scooped her up.

“How do you even have the energy to lift me right now?” she laughed, curling her arms around his neck. “And if you have that energy, why the hell aren’t you still banging me?”

“What makes you think I’m not just changing the scenery?” he smirked, worming his middle finger between her ass-cheeks.

“Seiji,” she grinned, biting down on his lower lip before continuing. “You did make me a promise.”

“That I did,” he agreed, carrying her into the bathroom.

When the sun began to creep out of the water, Miho lay drowsily in Goto’s arms on the bure balcony swathed in a light blanket. Gently Goto massaged a soothing moisturiser into the patterns he’d marked over her chest – all the strength he had left for.

“Mmm,” she mumbled quietly. “We’re going to need another shower.”

“We’re definitely napping first,” he told her sternly. “And if I have to crawl back inside for those silk scarves to keep you down, I’ll do it.”

“No need,” she yawned, nuzzling her face into his neck. “I’m already irrevocably tied to you.”

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