#not to sit in front of ruins to rebuild in a few years

[lemonlover1110]

𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋

Satoru Gojo

Part II

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Summary: Cursed for eternity, Satoru Gojo finds a way to pass time, and you catch his eye. You don't have any plans with each other, other than meaningless sex until you find that he's your new boss. You're a reminder of the past but also hope for his future.

After all, Satoru Gojo finds himself vulnerable whenever he's around you and your family.

Warnings: Smut, Bathroom Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, One night stand, Immortality, Single Parent Reader (More in the next parts)

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Satoru can barely remember his life before he was cursed. It’s all a mist to him. Of course, that was hundreds of years ago, and while his memory is great, there has to be limits. He wonders if he was happy then.

Truth is, Satoru doesn’t really know what happiness is. He looks back at moments in his life and wonders if that was happiness. He doesn’t know what happiness is meant to be, yet he knows he’s supposed to look for it. And he does. He looks for it endlessly, and it’s made him tired.

He got married once, maybe two hundred years ago. He remembers kissing her lips, hoping that something would change at that moment. But nothing happened. The empty feeling inside of his body lingered, and he doubted that he’d ever feel fulfilled.

At a moment in his life, he thought that having a kid would lead him to happiness, but each time, the start of the twentieth week came, the woman died. It’s not possible for him to have a kid of his own blood, which he’s come to accept. He does wonder daily if having a child would’ve filled that void.

Money, power, property, beautiful women. He has all a man could ever want. Yet he isn’t happy. He wonders how the average man is happy with just that. Maybe that empty feeling inside of him is happiness. Although he isn’t so sure.

“Let’s go back to my place.” He whispers into some blonde’s ear, a woman he’s never had a conversation with before. He has the looks any woman would fall for, so he doesn’t bother talking to them. He sends them a drink or two, then offers to go back to his place. Or hotel room. Depends on where he’s at. She doesn’t even bother asking for his name before standing up and following him.

It’s a nightly routine. He doesn’t care to work overnight. He has an empire that he has an entire lifetime to rebuild in case it falls. He doesn’t rush out the door when he’s late for work– He is the boss. No one can fire him.

Sex is the only bit of pleasure life gives him. So he’ll take it, even if he puts everything he’s worked moderately hard for in at least the past hundred years.

But tonight he sits at the bar, sipping on his drink, not looking for anything else. He doesn’t want anything else tonight. The bartender looks pretty, but he really doesn’t have the energy to wait for her shift to be over.

“A martini, please.” Your voice catches his attention, and he looks away from his drink and at you. He stares at you, but you’re not paying attention to him. Your voice is so familiar, but he doesn’t know where he’s heard it before. He’s heard so many different voices in his lifetime, it’s so hard to distinguish them and remember which voice belongs to who.

But for some reason you remind him of the past– Maybe the voice is from someone that he met hundreds of years ago. It doesn’t really matter anyway, because you’re right in front of him, and he has to say you’re stunning. Way better than the bartender he was thinking about just a few seconds ago.

Maybe he’ll decide to do more than just drink tonight. He’ll wait a bit, buy you a martini then ask you to accompany him for the night. You end up walking away when you get your drink, as expected, but you go to someone else. You aren’t alone, which might ruin Satoru’s plans. 

You’re with a man, which confirms that his plans are ruined, but he still decides to stick around and wait. He has nothing better to do at home anyway, so he’ll see how your date plays out.

He has nothing to do, really, so he watches your date progress. As creepy as it makes him sound. Satoru really doesn’t care how he’s perceived by others. If you think he’s creepy, then that’s your loss.

Some time passes, and you’re heading to the exit of the place on your own. It prompts him to stand up and walk out of the place as well. His plan has to slightly change since he can’t just bring the drink outside for you. He’ll pretend to have a cigarette or something and casually bump into you. He hopes that tonight you’ve chosen to take a cab.

He steps outside and he spots you immediately, looking down at your phone. You’re texting someone, at least he assumes by the constant motion of your thumbs. He reaches inside his pocket to pull out a box of cigarettes. He opens the box before he approaches you.

“Want a cigarette?” He offers, and you look up from your phone to look at the man in front of you. He’s tall, wears a suit, and has a distinguishable hair color as well as eye color. You immediately recognize him as the man that was sitting by the bar.

“I don’t smoke, thank you.” You respond, and you watch him take out a cigarette out of the box. He doesn’t move, and doesn’t seem like he will. So while you wait for your cab, you make a comment, “That’s like killing yourself slowly.”

“Really? I hope so.” The stick of tobacco is in between his lips, and he pulls out a lighter. He lights up the cigarette, and takes a long drag from it. The smoke comes out from his nose before he asks, “Are you here alone?”

“I–” You begin. He’s attractive but you have no idea who he is. You don’t know his intentions and for your safety, it’s best to tell him you’re not alone. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“Can I wait with you?” He questions and you shrug.

“Knock yourself out.” You answer. You aren’t sure what he wants from you. He doesn’t make any moves on you, so he clearly doesn’t want to take you home or anything like that. Or maybe he just sucks at flirting. Either way, you can’t tell so you won’t do anything. You have to go home.

“Are you here with a friend or with a date?” The man asks.

“What’s your name?” You reply. You want to at least know his name before you answer any questions.

“I’m Satoru.” He ends up answering with his first name since his last name is well known around. He doesn’t want to risk you asking any questions that are too personal. 

“Any last name?” You question and he ends up shaking his head. “Well, Satoru no last name, what do you need from me? Don’t waste my time.”

“You should know what I want.” He responds, making you chuckle. You raise a brow.

“You haven’t even tried to make a move.” You point out, which he realizes. He hasn’t had to actually make a move in decades. “Plus, I don’t know your full name and we just met. If I’m following you anywhere is the bathroom in this place.”

“Then let’s go there.” Satoru suggests, and you chuckle. 

“You haven’t even asked my name.” You click your tongue in disappointment while you begin to walk back into the place. He chuckles as he begins to walk behind you. He walks much slower so it’s not so obvious that he’s following behind you to go to the bathroom.

You get to the women’s bathroom and begin to check your makeup while you wait for Satoru to walk in. It’s just a quick fuck since your date went so terribly. Satoru walks into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He turns you around and kisses your lips. His tongue enters your mouth while his hands wander around your body.

And he has yet to ask for your name. You don’t really think about it. The only thought that goes through your mind is that you have to make this fast. And also how his hands feel so large as they roam all over your body. You pull away from the kiss.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” He asks as he turns you around and bends you over the sink. You’re trying to not listen to what he says because he probably says it to every woman he’s with. You just want to have sex with someone and then go back home. 

You feel his long fingers run over your clothed cunt, teasing you in just the right spot. His lips go down to your ear, “You want me to fuck you, pretty girl?”

“Yeah.” You respond. You answer to please him and make him start faster. You wouldn’t have come to the bathroom for no other reason. He pushes your panties to the side and you feel two of his large fingers run through your folds.

“You’re so wet.” He comments. He slips a finger into your cunt, making a soft moan escape your lips. His finger feels so thick and long. He quickly slips another finger in and begins to move them in and out of your cunt.

He’s either doing this to prepare you or because his dick isn’t that big of a deal. Either way you appreciate feeling his long fingers. He curves them just right which makes the pads of his fingers brush against your g-spot repeatedly.

You look at him through the mirror that’s over the sink, and he looks back at you. God, he’s so fucking hot. He takes his fingers out of your cunt and brings his fingers to your mouth. You open your mouth and take his fingers in. You lick them clean while his free hand unzips his pants. He takes his fingers out of your mouth.

“Hurry up.” You tell him, since you don’t have much time left. You feel the tip of his cock run through your folds. His cock slowly enters your cunt, and it’s definitely more than what you expected. “Oh–”

He bottoms out and gives you a moment to adjust to his size before moving. He can tell by the face that you make through the mirror that you’re not used to his size. When he begins to move, you’re loud. Too loud. His hand has to go over your mouth to muffle your moans.

Satoru does groan at the feeling of your pussy, but he’s not as loud as you are. Your cunt is so nice and warm, it’s hard for him not to groan. He’ll surely remember you after this because you just feel so good around him. You have a pretty face, a familiar voice and a nice little pussy. He’ll surely remember you.

“You feel so good.” He says. It’s not the first time this has happened in the women’s restroom, but this is certainly his favorite time. And you have done nothing for him. Other times people go out of their way to please him. “Pretty little thing with a tight pussy.”

You can’t say anything with his hand over your face. But he can feel you enjoying it. Your cunt tightening around him by the second as your orgasm approaches. His cock hits all the right spots. Dick so big, and he knows how to use it. 

You’d be moaning his name if your mouth wasn’t covered. He doesn’t deserve to hear his name anyway. You look at each other through the mirror, and he has a smug look on his face as he feels your cunt tighten around him.

When you reach your orgasm, he says, “What a good girl, coming all over my cock.”

You want to tell him to shut up, but his dick inside of you wouldn’t allow you to say much if you could speak. You notice how his thrusts get sloppy and he gets louder and louder. You’re about to bite his hand to tell him to pull out, but just when you’re about to, you feel his cum fill up your pussy. 

He finally removes his hand from your mouth when he pulls his cock out, and you straighten yourself. You can’t exactly be mad at him for not pulling out. You should’ve told him sooner.

“Satoru…” You say his name, looking up at him. He takes a moment to look down at you. He swears he’s seen you before. “I hope we never cross paths again, Satoru.”

“I hope so too.” He replies, although it’s the first time he hears someone say that. He wonders why you’re saying that. He hasn’t done anything to you that he knows of. He knows why he doesn’t want to see you again, but he wonders why you don’t want to see him again.

You both leave the bathroom. You’re satisfied, and he’s confused. You’re both set on never seeing each other again. But that’s the funny thing about life. Just like Satoru was cursed with eternal life, you’re cursed with Satoru.

And a couple of days later when you meet your new boss, you’re astonished. You expected some grumpy old man, but when you walked into the office, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Seeing the same stranger you hooked up with a couple of days ago.

“Are you Mr. Gojo?” You question, and he hums in response. You have to keep yourself composed. He speaks before you can say anything else,

“So you’re the new secretary.”

🏷 @witchofoe @cactustattoo @dearsunaa @mykyoon @tojidilfs @b3ast1706 @crispmarshmallow @levismainbabe @matchabluebeiry-for-nanami @nobody289x @galactict3a @nothisispatrick300 @tojianddabisslut @katsuwhore @septembersums @tamaki-jiki @thisbicc @rumi-rants @chloee0x0 @kageyamaslittleroyal20 @dakumarauder @lovemarvel16 @lilithlunas @sarcasticallydrowning

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo saturo #gojou satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #satoru gojo #gojo x you #satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru

[thebetawolfgirl]

A PR Nightmare pt 2

Pairing: Timmy x Reader

Warnings: Angst with a happy, smutty ending.

A/N: @tchalamss Part two up!

A PR Nightmare pt 2

Timmy had searched everywhere, called everyone but he still couldn’t find his y/n. If was even worthy to call her that anymore.

He had no intention of going to the Met this year, he had specifically told his manager he would not go. But those fucking Jenners always find a way to twist the arms of everyone around them to do what THEY want. He had said no photos either, but it was the MET GALA. You couldn’t avoid photographers even if you tried.

Now here he was sitting in his empty bedroom unwashed and unshaven for days.

He had known the second his foot hit the last step to the front door something wasn’t right. A feeling of dread and fear washed over him like a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head when he walked into an empty and eerily quiet home, he through the house slowly, his fear and dread slowly growing when he reached the table in the hall and saw the note with the picture and her hurt words on the paper.

‘NOOOOOOO!’ He roared crushing the paper in his fist stormed up the stairs to the bedroom and found only his belonging in the wardrobe and drawers.

He nearly tore the house apart looking for y/n hoping she was hiding somewhere in the house to punish him. He grabbed his phone and with shaking hands called everyone he knew asking if they had heard from her or where she could have gone.

That was three days ago. After going through every contact on the phone book, talking to everyone, even getting his entire management to search for her, he came up with nothing.

He crawled into their shared bed, curled up under the sheets with her picture and waited to rot or die.

He ignored his phone and on the second day when Kylie came to see him he told her to fuck off that this was all her fault and she ruined his life!

After telling her he would kill her if she or her family came near him again he slammed the door in her terrified face and crawled over to the sofa and curled up in to a ball.

He honestly didn’t know how he ended up in the bed. But he woke up after a week hearing the bath water running and home cooking. He lifted his head squinting at the open curtains and groans covering his head with the covers, when he heard a small voice of an angel.

‘You’re awake, finally.’

He shot up like a bolt and felt his head spinning before he lifted himself off the bed and onto the floor forgetting he hadn’t eaten a thing in a week and a half, but found the strength to crawl over to her and wrap his arms around her ankles whimpering and clinging to her.

She pushed his hair back helping him to stand unevenly on his feet, as he moved his arms to hold her waist and let his head fall tiredly against her shoulder and began mumbling incoherently while sobbing.

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’

‘Shhh, it’s okay. I’m home now.’ She whispered to him holding his head up making him look at her.

‘I should never have left you the way I did. Mark contacted me and explained everything, how you completely ignored her the entire night. How you only talked about me. When you did talk of course.’ She smiled at him running her thumb over his cheek as he swayed against her.

‘Now we’re going to get you into the bath and get you washed and in fresh pyjamas, then we’re gonna get some food. You haven’t eaten in a week, so we need to build your strength up again.’

He nodded, more awake now ‘I’m sorry.’ He croaked his voice raw from lack of use.

She pecked his nose nodding

‘Me too, I should’ve stayed and let you explain everything.’

She helped him into the bathroom and washed his hair gently untangling his curls, smiling when he moaned closing his eyes, then she helped him get dressed.

They spent the next few days rebuilding his strength back to as it was.

During that time they talked about everything, with Timmy deciding to terminate the contract with Kylie Jenner. When y/n began to protest he shook his head ‘I can’t lose you again, y/n. I can’t. That was the worse time in my life. I can’t do it again. I know my priorities now, it’s you!’

She nodded and leaned forward to peck his lips when he pulled her against him to deepen the kiss. She tried to pull away ‘Timmy, we should wait until you’re stronger-‘

He silenced her by pushing his tongue passed her lips and deepening the kiss pulling her against him. She climbed onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders kissing him more intensely.

Timmy flipped them over pinning her beneath him and began to undress her, she pulled his T-shirt over his head messing his curls up and smiled pulling him down for another kiss.

He removed her blouse and tossed it aside and made quick work of their jeans and underwear.

She sat up with him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he lifted her up before lowering her down on him, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rocked with her at a steady pace as he kissed up her shoulder and neck.

She tugged on his curls gently pulling his head back and kissed and nipped his neck causing him to groan from the back of his throat, he held her tighter against him thrusting into her faster and her harder until they both came hard clinging to each other and he lay her back against the pillows trying to catch their breaths he kissed and nipped up her chest before meeting her lips in a long lasting kiss before resting his head on her shoulder burying his face in her neck.

She breathed heavily running her fingers through his damp hair and down his back gently then up again as he closed his eyes falling asleep to the sound of her heartbeat.

They had many obstacles ahead of them, but if they could get through the Jenners they would survive anything.

Whatever came next, they were ready for it.

@tchalamss

@sufferingstarlight

@gatoenlaciudad

@kteezy997

@lixzey

#lil timmy tim #timothèe chalamet #timothée hal chalamet #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet smut #angst with a happy ending #timothee chalamet angst #part 2 #timmy x reader #timmy fanfics

[ereardon]

Come Back [Chapter 13][Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC]

Summary: Eight years ago, Bradley Bradshaw was just a college boyfriend who broke your heart. Now, he’s back in your life after a coincidental reunion, and he’s adamant about starting up a friendship. Will it be possible to be just friends with Bradley, or is he inevitably going to end up ruining everything you’ve spent the better part of a decade rebuilding?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x OC [Nurse Maggie Brooms]

WC: 2.3K

Warnings: Cursing

Series masterlist

“Nurse Maggie!” Jake Seresin’s voice was clear as day, and you lifted your sunglasses up a few inches, spotting the tanned aviator jogging across the sandy beach in a pair of shorts, no shirt. He stopped at the chair you had just unfolded and sunk into the sand. “How’s it going? You here for Bradshaw or are you finally gonna take me up on that date?” 

You smirked. “Let’s do it, baby. Want to see if the rumors I’ve heard about you are true.” Jake’s smile faltered slightly as he tried to process your sarcasm, and a shadow appeared in the sand in front of you, Bradley’s deep voice creeping up from behind. “Don’t taunt him, sweetheart, he can’t compute. He’ll just think you’re hitting on him.” 

Bradley came into view on your peripheral, tanned, bare chest glistening, wearing a pair of jorts that you made a mental note to mock later. 

You got up out of the chair, pressing your front against Bradley, feeling his hands dip down and squeeze your ass in the swimsuit bottoms as his lips pressed firmly into yours. 

“So y’all are an item I see,” Jake said, crossing his arms and smiling. “Like none of us saw that coming.” 

Phoenix took a step forward. “It’s almost like we haven’t heard Bradshaw moaning about you for months on end, going on about how much he misses you.” 

You reached up and pinched his cheek. “Oh, is that so?” 

Bradley flushed and then reached down, grabbing you around the waist and swinging you into his arms as you squealed. “Blame Phoenix,” he said before darting off toward the water, wading in and tossing you once the ocean was thigh deep. You emerged from the water, sputtering, and Bradley laughed. 

“Oh you’re fucking dead!” you shouted, lunging at him and he didn’t even try to duck, simply let you tackle him in the water, dragging you until you two were in the shallows, Bradley lying with his back on the sand, you breathless on top of him. “Tired of me yet?” you asked him softly. A wave of water lapped at your bare legs as Bradley’s warm, large hands gripped your hips tightly. 

“Not for a damn second,” he whispered, pulling your head down to kiss you. 

You watched the team play an incredibly confusing and somehow erotic game of shirtless beach football, laughing as they tackled Jake, cheering as Bob was placed on someone’s shoulders, hoisting the ball into the air. 

While the team celebrated, you turned to the novel in your lap before another shadow crossed the space next to your feet. 

“Hey.” You looked up to see Phoenix gripping a beer bottle loosely in one hand, holding out another as an offering. You took it and smiled. “Mind if I sit?” she asked, pointing to the extra chair you had put out for Bradley and you shook your head. 

“Go ahead.” 

“Thanks.” She took a seat and a swig of beer before glancing over. “I just wanted to say, I’ve known Bradshaw for four years now. He always referenced someone from his past that we knew he was hung up on. It wasn’t until that night that you walked into the bar that we found out it was you.” 

She tipped her head and paused. 

“This is the happiest I’ve ever seen him. It’s like a part of him has been dormant this entire time. And he’s just starting to live again.” 

You nodded. “I think a part of me was always waiting for Bradley to come home.”

“Home?” she asked. 

“He’s my home,” you said simply. “We spent the last eight years fighting it, letting our past sully our future. But the truth is, I’ve loved Bradley since we were nineteen years old. For more than a decade.” You looked ahead, spotted Bradley laughing next to a cooler with a few of the other members of the squad. He was relaxed, beautiful. Your heart sped up simply at the sight of him. You turned back to Phoenix and smiled. “He’s my person. And I’m his.” 

She gave you a grin. “Yeah, I could see that from the moment you walked into the bar and he laid eyes on you. You were his, whether or not you were ready to admit it.” 

***

The stripe of sunlight woke you up, along with the sound of the door creaking open. 

“Good morning,” Bradley whispered. 

You opened both eyes, pushing yourself to seated in the bed, and laughed as he tried to maneuver a breakfast tray onto the fluffy duvet without spilling, face twisted in concentration. You reached out to pull down the tray legs, while Bradley sat down, pinching a strawberry between two fingers and popping it in his mouth. 

“This was the breakfast I was trying to bring you the other morning,” he added and you laughed. “Before you thought I deserted you.” 

Looking down at the giant cinnamon rolls, coffee and fruit, you smiled. “Well, history does have a record of repeating itself.” 

Bradley stilled next to you. 

“I’m kidding,” you murmured, pressing one hand reassuringly against his on the mattress. “You know that, right? I know you’re not leaving.” 

He leaned over and cupped your neck with one hand, pulling you in for a warm kiss. When you broke apart, he said, “I’m here to stay.” 

***

Bradley didn’t want to waste time. According to him, the last eight years had been enough. He wanted you now and he wanted all of you. 

You moved into the bungalow a few months after he returned from the mission. 

Routine slipped over the two of you easily, but there was still a rush every time he came home, boots loud and stomping at the door, smelling of jet fuel and his musky cologne and the faintest sheen of sweat as he’d kiss you and pull you upstairs, not even able to wait to shower before his hands were on your waist, tearing at your shirt, laying you down gently against the mattress. 

The door slammed shut and you counted to fifteen in your head. The amount of time it took for Bradley to burst through the door, cross the foyer and walk down the hall before entering the small kitchen that overlooked the backyard, stepping forward and winding his arms around your waist. The path he took every evening, so ingrained in your routine you barely had to think about it.

Yet, you counted to twenty and he still wasn’t there. As you turned away from the pot of vegetable soup you had been stirring on the stove, you spotted Bradley’s boots in the hall, but he was nowhere in sight. It wasn’t until you heard a muffled voice in the bedroom that you were sure he was even still in the house. 

As you inched open the door, you spotted Bradley sitting on the bed, one foot propped on his opposite knee, phone glued to his ear. His face was solemn, and you watched as he nodded. After ten or so seconds, he looked up and caught your gaze. 

“Yes, sir, thank you,” he said obediently into the phone before ending the call. 

Work, you thought. You sighed, already heading back to the kitchen to turn off the soup, pack some for Bradley in a tupperware to take back to base, when his voice stopped you. 

“Mags?” he said and you spun around. 

“What?” 

He smiled. “What if I told you I just got off the phone with your father?”

“I’d say, are you insane for calling my dad,” you laughed. “He can’t stand you.” 

Bradley nodded. “Is that so?” 

You sighed. “Do you want to have a headache? I can just hit you over the head with a bottle of Blanton’s. Same effect as speaking with my dad.” 

Bradley chuckled. “Well I had something really important to ask him.” 

Your pulse quickened and you were suddenly extremely aware of the rushing sound of blood in your ears. The way Bradley’s hands shook slightly as he reached into one pocket before sliding off the bed into a kneeling position. 

“I love you, Margaret Anne Brooms. I know we haven’t had the most linear path to get here. But you’re my home. You’re my soulmate. Your love is the reason I get up in the morning. I loved you for eight long years apart. And I thank God every single day that he brought you back into my life. You’re the best part of every single day, Mags, and you’re the woman of my absolute dreams. I can’t wait to have babies with you and build a life with you and tell you every day how much you inspire me to be a better man. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” 

You rushed forward, pulling his lips to yours and Bradley lifted you into his arms, coming to standing. As you pulled away, he chuckled. 

“Is that a yes, baby?” he whispered. 

You laughed through the tears. “Yes!” 

He pulled out a ring from his pocket, a small plain yellow gold band. “This was my mother’s,” he murmured. “But if you want a diamond or a sapphire or white gold, I’ll buy you whatever you want, baby, no sweat.” 

You gazed down at the ring. It was simple and classic. “It’s perfect,” you whispered. Your hands reached out to cup his face and you pressed your lips to his before pulling away. “Do you remember our first date?” 

Bradley smiled questioningly. “Of course.” 

“You got your wish,” you said softly. “You ruined all other men for me, Bradley Bradshaw. Since that night, it’s always been you. It’s always going to be you.” 

*** UVA, September 2042 *** 

“Do you have your room key?” 

“Yes, Mom,” Nick whined and Bradley’s warm arm wound its way around your waist. You looked up at the tall brick building. It felt like a lifetime ago, and also yesterday, that you had been the one hauling bins into the building during freshman orientation. 

“We should get going sweetheart,” Bradley said quietly. You nodded and stepped forward, brushing one hand over Nick’s soft cheek. He had his father’s dark chocolatey eyes, the same build. It was almost like looking at a nineteen year old Bradley, sans Hawaiian shirt. 

“We love you,” you said softly, pulling him in for a hug. Nick’s arms wrapped around you instinctively, and even though he was so much taller, almost his father’s height, you still understood that he needed to be held in that moment. “You’re going to do great,” you said when he finally pulled away. 

You watched as Nick turned to Bradley and the two embraced. They were practically twins, and it made your heart pang softly. “Love you, kid,” Bradley murmured. “Call us, OK? Mom is always up late, don’t worry about the time difference.” 

He nodded and you felt tears welling up. Nick turned and your voice cracked as you called out to him. “Nick?”

He whipped around, curly hair flopping a bit into his eyes. “Yeah?”

You peered around. The campus was flooded with students and their parents, every walkway saturated with excitement and eager footsteps and nervous anxiety. Nick blended in seamlessly, the same way Bradley had all those years ago. He was made for this place. “Everything happens the way it’s meant to,” you said finally. “So don’t worry too much, OK? I promise, it’s all going to make sense in the end. Whatever path you take, whatever choices you make, everything is going to work out.” 

He smiled and your breath caught in your throat. “I love you, Mom.”

“Love you baby,” you murmured and he smiled, hand out in a wave, before turning back toward the building and heading to his dorm room. 

You turned to Bradley who slid a thumb under your eye, wiping away a tear. “He’ll be fine,” he whispered, kissing your temple. 

“I know he will be,” you replied softly. “It’s us I’m worried about.”

Bradley laughed, pulling you into his side and steering you back toward the car. “We’ll be OK, too. Do you know how I know that?” 

“How?” You paused under a big oak tree. There was gray peppering his hair, small wrinkles around the corners of his eyes from sun exposure over the years in the jets. He walked a little slower and his midsection was a little thicker, but he was still the same Bradley who had carried you over a puddle on your wedding day so your dress hem wouldn’t get muddy. The same Bradley who had brought you breakfast in bed every Saturday morning for twenty years anytime he was home from deployment. The same Bradley who silently sobbed the first time the doctor placed Nick in his arms after the C-section. Bradley who had taken two weeks off to tour every college with Nick during his junior year of high school before landing on UVA as a double legacy. The same Bradley who had stayed true to his word: he had changed since that night, three decades before, when he had walked out. He had become the person you trusted the most in the world. 

He had become your hero. 

“Every day I get to wake up and know that you chose me,” Bradley said softly, squeezing your hand in his. “How many people are so lucky they get to be loved like that?” 

You beamed up at him. “Best decision I ever made,” you whispered. 

Bradley pulled open the passenger door to the car for you. “You’re all I need, baby. You’re all I’ve ever needed.” 

THE END 

A/N: This is the last chapter of this series, the last section at UVA serves kind of as an epilogue so there won't be an additional epilogue! Thanks to everyone for reading/commenting/reblogging, and special thanks to @gigisimsonmars for the exes to lovers for Bradley idea!

Tag list: @abaker74 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @luckyladycreator2 @marantha @tayrae515 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @bradshawsbitch @lilianashomaresparza @double-j @hangmandruigandmav @blue-aconite @shawnsblue @minamisulemisa @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav @seresinhangmanjake @taytaylala12 @pulisvertz @brehonodea @babyminghao @crthurston @angelbabyange @secretsicanthideanymore @mizzzpink @showmethewayhomehoney @wkndwlff @mygyn @tvjunkie08 @sadpetalsstuff

#bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster top gun #rooster fanfic #rooster imagine #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick imagine #top gun x reader #rooster x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc

[reddorkredemption]

My Blessed Son—Chapter 14

|| AO3 || Chapter List / Story Info ||  

Summary:

For years, Jack Marston dreamed of killing Edgar Ross, the man who had taken everything from him, who had ruined his life. His obsession with revenge had given him a reason to keep going. But now, after it was done, he was left lost, depressed and without purpose. He was left to navigate life alone with the unforgiving eyes of the law slowly narrowing in on him. Though he soon comes to realize that perhaps he isn’t quite as alone as he thought he would be. A continuation from the end of Red Dead Redemption 1.

Word Count: ~5200

Chapter under the cut <3

Jack let out a heavy groan as he heaved another hefty sack of corn off of his shoulder, letting it flop down onto the ground by the silo. He waved away the cloud of dirt it kicked up and hunched over, resting his palms on his knees as he caught his breath. He exhaled contentedly as a merciful gust of wind blew over the ranch and cooled the sweat on his forehead.

Earlier that afternoon, Bonnie had come by to check up on him and Lilly, bringing with her an entire wagon-full of the corn sacks. It was entirely unexpected, and she had declined any kind of repayment he offered. She told him to consider it a debt repaid to his family.

Jack thought that she had already repaid her debt to them tenfold, but he was still beyond grateful for the help. With winter just around the corner and no time to grow any crops of their own, they certainly needed it. 

But God, if it didn’t suck having to lug all those sacks around….

After taking a moment to relish in the breeze, he straightened up and stretched his back, shivering as a cold bead of sweat ran down his skin. He then stretched his arms out, his joints cracking in satisfaction as the tension was released from his shoulders. The motion made his damp shirt stick to his chest, and he frowned at the uncomfortable sensation. He plucked at the fabric, trying without much success to peel it away from his skin. 

As he fussed over the shirt, he mindlessly glanced towards the barn and caught Lilly looking in his direction. She was knelt down by the water pump, absentmindedly filling a metal pail with water while she stared at him.

Her cheeks were flushed by the sun, and several strands of her hair had fallen out of place and stuck to the sweat glistening on her forehead. Her eyes flitted up to his face, widening briefly as she realized he was staring back at her. 

He gave her a small smile of acknowledgement, and her cheeks grew pinker. She blinked a few times and snapped her gaze away from him, gluing her eyes to the pail of water in front of her. She continued to fill it without looking back up.

Jack furrowed his brows at her behavior but chose not to read too much into it— he could get caught up in overthinking for hours. She was likely just tired from working on the ranch all day, just as he was.

Placing his hands on his hips, he turned around and sighed at the remaining pile of corn sacks by the porch that still needed to be moved around the ranch. As exhausted as he was, he knew he had to finish moving them by the end of the day. If they were left out overnight, there was a high chance they’d be torn open and destroyed by wild animals. And they couldn’t afford to lose any of them. 

Although, he figured that it wouldn’t hurt to take a little break.

He wiped his hands off on his pants and started walking to the house, wading through the overgrown grass that still needed to be trimmed. He popped inside and poured himself a cool drink before ultimately deciding to sit out on the porch. The house was too stuffy.

Settling into a small wooden chair on the porch, he took his hat off, tossed it to the side, and ran a hand through his damp hair. He took a deep breath of the fresh autumn air and leaned back as he looked out at the ranch.

He and Lilly had been there for a little over a week now, and their efforts at rebuilding were finally beginning to show. They had made quick work of fixing up the chicken coop, and a few days ago, they scraped together enough cash to purchase the small flock of chickens that now resided there. 

Jack had also made a lot of progress on fixing the fence around the property. However, much of it was too damaged to be repaired and had to be replaced instead, making it take longer than he had wanted.

There was still a lot to be done, but he was pleased with how things were beginning to take shape.

And thankfully, there had been no signs of trouble thus far— no lawmen or government agents banging down his door. But that fear still stayed in the back of his mind at all times. He was wary of every stranger that rode by the ranch, and he was constantly looking over his shoulder. 

Every bump in the night caused him to jolt awake and search the house until he found the source of the sound. All he ever found was Lilly, awake and wandering around in the middle of the night. And every time, she would give him the same look of concern and bewilderment as he frantically questioned her about the noise. 

Jack sighed. She must have thought he was insane.

He looked towards the water pump in search of her, but she wasn’t there anymore. He did a brief scan of the area and quickly spotted her standing by the chicken coop. She had rolled up the sleeves of her blouse, and the loose riding skirt she wore was caked in dirt at the knees. The chickens bobbed around her feet, eagerly waiting for her to start scattering a small basket of feed that she held in the crook of her elbow.

He smiled at her then looked down at his hands and frowned. 

He wanted to tell her the real reason he was so agitated all the time. No more half-truths or sugarcoating. He wanted to tell her everything. Every little detail about Ross, about the bureau agents following him around in Blackwater. It all weighed so heavily on him, only getting heavier with each passing day. 

She deserved to know the truth— to know the full extent of what she was potentially getting herself into by staying with him. But he didn’t have a clue how to go about telling her. 

It wasn’t something he could casually bring up. He scoffed a laugh as he imagined how that conversation would go: Wow, nice weather today. By the way, just thought you should know that I killed a federal agent a few months ago and am only getting away with it by the skin of my teeth.

There was no good way to tell her. 

And he was afraid. Not of her turning him in to the law— he felt he could trust her at that point— but of her turning her back on him. He had gotten used to having her around and had admittedly grown quite fond of her. She breathed some life back into that house. And back into him.

He was afraid that if he told her about Ross, she would leave and take that little bit of light she had brought to his life with her.

Jack shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it any longer. 

He sighed and stood up, stretching out his arms a final time as he prepared to get back to work. He grabbed his hat and placed it back on his head before hopping off the porch and heading to the pile of corn sacks. 

Bending down, he grabbed the edge of one of the bags and pulled it upright. He stood hunched over and breathed deeply as he began mustering up the strength to sling the thing over his shoulder.

“You little piece of shit!”

Jack abruptly straightened back up, letting the bag slip from his hands, as he heard Lilly shout from the chicken coop. He turned to look at her, finding her on the ground on her hands and knees. Her back was turned to him, so he couldn’t tell what was going on.

Worry beginning to creep in, he abandoned the corn sacks and jogged towards the coop to see if she was alright. 

As he got closer, he noticed the basket of chicken feed that she had been holding lying empty on the ground beside her. In front of her, sprawled throughout the dirt, were the spilled contents of that basket. She was trying desperately to scoop up the excess food with one hand while using the other to swat away an ornery rooster that was stealing bites. 

When he came to a halt behind her, he heard her softly grumbling to herself. He leaned in to hear what she was saying and realized that she was actually talking to the rooster, not to herself.

“...three days, and I’ve already had it with your shit,” she said. “We don’t really need you, y’know? You don’t even lay eggs. You’re on thin fuckin’ ice; you better—”

“What happened?” Jack asked, cutting off her quiet rant.

Lilly whipped her head around, visibly startled by his sudden arrival. The surprise on her face quickly turned to exasperation.

“This little asshole happened,” she snapped, jutting a finger out at the rooster. As if on cue, the animal nipped at her outstretched finger, and she yanked her hand away.

He chuckled. “Could you be a little more specific?”

She huffed and waved a hand at the pile of chicken feed on the ground. “He kept biting at my ankles and trying to chase me around while I was feeding them. Made me drop the whole basket.” 

She picked up a fistful of the spilled food and chucked it into the basket with an excessive amount of force.

“And now,” she continued, swatting at the rooster again as it went to swipe more food, “he keeps trying to bite my hands while I’m cleaning it up.”

Jack scratched his head and rested his free hand on his hip. “Well, why don’t you just pick him up and put him back in the coop then?”

She paused, fist tightening around another clump of chicken feed, and looked at him incredulously. “Just pick him—” She cut herself off with a scoff. “He hates me! He’s been tryna tear my fingers off! You want me to pick him up?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re bigger than him; he ain’t gonna kill you.”

Lilly sat up on her heels and tossed a handful of chicken feed at his shins. “Don’t laugh at me,” she mumbled, slouching and staring down at the ground.

Taken aback by her response, he said nothing and shifted awkwardly on his feet. He half-expected her to look up and smirk at him, revealing that her despondency was an act put on to mess with him. For whatever reason, she always seemed to find doing that entertaining.

But when she only continued to frown at the dirt, he knelt down beside her and said, “I’m sorry.”

She sighed and attempted to blow a loose lock of hair out of her face, but it stuck to the sweat on her forehead. She swiped it away and clutched her temple. “It’s fine. I’m just frustrated,” she said. “I suck at this.”

He bit his lip and looked around. “Why don’t you take a break?” he suggested. He stood up and motioned around the general area of the coop. “I can deal with all this.”

Lilly looked up at him then glanced to the side, considering the suggestion for a moment. When she met his eyes again, she gave a single, wordless nod. Jack took a step back as she rose to her feet, and she gave him a look of gratitude before drifting over to the house.

Jack turned his attention to the rooster. With Lilly no longer there to stop it, it happily pecked away at the pile of food on the ground.

“Alright,” he sighed. “I think you’ve had about enough.”

In a single swift motion, he grabbed the rooster and hoisted it up, cringing as it flapped and squawked in protest. He tightened his arms around it and waddled to the coop, kicking the door open. 

He set the animal down in one of the nesting boxes, threw his hands up, and jumped backwards, expecting it to try attacking him in retaliation. He felt stupid when it just cocked its head and stared back at him. Letting his arms fall limply back to his sides, he tsked and exited the coop.

With that out of the way, he attempted to clean up the mess of chicken feed scattered about the ground outside. Unfortunately, much of it had become entwined with the dirt, making it unsalvageable, but he did his best to scrape up as much as possible.

Once he finished, he made his way back to the house to catch up with Lilly. He found her on the porch, sitting on top of the railing and fidgeting with her hands. She looked up when his boots clicked against the porch steps.

“You okay?” he asked, moving to stand beside her.

“Yeah,” she said, sheepishly rubbing her arm. “I’m sorry you had to clean up my mess. I don’t know why I got so upset; I just…” She trailed off and shrugged. 

“It’s alright,” Jack sighed, leaning back and resting his elbows on the railing. “I understand. Ranch work can be frustrating at times.”

Lilly nodded slowly, a small smirk spreading across her face. “Especially when you’re so naturally terrible at it.”

“You’re not terrible at it.”

She snorted. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying.” Jack shook his head. “You’re not any worse than we were when we first bought this place.” 

And that was the truth. His family’s first couple of months at Beecher’s Hope were a fumbling disaster. They had only a vague idea of what they were supposed to be doing, and putting those ideas into practice was a lot harder than they’d expected.

He let out a little laugh as he thought back on it. “You shoulda seen the first time my pa tried to shear a sheep. Poor thing was lucky to be alive by the time he was done.”

Lilly lowered her head and chuckled.

“You’ll get used to it,” he told her. 

“Maybe,” she murmured, the hint of a smile in her voice. Sitting up straighter, she sighed and looked over at the coop. “Is it crazy that I kinda wanna go apologize to the rooster too?— for swearin’ at him?”

“No,” Jack said, “but I wouldn’t bother. I think he’ll survive without an apology.”

She laughed. “Well, good. I’m still not sure he deserves one anyway.”

There was a lull in the conversation, and Jack looked down at the floor. He dragged his boot back and forth along the wood as he searched his head for something else to talk about. Admittedly, he just didn’t want to return to moving corn sacks and was looking for a way to stall.

His foot stilled when something came to mind.

“Y’know, I was thinkin’ the other day...” he started, grunting as he pushed himself off the railing and stood up straight, “I was thinkin’ it might be a good idea for you to learn to ride a horse.”

Lilly’s eyebrows rose then drew together. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty important to learn if you’re gonna be livin’ out here,” he explained. He began to grow insecure when the expression on her face didn’t change. “Unless you don’t want to. I mean, I don’t mind ridin’ you around or anything. I just thought you might like to be able to go by yourself, be able to get away from me from time to time….”

The corners of her lips twitched upwards as he rambled. “I do want to. I’m just… surprised. I never thought I’d have the opportunity.” 

“To get away from me?” he asked, only half-joking. 

She snickered and playfully shoved his shoulder. “No!” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Stop that. You knew exactly what I meant.”

Jack chuckled and mumbled an apology.

Lilly hopped off of the railing. “When were you wantin’ to teach me?”

“Whenever,” he said. “Now if you want.”

“You don’t have stuff to do?”

He shrugged. “It can wait. Still plenty of time left in the day.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” she said, grinning and bouncing on her toes. “I’d love to.”

Smiling at her excitement, he waved her towards the stairs. “Come on then.”

———

Lilly stood behind Jack as he worked on tacking up his horse. It was something he had done countless times before; he could probably do it with his eyes closed at that point. But this time, he took it slowly, wanting to be completely sure that everything was in place. Maybe he was being a bit too obsessive as he double- and triple-checked the tightness of the saddle girth, but he would hate for something to go wrong while she was on the horse.

“You don’t happen to have a smaller horse do you?” Lilly suddenly asked, making him glance back at her. She wrung her hands. “One a little less… scary?”

“Not at the ranch, no,” he said, giving the saddle a tug to make sure it was secure. He then rested his hand against the horse’s back and raised an eyebrow at her. “Why do you think he’s scary all of a sudden? You’ve ridden him a few times before.”

“That was different. You were holdin’ the reins,” she said before glancing at the horse and chuckling nervously. “I don’t want to do something wrong. He looks like he’d throw me off just for lookin’ at him funny.” 

“He won’t,” he assured her with a laugh. “He’s never tried to throw me before. And if he can put up with me, he can put up with you just fine.”

“Okay….” Her voice remained uncertain, and she shifted on her feet.

Dissatisfied with her lingering apprehension, Jack leaned forward and grabbed one of her hands. She widened her eyes at him, clearly caught off guard by the gesture. 

Jack guided her hand to Ace’s face, and she tensed as he held it up to the horse’s nose, allowing him to sniff her fingers. Then, keeping his hand on top of hers, he placed her hand on the back of the horse’s head, slowly running it down his neck. He repeated the motion a few times, her hand relaxing with every stroke.

He glanced at her face to gauge her reaction, only to find that she wasn’t even looking at the horse. She was staring at him with a gentle smile that made his heart turn in his chest. 

Why did she keep staring at him? Had he done something?

His cheeks began to heat up, and he pulled his hand off of hers.

Clearing his throat, he gave her an awkward smile in return and said, “You’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” she said, the response coming out more confidently the second time. The soft smile remaining on her face, she looked at the horse and continued rubbing his neck on her own. “Where are we gonna go?” 

“Probably best to start off around here,” Jack replied. “Maybe just ride around the corral a bit so you can get the hang of it.”

Lilly agreed, her enthusiasm returning.

After a final, thorough inspection of the saddle, he grabbed the reins and led the horse into the corral, motioning for Lilly to follow him. They stopped by the back end of the fence, where they were shaded by the small cliff that overlooked the ranch.

He let go of the reins and rested both of his hands on the saddle, leaning against the horse as he pondered how he wanted to go about this. A part of him considered running into the house, grabbing a sheet of paper, and writing down a set of instructions for her. But that would have taken too long.

He decided it would be easiest to just get her in the saddle and explain as they went. That was how he had learned after all, and it seemed to work out well enough for him.

Taking his hands off the saddle, he motioned for Lilly to come closer.

“Ready to get up there?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He started by showing her how he mounted up, going through the motions at a much slower speed than he normally would. He also supplemented his demonstration by explaining in words what he was doing, but he wasn’t sure how helpful that was.

As soon as he’d gotten up, he hopped back down. He then patted the saddle, beckoning her to climb up next.

Lilly looked at him for reassurance, and he gave it in the form of an awkward thumbs up. She breathed out a laugh and shook her head as she trained her eyes on the horse.

She stepped into the stirrup and gripped onto the saddle, using it to aid in hoisting herself up. Sucking in a breath, she swung her leg over the back of the horse and plopped down on the saddle.

Once she had settled in, Jack grabbed the reins and dropped them into her hands, giving her a short explanation of how to use them— and how not to. And wasting no time, he told her how to get the horse moving, and they began their ride.

They spent a good twenty minutes riding in slow circles around the corral, Jack strolling alongside the horse and giving her as much instruction as he could. He mostly just repeated things his father had told him while he was learning to ride himself. Sit up straight. Look forward, not at the horse. Don’t pull too hard on the reins. 

As her confidence increased, Jack slowly floated away from her side, stopping a few yards away. There he stood and watched as she continued making endless circles around the corral.

“So, how long do I have to ride in circles until we can actually go somewhere?” Lilly shouted out, voice jumping rhythmically as she bounced in the saddle.

Jack looked up, startled. At some point, maybe somewhere around Lilly’s twentieth lap, he had begun to zone out and took to digging at the dirt with the toe of his boot.

As he processed her question, he pursed his lips in thought. With only one horse, it’d be difficult for him to accompany her anywhere off the ranch. He couldn’t very well run alongside her as she rode around; he’d look like an idiot. He did have his other horse still stabled in Blackwater, but he hated to go back there. 

Then again, he did still have to go there occasionally to drop Lilly off at the saloon for work anyways. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to pick the horse up during one of those trips.

“I have another horse at the stables in Blackwater,” he told her. “Next time we have to go down there, I can pick her up for you. Then, maybe we can go hit a trail together— lotta nice places to ride around here.”

“We can’t go get her now?”

Jack wrinkled his nose at the suggestion. “I’d rather not make a special trip out there if we don’t have to….” he mumbled. “You know I hate it there.”

Her face fell, but she nodded in understanding. 

He couldn’t understand why she would want to make an extra trip there; the city wasn’t kind to her either. Though it also never made sense to him why she would come to Blackwater in the first place, leaving behind a city that he assumed was much nicer.

He shook his head. “How’d you end up here anyway?”

Somewhat hesitantly, she responded, “What do you mean?”

“In Blackwater,” he said. “What were you doin’ there? You obviously ain’t from there.”

“Obviously? Why’s it obvious?”

He furrowed his brows at her, wondering if she was serious. “Because you’ve said so?” he said. “And even if you didn’t, it’s pretty easy to tell. You can’t ride a horse, you talk kinda funny...”

She clutched her chest in feigned offense. “I talk funny? Well, I—” 

Taking her hand off the saddle horn caused her balance to falter, and she wobbled a bit. Jack lunged towards her, holding his arms out in case she fell. Luckily, she was able to reorient herself without incident. 

Once she’d recovered, she continued, “I think you ‘talk kinda funny’.” She poorly mimicked the way he spoke. 

“And you’d be right,” he said with a laugh. “But that don’t mean you don’t also talk funny.”

Lilly smiled and rolled her eyes. “I guess that’s fair.”

Going silent, she turned away from the conversation and looked down at the horse, refocusing on riding. 

“Look up, not at the horse,” Jack reminded her as he kept walking close beside her.

She corrected her posture without saying anything.

He waited to see if she would speak again, but she remained quiet. He gently prompted, “Also, you didn’t answer the question.”

“Oh, I… thought you’d forgotten you asked it….” she mumbled sheepishly.

Jack gave her a puzzled expression, sensing some caginess in her response. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said— he knew he was in no place to demand secrets from anyone. “I was just wonderin’ why you’d choose Blackwater, out of everywhere you could’ve gone.”

She looked up at the sky and thought for a moment before answering, “I didn’t come straight here. I’ve just been floating around for a while, trying to find somewhere nice enough to stay.”

“And Blackwater is nice?” he asked, making no effort to hide his disbelief.

“It would be.” She shrugged. “If the people weren’t terrible.”

“Ouch,” he quipped, kicking the dirt as he walked.

She snickered. “Not all of them. I like you fine. And Weaver and Mrs. Howard. Some of the saloon girls are nice too,” she clarified. “It’s the high-and-mighty’s that I can’t stand. The ones who love to talk about you to everyone else but avoid eye contact if they see you in the street.”

Her voice became angry as she spoke, and she pulled back on the reins to stop the slow trot of the horse. Jack cringed at how hard she had tugged on them. Hopefully, it hadn’t upset the horse too much.

Scowling, she closed her eyes and took a breath.

When she opened them again, she said, “I’d never go back home.” The frown on her face morphed into a small smirk. “But at least the people there had the good faith to talk shit to your face.”

Jack chuckled. There were plenty of people like that in Blackwater if you knew where to look. Hell, at times, he may have been one of those people himself.

She continued, “I guess I could have moved on from here weeks ago, gone even farther west.” She shook her head. “But… I didn’t want to.”

“Why?” Jack asked, reaching out to stroke the horse’s back. “I would’ve left by now if I was you.”

“I don’t know,” she said, smiling down at the reins in her hand. “There’s still some things it would hurt to leave behind.”

Before he could question her any further, she squirmed in the saddle and said, “Anyway, I think my a—“ She cut herself off and cleared her throat. “My bottom is sore enough for one day.”

“You want off already?” he asked.

Nodding, she pulled her feet out of the stirrups and tightly gripped the saddle horn as she scanned the ground for a way down.

“Alright,” he said with a hint of disappointment. He had hoped she would ride a bit longer, but he wasn’t going to push her. “You can get down the same way you got up. Or just slide off the back if it’s easier.”

She nodded again, choosing to do the former. 

Jack stood by while she carefully dismounted. As her feet hit the ground, she took her hands off the saddle and stumbled backwards, bumping into him.

He chuckled as she spun around and apologized.

“You didn’t do too bad,” he said.

Lilly smiled and dusted her hands off on her skirt. “Thank you for helpin’ me learn. It was fun. I’m lookin’ forward to riding a trail someday.”

“Me too,” he said, returning her smile. “Just don’t let me forget to get that horse next time we’re in Blackwater.”

“I won’t,” she assured him. “I don’t have to be back at the saloon until next week, but I'll start countin’ down the days.”

He laughed then nodded at the horse. “Well, I’m gonna get this saddle off him. Then I gotta get back to moving all that corn to the silo.”

“Need any help with the corn?” she asked. “I’ve finished everything I needed to do today.”

“Kinda.” He scratched his chin. “But are you sure you want to move those things around? They’re real heavy.”

“I think I can manage,” she said, dismissing his concerns with a wave of her hand. “But if not, I could always just follow you around and yell at you to work harder.”

He snorted. “How very helpful….”

Giggling, she nudged his shoulder and said, “I’ll meet you over there.”

Jack put his hand up in a wave as she scampered off, leaving him to untack the horse.

He started removing the bridle, letting his hands work automatically as his eyes wandered up the hillside to his family’s gravesite. From where he stood, he could only see the tops of the makeshift grave markers he had fashioned out of scraps of wood— two old and weathered and the third still painfully new. 

He hoped they were happy with what he was doing. With all the progress he was making on the ranch. With how he managed to stay out of trouble since he left Blackwater weeks ago. 

But maybe they thought he was stupid for trying to do this, for not just fleeing the country after he took down Ross. Maybe they were still disappointed with him for killing the man. Maybe they’d never forgive him for it. Or maybe they weren’t thinking anything at all— and they were just gone.

Jack lowered his head, taking his eyes off the graves as his chest began to ache from the hole the thought had dug into his heart. Ace nickered and nudged him with his nose, perhaps sensing his unease. He stroked the horse’s neck and returned his focus to getting the saddle off of him. 

After he had finished and put the saddle away, he returned to the horse to give him a pat on the back and praise for a job well done. He left him alone in the corral, wanting to give him more time to roam around before being stabled for the night.

As he walked away, he spotted Lilly struggling to drag a bag of corn across the ground towards the silo. He paused, putting his hands on his hips as he watched the spectacle. He found himself smiling at her, grateful that he wasn’t there alone.

She stopped when she was halfway to the silo, dropped the bag, and looked around. When her eyes landed on him, she shouted at him for just standing there. 

Sighing out a laugh, he ran over to help her.

#jack marston #adult jack marston #my writing #//my blessed son

[ereardonlibrary]

Come Back [Chapter 13][Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC]

Summary: Eight years ago, Bradley Bradshaw was just a college boyfriend who broke your heart. Now, he’s back in your life after a coincidental reunion, and he’s adamant about starting up a friendship. Will it be possible to be just friends with Bradley, or is he inevitably going to end up ruining everything you’ve spent the better part of a decade rebuilding?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x OC [Nurse Maggie Brooms]

WC: 2.3K

Warnings: Cursing

Series masterlist

“Nurse Maggie!” Jake Seresin’s voice was clear as day, and you lifted your sunglasses up a few inches, spotting the tanned aviator jogging across the sandy beach in a pair of shorts, no shirt. He stopped at the chair you had just unfolded and sunk into the sand. “How’s it going? You here for Bradshaw or are you finally gonna take me up on that date?”

You smirked. “Let’s do it, baby. Want to see if the rumors I’ve heard about you are true.” Jake’s smile faltered slightly as he tried to process your sarcasm, and a shadow appeared in the sand in front of you, Bradley’s deep voice creeping up from behind. “Don’t taunt him, sweetheart, he can’t compute. He’ll just think you’re hitting on him.”

Bradley came into view on your peripheral, tanned, bare chest glistening, wearing a pair of jorts that you made a mental note to mock later.

You got up out of the chair, pressing your front against Bradley, feeling his hands dip down and squeeze your ass in the swimsuit bottoms as his lips pressed firmly into yours.

“So y’all are an item I see,” Jake said, crossing his arms and smiling. “Like none of us saw that coming.”

Phoenix took a step forward. “It’s almost like we haven’t heard Bradshaw moaning about you for months on end, going on about how much he misses you.”

You reached up and pinched his cheek. “Oh, is that so?”

Bradley flushed and then reached down, grabbing you around the waist and swinging you into his arms as you squealed. “Blame Phoenix,” he said before darting off toward the water, wading in and tossing you once the ocean was thigh deep. You emerged from the water, sputtering, and Bradley laughed.

“Oh you’re fucking dead!” you shouted, lunging at him and he didn’t even try to duck, simply let you tackle him in the water, dragging you until you two were in the shallows, Bradley lying with his back on the sand, you breathless on top of him. “Tired of me yet?” you asked him softly. A wave of water lapped at your bare legs as Bradley’s warm, large hands gripped your hips tightly.

“Not for a damn second,” he whispered, pulling your head down to kiss you.

You watched the team play an incredibly confusing and somehow erotic game of shirtless beach football, laughing as they tackled Jake, cheering as Bob was placed on someone’s shoulders, hoisting the ball into the air.

While the team celebrated, you turned to the novel in your lap before another shadow crossed the space next to your feet.

“Hey.” You looked up to see Phoenix gripping a beer bottle loosely in one hand, holding out another as an offering. You took it and smiled. “Mind if I sit?” she asked, pointing to the extra chair you had put out for Bradley and you shook your head.

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” She took a seat and a swig of beer before glancing over. “I just wanted to say, I’ve known Bradshaw for four years now. He always referenced someone from his past that we knew he was hung up on. It wasn’t until that night that you walked into the bar that we found out it was you.”

She tipped her head and paused.

“This is the happiest I’ve ever seen him. It’s like a part of him has been dormant this entire time. And he’s just starting to live again.”

You nodded. “I think a part of me was always waiting for Bradley to come home.”

“Home?” she asked.

“He’s my home,” you said simply. “We spent the last eight years fighting it, letting our past sully our future. But the truth is, I’ve loved Bradley since we were nineteen years old. For more than a decade.” You looked ahead, spotted Bradley laughing next to a cooler with a few of the other members of the squad. He was relaxed, beautiful. Your heart sped up simply at the sight of him. You turned back to Phoenix and smiled. “He’s my person. And I’m his.”

She gave you a grin. “Yeah, I could see that from the moment you walked into the bar and he laid eyes on you. You were his, whether or not you were ready to admit it.”

***

The stripe of sunlight woke you up, along with the sound of the door creaking open.

“Good morning,” Bradley whispered.

You opened both eyes, pushing yourself to seated in the bed, and laughed as he tried to maneuver a breakfast tray onto the fluffy duvet without spilling, face twisted in concentration. You reached out to pull down the tray legs, while Bradley sat down, pinching a strawberry between two fingers and popping it in his mouth.

“This was the breakfast I was trying to bring you the other morning,” he added and you laughed. “Before you thought I deserted you.”

Looking down at the giant cinnamon rolls, coffee and fruit, you smiled. “Well, history does have a record of repeating itself.”

Bradley stilled next to you.

“I’m kidding,” you murmured, pressing one hand reassuringly against his on the mattress. “You know that, right? I know you’re not leaving.”

He leaned over and cupped your neck with one hand, pulling you in for a warm kiss. When you broke apart, he said, “I’m here to stay.”

***

Bradley didn’t want to waste time. According to him, the last eight years had been enough. He wanted you now and he wanted all of you.

You moved into the bungalow a few months after he returned from the mission.

Routine slipped over the two of you easily, but there was still a rush every time he came home, boots loud and stomping at the door, smelling of jet fuel and his musky cologne and the faintest sheen of sweat as he’d kiss you and pull you upstairs, not even able to wait to shower before his hands were on your waist, tearing at your shirt, laying you down gently against the mattress.

The door slammed shut and you counted to fifteen in your head. The amount of time it took for Bradley to burst through the door, cross the foyer and walk down the hall before entering the small kitchen that overlooked the backyard, stepping forward and winding his arms around your waist. The path he took every evening, so ingrained in your routine you barely had to think about it.

Yet, you counted to twenty and he still wasn’t there. As you turned away from the pot of vegetable soup you had been stirring on the stove, you spotted Bradley’s boots in the hall, but he was nowhere in sight. It wasn’t until you heard a muffled voice in the bedroom that you were sure he was even still in the house.

As you inched open the door, you spotted Bradley sitting on the bed, one foot propped on his opposite knee, phone glued to his ear. His face was solemn, and you watched as he nodded. After ten or so seconds, he looked up and caught your gaze.

“Yes, sir, thank you,” he said obediently into the phone before ending the call.

Work, you thought. You sighed, already heading back to the kitchen to turn off the soup, pack some for Bradley in a tupperware to take back to base, when his voice stopped you.

“Mags?” he said and you spun around.

“What?”

He smiled. “What if I told you I just got off the phone with your father?”

“I’d say, are you insane for calling my dad,” you laughed. “He can’t stand you.”

Bradley nodded. “Is that so?”

You sighed. “Do you want to have a headache? I can just hit you over the head with a bottle of Blanton’s. Same effect as speaking with my dad.”

Bradley chuckled. “Well I had something really important to ask him.”

Your pulse quickened and you were suddenly extremely aware of the rushing sound of blood in your ears. The way Bradley’s hands shook slightly as he reached into one pocket before sliding off the bed into a kneeling position.

“I love you, Margaret Anne Brooms. I know we haven’t had the most linear path to get here. But you’re my home. You’re my soulmate. Your love is the reason I get up in the morning. I loved you for eight long years apart. And I thank God every single day that he brought you back into my life. You’re the best part of every single day, Mags, and you’re the woman of my absolute dreams. I can’t wait to have babies with you and build a life with you and tell you every day how much you inspire me to be a better man. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

You rushed forward, pulling his lips to yours and Bradley lifted you into his arms, coming to standing. As you pulled away, he chuckled.

“Is that a yes, baby?” he whispered.

You laughed through the tears. “Yes!”

He pulled out a ring from his pocket, a small plain yellow gold band. “This was my mother’s,” he murmured. “But if you want a diamond or a sapphire or white gold, I’ll buy you whatever you want, baby, no sweat.”

You gazed down at the ring. It was simple and classic. “It’s perfect,” you whispered. Your hands reached out to cup his face and you pressed your lips to his before pulling away. “Do you remember our first date?”

Bradley smiled questioningly. “Of course.”

“You got your wish,” you said softly. “You ruined all other men for me, Bradley Bradshaw. Since that night, it’s always been you. It’s always going to be you.”

*** UVA, September 2042 ***

“Do you have your room key?”

“Yes, Mom,” Nick whined and Bradley’s warm arm wound its way around your waist. You looked up at the tall brick building. It felt like a lifetime ago, and also yesterday, that you had been the one hauling bins into the building during freshman orientation.

“We should get going sweetheart,” Bradley said quietly. You nodded and stepped forward, brushing one hand over Nick’s soft cheek. He had his father’s dark chocolatey eyes, the same build. It was almost like looking at a nineteen year old Bradley, sans Hawaiian shirt.

“We love you,” you said softly, pulling him in for a hug. Nick’s arms wrapped around you instinctively, and even though he was so much taller, almost his father’s height, you still understood that he needed to be held in that moment. “You’re going to do great,” you said when he finally pulled away.

You watched as Nick turned to Bradley and the two embraced. They were practically twins, and it made your heart pang softly. “Love you, kid,” Bradley murmured. “Call us, OK? Mom is always up late, don’t worry about the time difference.”

He nodded and you felt tears welling up. Nick turned and your voice cracked as you called out to him. “Nick?”

He whipped around, curly hair flopping a bit into his eyes. “Yeah?”

You peered around. The campus was flooded with students and their parents, every walkway saturated with excitement and eager footsteps and nervous anxiety. Nick blended in seamlessly, the same way Bradley had all those years ago. He was made for this place. “Everything happens the way it’s meant to,” you said finally. “So don’t worry too much, OK? I promise, it’s all going to make sense in the end. Whatever path you take, whatever choices you make, everything is going to work out.”

He smiled and your breath caught in your throat. “I love you, Mom.”

“Love you baby,” you murmured and he smiled, hand out in a wave, before turning back toward the building and heading to his dorm room.

You turned to Bradley who slid a thumb under your eye, wiping away a tear. “He’ll be fine,” he whispered, kissing your temple.

“I know he will be,” you replied softly. “It’s us I’m worried about.”

Bradley laughed, pulling you into his side and steering you back toward the car. “We’ll be OK, too. Do you know how I know that?”

“How?” You paused under a big oak tree. There was gray peppering his hair, small wrinkles around the corners of his eyes from sun exposure over the years in the jets. He walked a little slower and his midsection was a little thicker, but he was still the same Bradley who had carried you over a puddle on your wedding day so your dress hem wouldn’t get muddy. The same Bradley who had brought you breakfast in bed every Saturday morning for twenty years anytime he was home from deployment. The same Bradley who silently sobbed the first time the doctor placed Nick in his arms after the C-section. Bradley who had taken two weeks off to tour every college with Nick during his junior year of high school before landing on UVA as a double legacy. The same Bradley who had stayed true to his word: he had changed since that night, three decades before, when he had walked out. He had become the person you trusted the most in the world.

He had become your hero.

“Every day I get to wake up and know that you chose me,” Bradley said softly, squeezing your hand in his. “How many people are so lucky they get to be loved like that?”

You beamed up at him. “Best decision I ever made,” you whispered.

Bradley pulled open the passenger door to the car for you. “You’re all I need, baby. You’re all I’ve ever needed.”

THE END

A/N: This is the last chapter of this series, the last section at UVA serves kind of as an epilogue so there won't be an additional epilogue! Thanks to everyone for reading/commenting/reblogging, and special thanks to @gigisimsonmars for the exes to lovers for Bradley idea!

#rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster imagine #rooster x oc #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine

[travelingue]

Graveyards by the sea

Abandoned churches dotted along the Aberdeenshire coast give it a pleasingly godforsaken feel.

The regional council has put out a guide to 12 of the best such ruins.  Here is my short list, from south to north (map at the end of this post.)

The remains of St Mary's Church, in Cowie - pictured above and below - sit oddly between a golf course and cliffs overlooking Stonehaven Bay.

The 13th-century chapel was dedicated to "St Mary of the Storms" but fell into disuse in the 1560s.   Perhaps the newly Protestant kirk objected to involving the Holy Virgin in maritime meteorology.  A panel at the site only says that the church "was unroofed by the ecclesiastical authority on account of certain scandals".

Locals recycled the crumbling walls as building material, despite a rumour that the stones would "rain blood upon any house built with them".

There was an attempt to rebuild the chapel in the 19th century.  The churchyard includes a memorial to a Stonehaven lifeboat crew who perished in a failed rescue in 1874.  Far from bringing succour to seamen, it seems, the site was jinxed.  Parishioners deserted it.

The adjacent golf clubhouse, on the other hand, is doing brisk business.

Twenty kilometres to the north is another former church in an incongruous setting.  The ruins of St Fittick's Church stand next to the south shore of Aberdeen harbour.

The 12th-century chapel was named after an Irish monk who set out to evangelise the Picts in the 600s.  According to legend, Fittick's boat was caught in a storm.  He told the sailors that salvation lay in Christ.  They threw him overboard to placate Manannán mac Lir, the god of the sea.

But the holy man had the last laugh.  He managed to swim to the shore.  When the villagers asked him how he had survived the wrath of Manannán mac Lir, Fittick said: "Salvation lies in belief in Christ."

The church testifies to the complex relationship between Scots and their fellow Celts across the Irish Sea.

The kirkyard features the gravestone of one William Milne, a victim of Britain's civil wars of the 17th century (my post about the Scottish part of that conflict is here).

Milne, a farmer, joined a Protestant "Covenanter" militia during a royalist offensive backed by Irish Catholics.  The Latin epitaph says that he fell in 1645"for the cause of Christ... by the sword of a savage Irishman".

Fifty kilometres up the coast is Longside Old Parish Church, built in 1619-20.

The churchyard features many memento mori symbols: skulls and bones, hourglasses and the like.

My favourite gravestone is that of William Reid, who "depairted this life" in 1702 and "rests in hops of blesed resurection".  I quote this not to mock the spelling, but my own obsession with spelling.

Soon I will be gone, as will the linguistic proprieties I held so dear.  For a pedant, this stone is the most poignant memento mori of all.

St Mary Chapel, Rattray, is another monument to transience.

Rising from flatlands that seem to merge into the sea, it is all that remains of the "royal burgh" of Rattray.

That status was granted by Mary Queen of Scots to encourage local clans to engage in commerce rather than feuds.  Thus Rattray gained the right to hold markets and trade far and wide.

The sea had other ideas.  Winds and currents filled the harbour with sand over the years.  By the 1800s the village had vanished, as if engulfed by the soggy ground.

But the shell of the 13th-century chapel still stands, at the end of a single lane that seems to lead nowhere.

A few kilometres inland, on the outskirts of Fraserburgh, is St Ethernan's, Rathen. 

A front gable and a side wall are all that's left of this 17th-century parish church.

The stars of the kirkyard are John Greig and Anne Milne, a couple of tenant farmers who happened to be the great-great-grandparents of Norwegian composer Edvard Greig.

One of their sons emigrated and became a successful merchant in Bergen.

Three generations later, little Edvard learned how to play the piano and the rest is musical history.

The inscription on the gravestone is quite worn but someone deciphered it: "Here lyes the remains of JOHN GRIEG, late tenant in Mostoun of Cairnbulg d 6 Jan 1774 in his 71st year. Here also was laid the body of ANN MILNE, spouse of above named John Greig d 17 Nov 1784 in 81st year. This stone is erected to his memory by his surviving children."

The survivors refrained from mentioning the couple's connection to an illustrious descendant. Another lesson in humility!

Fraserburgh is home to an informative Museum of Scottish Lighthouses.  Those uninterested in nautical beacons can happily skip that town and follow the coastline to the west.

The highlights of the northern Aberdeenshire seaboard are fishing villages that are little more than strip of cottages between water and cliff.

They look cute now but were born of desperation. Farm labourers settled these unpromising shores in the 18th century, after being evicted in the Highland Clearances.

One of the most picturesque of those villages is Crovie (above). There is not even room for a road either in front or behind the cottages.

The most famous is Pennan, which was put on the map by Bill Forsyth's film Local Hero.

Its phone box plays a big part in the movie - made in the dark, pre-mobile ages. 

Forty years on, the red kiosk is still there.

The Aberdeenshire council has apparently kept it in service as a tourist attraction.

Talking about maps, here's the one I promised (forgive its crudeness: the only cartographical tool my incompetence can handle is Google My Map.)

#visitscotland #scotland #history #aberdeenshire

[breitzbachbea]

for my children::: soph

oUR DAUGHTERFull Name: Sophie O’ConnelGender and Sexuality: Female and bisexualPronouns: She/Her/HersEthnicity/Species: IrishBirthplace and Birthdate: She was born on the 6th of September 1996 in Dublin. Guilty Pleasures: I think she has a lot of guilty pleasures, though most of them are rather old family rituals she can’t let go, e.g. decorating the house appropriate for the season. It’s more of a guilty pleasure than a coping mechanism because it doesn’t feel right to herself yet she still does it. Phobias: She’s terrible afraid of losing what’s left of her family. She’s afraid she’ll be stuck forever in a more or less depressed phase. And she’s afraid she won’t find a place for herself in this world. She’s afraid there is no place for her in it. What They Would Be Famous For: 120 Sheeps From Five Different Countys Went Missing In One Week, Still No Hint Towards The OffenderWhat They Would Get Arrested For: Girl Arrested After Trying To Book An Entire Flight To New Zealand, Then Showing Up With 120 Sheep At The AirportOC You Ship Them With: Not an OC but a canon character (please don’t hit me). I really like her with APH New Zealand/Benjamin Walker how me and my friend dubbed him as human. It started out as a silly idea based on Soph being a sheep maniac as a defining trait back when I created her and … it kind of stuck through all the character development. Plus, now in the Mafia AU I have to care less for actual relations between the nations, so I can crackship as much as I waaaant as long as it is plausible in THIS universe. Suck iiiiiit. I also like to imagine her and her friend Maeve as a couple, too, though. I don’t know if it would last, but it’d be a lovely short, dorky romance OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Harry because Soph ate the last fish sticks they hadI don’t think no one is really keen on murdering her. Yet. Favorite Movie/Book Genre: I think she’s a big fan of high and urban fantasy like her brother, but also likes scifi and adventure stories. As well as animal centered stories and crime novels - She likes something thrilling as long as it isn’t too complicated and responds to one of her interests. Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: I think Soph dislikes a lot of gender related stereotypes. She grew up with men all around her and only a few women and yet the diversity of those man and the strong female rolemodels such as Hannah and Gwen in her family, show her what kind of bullshit traditional gender roles are. Machos without any redeeming emotional features are a no-go for her. Talents and/or Powers: She’s very good with animals, helpful to other people and hardworking once she’s fired up for a goal. She’s also very creative when it comes to find alternative solutions for something. Especially later on, she’s also extremely tough, no matter the circumstances. Why Someone Might Love Them: Her big wide grin is so full of life and her booming laughter can make everyone forget their worries temporarily. When she loves someone, she loves them unconditionally. She’s going to take you with your fuck ups and your weirdness because she’s fucked up and weird herself. She’s a practical girl that roles up her sleeves and wrestles with sheep to sheer them, who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty and if that isn’t an incredibly admireable thing, I don’t know. She’s got a brilliant sense of humour as well, even when it’s self-depreciating. If getting fifty blurry pictures of animals she’s seen a day isn’t adorable, I don’t know what is. Why Someone Might Hate Them: She’s still insecure and depressed as hell and needs as much of a shoulder to lean on as she can provide one. She’s a loud person and stubborn as well; while considerate of others, she can be very defensive about her opinions. Just like her brother, she can act very thoughtlessly and thus get herself or others into trouble as well as hurting others. How They Change: I think Soph is the character who changes the most throughout the story or at least she’s the one where it is most visible. Soph starts out as insecure teenage girl, who has a vague plan about what she wants to do in live, but struggles to get there on her own. She’s emotionally dependent on her family and the worries she has regarding her boys consume her daily life, making it very easy for her to slip into depressions and have emotional breakdowns that leave her nerves weak for a very long time. She lacks self-esteem and long-term motivation. Over the course of the series she learns how stand up for herself and chase her own goals instead of waiting for someone who can give them to her instead. She becomes more independent - emotionally as well as in general - and learns to accept herself more, to love herself. Soph goes from a teenager without a plan to young woman who knows what she wants and how she’ll get it. Why You Love Them:I always called Soph a little piece of YA in an otherwise adult story - and I think that is a quite important thing. I love Soph because she’s so young and yet carries as much baggage as the older characters of the series - even when it manifests in more mundane ways. And she pulls through - she doesn’t become closed off and jaded, scared of the world, but instead accepts help and tackles her problems. She’s so broken and yet she decides to go through the effort of fixing herself thoroughly. Though just putting duct tape on it is how she fixes most other things that are broken. She breaks down, she cries, she is frustrated and yet, she keeps going. She keeps going because she wants to see and get what the world offers to her, she wants to live the life ahead of her. She’s so strong if you look closer and I love her for it.

#come-home-holy-rome #soph is my baby giiiiirl #i love the o'connels so much in general they have a special spot in my heart #anyone out there who was/is a teenager and deals with mental illnesses knows how hard that shit is #and yet she fights to not become like her brother. not like all the others. #she fights to learn her lesson now #not to sit in front of ruins to rebuild in a few years #she hurts so much to heal #storie nostre #soph

[stupidbeecandle]

Can you tell us more lighthouse strories? :)

Hmm. I made a few other lighthouse stories but I think a lot of them are harder to track down these days? I should probably just make a pinned post.

Stories: The lighthouse and the watch house were right next door to each other the same way you might put a shed out back if your shed was a three-story glowing tower that screamed at a decibel level akin to violence at predictable intervals. There was a white painted line, or maybe it was yellow? On the rocks in a circumference, you were never to cross because beyond that line the noise could permanently deafen you.

The house we stayed in had a rich history of tear-downs and rebuilds. The Atlantic ocean is not fond of houses and does its very best to destroy them with ice, tides, and occasionally very large rocks. It was two stories, downstairs there was a kitchen, a living room, and a gear-storage room where we had a bunch of fancy-schmancy equipment set up and either running, or ready to take out and run. Upstairs were the sleeping quarters but it was weird. At one point the house had belonged to a family with normal bedrooms, then some new owners came in and boarded up the upstairs into two gendered halves so that boys and girls couldn't touch each other in ungodly ways. Then some door-holes were cut in those shodily put up barriers so the upstairs kind of had a spirit-halloween popup store vibe with the construction.

No heat, no electricity or running water. Water was usually packed in on ships and the bathroom was converted to a compost system that was actually fairly well done. Fire stove and gas appliances that we shipped gas in with kept the downstairs super cozy so often we just slept there instead even though it was cramped and sometimes we wanted to kill each other. One of my teammates had the nastiest unwashed white girl dreads Id ever seen because she didn't take advantage of any of the camp hair-hygene options available and kept trying to convince us to dredge our hair with seawater and tie it in knots. Blessedly I had lost my sense of stank by a few days into expedition mode.

Once I lost my hat in the wind and it blew into the circle zone of bodily harm near the lighthouse and I timed my sprint so I could run in, get my hat and get out before it could go off again in what was a spectacularly stupid move, exactly the half brained shit you would expect from an 18 year old with no thoughts in her head.

The moose washed up but so did a leatherback turtle which took a lot longer than the moose to clean and prep. We never killed animals but we often recorded the contents of dead ones and used/sold/donated bones and things to museams, researchers and various societies. We all hated the turtle, while the moose brought us together in a task of madness and hubris, no one wanted to touch the turtle and it was the most cursed task on the island for some time.

Various sea birds (assholes) were the main species living on the island. You had to walk with one hand raised above your head in a fist at nearly all times when they were nesting because the assholes were stupid and would attack the highest part of your body thinking it was your head. You would wear a glove or use an umbrella if you knew you would have to be out there for more than a few minutes.

All of the food was vegan and I hated it. We had a joke that if you threw the vegan scrambled eggs on the ground they would bounce higher than the hight you threw them from. They didn't bounce that high but they did bounce suspiciously high.

The other lighthouse I stayed at had a fancy helipad we could all sit out on made of wood. On off days we would sun ourselves. For some reason despite only a 3 hour difference between the islands great duck island was green and sometimes nice while great rock island was grey and bitterly cold.

Thgis lighthouse had electricity but still no plumbing. It was a much larger research station with at least one permanent resident but I didn't stay long. they studied burrowing owls, horribly invasive rabbits, ruins from early new england settlers and a now feral cow population the settlers just left for some reason.

Its bizarre to be warned about the dangerous cows that lurk in the woods nearby and how they can appear and disappear into the trees faster than you will realize it. It is even more bizarre to be walking in the woods planting your little pink flags to mark burrows when out of nowhere there is a huge godamn cow in front of you that is blessedly more afraid of you than you are of it as it slowly backs back into the trees and disappears.

Loved the research lighthouse life and the cool stories I got to be a part of. Unfortunately decided that it was not what I wanted to dedicate my life to for various reasons tumblr wouldn't find interesting.

For people who are super interested in lighthouse adventures, look up college of the atlantic where I was a student when I had my cool lighthouse adventures (they have a kickass program)

For people who just want to get the fuck away from everyone, enjoy some nature and live a nice quiet life I much more highly recommend checking out forestry jobs.

[aphrodite-made-me-write-it]

Hawkeye: Homecumming

(A/N) hi, so, welcome to im posting bishova fanfic sometimes now. UM. i saw a twitter thread, it literally has not left my head, so. OOPS. s/o to lauriebish0p and firesong_writes on the bird app, they’re the ones who cursed me.

read it on ao3

Rating: E (Explicit af, SMUT af, 18+, minors DNI!)

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Kate Bishop

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: literally just shameless smut. sorry not sorry. office sex, praise kink, just two gals in love boning in the office. very light exhibitionism, kate is a switch, yelena is giving bratty switch vibes

Summary: Yelena comes back from a long mission via Kate's rooftop office. Things escalate. aka i saw a twitter thread and my fingers did the rest. as for the title, i apologize sincerely from the bottom of my heart

In all honesty, Kate should have expected this.

Maybe not this specifically, but something like this.

Ever since she’d taken up her position as CEO of Bishop Security, Kate has spent a majority of her press time assuring the public that the company - as well as herself - was focused entirely on rebuilding the public’s trust moving forward. She’s lucky the company even lasted until she graduated college, the entirety of her future hanging on by the skin of its teeth by the time she finally got her hands on it.

Admittedly, it didn’t hurt that Kate was openly rubbing elbows with a former Avenger.

In the year and a half that’s passed since that fateful Christmas, Kate would dare say she’s done pretty damn good for herself. Last year was arguably the worst of her life, with a mom in jail that won’t even talk to her and a second job saving the world. But she’s adjusting well.

And there’s also the bonus of the most unexpected prize to come out of everything: Yelena. 

After the dust had settled, Yelena had begun showing up around Kate’s apartment more often. The brunette would simply return home, and Yelena would be sitting on her couch with Lucky eating some takeout or cooking something Kate can’t pronounce (according to Yelena, at least, but Kate has a sneaking suspicion that Yelena just likes to hear her attempt speaking foreign languages). What had started off as a somewhat tentative friendship bled into something deeper, more intimate, and before Kate knew it, they simply WERE. 

Yelena is a creature of infinite mysteries. Kate is always learning something new about her, and that’s one of her favorite parts about their relationship. Both equally willing to explore, both relying so heavily on communication, Kate really hasn’t fallen so hard so fast for someone before.

So yes. Kate should have expected this.

From the moment Yelena slipped in from her office window - which, for the record, is on the top floor - with a cheerful, “Kate Bishop, why did you choose the top floor? It’s so windy up here.”

With her intricate braid now ruined from the trip inside, Yelena is a sight that’s more than welcome to the archer. Yelena was in Norway for a good few weeks, and Kate missed her. The smile is easy and immediate on her lips, and Kate is already standing, opening her arms to welcome her girlfriend into a tight embrace.

After a shared kiss, Kate’s smile becomes adoring. “You know you can use the front door, right? You’re cleared by security.”

Yelena puffs, rolling her eyes. “But where is the romance in that, Kate Bishop?”

“Oh, you’re a romantic now?” Kate teases, releasing Yelena so she can return to the paperwork at her desk. She has a meeting with one of the company’s more important PR Reps soon, as thrilled as she is to have Yelena here.

Yelena scoffs in mock-offense. “I am very romantic. Which is why I came to see my beautiful girlfriend, Kate Bishop, at work when I’ve just returned home.”

Kate tries to hide the fact that Yelena calling Kate’s apartment ‘HOME’ isn’t totally the highlight of her day so far. She hides this poorly, her smile stretching wider. “It’s very romantic, baby. I missed you.”

Yelena hums, sliding easily into Kate’s lap and pressing their lips firmly together. Kate’s hands settle on her waist, a pleased sigh escaping her. 

“I missed you, too,” Yelena murmurs, lips moving to Kate’s neck. “So much.” Her teeth find a spot that makes Kate sigh heavily. “I missed those pretty sounds you make.” A tongue smooths a path along Kate’s neck, up to her ear, while hips press insistently against hers. “I missed your taste.”

“Shit.” Kate inhales sharply. “I’ve got a meeting soon. We can’t do that here, what if somebody sees?”

“Sees through your soundproofed walls?” Yelena chuckles, hands sliding down to cup Kate’s breasts through her blouse. 

The phone rings, cutting Yelena off before she can continue her assault on Kate’s senses, but the young CEO doesn’t miss the glint of mischief in her eyes. 

“Hello?” Kate answers the phone, eyeing the Russian curiously as she slips off of Kate’s lap. 

“Miss Bishop,” she will never get used to hearing that, “how wonderful to hear your voice again!” 

“Likewise,” Kate doesn’t trust Yelena’s widening smirk, but she has to look over her paperwork for this conversation. “My mother ensured that her administrator privileges were tightly sealed, with weekly password changes. No other employees should have remote access to-”

Yelena’s attention to the conversation doesn’t last long. She’d really made up her mind the second she stepped foot in Kate’s office, seeing her archer all dolled up. Kate didn’t often wear skirts, but today’s number hugs the muscular contours of her legs and ass in a way that Yelena simply cannot resist.

Yelena ignores Kate’s warning look when she dives to her knees and slips under Kate’s desk. Ignores the slight stuttering when Yelena nudges her knees apart, not that Kate gives much resistance. 

The blonde places slow kisses along the insides of Kate’s thighs, hands coming around to stroke lovingly at Kate’s waist as hazel eyes glance up and lock with blue. Kate’s cheeks have already begun dusting a light pink, Yelena’s favorite color on the brunette. 

Kate’s mouth words: ‘We can’t do that now!’ 

But her legs are spreading wider, and Yelena only really has to push her skirt up a little bit higher to get what she wants. Trailing her kisses further up, Yelena takes her time to bite and lick at tender skin until Kate’s muscles are twitching involuntarily. 

Smirking at her obvious victory, Yelena reaches the apex of Kate’s thighs and almost moans at the wetness waiting for her. Kate’s breath hitches, an excuse stammering from her lips as Yelena pushes her panties aside and gently flicks Kate’s clit with her thumb. 

“Fuck- no! Sorry, I j-just hit my elbow on my desk.” Kate’s free hand finds itself in Yelena’s hair, worsening the braid that’s barely holding together. Yelena hums in amusement and finally gives into her desires. 

Kate has to hide a whimper when Yelena’s tongue runs through her, lips closing around her clit and sucking softly. Kate Bishop is a lot of things, but quiet is not one of them, try as she might.

Yelena’s eyes flutter shut as she lets herself sink into the sensation of her girlfriend’s thighs squeezing around her head, her taste flooding her mouth. She has missed this. She makes sure Kate knows it, too, burying her tongue deep inside the brunette until Kate’s hand in her hair clenches tightly. 

Fingers trace Kate’s flexing thighs, smoothing circles along her skin until she reaches Kate’s entrance. Yelena opens her eyes, finds Kate’s. They’re so dark, Yelena almost forgets to breathe. Kate is just so pretty like this; lips parted, eyes wild with lust, her eyebrows pulled together as she tries hard to control herself.

Yelena pushes inside easily, meeting little resistance. Kate’s head falls back a bit, jaw clenching shut. She definitely doesn’t know what’s being told to her over the phone, her mind honing in on the sensation of Yelena’s fingers curling inside of her. 

Yelena focuses her tongue entirely on making quick, mindless circles against Kate’s clit while her fingers begin pumping in earnest. If Kate was having trouble holding back before, Yelena knows it won’t be long now before she’s a trembling mess. 

Adding a third finger, Yelena finds the spongy surface along Kate’s front wall that makes the archer’s hips buck, the phone nearly falling out of her hand. 

“Yes. Thank you. I’ll take your- your advice into consideration.” Kate hisses out in a single harsh breath, sweat starting to gather on her forehead from the effort of withholding herself from giving into Yelena’s toying. “Thank you so much. I’ll talk- I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

The man must still be rambling, because Kate looks on the verge of frustrated tears.

Taking absolutely zero pity on her, Yelena sucks on Kate’s clit with an obscene, wet noise that makes Kate’s eyes widen. The blonde firmly grasps Kate’s hip with her free hand, pinning her hard against the chair as the brunette attempts to move her hips again.

“I’m sorry, Mister Erickson, this has been very enlightening but I believe I ate something bad for lunch and I must cut this short.” Kate rushes out, chest rising and falling with her unsteady breaths.

Yelena is pretty sure Mr. Erickson is still talking when Kate slams the phone back onto the receiver with a loud groan.

Chuckling, Yelena pulls away from Kate entirely. Kate whines at the loss, body shaking slightly. 

“Aw, detka,” Yelena croons, slipping out from under the desk and capturing Kate’s chin with surprisingly gentle fingers. “You were so good for me.” Her still wet fingers move up towards Kate’s lips. “Let me reward you.”

Kate pulls Yelena’s fingers into her mouth without question, tongue running along her own arousal until Yelena lets out a pleased hum and withdraws them.

“Bend over the desk,” she orders softly, pressing a kiss to Kate’s lips. “Keep that skirt up, I want to see that pretty ass.”

Kate blushes furiously, scrambling to her feet so she can do as she’s told. She pushes her paperwork aside with shaking hands, breath leaving her in rapid pants. “Yelena, what if someone walks in-”

Yelena shoves her forward and Kate, whose hands are holding the edges of her skirt up, is unable to stop the side of her face from shoving into the wood with force. Her hiss turns into a heedless whine when Yelena’s hands grope at her ass greedily. Calloused palms squeeze and spread before landing a harsh smack. 

Kate presses her face into the desk, a soft, “Fuck,” spilling through her clenched teeth.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” Yelena murmurs, almost thoughtfully. “About touching you again. It’s been too long, moya lyubov'.” She watches her own fingers ghost from Kate’s reddened ass cheek down to the ruined remnants of Kate’s panties, the fabric soaked through and sticking to her. 

Kate shivers when Yelena’s fingers stroke her through thin fabric, looking around her shoulder at Yelena with what she hopes is a pleading expression. Yelena’s darkened eyes meet hers, and Kate nearly buckles under the weight of the affection she finds there. Even in moments like these, in the throes of passion, Yelena always has such love in her eyes. 

But it isn’t love that Yelena is asking for right now. 

“Please, baby,” Kate whimpers, trying - but failing - to not move her hips against Yelena’s slow movements. “I’ll be so good for you. Please.”

“You’ll be good for me, hm?” Yelena grins, slowly easing Kate’s underwear down her long legs. “Well, you were rather well-behaved during your little meeting…”

“Yes,” Kate agrees blearily, nodding as much as she’s able. “Yes, so good…”

Yelena laughs lowly, the sound only worsening the archer’s state. Without warning, she presses three fingers inside of Kate, and this time Kate really does almost fall. Yelena’s free hand grabs Kate’s hip with steadying force, feet settling between Kate’s so the brunette’s legs remain open for her.

“You’re always so good, aren’t you, Kate Bishop?” Yelena leans down to press a kiss between Kate’s shoulderblades. “My good girl.”

Kate’s walls clench hard around her, and the blonde can’t withhold her fond smirk. Kate is always so vocal, even when she tries not to be. Kate’s eyes flutter shut as her bottom lip is pulled firmly between her teeth, eyebrows knitting together with pleasure. 

Yelena keeps a merciless rhythm, slamming hard into the archer as far as she can reach, fingertips curling against her sweet spot. Kate’s hands move to grab at the desk, knocking several stacks of paper off of its surface and onto the floor in a clatter that will definitely be heard by someone if Kate’s increasingly loud moans were anything to go by.

Yelena laughs, the sound causing Kate’s blunt fingernails to scratch into the surface of the desk. “Such a pathetic mess for me, aren’t you, Katie?”

“Yes,” Kate rasps, Yelena’s iron grip holding her up but not allowing her to move. “Yes, please- please, baby, I need- I-”

“Shh,” Yelena kisses her shoulder sweetly. “I know what you need. Let go for me.”

Yelena slides her hand from Kate’s hip, around her front so that her fingers can circle Kate’s clit. It only takes a few strokes, and the brunette falls apart with a tremulous moan, body twitching hard in Yelena’s grasp. 

“That’s it,” Yelena purrs, “that’s my good girl. You look so beautiful, moya lyubov'. My perfect girl.”

Kate’s breathing is slow to even, her eyes even slower to open. Yelena is sucking on her fingers when blue finally meets hazel again.

“As soon as I can walk,” she says in a low, warning growl, “I’m gonna make you pay for that.”

Yelena releases her fingers with an impish grin. “What ever shall I do?”

~ tags ~

Gen: (i wasn’t sure if i should tag yall since this isn’t my typical fic, so lmk if i should just do a specific gen tag for this too)

@nobody13​ @fireflyglass @swords-are-cool​ @artapdarkstr @pasta-bandit​ @multi-images​ @women-am-i-right​ @fanboy7794​ @simplysimping999​ @ohmygooddamnbisexual-mood @jayreadingforfun314​ @alotofpockets​ @avengerswriter4eva​ @007giu

#bishova #bishova fic #bishova smut #kate bishop x yelena belova #yelena belova x kate bishop #oops i forgot to tag this #my bad to my defense it's a day

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Hayloft p.4

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts…)

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, death, abuse, and sexual assault (depictions of none, though), alcoholism/ drunkenness, mentions of teen pregnancy, mentions of infidelity, murder

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Pretty lightly edited, just a warning

Read the Previous Chapters!

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3

“Hey, hun, what can I getcha?” You leaned into your popped hip, pen and notepad in hand.

A man you hadn’t met before, clearly someone just passing through town, was sitting across the diner bar in a light blue button-up and suspenders. He was fairly clean cut save for the day-old scruff across his face. He studied the menu intensely before setting it down and looking up at you with a sweet-as-pie smile. “Can I please have coffee with some cream and the grits?” He asked with a southern drawl.

You scribbled down his order on the notepad, “That all?”

“Mhm, I think so. Thanks doll.” He slid the menu towards you before reaching for a newspaper that had been left on the counter beside him by the last patron. You turned around to pin the man’s order on the little turnstile for the chef when the little bell on the door rang.

Tucking your notepad back into the apron tied around your waist, you grabbed the pot of coffee from the counter and poured the man a cup of the rich black liquid. Next, you prepared a little ceramic cup of cream and walked back to set them on the counter in front of him. His polite thanks were only the background when you saw Arvin walk behind the man and shoot you a smile before settling down in a seat at the bar only a few seats away.

You walked over to him and leaned on the counter with a smile, “Well, hey there stranger. You on lunch already?”

Arvin nodded, looking to you hopefully, “Yeah ‘n I was hopin’ you might be too so I could grab a bite to eat with my favorite girl.”

“Shh!” You hushed him with exasperated wide eyes, like it should have been obvious that he needed to keep his voice down, because in your mind it was. You nodded your head to the other patrons in the diner. “Y’know word travels fast in little towns like this ‘n I don’t need my daddy findin’ out ‘bout us,” you whispered to Arvin who sighed in annoyed understanding. You knew he wasn’t annoyed at you but the situation was less than ideal.

He tapped his fingers on the counter and his knees bounced under the bar, “So is that a no for lunch?”

You glanced over your shoulder to look at the clock that hung on the wall. It was only eleven in the morning but maybe you could ask Charlene if she could cover so you could take an early lunch. “Let me double check real quick.” You held up a finger to excuse yourself into the back to find your coworker.

No more than ten minutes later, you and Arvin walked out to his car with two take-out boxes of burgers you had managed to swipe from the kitchen in hand. He slid into the driver’s seat while you planted yourself beside him in the passenger’s. You handed him one of the boxes of food before opening your own and

digging into the small handful of fries. “So how is your day going so far?”

Arvin took a large bite of his burger, covering his mouth with his hand has he tried to speak and chew at the same time, “Ain’t too bad. I got an engine to rebuild for an old Ford when I get back but nothin’ too terrible. How ‘bout you?”

“Ready to go home already,” you chuckled, popping a fry in your mouth, “But it ain’t too bad here either. Just would like to not be here.”

Arvin laughed a little beside you, “I know how that feels. Thanks for the burgers by the way. I appreciate it. I don’t want you gettin’ in no trouble for stealin’ food.”

You shrugged off his concern, “Don’t worry ‘bout it. If people don’t eat it, it just goes in the trash anyways. I ain’t gonna get in any trouble.”

He let out a heavy breath, resigning to your insistence, which he really just found an adorable confident stubbornness. A comfortable silence fell over the unmoving car as the two of you ate your lunches in the parking lot. When you finished chewing your bite, you looked over at Arvin, “How long you been livin’ with us?”

Arvin looked up at the brick wall straight ahead in thought, “Maybe five months now. Longer than I meant to-"

"I didn't mean it like that! I was just wonderin'...." you got awkwardly quiet for a moment, "Havin' you 'round has been the best five months in a really really long time."

"For me too. When I came into town, I thought I'd be livin' in my car. Didn't know how lucky I'd be gettin' to live with the most beautiful girl in the world." His hand reached over to your thigh, squeezing lightly.

Even after all of his sweet affections and compliments, they never failed to make your cheeks ache from trying not to blush and smile like a schoolgirl. “You really think flattery will get you somewhere?” you giggled teasingly, turning towards him and nudging his leg with your hand.

“Well it got me in your house so…” He teased back, something that he had been doing more often in the last few weeks. Arvin had never been the most humorous of people, aside from the occasional chuckle or hidden smile. That had been changing since the two of you had gotten closer though.

“Uh, no! It might get you kicked outta my house though if my daddy ever finds out.” It started as chuckle but the words faded into concerned worry as you realized how true they could really be.

Arvin sensed the shift, “You really think your daddy would kick me out if he found out ‘bout us?”

You nodded, “Without a doubt. Would probably throw me out too.” You shifted so you were sitting on your bent leg, suddenly uncomfortable.

He began cautiously, “I mean… would that really be such a bad thing?”

You whipped your head to look at him, “I ain’t got nowhere else to live right now. I been savin’ up for a year to move out but it ain’t enough to buy a place of my own yet.”

“How much you got?”

That number was in your head immediately, one that you kept a running total of with every paycheck. “$4,317.” It wasn’t enough, though, and you knew it. Even the old run down houses around town cost $12,000, which meant you weren’t even halfway to the fixer-uppers, not that you minded buying a fixer upper. “I don’t need a mansion or nothin’ but it ain’t nearly enough for even something small.”

Arvin chewed his lip, thinking about the box of cash he’d been stashing away with each of his paychecks as well. He knew exactly what it was like in your position, struggling to save up the money to get on your own feet. He hated relying on others and, even though he really liked you, he hated depending on your and your father for shelter. “You ain’t gonna be stuck in this ol’ town forever,” he promised you and it came out just like that. A promise. “You’re too good for this place.”

Another smile forced its way onto your face at his words of hope, “I’ll get outta here eventually…”

Suddenly, a familiar male voice yelled your name and you flinched. You turned towards the voice to see your boss, Harold, standing at the backdoor of the diner with his hands on his hips. He gave you a stern look and tapped the watch on his wrist before pointing at you then jabbing his thumb over his shoulder towards the door.

“Shit! I totally lost track of time!” You scrambled to gather up the trash from lunch and stuffed it into the paper bag you’d brought it out in. “I’m sorry, I have to run!”

Arvin had nearly jumped out of his skin when your name had been yelled, the only person he’d ever heard calling you that way being your father. He crumbled up the paper wrapper for his burger and stuffed it in the paper bag for you. “‘M sorry. Didn’t mean to get you in trouble with your boss.”

“Nah, he’s fine,” you waved off the worry dismissively, “He acts all tough but he ain’t nothin’ but a softy.” You opened up the door and began to slide out when you stopped and took a quick glance around. Nobody was in the parking lot, or really anywhere in sight for that matter. In an impulsive swift action, you grabbed Arvin by the collar of his greasy shirt and pulled his lips to yours quickly before pushing him before anyone could see.

He looked stunned, big brown eyes wide and shocked by your courageous kiss. Your heart raced and your cheeks flushed with the exhilaration of actually sneaking a kiss to Arvin in public. It was a dangerous move but your dad was at work and there was nobody else around to see. You tried to hide your excited smile by chewing your bottom lip but it didn’t work. “Thanks for lunch, Arv.”

“Uh - y-yeah. Thank you for the burger.” Arvin stumbled over his words while you slid out of the car and closed the door behind you, leaving the poor boy struggling to make his brain catch up to reality.

“See you at home!” You waved one last time before turning. Arvin watched as you jogged back to the entrance of the diner, your little dress bouncing with every movement. You turned to give him one last glance before you disappeared behind the door.

Work had passed rather uneventfully for you. You put in the last few hours of your shift, went to the grocery store, and then headed home to start on dinner.

Arvin, on the other hand, the rest of his day at work had shaken the good feeling he’d had since his lunch break with you. He had found himself with a wrench in hand, trying to bolt back in the engine he’d been rebuilding for the last few hours. Grease smeared across his shirt, pants, and face despite how hard he tried to keep his dirty hands from ruining his clothes. Even if they were work clothes, he didn’t have that many sets of outfits nor the money to go out and buy more.

“My cousin lives o’er there with his wife. Said the sheriff up and disappeared for a while but they found him dead in the woods.”

Arvin’s head nearly hit the hood of the car that was propped up when he heard those words. He looked over his shoulder to see Davis and Fred, two of the other guys that worked at the mechanics shop, talking over two cans of beer.

“You hear anythin’ ‘bout that, Arvin?” Davis asked, sipping his can.

Arvin’s heart twisted in panic but he shook his head like hadn’t heard what they were talking about, “Hear ‘bout what?”

“Few months back, the sheriff in my cousin’s hometown turned up dead. Someone shot ‘im in the woods outside o’ some small town nearby. His name was like Lodeck or Bodecker or somethin’ like that.” Davis explained the story to both of the guys.

“Eh, pro’lly had it comin’,” Your dad came entered from the storage room with a handful of bolts, “I know I’ve met some sheriffs that deserved a bullet between the eyes.”

Fred rolled his eyes, “Yeah well you’re an angry drunk so I’m sure you’d say that ‘bout anyone who took a drink from you. I’m sure this guy wasn’t that bad. What kinda sick fuck you gotta be to shoot a sheriff? This ain’t no wild west movie where you go gunnin’ down the law.”

“Nah, I heard he was a no good son o’ a bitch. Guess his sister and her husband got murdered the day before. Found tons of pictures o’ them kissin’ on some dead guys. Some real sick shit, Fred. Sheriff might have been in on it too. Regardless, my cousin said he ran into ‘im one time with his wife and the sheriff really was a bastard,'' Davis shrugged off Fred’s comment, refuting the tragedy Fred was trying to make Bodecker’s death by tarnishing his name.

Arvin’s heart was racing and he began to feel dizzy. The images of those few days had haunted him since they had happened but he had found himself thinking about it less and less as the days passed.

“Arvin?”

Arvin shook his head out of the clouds and snapped back into reality, “What?”

“You came into town ‘round the same time all this happened. Did you hear anythin’ about it?” Fred questioned, wiping his greasy hands on his jeans.

The young man just shook his head, “Nah, I ain’t heard nothin’ ‘bout it till now. I heard ‘bout the sister though. Sounds like she and her boyfriend were no good.”

“You know what I think?” Your dad began, picking up a wrench and pointing it in Arvin’s direction, “I think our man Arvin here did the sheriff in!”

Arvin stiffened up, “What? Why would you think that?”

“You come strollin’ along through town with nothin’ but a backpack and no backstory ‘bout the same time four people turn up murdered. Mighty suspicious.” Arvin tried his hardest to stand tall and not allow his fear to show but the tension in his jaw was bordering of painful now.

Davis swatted at your dad, “C’mon, leave the boy alone. There’s gotta be thousands of people in that area that coulda murdered them. Can’t imagine Arvin doin’ such a thing.”

Arvin was grateful for Davis’s trust. If only he deserved it.

“I’m only jokin’! Y’all a bunch of whiny little girls, can’t take a fuckin’ joke.” Your dad grumbled to himself, swatting his hand towards his coworkers.

“Ah, shut up.” Fred stood up from the table he’d been sitting at and laid back down on the dolley before sliding under the jacked up Chevy he had been tasked with. “Ain’t nobody ‘round here takes you seriously.”

Arvin watched as your dad walked past Fred, kicking him in the leg and earning a loud exclamation of annoyance, but it was as if he were disconnected from the whole scene. He had tried so hard to forget what had happened back in Knockemstiff and Coal Creek, though it seemed damn near impossible considering it had uprooted his entire life. This tiny town a few hours away was his safe haven, his new beginning. He never would have imagined that anyone this far away would have heard about the murders.

Hearing Davis and Fred bring up Bodecker’s name made Arvin’s blood turn to ice in his veins. What kinda sick fuck you gotta be to shoot a sheriff? Fred’s words played over and over in Arvin’s head. This was just what he was worried about. This was why he ran. Nobody would believe Bodecker was trying to kill him first. Self defense didn’t mean shit when it was against the law. The same with Reverend Teagarden. A man of the word? Arvin didn’t stand a chance if anyone found out what he’d done.

“Hey son,” Davis’s soft voice made Arvin nearly jump out of his skin, “Don’t take nothin’ that ol’ man says to heart. I’m sure you know since you been livin’ with him that he’s just a cranky ol’ drunk who don’t know when to shut up. You’re a good kid, Arvin. Ain’t none of us actually think you did it.”

Arvin looked down at where Davis’s hand rested on his shoulder, the same way his dad used to touch his shoulder when he was reassuring him. He forced a small appreciative nod and a strained appearance of being unbothered, “It’s alright, Davis. I know he’s just kiddin’ ‘round. I ‘ppreciate it though.”

_

Your father arrived at home before Arvin, much to your dismay. Elvis Presley’s Blue Hawaii album was spinning on the record player when he came into the kitchen, kicking his boots off by the door.

“Hey, daddy! How was work?” You asked, mashing a bowl of potatoes for dinner.

He made a line directly to the fridge, grabbing a beer and popping the tab off with no effort, “It was alright. Damn Gilligan blew out the transmission on his truck so I been stuck fixin’ that up all day. Lookin’ forward to this right here.” Your father lifted up the beer bottle and sipped it with satisfaction. Yeah, I’m sure you were, you thought, rolling your eyes with your back turned to your dad.

“Well, if you wanna get cleaned up, dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes. More than enough time for a shower,” you offered with a cheerful voice. Lunch with Arvin today had made your day good in a way that was hard to ruin.

“Yeah, I might go do that. What’s for dinner?” Your father walked over and peeked over your shoulder to see what you had cooking on the stove.

“Mashed potatoes, green beans, and chicken.” You cut in a few slices of butter and added them to the bowl of mashed potatoes, sprinkling some salt, pepper, and garlic powder to taste.

Expecting some words of discouragement like you usually earned from your father, he just nodded contently and disappeared out of the kitchen towards the bathroom. You turned to watch him walk away, your mouth fallen open in pleased surprise at the fact that you just had a semi-pleasant interaction with your father for the first time in several weeks. You turned back to mixing in the now melted butter into the mashed potatoes when the front door opened yet again.

You looked back to see Arvin walking in through the living room, “Hey, Arv!”

His hands were shoved deep in his pockets and judging by the way his eyes shot up to you, as if he hadn’t expected your greeting, he had been staring at the ground when he walked in. “Hi,” he answered low and short with no emotion one way or the other.

Your brows furrowed, “Everythin’ alright?” Leaving the food on the counter and wiping your hands on your apron, you walked out into the living room towards him.

Arvin visibly took a step back and his eyes widened a little, his shoulders squaring up, “Yeah, ‘m good. Just wanna take a shower.”

Before you could get the words out, he had already begun walking away. “My dad’s already in the bathroom,” you called out after him, finally getting him to stop.

Arvin didn’t turn back to you though, only half glanced over his shoulder, “Oh, alright.” He turned back to continue his walk back to his room.

“Dinner will be ready soon!” You attempted to add, only earning a small thanks in response and the sound of Arvin’s door closing. “O-oh… okay.” You stood alone in the living room, the sound of running water coming from the bathroom and Elvis Presley’s voice filling the room but not loud enough to drown out your concern.

Dinner went by just as uncomfortably. You poked at your mashed potatoes, keeping your gaze stuck down at the food on your plate except for when you glanced over at Arvin who seemed to be actively looking anywhere except for you. This only made you roll your eyes out of frustration and stare back down at your food.

Your dad talked about his day, mostly grumbled complaints, “I don’t get nearly ‘nough respect ‘round here. Damn Fred and Davis callin’ me a drunk. What? A man can’t enjoy a damn beer without being called a drunk! Damn prudes.” When you didn’t respond, he reached over and tapped your arm, “Hey? You even listenin’?”

“Hm?” You tried to make yourself focus on what he was saying this time, “Sorry, long day. What happened?”

“See? I ain’t get no respect at work and I can’t even get no respect at my own damn house from my own damn daughter!” He grumbled, the feet of the wooden chair scraping against the ground as he stood up forcefully, swaying a little side to side but bracing himself on the wall to walk out of the room.

You didn’t even possess the mental capacity to care about his little tantrum. Your mind was swimming with confusion and, honestly, anger, at Arvin’s little unexplained silent treatment. “Okay, what’s wrong?” You asked, leaning towards Arvin.

“Nothin’.” He answered simply, taking a sip of his water. His voice was low and he still refused to make eye contact, despite nothin’ being wrong.

“That’s a lie. Everythin’ was fine this mornin’ and now you’re suddenly not talkin’ to me. Won’t even look at me! What the hell, Arvin? Did I say somethin’ wrong?” Thinking back, there wasn’t anything you had said earlier that you could imagine warranting such a negative response from Arvin so your confusion and concern had quickly turned to frustration.

Arvin shook his head, “No, no, you ain’t did nothin’ wrong.”

“Then what is it?” You practically begged him to tell you. You hated being upset at him when clearly something was bothering him but this felt like he was just playing some broody guessing game with you, something you got enough of from your dad.

Stress shone through Arvin’s eyes and he met your gaze finally, if only for a second, before looking away again. You could see there was a flicker of something you hadn’t seen in him before but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Whatever it was, it was really bothering him and you felt guilty for being upset. You just couldn’t understand why you suddenly were being ignored for something that apparently had nothing to do with you.

“I can’t tell you.”

Arvin’s admittal just made you more upset. “So you’re not mad at me but you’re ignoring me and can’t tell me why?”

Arvin hadn’t seen you look at him this way. At your father, yes, but he was unaccustomed to that raised eyebrow and frustratedly desperate crack in your voice being directed towards him. He hated it. He hated knowing that he was causing you to feel upset and helpless when he was supposed to be your escape from those exact feelings.

But he couldn’t bring himself to tell you the truth. You’d think he was a monster. You’d hate him. He’d lose the one good thing he had in his life because-

Arvin shook his head, “‘M sorry.” He looked anywhere but at you because he couldn’t stand to see the way your face fell, though he could practically feel your heart fall from across the table. He didn’t need to see it. He knew.

“Fine.” You stood up and grabbed your plate, scraping the rest in the garbage and setting the plate in the sink. Your appetite was gone and your patience had snapped, not that you had been the most patient thus far anyways.

Arvin watched as you stormed out of the kitchen, grabbed your coat off the coat rack by the front door, and walked out of the house. His head hit his hands. No matter how hard he tried to protect those he cared about, he only seemed to hurt them more.

-

You hadn’t expected Arvin to find you here so when the door opened to the old barn, you turned around in surprise. You were curled up in your coat, sitting on an old wooden crate that had been untouched in this unused barn for God knows how long. A large window looked out over the large field that had once been the family farm but was now practically a glorified dirt lot. Your coat was wrapped tightly around your body, held in place with one hand while you held a lit cigarette with the other.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” Arvin took a few steps in, his hands shoved guiltily in the pocket of his denim jacket.

You blew out a large plume of smoke that you had been holding in and looked away, “I don’t too often.”

Arvin closed the barn door behind him as he approached you and you had to fight the urge to get up and leave but you knew that made you no less immature than the way you felt he was acting.

“‘M sorry. I really am.”

You took another drag and turned to him, the moonlight illuminating his features - somehow so boy-like but so rugged - and it was hard to stay mad at him. “I am too. I don’t mean to be dramatic but I just… I don’t understand, Arv. If somethin’s wrong, you can tell me. This whole silent treatment BS with zero explanation doesn’t cut it.”

Arvin let out a heavy breath. While doing the dishes from dinner for you after you stormed off, he had had time to contemplate what to do. And he had decided. “If I tell you, it’s gonna change how you look at me.”

Your head tilted up at his cryptic opener but you said nothing, only urged him to continue with your eyes.

With a deep shaky inhale, he started his story, “I ain’t a bad man but I’ve done some bad things. Things that I thought I could run away from. I been livin’ a lie for a long time, actin’ like I ain’t hurt nobody, but it ain’t true.” Arvin paused for a moment to gauge your reaction and all he saw was fear in your eyes, just as he had feared.

A million thoughts of terrible things people were capable of ran through your head as you tried to figure out which one Arvin could possibly be guilty of, though they all felt so out of character for him. Was it murder? Assault? Rape? Thievery? The man you had come to care for so deeply now swam in a murky pool of doubt and distrust. Arvin saw all this and more in your deep, worried eyes.

“What did you do?” Your voice was weaker than you wanted it to be, cracking with fear. Until today, you hadn’t imagined Arvin capable of doing anything that could real harm to anyone, maybe aside from a stupid fight in high school or something along those lines, but you could see it in his eyes that whatever it was he was trying to confess to really was that bad.

Arvin lost his ability to speak for a moment. He had resolved to tell you everything before even coming out here to talk to you but the fear shining in your eyes already had his heart breaking. It was as if every new line of moonlight reflecting off the growing whites of your eyes was a new stain that he managed to tarnish your view of him with. Arvin had to look away because he couldn’t bear to look at you when he finally admitted his crimes, couldn’t stand to watch your face contort in fear when you realized what a monster he was.

“Y-you remember that preacher I told you ‘bout? The one that hurt my sister?”

You nodded, “Y-yeah…”

Arvin swallowed hard and he gripped his thigh tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “Well few weeks after we buried Lenora, a police officer came up ‘n told me the coroner had found out she was havin’ a baby. None of us knew before. I don’t know how but I just knew it was that no good preacher. I didn’t have any proof though so I started followin’ ‘im ‘n found out he was worse than I thought. He was no good to his wife ‘n I saw him out takin' advantage of another girl in town who was even younger than my Lenora was. He was doin’ nothin’ but hurtin’ people ‘n I… I killed im.”

Your mouth fell open, “You- You killed him?”

Arvin looked down at his feet, “I shot him.”

It was silent as you processed the information. This preacher sounded like a terrible man, abusing young girls and leading one to commit suicide. The infidelity to his wife was a moot point against his other indiscretions and even that was unacceptable. It honestly sounded like Arvin had done a service to the world, taking this monster out of it, but it was still difficult to look at him the same after knowing that he had actually shot someone.

When you didn’t respond, Arvin had decided to continue, not thinking he could cause much more damage, “I ran. Left a note for my grandma and uncle and disappeared. I tried hitchhiking my way out of town when I got picked by this couple. They seemed nice ‘nough at first but the husband, he started actin’ real weird. They pulled us way off the road. Said he wanted to take some pictures but then I saw him pull out a gun and then he tried pullin’ me outta the car. I-I panicked and I kicked the door into him ‘n I shot ‘im before he could get me.”

Arvin’s voice was cracking as tears began to fall down his face. It was one thing to replay the memories in his own head but it was another thing entirely to actually confess his sins to someone he cared so deeply about, knowing the truth would most likely hurt you. “The wife, she pulled out a gun and pointed it at me ‘n I pointed mine at her. I begged her to put the gun down. I-I didn’t wanna shoot her. I really didn’t. I was so tired of killin’ but then she apologized ‘n I knew she was gonna pull the trigger. We both shot at the same time. I got no clue how she didn’t shoot me. I fell out the car without a scratch but I when I got up, I realized I got her through the neck 'n she was gone. I panicked ‘n searched the car. Found all these pictures of her all naked and huggin’ up on some naked dead guy ‘n I knew… I knew I was gonna be next.”

Your brain sprinted a mile a minute to try and keep up with the trauma Arvin was confessing and you didn’t know whether to hug him and let him cry on you or run as far away as possible.

“Then-”

“There’s more?” You wanted to beg him to stop talking, to stop telling you about the blood on his hands, to stop telling you about all the suffering he had been through. You sounded shocked and heartbroken and yet none of these tragedies were yours.

Arvin hiccuped and sniffled in a failed attempt to hide a sob. Red had taken over his features, both physically and metaphorically. Obviously distraught by his past and now your reaction, he felt like he was beginning to spiral down that hole of darkness that he had tried so hard to claw his way out of. There were nothing but snakes down there, ready to bite him and poison his mind with the words he had fought so desperately to keep out. Murderer. Stalker. Liar. Sinner. All of these and so many more.

Yet, he nodded, feeling as if he’d still be lying if he didn’t finish telling you everything. When he nodded, you made a small squeak of disbelief.

“I-I ran,” He sniffled out, “I hitchhiked my way back to my old hometown. I didn’t know why at first but I just needed to go home. Felt like maybe I could fix what had been broken there. Went there to find it all burnt down but then this sheriff came lookin’ after me. Turns out he was that lady’s brother - the one who shot at me and had the pictures of the cut up dead guys. He was all angry and wanted to kill me for shootin’ his sister. I tried… I tried to tell ‘im that she was no good and that she was gonna kill me but he didn’t wanna listen. He was shootin’ at me and… and… I ain’t had no choice.”

It was silent, aside from the ambient bugs chirping outside. You had tried so hard to focus on Arvin’s face but you had long since zoned out visually, only able to focus on the words he was saying. How could he have gone through all of this? How could your wonderful, amazing, beautiful Arvin Russell have survived so much suffering and been forced to murder people? Murder.

“Please say somethin’.”

Your lips quivered as your vision came back into view and all you saw was a tearful, fearful, remorseful boy before you on the brink of falling apart. Arvin’s hair was messy from having run his hands through it, his eyes were red and puffy from the tears, his breathing was shaky from remembering. There were no words.

You threw your arms around his neck and held him tightly to you. You didn’t know what else to do. How does someone respond to information like this? There was so much trust that Arvin needed to put in you to tell you - you couldn’t freak out.

“You don’t hate me?” His hands flew to your arms, prying them off his neck so he could see your face.

Your head shook, “How could I hate you for what you did?”

“I murdered four people.”

“You took out a disgusting predator who practically killed your sister and was harming who knows how many other girls. Then you killed a couple of murderers who pulled guns on you first in self defense. And then, yet again, you were put in a life or death situation with a sheriff who was shootin’ at you for killin’ his murderin’ sister. Three of those were self defense and I’d dare say that first one was a public service. You have nothin’ to be sorry for. You have nothin’ to regret. You did what you had to do to survive.” You squeezed Arvin’s hands tightly, running your soft thumbs over the lightly calloused skin of his knuckles.

Arvin looked down at your hands on his, hands that were so much smaller than his own but right now felt so encompassing and comforting, as if they wrapped his own in a blanket of protection. He couldn’t believe you were okay with this. He was barely okay with it. “I don’t regret it but I didn’t wanna have to do it. If I coulda let that lady go, if she only woulda listened to me ‘n put the gun down I wouldn’t o’ had to pull the trigger. I coulda let the cops deal with it. Same with the sheriff. If only he woulda listened… I only wanted to shoot the preacher. I was okay with havin’ that on my conscience. But I had no idea how outta control that day was gonna get. All those cold dead eyes starin’ up at you, watchin’ the life drain from someone’s face ‘n knowin’ you’re the one who caused that... Even if they were real fucked up people, it ain’t a sight that’s easy to see.”

“I can’t even imagine what it must’ve been like, Arvin.” Your hand slid up his arm to rest on his bicep and you leaned your forehead onto his shoulder. His arm snaked around your body and held you close but cautious, like he was scared if he held you too tightly that you’d be scared he’d hurt you too. Of course, you weren’t. The thought did cross your mind that perhaps it was unwise to trust a man who just admitted to killing four people but that wasn’t Arvin and you knew it. “You may have killed people but that does not make you a killer. You’re just someone who was put in some really hard situations and had to make some tough choices.”

You pulled back and put your hand on his cheek, slightly scratchy from not shaving that day, and you spoke gently, “You are wonderful, Arvin. You are caring and hard working and loyal and willing to stand up for what is right. You are everything good in this world-”

“I hurt people-”

“You protect people,” you corrected, “‘N if some bad people had to get hurt to keep the good ones safe, well maybe they shouldn’t have been such bad people.”

Arvin could have melted into a puddle at your feet, and likely would have if you hadn’t been holding him. Never had he expected to tell anyone his terrible deeds and in every imagined scenario in which he did, it had never ended well. He had imagined you running for the hills, screaming at him to get out, maybe even threatening him physically out of fear that he’d hurt you now (which he’d never dream of doing).

But you didn’t do any of that. Gentleness and understanding were far from the reaction he’d expected or even felt like he deserved but nevertheless here you were holding him and reassuring him that he wasn’t the monster he’d called himself for so many months.

“I love you.”

His admission surprised you but Arvin felt fully confident in his words. He had never known what love felt like - romantic love at least - but this was damn near the closest thing he could imagine to it. You occupied his thoughts every waking moment, your face and your voice swimming around his imagination in a beautiful ocean of warmth and kindness and goodness that he would gladly drown in. You were strong and responsible and understanding and oh so beautiful. Much like him, you’d been handed a shit hand by life and struggled each day to make the best of it. Arvin cared about you so much it scared him because he had not felt this compulsion towards anyone since Lenora had passed. After losing everything he’d ever loved, he was scared that if he admitted that he loved you, life would take you away from him as well. If there was one thing that you did, though, it was take away Arvin’s fear.

“I love you too, Arvin.” He pulled your body flush against his when you responded, a heavy sigh of relief leaving his chest. Much like Arvin, you hadn’t known what real love felt like. You’d even started believing that maybe you weren’t meant for such a luxury.

Now you and Arvin felt like the richest people in the world, despite having almost nothing to your names. As long as you were in each others’ arms, you had everything. You were each others’ trust, honesty, comfort, compassion, and protection.

_______

Taglist:

@peterswebshooters

@thisisparadisemylove

@justapurrcat

@tomsirishgirlx

@peterswebshooters

@femmme-xxx-fatale

@kittyformannn

@aidinniram

@minejungwoo

@mathletemadison

#arvin #arvin russell #arvin russel imagine #arvin russel imagines #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russel x you #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #the devil all the time #tdatt smut #tdatt fanfiction #tdatt imagine #tdatt x reader #hayloft

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: allusions to sex, heavy making out and touching (i think that should cover it), swears

A/N: now back to your regularly scheduled fluff...

Masterlist

Chapter 17

“Alright, bye. Love you,” you laughed, hanging up the phone.

“Jo, Daddy already found a way to make it up to you for missing the museum,” you smiled.

“What?” she asked excitedly.

“Ah that would ruin the surprise. Wouldn’t it?” you grinned, “But we are leaving now.”

Jo slid her snow boots and jacket on as you sneakily packed her hat, mittens, and snow pants. You also grabbed snow stuff for Spencer because converse and a sweater vest would not keep him warm in 29 degree weather with 7 inches of snow on the ground.

-

Jo skipped out of the elevator, not even waiting for you to go to Spencer’s desk.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed like usual.

“Hi, Princess!” he lifted her up into his lap, “Are you excited?”

Jo nodded enthusiastically.

“Good because I got permission to go sledding on the HUGE hill right outside,” he smiled.

“But I don’t have a sled,” Jo frowned.

“I bought you one,” he grinned.

After Spencer had finished suiting Jo up in her snow gear, you slid a purple hat with a big white pom-pom on top over his head, a few of his messy curls still poking out.

“Can’t have you getting cold either, my dear,” you gave him a quick peck on the nose as he scrunched his face up in a smile.

“Oh chocolate thunder, get my coat please. We are going outside to watch this cuteness!” Penelope exclaimed.

“Of course, baby girl,” he replied, standing up from his desk.

You all piled into the elevator and headed outside. Jo stared down at the big hill in front of them. It seemed awfully scary to a little girl.

You grabbed her mitten-covered hand.

“How about I go down with you the first time and Daddy pushes us?” you suggested.

Jo nodded as you both climbed into the sled.

“Okay, ready? 1...2...3!” Spencer gently pushed you both down the hill.

Spencer was relieved when he heard the joyful giggles of Jo followed shortly by your laughter.

Jo ran back up the hill with you towing the sled behind her.

“Daddy! You go with me now!” she said.

You both took turns going down the hill with Jo even Auntie Penelope and Uncle Derek had their turns. Jo was even brave enough to go down by herself if Spencer waited at the bottom for her.

Much to everyone’s chagrin, you had to go home when it started to get dark and Jo’s cheeks were bright red from the cold.

-

You, Spencer, and Jo were driving over an hour out of the city to get a freshly cut Christmas tree from a tree farm.

Spencer packed you all thermoses with hot chocolate and mini marshmallows. His excitement may have actually exceeded Jo’s. He told you he never got to get a real Christmas tree when he was younger because the trees shipped to the middle of the hot Las Vegas desert wilted quickly. And, he had no room for a big tree in his old apartment.

It was cute seeing the both of them all bundled up in their matching purple scarves and big winter coats. Spencer brought the sled so he could pull Jo along since there was about a foot of snow on the ground that would make it very hard for her to walk.

Spencer had taken the exact measurements of the corner of the living room so the tree would fit perfectly.

“What about that one?” you asked, pointing to a tree farther back in the field.

“Let’s go check it out,” Spencer pulled a measuring tape from his pocket.

“Always prepared, Dr. Reid,” you laughed.

“They didn't give me a PhD in engineering for nothing,” he grinned.

“This is about the right size. What do you think, Princess? Is this a good tree for Santa to put presents under?” he asked.

Jo gave an approving nod after inspecting the tree.

“Alright, then it’s settled. Hand me the saw, love,” Spencer said.

“Please be careful,” you reminded him, slowly handing him the saw that the farm employees gave to you.

After multiple breaks and some encouragement from you and Jo, Spencer was finally able to saw through the tree’s stump completely.

He dragged it to the car as you pulled Jo in the sled. You both tied it to the top of the car using bungee cords.

Once you were home, you set the tree in its stand and gave it plenty of water. Spencer got the box of ornaments down from the attic.

You put Christmas music on and the three of you spent the rest of the day decorating the tree, baking cookies, and watching Home Alone.

-

Spencer had insisted on putting on a Santa suit in case Jo came down when you were putting the presents out.

Knowing this information, you decided to tease him by purchasing a tight elf dress that stopped right under your butt.

You smirked, looking at yourself one more time in the mirror before heading downstairs where Spencer was waiting.

Spencer ceased his movements as he saw you slowly descend down the stairs. He was practically drooling.

“What’s wrong? Have I been a naughty girl?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Yes, baby, you have,” he whispered in your ear, roughly planting kisses along your jawline and down your neck.

Spencer cupped your ass with his hands.

You tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck and he let out a moan that vibrated against your skin.

“Shhhh, we can’t wake Jo up,” you reminded him.

He started to guide you over to the couch but you put your hand on his chest to stop him.

“We’ve got to put the presents under the tree first, babe.”

You broke from his grasp and Spencer let out a soft whine.

Deciding you weren’t done having your fun just yet, you picked up a present from the box where you had hidden them and slowly bent over to place it under the tree.

You felt a light smack against your ass that made you stand up quickly because you certainly hadn’t been expecting that.

You turned around to see Spencer with the biggest grin on his face and a devilish glint in his eyes.

“Don’t tease me, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear, “Cause I have no problem with doing that again and again and again.”

-

Jo woke you both up by jumping on the bed.

“Santa came! Santa came! Santa came!”

“He sure did, baby,” you giggled, looking at Spencer.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go open some presents!” Spencer got out from underneath the covers, dressed in his flannel PJs.

Jo ran down the stairs with you and Spencer right behind.

“No opening any gifts until Mommy gets her camera!” you shouted out from the kitchen as Jo took her seat on the floor right in front of the tree.

You grabbed your camera, the box of donuts you got yesterday, and coffee for you and Spencer.

“Thanks, love,” Spencer gave you a quick kiss, accepting the mug and picking up a chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles as you joined him on the couch.

Jo opened up all of her presents from you and Spencer that consisted of a model plane that she could build herself with instructions, a set of washable watercolor paints, and of course more dinosaur memorabilia.

“Daddy’s turn!” you jumped up from the couch and grabbed a manila folder that had a huge bow on it under the tree.

Spencer looked at you curiously, opening the envelope and revealing a packet of forms that were half filled out.

“It’s the forms needed to update Jo’s birth certificate. Once you fill out your section, I can take it to city hall and your name will officially be added as the father on Jo’s birth certificate,” you smiled.

Spencer nodded softly, staring down at the document in awe.

“I love you so much,” he finally said, pulling you in for a hug.

“And I love you so much too,” he grabbed Jo to join the hug.

“We love you too,” you replied.

Spencer wiped the happy tears from his eyes.

“Okay,” he chuckled, “First, I have a gift for Jo and Mommy and then Mommy gets her gift.”

Spencer pulled out a bag from the back of the tree and handed it to Jo who was sitting in your lap.

Two sets of headbands with a pair of black round circles and a red bow were inside the bag. You both looked at Spencer for further explanation.

“We are going to Disneyworld,” he smiled.

Jo screamed in excitement, running over to hug Spencer’s legs. You laughed, putting the Minnie ears on you and Jo’s heads.

“Spence, that is so generous and thoughtful of you but how much did that cost,” you asked.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, my dear. I had to make up for all the past Christmases and birthdays,” he kissed you before picking up the last item under the tree and handing it to you.

You opened the box to see two identical silver bands inside, one slightly bigger than the other. You looked up at Spencer skeptically.

“Not the ring yet. Just a ring…for each of us,” he picked up the smaller ring and slipped it onto your index finger, kissing your hand.

“I love it and I love you,” you smiled, looking at your hand and then taking the other ring and slipping it onto his index finger.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid #cm fanfic #criminal minds

[schrijverr]

The Heart Is Also a Muscle

5 times Sypha and Alucard got distracted by Trevor’s warrior physique + 1 time he noticed and yet completely misunderstands.

Trevor is hot and once Sypha and Alucard have noticed it is hard not to notice. Now they just have to figure out how to confess, before it gets incredibly awkward because he catches on. When he does however, his insecurities completely misconstrue their intentions.

On AO3.

Ships: trephacard

Warnings: insecurities

~~~~~~~~~~

Despite Trevor’s many years on the road, keeping up a less than stellar training regime, he was still a warrior at heart and in body. He had still fought all those years and his frame was bulky to accommodate the muscle needed for that.

Something that was hard to miss.

And Alucard and Sypha didn’t miss it at all. In fact they noticed it a bit too often for their own comfort, now that they were cleaning up Dracula’s castle after their victory over the old vampire.

1.

It wasn’t that Sypha hadn’t noticed that Trevor was fit while they traveled, it was more that they were so many other things to think about, to worry about to keep oneself alive that she hadn’t noticed that sort of stuff. So, it still took her by surprise when she did.

They were clearing out the rubble of one of the many rooms covered by it. It was slow going work, even with Alucard’s supernatural strength. One upside was that Sypha was getting really good at levitation spells.

She took a small break and wiped her forehead. Alucard had just moved a big stone and Trevor was now trying to lift a bigger stone than he had done.

For a moment she rolled her eyes at the childish display, but as she looked she noticed the shirt clinging to his sweaty body as he arms bulged under the effort. His brow was furrowed and his tongue was poking out slightly.

He was a piece of art.

Fuck.

Why hadn’t she noticed before that Trevor was completely ripped? Maybe she had noticed, but never connected that to him being nice to look at. Now, she couldn't look away as he struggled with the too big stone.

No sane human should be able to carry it and she didn’t know why he even tried (well, she did, but she thought it stupid). Until, the asshole actually managed to lift it, proud grin sweeping over his face as he did.

Slowly, he started to walk, careful steps to balance the stone and keep himself upright. Every time he almost lost balance, he flexed his legs, which was equally distracting and Sypha really wanted to know why she had to notice this, because she knew that from that moment on, she wouldn’t stop noticing it.

“Sypha?” the smooth voice next to her made her jump, she hadn’t even realized Alucard had arrived next to her. “Something the matter?” he asked.

She debated with herself if she would admit to Alucard what had distracted her so. It was embarrassing for sure, but she had also seen the fondness in the dhampirs eyes whenever Trevor talked to him, so she might find an ally in her suffering here.

With a decision made she gestured to Trevor, who was taking the final steps to the right pile of stones for rebuilding, before he squatted down to put down the stone. His back muscles rippled and his ass was practically on display.

Beside her, Alucard made a choked off noise.

At that Trevor turned around, somehow an adorable confused pout on his face that should look ridiculous on his large frame, but didn’t. “You both okay?”

“Yeah, just thought we’d wait for you to break your back carrying something too heavy before we laughed at you,” Alucard shot back, saving both their asses from embarrassment as Trevor rolled his eyes and flipped him off, claiming that it wasn’t that heavy anyway.

2.

They were rebuilding some of the pathways in the Belmont Hold. Trevor had insisted on cleaning up most of the castle first, claiming that it was the most livable place out of the two and he wanted a bed, but both had seen the saddened look on his face when faced with what remained of his childhood home in ruins.

So, the moment they had made the kitchen and a few bedrooms presentable, they started on a few passageways across.

However, ever since Sypha had pointed out Trevor’s muscles in a different light to him, he now was ruined forevermore and she was to blame. He couldn't do anything normally anymore. Somehow each activity turned into a distraction with Trevor around.

Right now being an example of how much of a distraction Trevor was.

He was hauling up a beam that Sypha was directing above them, while Alucard was supposed to be sorting the pile of books that were in the language only he could read.

Supposed to, because he most definitely wasn’t.

No, because how could one read when Trevor was coiling a rope around his forearms as he pulled on said thick rope, muscles straining against it as he panted and dug in his heals.

The beam was pretty big and it was frankly short of a miracle that he hadn’t let it drop yet, but then again, he was incredibly muscled as Alucard had found out. So, slowly the beam rose under Trevor’s labor.

Faintly Alucard wondered how Sypha was holding out up there, being forced to watch Trevor so that she could jump in to help when necessary. He found her eyes and saw her bite her lip, face completely red.

Then the beam dropped a few feet as Trevor fumbled with the rope for a moment. It was an interesting tug-a-war. Trevor vs. gravity. Even as he won, regaining his footing and putting in some extra work, both Alucard and Sypha had gasped when it happened.

“Do you need assistance?” Alucard found himself calling out, despite knowing better.

“I am fine, Fangs,” Trevor grunted and that noise wasn’t good for Alucard’s blood pressure. “Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

Wit spite as final motivator, Trevor pulled the beam the final distance, groaning with relief when Sypha had guided it into place. Before he could turn to see Alucard look, the dhampir turned back to his pile of books.

He had things to do.

3.

Alucard and Sypha had gotten used to Trevor’s muscular frame that truly shone whenever they needed to do construction.

Well, used to was a strong word.

Trevor was still completely distracting, so much that they had started a little talk club in the library in the mornings when Trevor was sleeping in. But they could function almost normally and do their tasks while they worked.

But this? This now, right there? That was different. It was just unfair actually. Unfair and mean, but also very blessed.

Rewinding to that afternoon, when they had decided that they weren’t in the mood for reconstructing the castle or the hold. So, they had lunch, talked a bit, Sypha picked up a book, Alucard as well, while Trevor seemed content to sit by the fire with them, whittling away at a piece of wood.

Then it had happened. Trevor had reached for a bit of firewood, before realizing they were almost out. Throwing the last logs onto the fire, he got up and stretched as he said: “I’m going to chop some more fire wood.”

And then he left and they were alone. For a few moments they both just blinked at the empty space that had just been Trevor, before his words caught up to them.

Sypha moved first. She got up with her book and walked to the seat that had been built in next to the window that looked out over the fields below. They weren’t high up in the castle and had a good view.

“Might I inquire about the sudden move?” Alucard asked after a moment.

She grinned at him mischievously and nodded to something on the other side of the window, before she said: “Why don’t you come here and find out? Promise it’s worth it.”

Alucard didn’t know when he had forgotten she was cruel in her kindness, but looking down to see Trevor chop wood with a big ax was definitely cruel, still he was so very grateful for her that she had invited him to the view.

Because it truly was a view. Trevor was soaking through his shirt as he effortlessly swung the giant ax downwards onto the waiting wood, always splitting it in one or two swings.

“Oh God,” he choked out.

“Hmmhm, I know,” Sypha agreed.

“He just-”

“Jup.”

“Wow.”

It wasn’t the classiest conversation they’d had, but by far not the least classiest conversation about Trevor’s muscle’s they’d had. Still, they could hardly be blamed when the person in question was right in front of them being hot, instead of far away and sleeping.

As they watched they could see the outlines of Trevor’s muscles appear in sweat. Naturally the armpits were first, but then they appeared under his pecs and between his shoulders as well.

Alucard swallowed heavily, Sypha beside him followed suit.

They stood there for a while, just admiring Trevor as the pile next to him grew with chopped up wood. It was a nice spring day and the sun was doing wonder’s for the sweat coating his muscles. Trevor was now only in a tunic, nothing covering his arms. It was a very good look on him.

Then it happened. They were unassuming and powerless when Trevor lifted his tunic to wipe the sweat on his brow, only to pull back and grimace when he found it already soaked. Before they could prepare themselves he had tugged the tunic over his head, continuing his task completely bare-chested.

“Oh,” Sypha moaned miserably, “I don’t know if I want to thank whoever is out there or curse them right now.”

If he could have formed words at that moment, he would have agreed with her. Alas, he was incapacitated by the shirtless sweaty and sexy Trevor below them.

After they had started at the hunter for a few moments – imprinting the view, getting their wits together again, that sort of stuff – Sypha said: “This is truly pathetic. Look at us. This is so sad.” Trevor chopped again, it was a big log and it went down in one swing. “But totally deserved sadness if I get to see this.”

“Do you think he knows what he’s doing?” Alucard asked as Trevor stretched borderline pornographically.

“Oh absolutely not,” replied Sypha. “He’s as oblivious as a brick and I’m torn between calling it cute and frustrating.”

“We should probably say something to him at one point,” Alucard pointed out.

“Yeah, we probably should,” Sypha agreed, taking Alucard’s hand and leaning into him as they enjoyed the view together. They had made a deal not to do anything until they’d gotten Trevor’s rejection or until he was on board. Right now, she would do anything for a kiss though.

She didn’t try. She knew that Alucard cared about doing things proper and she wanted that too. She just also happened to be watching Trevor be hot while knowing that any move would have him running from the hills due to the emotional repressing he had made his personality.

So, she sighed and looked back out, only to see Trevor put the ax away and gather an arm full of newly chopped wood, still no shirt.

Cursing she pulled Alucard back to the chairs they had sat in and turned the book so that it was right side up, before she hissed to Alucard that he had to act natural.

Alucard had just turned back to his book, the look of apathy he had perfected on his face, when Trevor came in and dropped off the firewood, before greeting them and turning to bring another load.

Once he had left the room and would be out of hearing range, Alucard leaned over to her and whispered: “We need to come up with a plan at some point.”

“Yes, I know, okay,” Sypha agreed.

“He’s getting on my nerves both in a good and bad way and I might snap if we don’t do something soon and that’ll make things worse.”

“This is getting ridiculous,” she sighed, “I’m working on it.”

“What are you two gossiping about?” Trevor asked with a grin, as he returned with more wood in his arms. “You could be two old ladies in a market square.”

“Nothing really,” said Alucard, right as Sypha answered: “About how much you stink. Sweat isn’t a good look on you,” the lie came out.

Trevor huffed, but it was good-naturedly, as he rolled his eyes. “I’ll put away the rest of the wood and go bathe, your majesties.” Then he swept out of the room, leaving them without his shirtless pecs to view.

4.

After the wood chopping incident, working together with Trevor had become harder again, so the cleaning of the general grossness that came with an army of night creatures had been divided to be done separately.

To Trevor they had claimed efficiency, and while he had looked suspicious, he had also accepted it without any complaints.

But even that did not save them from him. While there were no bulging muscles soaking in sweat, just general grossness and tiredness when they met up again with each other, it seemed that Trevor was full of surprises, oblivious as he was to them.

Alucard and Sypha had bothcollapsed on the floor in one of the main halls when Trevor joined them, stretching his arms above his head, flexing his muscles slightly.

He sat down with them and groaned: “I don’t think my back will ever recover from this, I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“You do not get paid at all,” said Alucard in confusion.

“Exactly,” Trevor told him, before stretching and groaning again. Then he stretched his legs out in front of him and just dropped his head down onto his knees, bending himself in half as he semi-moaned when his back cracked.

Sypha watched him slack jawed and Alucard didn’t think he looked much better as he ogled the hunter as well. Trevor was not just flexing muscles, but flexible as well. He would become the death of them that was certain.

It took them a few more moments to snap out of their daze, then a few more to realize Trevor had fallen asleep.

He had fallen asleep with his nose between his knees as if he was a pretzel, because apparently the position was so comfortable for him that he could fall asleep.

Fuck.

5.

After the flexible incident, as Sypha was calling it, they had been scrambling for a plan to get Trevor to agree to date them, because seeing that display only to have to deal with the cute sleepy Trevor that came after had been too much for their hearts.

Naturally it couldn't be that way. They had a vague plan about maybe tying Trevor to a chair if he wanted to run away, but nothing concrete yet.

She was currently in the Belmont Hold, looking through their books, hoping that one would spark a plan or maybe just give her something to talk about with the other’s over dinner. A book caught her eye, it was green with golden letters that read: Herbs against poison, for healing and relaxation

But when she reached for it, her arm fell short and not even by a bit. She was even pretty sure Alucard couldn't reach it like that. She would need a ladder, but the ladder system for this part had been destroyed.

A part of her was aware that she was pouting, but she still frowned when Trevor asked: “What are you pouting about?”

“I wasn’t pouting,” she told him instead of answering.

“Okay then, why was your bottom lip protruding in displeasure?” he asked her with a shit-eating grin that was both adorable and annoying.

She gave up with that and gestured to the book as she explained: “I can’t reach it.”

Trevor tried, but he too couldn't reach it, but she appreciated how he stretched out in an attempt to reach it, the flexibility coming to mind again. It truly was a pity they hadn’t been able to come up with anything to exploit that part yet.

Sypha was about to call for Alucard to see if he could when she felt two big hands on her waist before she was effortlessly lifted into the air. She squeaked loudly and floundered for a moment.

“Grab your book, Sypha,” she heard the laughter in Trevor’s voice, but she couldn't find it within herself to be annoyed when Trevor had just lifted her of the ground like it was nothing.

Sure, she wasn’t the heaviest or biggest person around, but she had a lot of muscle for her frame and she wouldn’t describe herself as light. God, what she wouldn’t give to have that strength at her mercy.

No, don’t focus on that now, grab the book. She quickly clutched the book and hoped her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

“Hey, you okay?” Trevor was now frowning in that stupidly concerned way that made her heart clench and she deducted that her cheeks must have been as red as she’d feared. “I’m fine,” she squeaked, hoping it would be enough.

Alucard came to her rescue, sort of. He landed gracefully and asked: “What happened? I heard Sypha squeak.”

“Oh, yeah, nothing to worry about. I think I startled her when I lifted her,” Trevor explained casually, “We couldn't reach a book she wanted. So, teamwork.”

“You. You just lifted her up?” Alucard repeated dumbly and Sypha knew that it was the fact that it was hot and he missed it that made him say it like that.

Sadly, Trevor interpreted it differently. “What? You think I couldn't lift her. No offense, Sypha, but you’re hardly a challenge. I mean, I could lift you, you bloodsucking prick. Sure, no super strength, but you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“That’s not-” before Alucard could ruin everything, Sypha interrupted: “Really?” she tried to sound disbelieving, “I mean, you’re strong, but Alucard? He’s tall and muscled. I don’t think you can.”

“I so can, this is ridiculous,” now it was Trevor, who was pouting and she took a bit of joy out of her manipulation.

“Prove it.”

Trevor looked taken aback by that and glanced at Alucard, who gladly had caught on and send him a cocky raised brow paired with a smirk.

Determination settled on Trevor’s face and he crossed his arms, before saying: “Okay, sure, I will,” before walking to Alucard and hoisting him over his shoulder’s like he was a somewhat heavy sack of potatoes. “See?”

“Okay, yeah, but that wasn’t how you carried me,” Sypha pointed out.

“Well, then maybe I can’t do that, but lifting someone by the waist is the hardest way to lift someone,” Trevor protested as he let Alucard down. “I feel like that was still pretty impressive. He’s heavy despite the delicate bone structure.”

Sypha was pretty sure Alucard was out of the running now with that comment, but she wanted to sedate her own curiosity. “I’ll give you the hard lifting part, but I don’t know about impressive. Maybe bridal carry and I’ll be impressed.”

He looked at her inscrutably and for a second she feared he would call her bluff and point out her real motivations. That moment never came, he sighed then set his shoulders– his broad, nice shoulders – stubbornly, before literally swooping Alucard off his feet.

He gave her a look that screamed ‘What now, eh? Didn’t think I’d do it, but I did, so suck it’ and she loved it. She loved that he had done what she told him to do while also showing off those muscles. A win on every front.

His arms, neck and shoulder strained under the weight of the tall, muscled dhampir, but he held out as he gently lowered Alucard back onto his feet. Sypha didn’t know if it was the lifting or the gentleness that made Alucard bashful, but he murmured something inaudible, before hurrying back to what he had bee doing before the interruption.

“Rude,” Trevor noted. “I didn’t even get to bask in my superiority.”

“You can bask to me, it’s okay,” she comforted him. “I am suitably impressed by your dhampir lifting skills, Trevor.”

“Thank you,” he said with extra emphasis to make it into a tease. “You know, as a true hero, both for being epic and awesome as well as getting your book, I feel like I should be rewarded.”

“Oh?” she was curious to see where this went.

“Yeah, I want to borrow the bath soap you’re so protective over after the next time we attempt to clean the goop dungeon,” he made his demand.

She was glad that, with running warm water, they had convinced him that baths were actually nice and she didn’t mind the thought of him smelling like her. Still, she put up a front of indulgence, yet being annoyed as she said: “Fine.”

“Heck yeah,” he cheered before ambling off.

+1.

Trevor wasn’t sure what exactly was going on, but over the past few days he had noticed that both Alucard and Sypha were acting weird. Well, weirder than usual, it was pretty hard to define weird when you lived in Dracula’s old castle near the Belmont Hold with a dhampir and a Speaker, but you get the idea.

The thing was, Trevor had no idea why they were being weird and what had caused it, but he knew they were only weird to him.

It made his chest tighten uncomfortably as he tried to think of something he’d done wrong.

Nothing came to mind, but that just made him question if he really knew them if he couldn't even spot the thing he had done to upset them both. It was all a frustrating mess and Trevor was half waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.

He hated feeling like this, feeling like he’d done something wrong and couldn't apologize. It tore him apart in a way he couldn't describe. He just hoped that they wouldn’t kick him to the curb, because that would extra suck. He already liked them too much as it was, getting his heart broken over something he didn’t understand would only make it worse.

So, he kept an eye on them, trying to figure out what they were thinking when they stared at him or whispered among themselves.

He was soon to find out.

It was a decidedly normal day, Trevor was mildly stressed, the weather was nice and they were finally moving the rubble they hadn’t been able to reuse out of the castle. They were making a pile out of it that they would later use to make an obstacle course or something, Trevor wasn’t sure it was mostly Alucard and Sypha doing the planning. Maybe that was it? Maybe the stress of the whole castle thing was catching up with them as well and it wasn’t anything Trevor had done.

They had assigned him to carry rubble, which made him roll his eyes. Alucard had supernatural strength and Sypha had magic, yet here he was carrying the bulk while Sypha ordered him around on where to go while Alucard switched between helping him and rearranging the rubble.

His muscles were straining under the amount of exercise, but it didn’t bother Trevor that much. It was good to keep in shape and he could handle it.

He came back from his umpteenth trip, groaning as he set down his load as he cracked his back by putting his hands on his back and pushing. He looked around and saw Alucard and Sypha on top of one of the piles that Alucard found “artistic.”

With a grin on his face he quickly hopped up the pile to see what they were talking about. They had watching him walk over and smiled at him, before turning to talk among themselves. He was about to call out a greeting and announce his presence when he heard Sypha said: “There must be more chores where we can make him carry stuff.”

Hm, he thought, that was obviously about him, thoughhe had no clue why that of all things would be a conversation topic.

Before he could ask, Alucard replied: “I mean, there are still those chains in the dungeons that we could make him clear out, but I feel that would be bad for us.” This was just making him more confused.

Sypha made a small noise, before agreeing: “Oh, yeah, Trevor with chains will totally be bad for us.”

Trevor choked on his spit.

Two heads whipped around to him, with two pairs of eyes as big as dinner plates, filled with the guilt of being caught saying something they shouldn’t have been saying. They were completely silent, neither explaining or defending themselves.

In the silence Trevor tried to wrap his head around it. How was him carrying stuff bad for them? And why were they thinking up reasons for him to carry stuff anyway? What did they have to gain by watching him carry stuff? It wasn’t as if he was eye candy and-

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed. He was eye candy. They were watching him carry stuff, because they liked it and holy shit did he not know how to even deal with that.

He felt the blood rushing to his head and knew he must look like a fucking beet, but he didn’t care, his mind was a bit preoccupied. He had known that some would classify him as handsome, but he had long since given up on either of them thinking that. They had seen him do too many embarrassing things to even consider him attractive and they had each other. Even dense little him could put that one together. Yet here they were.

Unless, of course, this was some sort of sick joke to them, a little voice in his mind whispered. The dhampir hearing of Alucard could have picked up his footfalls easily and they could have conspired to fuck with him, just for the sake of fucking with him. A cold feeling washed over him and his chest seemed to collapse in on itself at the realization.

God, fucking shit, they had probably caught on to his pathetic feelings for them and had decided to toy with him before telling him to scram for being a fucking weirdo. All the looks made so much more sense now.

It just fucking hurt that they would toy with him like that. That they would be that mean to him instead of just telling him when they’d figured it out.

Much to his embarrassment, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He swallowed hard and tried to force them down as he choked out: “Well, fuck you too,” before turning away to stomp off and grab his stuff to get out of there.

He didn’t get far.

Alucard appeared in front of him with his stupid dhampir speed that Trevor found very attractive no matter how much he hated it rightnow. The other reached out to him, but stilled his hand before they touched.

Fuck, how badly did he fuck up that they didn’t even want to touch him. And why were they even coming after him. He was doing what they wanted.

“Trevor,” Alucard said and it didn’t sound like someone relieved that the person, who had been crushing after him and his girlfriend was finally going, it sounded like someone, who was very upset.

It stilled Trevor long enough for Sypha to catch up with them too. As she laid her hand on his shoulder. However, he shrugged her off and tried to walk on again, getting stopped by Alucard, who found it within himself to touch the grossness of Trevor.

“Wait, Trevor, hold on,” Sypha called out. “I swear it’s not what you think.”

“Really?” he truly didn’t mean to sound so bitter. He was happy that they had each other, they deserved each other. It just hurt that he wasn’t in their they and that they thought that stupid joke would land well.

“Yes, okay,” she told him. “We’re really sorry about springing it on you like that, but-”

“Yeah, why the fuck did you think that was okay?” he hissed at her, trying not to feel the pangs in his heart at her little flinch. “I don’t care that you’re fucking happy together, but pulling that sick stunt on me is not cool. You can just kick me to the curb like a normal person. You fucking fuckers just had to crush me in the process too? Getting someone’s hope up and then- then… That’s just- just mean!”

He knew he was crying now, he totally was and his voice broke over the last few words, but he couldn't stop it. He had spend the last few weeks pining over them, while knowing he didn’t have a chance, perking up with a slight hope every time they smiled at him. So for them to give him that hope again only to stomp on it, had just been the last straw that broke him. Sue him.

“W- what?” Alucard asked, making him turn around to see absolute confusion written over his face along with hurt.

“Oh, Trevor,” he heard Sypha behind him with that pitying voice he didn’t need from her as he turned around to see hurting compassion written over her entire face. Yeah, now she felt guilty, not when she actually did it.

Still, when she reached for his face and gently cupped his cheek, he couldn't help but lean in to the little bit of comfort that was provided.

She wiped away his tears gently and softly said: “We’re not kicking you to the curb. Never, okay, never, Trevor. I swear. You’ve completely misunderstood. It wasn’t a joke, okay. It never was. We meant it, undignified as our lordship over there might find it.”

Trevor chuckled wetly at that, still not entirely sure if he believed her, but so willing to give in, even if it was a lie. For the lie was so much sweeter.

Alucard appeared behind him and he swayed slightly, the exhaustion of all the emotions in the last couple of minutes catching up to him. He tried to pull away when he accidentally hit Alucard’s chest, but the dhampir just pulled him close, nuzzling his hair as he whispered: “You’re such an idiot.”

That was probably true, both Alucard and Sypha were smarter than him and he was generally an idiot, but his mind wasn’t fully wrapping around where he had misunderstood it all and ruined everything.

The tears that had stopped started up again and he didn’t know how after years of repressing all his emotions this was the thing that broke all his walls. Still, he whimpered: “I’m sorry, for- for fucking it all- all up ag- again.”

“No, no,” Sypha shushed him as she hugged him, “you didn’t fuck up anything.”

He was now completely sandwiched between Sypha and Alucard with no clue how him taking a small break from clearing rubble had ended up like this. Yet here he was and he was going to soak up the attention and care while he had it, so he didn’t protest them holding him silently, just let himself melt softly.

Seconds or eternities could have passed without Trevor’s knowledge until Sypha broke the silence: “I don’t know how you got to the conclusion that our horny conspiring was a joke, but as embarrassing at it is, it most certainly isn’t, Trevor.”

Trevor had half choked, half laughed at the phrase ‘horny conspiring’ as it caught up to him what that meant. Hesitantly, he asked: “So- so you had me carry stuff just to watch me?”

It sounded ridiculous in his own head, because why on earth would anyone look at him when they could look at Alucard and Sypha, but they both tensed slightly around him, before nodding. Alucard going as far as to say: “You have nice muscles.”

Under other circumstances Trevor would totally and completely ruin Alucard by tearing him apart with teases at that remark, but there weren’t other circumstances and right now Trevor felt raw and vulnerable, so he just breathed: “Yeah?” in an unsure voice that he hated immediately.

“Yeah,” Sypha firmly agreed. “I don’t know how to tell you this without never hearing the end of it, but you’re really fucking hot. You literally made me into a person who says fuck just so I could tell you that you’re fucking hot.”

He actually snorted at that, because it was easier to snort at it then to admit that the complement felt nice and made him blush.

“We’ve actually been trying very hard to figure out how to tell you without you running away,” she went on, snorting miserably, “but I guess we messed that up. You are just so bad at accepting nice things for yourself that us telling you that we love you seemed almost impossible.”

“Y- you? You love me?” He was getting really fucking sick of that small weak voice

“Yes,” that was Alucard behind him. “We love you, just like we love each other. We hope you feel the same, but we understand if you don’t.”

“It would be really fucking stupid of me not to love the two most amazing people in the entire world, Alucard. Yes, sadly I am disappointing my entire bloodline by including you in that statement, but it’s true.” Admitting it like this felt better than being touch-y feel-y, he didn’t do touch-y feel-y well.

Luckily it was the right thing to say, because both of them relaxed around him as they snorted before chuckling and a bit of pride coursed through him at making them laugh.

“I’m so lucky you’re our idiot,” Sypha told him, before pulling him into a kiss.

Her lips were soft but firm and completely enticing. He kissed her back and stopped caring about oxygen as a necessity, it was completely overrated in comparison to kissing Sypha. When she finally let him up for air, he was dizzy. Faintly he heard her say something to Alucard about making her wait for so long, but it was lost to him as he tried to refind himself as a human being.

He became aware of Alucard and Sypha kissing each other over his shoulder once he had managed and watched mesmerized for a moment. Fuck, he could definitely get used to this. Still, he whined: “I’m feeling a bit left out here,” without meaning it.

Both their eyes fell on him and swallowing became a challenge. Then Alucard surged his lips and kissed him thoroughly. It was less gentle, while more careful than Sypha’s kiss as Alucard watched out for his fangs to Trevor’s disappointment. Yet, it was equally mind blowing.

Once he had resurfaced again, it took him a moment once more. He was still being wrapped up in both of them and his heart felt so much lighter than it had before.

“I know we should probably talk way more about this, but I do want to note that I have excellent stamina to back up my muscles.”

Both of them groaned and he grinned to his little victory.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

~~

A/N:

Fun fact, my sister once fell asleep with her nose between her knees, because she is slightly insane, I feel personally. So, actually based in fact, lmao

Also, I swear this was supposed to be lighthearted, but then I was writing the last part from Trevor’s POV, because I thought it would be funny and he just wouldn’t allow himself nice things no matter how I tried to push him. So angst it is, very in character, sadly.

Btw, im really proud of that title ngl

#rr writing #trephacard #insecure trevor belmont #trevor belmont #alucard tepes #alucard #sypha belnades #sypha x trevor x alucard #castlevania #netflix castlevania #castlevania cartoon

[frostedfaves]

Repercussions (15 - Alt Ending)

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!Natasha Romanoff x dark!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha and Wanda refuse to leave without you.

Warnings: dark themes, gun mentions, threatened suicide, manipulation

A/N: never expected to write this despite it being highly requested, but with me being stuck with Particular Taste and in the mood to write some angst, I ended up doing it. I’m still down to write angst, so I may do another Sad Song Sunday, but I’ll let you know.

Original part 15

-

“You worried us, printsessa, disappearing like that,” Natasha addresses you in a chilling tone as the two of them stop a few feet away from you. “And we’ll deal with that later, after you tell Wesley to come out so we can punish him first.”

“He’s not here,” you tell her calmly. “His only job was to bring me here--”

“And take the tracker out of your leg, which we will be putting back,” Wanda interjects with a stern expression. “Now you can either come with us to the car willingly or we’ll drag you.”

“I won’t be doing either of those things.” You stand slowly, lifting the gun to your temple as you go. “Your only choices are to leave me here and go back to the way your lives were before I came in, or you can let me die. If you take me again, I’ll just fight you every day until you wish you’d killed me yourself. No matter how you manipulate my mind, my true self will never love someone who wants to control me. I’ll tell you how much I hate you for ruining my life every second I’m able, and I’ll kill myself the moment I get the chance to do so.”

You notice the glassy look in their eyes as they face each other, and you knew they were having a silent conversation in their minds. Seconds feel like minutes as they seem to discuss their options, eventually turning back to face you. Wanda is fully crying now, and Natasha seems to be physically holding back her own emotional break.

“Please don’t do this, printsessa,” Wanda chokes out with a cautious step forward. “We just want you to come home.”

“What’s home to you is a prison to me.”

“But it didn’t always feel like prison, right? Remember those days we’d bake together, and watch your favorite movies all day?”

“Or that time we took you to Coney Island for a week straight because you couldn’t get enough of it?” Natasha added and you sighed.

“You don’t get it, do you? I was obsessed with those Coney Island trips because it was the only time you didn’t make me feel like a kid that would get lost if I wandered too far! The only time I felt like an actual human instead of a fucking meat puppet!”

“The moment we decided to trust you a little, you abandoned us!” Natasha yells so loudly that Wanda even flinches. “We’re in Nebraska right now because you couldn’t stand being a good girl and waiting for us to get home!”

“You left me with a fucking babysitter, Natasha! It doesn’t matter that it was someone I actually wanted around. You installed cameras and tried to bug Wesley and me. You put a tracker in my leg! If you trusted me, why did you go through so much to make sure I couldn’t leave? You can’t say that you love me and treat me like you don’t.”

“I’m so sorry.” Wanda’s voice comes out in a whisper as she steps forward again, and you watch her eyes for any hints of red. “I never meant to make you feel so cornered, but you have to understand that I’m an Avenger. I’ve seen what enemies are out there and at one point I was one, so I just wanted to do what I could to make sure you never ended up in the wrong hands.”

“She’s right,” Natasha chimes in, clearing her throat as a single tear slips down her cheek. “I know what lengths some people will go to hurt the loved ones of the other side because I used to do that exact thing. I’d let the world end before I let any harm come to either of you, and I guess I went a little overboard with protecting you because Wanda has a bit of an advantage.”

“I know I’ll never understand what it’s like to do what you do, and to live with your pasts…” You take a deep breath as you feel a lump forming in your throat, and the hand holding the gun to your head begins to shake. “But I do know what love is supposed to feel like, and it’s not this. I shouldn’t have to worry about setting you off because I didn’t agree with something, or waking up from a week-long mind trance because you didn’t want me to fight back.”

“How about we start over?” Natasha offers, glancing at Wanda and turning back to you once she nods. “No trackers, restraints, babysitters or manipulation. Just us getting to know you and vice versa, and hopefully rebuilding the love you once felt for us.”

“Please.” Wanda gives a pointed look toward the gun still pressed against your temple. “I know how upsetting this already must be for you, so please. Let us help you make it better. Let us fix this and hopefully have an even better relationship in the future.”

“We love you, and we agree that we should’ve gone about this in a healthier way. Please give us the chance to make this right.”

“And you promise there will be no more tricks?” you ask, and Wanda nods as two more tears make an appearance.

“Cross my heart--”

“--and hope to die.”

You stand there for what feels like minutes, your gaze bouncing between the two women in front of you, hoping to gauge their level of sincerity on expressions alone. As much as you didn’t trust them because of everything they’d done before, you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that missed those happier moments, and wouldn’t mind starting over to create more. Perhaps it was worth a shot, if they were truly serious about not messing with your mind anymore.

“Okay,” you finally answer, and you notice the relief appear on their faces. “If you’re serious about starting over and doing this the right way, I’ll give this a chance. But you’re going to have to wait a long time before I start to trust you.”

Wanda grins at the two of you as Natasha approaches you cautiously, and you place the gun on the chair behind you before allowing her to pull you into a hug that you melt into surprisingly fast. Your other girlfriend joins the embrace, and her ecstatic giggle is the last thing you hear before everything goes dark.

-

“Y/N/N...hey wake up!”

You jump up suddenly, nearly bumping into the person standing above you. After a few moments of blinking to adjust to the bright sunlight, you turn your head to see your cousin sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Wesley?!” you gasp as he grins in acknowledgement. “What are you doing here and why do you look like shit?”

“You know, I’m gonna let that go because it’s your wedding day, but I’ll get you back later.”

“Wait, my what?”

“Jesus, did you hit your head or something?”

“Feels like it,” you grumble as your eyes close for a moment.

“Bachelorette party must’ve been crazy.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You sigh and face him again as your eyes open. “Did you have a crazy night too or did you come here all bruised up?”

“I got into a pretty bad accident a little while ago,” he answers after a few moments of silence. “I guess I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t want you to worry, but I probably should’ve said something when I got the invitation in the mail. Which reminds me, it’s time for you to get ready.”

He stands up slowly with the help of a cane beside him and limps out of the room, and a chill washes over you as the door closes behind him. You move to run your hands over your face and pause as you feel a cool metal bump against your nose, and you lower your hands to see a ring on the appropriate finger.

Of course it made sense considering--according to Wesley--you were getting married today, and the ring is exactly what you would want, but it just doesn’t make sense how you got here. As you move onto the bathroom and begin showering, you get hit with flashes of moments with Natasha and Wanda that include the moment they proposed, but it feels a bit more like watching a movie than a memory should. Still, there’s a warm feeling in your chest as you come to terms with the fact that you’re marrying two people that have been so good to you since your relationship was formed.

“Come in!” you respond to a knock on your door as you slip on a robe, smiling as Pepper enters the room holding what seemed to be a dry cleaner’s bag and a small jewelry box.

“Hey there, just bringing your dress.” She drapes it carefully over the end of the bed and faces you while holding the box out to you. “And your almost wives wanted you to wear this.”

You take the object from her and lift the top off, gasping as a necklace is revealed. It consists of a simple silver chain, but the pendant has a spider with a prominent red gem that almost seems to glow as the sunlight makes contact with it.

���Need some help?”

You nod with an appreciative smile as you hand her the necklace and turn around, feeling your smile widen as the cool pendant touches your warm skin. Your fingers run over the spider while you wait for Pepper to secure the chain around your neck, and you face her when she pulls away.

“Thank you. Wait!” you call out as she turns to leave. “I just have to ask...Do you think going through with this wedding is a smart idea?”

“Well, I haven’t been around the three of you much, but I’ve seen the way Natasha and Wanda react whenever you’re mentioned. It’s equivalent to someone finding out they won the lottery, honestly. I also know how much time and effort they put into making this house as safe as possible to put their minds at ease about you while they’re away on missions. In my opinion, I think you’re in good hands here, but I’m also not there for the little things. I’d recommend just listening to what your heart tells you.”

You thank her before she leaves the room, letting her words echo in your mind for a bit before moving to get ready for the ceremony. The dress, you quickly discover, is an exact replica of one you’d seen in a magazine that you loved so much you saved it in a scrapbook for years. How you’d managed to track it down, you had no idea, but the questioning thoughts seemed to fade away a bit once you realized how amazing it felt to be finally wearing it.

“How do you feel?” Wesley asks once you reach the bottom of the stairs, and you loop your arm through his free one as he leads you to the back yard.

“If I’m being honest, I’m super nervous about all this. Everything’s felt like a weird coma dream since the moment I opened my eyes.”

“Hey, you’re about to spend the rest of your life with Natasha and Wanda,” he reminds you quietly, and your gaze shifts away from his joyous expression to the small crowd that begins to stand upon your arrival and Natasha and Wanda smiling at you from the end of the flowery path. 

“It’s what you’ve always wanted.”

-

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[alphabravocharliedelta]

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader VII

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader

Chapter VII

Word Count: 6700

[Chapter VI] [Chapter VIII]

Summary: After somehow reconciling with Adler, Bell and the team are left to continue their pursuit of bringing down the undercover spy ring, but it proves to be more of a challenge as Bell struggles to move on from their Perseus-affiliated past.

Content Warning: mature content, vulgar language, drugs, needles, panic/anxiety attack(?)

Notes: A bit of a chill and slow chapter this time, thanks for your patience. Be sure to stay hydrated and to rest your eyes from the screen! 

[Y/N] "Bell" [L/N]

September, 1983

CIA Safehouse, West Berlin

“We’ve got a job to do.”

It was like a switch.

The trigger phrase you never heard for the longest time still had its grasp on you. You felt consciousness leaving the realm of reality, purging into the memories and digging them up. The headache from earlier only seemed to worsen.

Soon enough, you awaken to the smell of burned clothes. Something heavy lied on top of you, which you came to recognize as a fresh corpse. Pushing them off, you unbuckle your strap and fall onto the metal flooring, causing the helicopter sink a bit closer to the ground.

Even if you've seen this scene repeatedly, it was unnaturally real. The smell, the sweat, and false pain you felt would be parallel to the real thing. But of course, it wasn't. Everything was fragmented, pulled together and assembled like a puzzle from war clips and verbal storytelling. You were never here.

And yet, Vietnam looked so beautiful. 

"This will just be like last time, Bell. You woke up in the middle of a firefight." 

Jumping down from the chopper, you landed on the ground, pain shooting up your legs. Sucking it up, you found yourself surrounded in a jungle like terrain, a paddy in front of you. Around you were a few American soldiers struggling to break through the defense of the Viet Cong soldiers. Nearby bushes and trees were on fire, and the smell of smoke filled your nostrils. 

One of the troopers in front of you was caught off guard, getting stabbed by a bayonet. His companion kills the attacker, before tending to his colleague.

It was nothing new. You've seen it all, and could probably even risk closing your eyes and walking through the hell of it. 

"The crash survivors were defending against a VC attack. You ran forward and picked up an M16."

You find the aforementioned M16 propped up against a rock, and you did as instructed. Aiming down the sights, you took down your enemies one by one. It felt like you were doing most of the work, watching them all fall. Once there was an open opportunity, you trekked forward.

Water filled your boots as you wadded through, loudly splashing around as you made it across. You could feel your feet sinking in the mud with each step as you practically dragged your feet. Your fellow combatants seemed to disappear when you weren't looking, their voices fading away. There were five, then three… 

“The remaining VC retreated into the tree line. It was then you realized that you were the sole survivor. You set off to… Find the bunker.”

You made your way through a small path. The green leaves seem to encompass you, nearly covering the sky. Dew drops would come down from above, slipping off of the tree branches and creating wet spots on your uniform. Humidity made your uniform stick onto your skin, bringing an unwanted itch all over. The buzzing of mosquitoes and flies didn't help either.

A ruin revealed itself behind the shrubs. The stone was mossy and covered in vines, a couple of Buddah-like statues sitting on each side on pedestals. A lone torch was lit, lighting up a red metal door that stood at the ruin’s opening. It was beginning to rust a bit, the red paint peeling around the edges. There was a strong sense of longing and familiarity radiating off of it, and you approach it, locked in a trance.

"Forget the red door, we're changing it up."

The red bunker door was replaced with a dark wooden one, just as your fingers made contact with the handle. It was well kept, unfitting for its scenery around it. The knob was golden. 

"You said Nikitin was trying to make you remember something important. What was it?"

You walked in.

The room you stood in had peach walls and a concrete floor. It wasn't the main meeting room, but rather a side office. Your office. Boxes were stockpiled and pushed to the side, a few filing cabinets aligning the corners. There was a large billboard on the right wall, featuring a map of the world along with various pinned papers, and meticulous red arrows.

A nice change compared to the lifeless grey and white walls from before. The color brought a sense of believability and welcoming. Stepping through it all graced you in intimacy, memories slowly trickling out from the tightly packed dam that held it all.

Maneuvering around, you placed yourself behind a well polished wooden desk that was covered in papers. There were sticky notes on top of it, scribbled in your own handwriting, with warnings of telling you to stop. Your mind refused to give into the pressure, your endurance training from years before kicking in.

You peeled them away.

You needed to understand.

A black and white photograph was placed on top of the small pile, featuring a rather threatening man, whose face was scrunched up in anger. They lacked any facial hair, and the piercing gaze seemed to bore holes into you. The bizarreness of it was that their left eye was practically colorless, with a visible scar running down where dark irises should match.

"Their heart rate is spiking."

"Hang in there Bell."

Looking up, you see Perseus waiting idly at the door. He was a bit younger, with less gray in his hair and a face reformed with less wrinkles. Along with his uniform, he had an armband with the group’s symbol on it. 

He gestures towards the picture in front of you. “What do you think?”

"Depends on what he can bring to the table." Your body begins to move on its own, and you lift up the photo. "You said he used to work under Kravchenko?"

"He was in charge of the Nova Six production on Vozrozhdeniya. You heard what happened, I presume?"

"Operation Rebirth," you answer. Shoving a couple sheets aside, you open a nearby manila folder and bring out a couple of photos: One with a bald man with shades, and another with a thick goatee and eyepatch, labeled 'Jason Hudson' and 'Grigori Weaver' respectively.

"What the hell? That's the mission we did back in sixty-eight."

"So you know." Perseus paces over to the map, eyes darting around before pointing his finger at a certain spot. "He's being held in the gulag, here. I think he would be a good addition to our team. His knowledge of chemical weapons can be of great use to us."

You nod. "What do you need me to do?"

"I want you to—"

His voice began to drown out, slowing down and warping as each syllable was enunciated. You felt yourself getting pulled away, as if you were getting sucked into a vacuum. Everything seemed to pulse as the light started to drain away.

"No, fuck! FUCK! Bell, what did he say?... Goddammit. Lazar, we're doing another injection."

"But, I thought–"

"This is what Bell wants. They're onto something, and we're going to find out. This isn't going to waste."

You winced as you felt something poke and sink into your eye.

"We've got a job to do."

The crash site appeared before you again. It was dark, crickets singing from down below. There was the crackling of fire as nearby shrubs and leaves caught fire. Shadowy figures moved like ants at the paddy, on the lookout for any American survivors.

"Let's skip ahead."

They froze.

"You're in your office. Perseus is telling you about a man being held in prison. You ask him about his plans."

The peach colored office arose around you, replacing the night sky and semi-humid terrain. Noise levels were turned down to the whirring of a fan that stood to the corner of the room.

"What do you need me to do?" you repeated.

Perseus walks over to you, eyes glittering with passion and intent. His agenda and fixation is one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, and why you didn't hesitate to join in on the ranks once he asked you to join. With his strong resolve and leadership, you had no doubt then that Perseus would be the perfect fit to run the country. "I want you to lead a squad with me. Together, we'll break him out. And from there, we can work to rebuild the Union."

"Of course."

"Good. I trust that you'll keep this a secret between us. There's been talk of more moles, and we do not want the Americans interrupting this operation."

You look back down at the photo of the disgruntled man Perseus was keen on introducing to the group. "What's his name?"

"Vikhor Kuzmin, so I've heard. I hope you two will get along."

"Kuzmin…"

The scene begins to warp, colors beginning to blend together into one large mass. Perseus was frozen in place, blending into the peach colored walls. His green uniform mixed with it, spreading out and darkening the once vibrant room. The voices of him and Adler got farther and farther away, and you could only watch as the setting changed in front of your eyes.

"Bell?"

"What's happening? Stay with us, Bell."

"Shi—!"

There were brief flashes of the mission to the gulag. Breaching the doors open with a nice chunk of C4, a group of about four following your lead. Kuzmin was in one of the cells that was hidden away from the public, at the depths of the prison reserved for people like him. Radio chatter and shouts fill your ears. Underneath his torn orange uniform were muscular arms covered in ink, various tattoos embedded in his skin. He was true to the photo, not a detail amiss.

"I've been waiting," he says in a hoarse voice. 

You couldn't respond. 

The scene shifts. Thrown into a meeting, appeared in a confined room. Judging from the walls, you were underground in a hidden place, water dripping from the cracks on the ceiling and pooling on the cold floor below. There were two other people with you: Stitch, now out of his prison garments, and Perseus.

"Why'd you call me here, General?" you ask, closing the door behind.

“Stitch here is about to give an update to how our Nova Six arsenal is holding. I thought you would be interested.”

“Of course.”

You take a seat in one of the swivel chairs. Stitch eyed you with some interest, probably wondering why you were even called here. The guy practically covered himself from head to toe, so you couldn't read his expression. From experience, he wasn’t the talking type, the both of you barely giving each other a second glance if you just so happened to pass by in the hallway. But through the chance you did interact, it was always insults or arguing.

“We have a potential transport route for the cargo,” Stitch begins, resuming his attention to Perseus. “Jose Luis Menendez. I have a plan in mind that might interest him. By next year everything should be lined up if negotiations go well.”

Perseus nods. “Very good. Things have been running smoothly with production, I hope?”

“Yes.”

“We’re using a drug dealer to smuggle some gas?” you quote. It wasn’t a bad plan, but it was a risky move to trust someone not heavily involved within the organization. 

“You have something better?” Stitch challenged, and you beam at him, flipping the pen around in your fingers. 

“Nope. Sounds interesting. Are you sure you can handle it, tough guy?”

Stitch restrains himself from reaching over to choke you, and continues to describe his plan. “A friend of his is being held by the Americans. There’s been plans for his transport, January, nineteen-eighty four. Our bargaining chip.”

You give out an amused whistle, leaning back in your chair. “Not bad.”

"Kuzmin has also told me about a particular man that should be in our interest," Perseus adds, sensing the tension increasing between the two of you. "I had one of our agents pull up anything relating to them. And, I have to say, quite a mysterious man, I think you'll like him, [L/N]."

He personally hands you a blue file. Opening it, there wasn't much to behold. There was a picture of a middle aged man, with a scar that stretched across the left side of his face like vines. A nice set of aviators sat on his nose, hair neatly fashioned. The CIA symbol was stamped on the wall behind him.

Your eyes drifted off to another part of the page, and you found his name. Russell Adler.

You close the folder after reading what little information was provided. Perseus was right, you were intrigued. "What are your orders?" 

"Our friend Stitch has personally volunteered to handle him, but I assured him that you would be best fit for the job," Perseus admits, much to your colleague's dismay.

Glancing at Kuzmin, his already disturbed scowl was further darkened, a vein protruding from his temples. You gave him a scornful grin. "So, that's where your eye went. This American took it."

"You ought to watch your mouth, mutt."

"Is that how you talk to your superior?"

"[L/N]," Perseus warns, and you settle back down. "Please. You'll be working together from now on."

"If he isn't a nuisance."

You see Kuzmin’s hand twitch, unbeknownst to Perseus, who gives a nod. "Continuing where we left off, I want you to deal with the man in the file. Russell Adler. If we let him loose for too long, we may have to deviate from our objective."

"I'll get my team—"

"No need. We already have a plan in mind." 

You raise a brow in interest, waiting for him to continue. 

"One man shouldn't be of much trouble to you, no? He may be America's monster, but we have a few of our own." He nods at you. "Pose as a CIA agent. We'll have someone from inside set up a meeting with you soon, they'll get you in. Once we get a hold of the bomb, you'll clean up the rest."

"Do you have any preferred methods in mind?"

"I'll leave it up to you, [Y/N]."

"When do I start?"

"After the weapons get to Duga. Ensure that Arash doesn't stray from the plan, yes? Come back here when everything is settled."

You nod in acknowledgement. "I won't fail."

Satisfied, Perseus gets up from his spot and walks over to you. He places a hand on your shoulder, his grip a bit more tighter than it should. "I know you won't."

It felt more like a threat. 

With years of planning already under the name, there were no excuses for screw ups or mistakes.

“He may seem like a good person when working with him, but remember— Do not trust Adler.”

“He'll lie to you.”

.

.

.

.

You woke up gasping for air. 

It felt like you couldn't breathe. Attempting to inhale proved more difficult than it should have, your throat turning against you and constricting itself.

The sensation you felt when you were drowning came back, and your hands tried to go for your neck, just trying to breathe, only for the straps to hold you restrain you.

Where were you again?

Your left eye felt like it was on fire, a burning sensation settling in, and you could hear your own heartbeat echoing within your ears. Your heart hammered against your chest, just trying to escape it's prison. His final words bounced around your head.

"Bell?"

Everything felt distorted, becoming more rounded as if you were looking through a magnifying glass. 

"Let… Let me out." you gasped. Every limb felt heavy. Your attention directs to your left and next to the window, you were met with an unpleasant sight. A sense of dread overtakes you.

Perseus was standing still. There was a look of severe disappointment written on his face, the corners of his lips slipping into a frown. It was the worst feeling— failure to meet someone's expectations and vision. His lips part, forming words, but nothing was enunciated.

You failed him.

"Genera—"

"Bell," someone's voice cuts you off. A rough hand settles on one of your cheeks and delicately redirects your view back to your right side. Adler enters your peripherals, a cigarette hanging from his lips, nearly finished. "It's me."

There was his soothing voice again. It wasn't forced or demanding, instead taking on a calming and mellow manner, as if he were talking to a fragile thing. He wasn't panicking. It felt almost endearing.

"It's just me and you here. I'm going to take off the cuffs, got it?"

You managed a nod. Adler reaches over, unbinding both ends. Without hesitation you shot upward and doubled over, just trying to catch your breath, but it just came out in short pants. Somehow you brought yourself to a sitting position, but it felt like the atmosphere thickened as a result. You coughed, just trying to clear out the lump that resided in your throat, but nothing regurgitated. Adler catches you as you stumble over your feet.

Turning your head again, Perseus's figure was gone, yet you could still feel his lingering presence within you. 

"I can't…"

"Deep breaths Bell. Just copy me."

You watched Adler's torso expand as he took in air, his muscles tensing up underneath that black turtleneck sweater of his. Mimicking his action, you pull your stomach in as well before exhaling. 

Why was he so good at this? 

Adler's strange understanding on how to deal with your messy life and panic attacks was one of the few things that kept you sane. The Walkman, his presence…

Why?

He tried to kill you. 

And you were supposed to kill him.

"You're okay, [L/N]."

And yet he could pull shit like this, and it works. Every. Single. Time. It didn't help that Adler started to call you by your last name more frequently as well. 

“How… How long was I out?” you croak, diverting your attention away from him. Your heaving finally evened out, and the lump within your throat dissolved, leaving behind a slight aching in your chest.

“About two hours. You went into a submersion period, and we lost you right after you mentioned Stitch.” He gives you a cup of cold water. "How do you feel?"

The condensation of the water made you shiver. “I'm… getting better.” 

The setting finally meshed itself back to normal, the walls no longer slugging. Looking around the room, Lazar was gone. 

"Ready to talk?”

You took a sip, before fully downing it in one gulp. Wiping away the excess water with the back of your hand, you catch a hint of a rash at your wrists before trailing back to Adler. “First, tell me how you know Kuzmin.”

He takes a seat on the table. "He’s one of the people we captured from Rebirth Island. Also goes by the alias ‘Stitch’. I was in charge of his interrogation but the bastard never broke."

“You're the one who stabbed his eye out,” you recall. 

"I was just returning a favor for someone I know," he comments, watching your reactions. The color was slowly making its way back to your face, but you still had your left eye closed. "And you? You were reiterating how you broke the guy out of the Petropavlovsk prison. Elaborate."

You hum to yourself, sorting out everything you just remembered. "I led a strike team. Perseus would cover our squad as we went in. Really murky place, smelled like shit. Stitch was located on the deeper levels of the gulag, so we had our work cut out for us." You massage your wrists, trying to lessen the pressure that lingered. "The general was right though. His Nova Six project was something we were looking for."

"What's the plan for it?"

"I don't know. Last thing I remember was Kuzmin mentioning the Menendez trade routes to direct their supply to parts of the U.S.. There was something about a prison transport happening in January— He was hoping to use that as leverage to establish business with the drug lord." Your voice trails off to a whisper as you avoid Adler’s fierce gaze.  "Not only that but…" 

"Spit it out."

"We... were planning to make a set up of where I was a KGB defector who wanted to work for the CIA. I was supposed to gain your trust and keep them updated. Once we got a hold of Greenlight, I… needed to finish the job.”

"As in… kill me?"

"...That's one way of putting it."

You couldn't look at Adler when you informed him of the past ploy. How could you, now that you remembered that you were ordered to slice his throat open? You felt like a fool for becoming infatuated with him. Was the admiration you felt your own, or was it something you subconsciously convince yourself to feel in order to get closer to him? 

Dry laughing at your own idiocy, you gave out a disappointed sigh. "Arash must have caught onto our scheme. I bet Perseus didn't expect you to throw me into your MKUltra project. And now look how I ended up."

Out of all things, why did you have to remember that? You couldn't see Adler in the same light now, and you were positive he felt the same about you. It felt like the relationship you managed to build up between the both of you was about to come crashing down. "Nikitin was right."

"He may be right, but I'm still alive," Adler interposes. "You're one of us now, [Y/N]. If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by ages ago, regardless if you remembered or not."

Your heart jumped at the mention of your name, but it quickly retracted, the feeling of guilt taking over again.

He hands you your Walkman. 

"Come on. We got our work cut out for us." Adler states. His voice or facial expression didn’t even give a hint to his internal monologue, despite what you just told him. While it’s a reaction that you expected, it was one that didn’t make you feel any more better about yourself. "Sims took a crack at the disk for you, but he already got stumped."

"Anything on the news about the bar?"

"No. I had an associate cover our asses." He places a hand on the door and turns to you with a small smirk, some teasing affection behind it. "Good thing you have me."

"...Sure," you mumble dejectedly. Someone was a bit optimistic for someone who just found out someone close was supposed to gut him open.

"Team!" Adler yells as he opens the door, and the activity around ceases. You caught Hudson near the evidence board (when did he get here?). "New objective. We need to find the whereabouts of Vikhor Kuzmin. Gather any evidence relating to him, and pull up past files relating to Operation Rebirth, the Menendez family, and their associates. Get Mason and Woods on it too, cross reference everything we have to what Bell knows."

And with that, you were bestowed the highest honor of stress and workload. Everyone spent the rest of the night pulling out old dusty boxes from inventory and sorting out the sicking yellow manila folders. They dated all the way until Vietnam days to the most recent findings, and you had to split up the work.

With the assistance of Sims, you manage to extract the information from the floppy disk within an hour. It was filled with KGB daily reports, as well as some encrypted emails that you had the luxury of breaking apart. The contents further backed up your testimony, containing some documents about the Menendez cartel and their affiliation with Perseus. This type of treasure trove is what the CIA yearned for. While it didn't go into the specifics, it had the data of a few encrypted messages and layouts of what Perseus and his underlings were planning. There were mentions of a NATO base as well as the prison transport. No specific dates, unfortunately, so the team had to act accordingly. 

Your eyes were bloodshot as you worked nearly for two days straight, just trying to put everything together. At the same time, Nikitin's words echoed from the depths of your mind, along with his abhorrent mocking smile plastered across his aged face. A weird flavor would spread across your tongue just thinking about it.

The phial Nikitin had in his pocket that had been sent off to the analysis team and returned via paper results, confirming that it was one of the drugs the cartel was smuggling into the U.S. You never forgot the taste of it, and refused to even get near almonds now.

Now you just had to write down everything and present your discoveries. You made yourself comfortable in the inventory space, watching the arcade machine flash brightly with the title and demo of whatever game input it was set to. The music helped you focus, but, after sitting for hours staring at the same rotten pictures and text, you broke.

A fresh breeze nipped at your skin as you walked outside, and you took a deep breath of the crisp air. It was night out, and a few bugs were dancing around the old yellow light. The buildings in the short distance were irregularly lit, the color of the exposed walls hard to determine under the dark sky. The gravel crunched underneath your shoes as you went around the corner. Finding the rusted ladder, you made your way up to the roof.

You situated yourself around the middle and lied down, looking at the sea of black above. You turned the music low, finding a good balance between silence and the rhythmic beats. Leaving your work at the table, there was now nothing to bother you at this very moment, leaving you to stray into your thoughts.

Multiple times you had told yourself going through the scenarios again with Adler’s help would provide answers for everything you’ve been missing, but in the end it only conjured up more questions. Your sense of self was leaving your grasp, and you could only live in the past. There was an invisible tingling sensation around your wrists. You were never able to forget the scene of sitting in the lab, bound to the chair while Park and Adler tried to make you submit.

Breaking a subject’s will and erasing their mind is a difficult and painful process.

That’s a small price to pay.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You needed to stop thinking about it, but having to work around the people who brought the issue upon you served as a daily reminder of what you have been through. Adler was the worst of them all, and it didn’t help that you were developing feelings for the man. 

The effort of sorting out truth and falsification was mentally draining as well. You had to get used to the resurfaced memories and live by them now. Despite gaining more info about your past, you felt a bit lost on what the next step would be.

“Mind if I join you?”

Speak of the devil.

Opening your eyes, you see Adler’s head just protruding out behind the raised edge of the rooftop. Your breath hitched at the sight of him. You’ve been intentionally avoiding him the past couple days after finding out the truth, and with him here, you couldn’t exactly deny his company with nowhere else to go. 

You gave a small nod of permission, and he vaulted himself over. He brusquely walks over and takes a seat next to you. There was the usual smell of nicotine that followed him, but judging from the strength of it, Adler hasn’t touched a cigarette for a while.

“Nice view,” he compliments, gazing up at the sky. “A bit chilly, too.”

You sit up. “How’d you know I was up here?”

“Sims told me a while back that you used to come up here when things bother you.”

"Damn it."

He observes you for a moment. “You’re avoiding me.” 

“I’m not avoiding you—”

“Then why are you up here?”

You look at him as if his asked a stupid question. “How can you still talk to me, knowing that I was supposed to kill you?”

“C'mon Bell. As if we all never tried to kill each other at some point holed up at this joint.” He shrugs. "And honestly, I could say the same about you. I shot you in the damn heart, yet here you are still willing to talk to me."

“Mikhail did say that the bullet was two centimeters away from piercing the heart tissue.”

“You mentioning that only further adds insult to injury,” he retorts lightly. As soon as he did though, he realized that you weren’t in a joking mood. That brooding appearance of yours wasn’t pleasant to onlookers like him, and it only brought upon further worry. "Talk to me, [L/N]."

"How do you handle it?" you blurt. Nothing about Adler gave away his internal struggles and torment. For someone with his age and experience, there was bound to be shit locked up in there. "Stress, the PTSD… Everything. I just want to take a break for once without shit plaguing my mind."

He shifts position. "Well, for one, having someone to lean on is a good idea."

"Who would that be?"

"For me, it used to be my ex-wife. As of now, it varies. I would get a shrink like Sims, but I rarely make it to the meetings." Adler pauses, before adding: "Mason has periodic evaluations. Why do you ask?"

“I’m just… trying to sort everything out. Like, I thought I was finally coming to terms about myself, but then it turns out even I don’t know. It feels… fake, you know? Who am I, really? Lieutenant Colonel [L/N] of Perseus or Bell of the CIA?"

"Lieutenant Colonel, huh? That's a high ranking for someone at your age."

"I'm serious, Adler."

Underneath everything, you could feel your old cold-hearted self resurface whenever you held a gun. It kept you on edge, like a snake just waiting patiently for its time to strike. Nowadays you only kill when it's necessary, but Nikitin's provocation brought out that nature Adler and Park had tried to suppress. Adler's power and hold on you was faltering as you both now saw eye to eye, he could only do so much to keep your deviant behavior in check, and you were afraid of losing yourself.

His leniency only added onto the anxiety— letting your guard down was the last thing you would do if you were in his stead. "After Cuba, when you put me under interrogation… I heard Perseus. He was saying to not trust you. It didn't occur to me until now but… How would he know about you? I thought it was just my subconscious telling me about the truth, but it was more than that."

"I'm sure it's nothing."

"It's anything but nothing!" you yell. "How can you say that?! I spent so long telling myself to trust no one but myself, but even now I can’t do that now. How the hell am I supposed to keep moving forward if there's a chance—"

“Take a look around, Bell," Adler cuts you off. "You're here in West Berlin, surrounded by the best CIA operatives. Woods, Mason, Lazar, Sims, Hudson. If something were to happen, we got you covered. Hudson and I didn't go through the effort of having you back on this team for nothing."

“Even so—”

"Even so, if you're so concerned, and you shouldn't be, I already lived long enough to make a few enemies, Stitch being one of them. Having a target on your back isn’t fun, but it’s what makes the job a bit more thrilling in its own twisted way.

“I’ve worked with you long enough. You have your struggles, but you snap back at every opportunity you get, and you sure as hell won’t go down without a fight. If I were you, doubting myself is the last thing I would do. That’s basically letting Perseus get in your head, and I wouldn’t want to give him that sad excuse of a victory.”

You weren’t just a machine made to follow orders, Adler knew. Comparing the person who you were today, to the one he knew back in 1981, it was like flipping a coin. On one side was the once reserved and obedient agent he invented, the person he tried to distance himself from getting too attached; the other was the you of today. The temperamental, smart-mouthed individual who was struggling to set free from the chains that tied you back, trying their hardest to search for yourself. Yet, you managed to put everything else first before yourself, and he needed you to recognize that you were important too.

“What I said that morning still stands, and always will.”

There was the fuzzy feel again. 

You were always quick to judge how people might react. It was always better that way, to prepare yourself for the worse when it actually occurred, but it brought more harm than needed. 

Fighting off lingering predispositions, you yielded to his persuasion, bobbing your head once. Bringing your legs up to your chest, you hugged them as the breeze began to pick up. It was unusual: you just needed someone to reassure you, and with it, it felt like everything would be fine. Even if it was temporary. "...Okay."

You feel something drape over your shoulders shortly after, with the familiar smell of cologne and ash.

"Don't want to get sick again," Adler states. Without his jacket, the black dress shirt he wore underneath hugged his form tightly. Memories from September's mission flashed within the back of your mind, the image of you tugging at his shirt to dress his wound as he laid unconscious. For someone his age, he was well built.

You avert your eyes, pull the edges of the jacket closer. Those types of details about people never fascinated you before until now. "...You mentioned your ex-wife a couple times before. Was she beautiful?"

"Mhm. Of course she was." He leans back onto his hands, gazing up at the sky as he reminisced about his past woman. "But, she's an ex for a reason, so let's not tread there."

"Why not?"

"Isn't it obvious? I have you now."

Your heart practically jumped out. This charismatic asshole. "You don't mean that."

"I do."

"You can't."

Why were you so scared? Just the thought of someone loving you felt almost unearthly. The emotional baggage you carried was already enough, so to hear that someone was willing to take the time to help guide you through it, and lend a listening ear was too good to be true.

You could feel his blue irises piercing you underneath those shades. "Why not?"

"You can find better."

"I did. And they're sitting right here."

Adler wouldn't let you go. And it hurt. God must have had a fun time writing out your life story, making two people who, at one point, were at each other's throats now fall for one another. 

Stop fighting it.

It was something you kept denying, but with each passing day working alongside Adler, it became harder and harder to bury underneath. That man just strives to succeed in his goal, no matter what the cost, and if the goal this time was to get close to you, and break every wall you had put up in his direction, then he had succeeded.

"You must think you're real slick, huh?" you mumble under your breath.

Caving in, you rest your head in his lap, staring up at his faintly glowing face lit up by the outside lights of the safehouse. Adler stiffens at the gesture, caught by your sudden affection, before easing up. He places a hand on your cheek, and you lean into it, giving out a soft sigh as you closed your eyes, feeling the warmth spread. You couldn't avoid it anymore, small tears brimming at the corners of your eyes.

K̴̦͍͑̀̚i̵̡̺̝͋̔͠l̴̝͎͕͒͋̕l̸͇͇̽͘͝. 

Kiss him.

It was something new. The intimacy and the casualty of it. Something like this wasn't comparable to the parental love you had when you were younger— It was a new experience, something of its own existence, and you couldn't help but adore it. 

A stillness found itself between the both of you. The awkwardness that would have followed never came. Adler pondered to himself for a moment. You could see his Adam's apple move underneath the stubble as he wondered what to say next.

"If it makes you feel better… Here."

He adjusts his weight slightly, shoving a hand into the collar of his shirt and pulling out something metal from underneath. Adler dangles his dog tags above you, waiting for you to hold your hand out. When you do, he lowers it gently.

You didn't even know he wore them. The tags were a bit rusted, dirt and dark spots situating itself into the little imprints of lettering and edges. Your thumb brushes over the protruding words, reading them. His name, blood type…

Did he want you to keep this?

Adler notices your complex expression as you gazed up at him. "What? Is there something on my face?" 

"No…" You grip the tags in your hands, afraid to let them go. Adler was out of his mind— for giving you a sentimental object like this, and for believing in you. But… If that's what he wanted, then you will respect his wishes. "Just thinking how I haven't seen you smoke for a while."

“Just trying to kick the habit,” he discloses. 

You roll your eyes. “Knowing you, it goes way deeper than that.”

He smirks slightly to himself. There really was no use hiding things from you. “Just thought it would be rude to do it around you, seeing how you reacted that morning.”

"Am I supposed to thank you for that?"

"Hey, I'm just helping you live longer."

"I don't die that easily."

He returns a small grin. "I know."

Whenever it was just the two of you, it felt like you were on cloud nine. With the walls gone, you found yourself falling heads over heels once again. It was such a complicated thing, and yet you felt more relaxed and stable, knowing that you didn't have to spend any more energy just being apprehensive. 

"What're you listening to now?" Adler asks softly, and you take an earbud out, holding it out to him.

To be able to spend a moment like this with him was something you never imagined doing in your lifetime. Much or less, falling in love with a person like him. You had spent endless days counting bodies and shooting guns since you were young, to a point it had hardened you emotionally. Climbing up the ranking ladder was a challenge on its own, as not everyone was keen on having a younger soldier commandeering their lives. There was no time to maintain deep relationships then; you were too busy for that.

But after meeting Adler, you felt more… Humanized. He was like your bridge to stability. One look at him and a wave of calmness would wash over you. 

Was this what Mason meant about Hudson and Woods keeping him grounded to reality?

Now it was just you two sitting on a roof in private, with one earbud in your ear, the other in his, just listening to Dreams by Fleetwood Mac. Adler was humming to the lyrics.

"Russell?" you call.

"Hm?" He tilts his head downward, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. His striking blue eyes meet yours. He notices the corners of your mouth were upturned slightly into a small smile. The look in your eyes was something he wouldn't forget— filled with a new light, mixed with an unyielding devotion.

“Do you really trust me?” 

There wasn't a trickle of doubt in his mind. 

“With my life.”

#the next chapter there's going to be a fat timeskip #russell adler x reader #adler x reader #russell adler x bell #cod black ops cold war #black ops cold war #call of duty #call of duty x reader #bo:cw #text #fanfic #bell #russell adler #abcd briefing #call of duty imagine #these chapters are getting shorter and shorter again OTL #ahh i gotta stop lingering on chapters for too long or else they start to get cringey to read

[justforthehe11ofit]

‘Until Death Do Us Part, Again.’ Julian Devorak x Reader

(Chapter 1: A Very Warm Welcome)

Now finished!

This is part of a multi-chapter fic, If you would like to read the rest you can read it on my AO3 page which is the same username as on here! Or click the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32643664

'His words warble as his emotions take hold, tears staining his cheeks while he grasps the apprentice tighter, "I will never let you go again, my love. I promise."' Continuing after the tale 'A Warm Welcome', Julian struggles to fight his doubts on whether a proposal while staying in Nevivon is a good idea, missing the opportunity in the hot springs and of course causing more trouble than he can handle (at least he asks for help this time).

A headcanon that I have inspired by the assumptions of others in which they thought Julian was going to propose during the hot springs scene, where he is given another opportunity eventually... not without creating problems for himself beforehand. That would be un-Julian like.

Word Count: 1,641

As soon as he mumbles the words, Portia incredulously glares down at Julian across the table, barely taller than him as she stands, while he shrinks into his chair. “Excuse me? Could you repeat that because I don’t think I heard you right.”

“I… didn’t do it?...” Leaning across the table with his hands joined and bunching up his shoulders, Julian plasters on an award winning pity grin, which of course Portia does not buy into.

“What do you mean ‘you didn’t do it’?” Nasally mocking his excuse.

“I-I just didn't, okay!” He drops his head into his hands, with an exasperated sigh and brows furrowed, “I wanted to but it was as if my hands didn’t want to cooperate and gave into my own nervousness, so I just didn’t do it.”

After returning from the hot springs, Julian and the apprentice had finished cleaning the remains of dinner, just chatting and enjoying each other’s company, until Portia had strolled in. As she was seeping with anticipation, Julian told Y/N he would join them soon for sleep, and so was left to be bombarded with questions about if he had gone through with what he had told Portia a few days before departing from Vesuvia.

Motioning her arms outward, Portia states “you know you had the perfect opportunity, right?”

“I know.” Mumbling the pitiful words into his hands, slumping further.

“You two had the whole place to yourselves AND on a night as beautiful as this! And you didn’t go for it?”

“I know!” Arms lying flat, exclaiming his sorrows into the dining table.

“I mean, how often does a perfect opportunity like that happen? Are you that thick in the head, Ilyushka!”

He raises his head to address her, “Yes, I know! Thank you Pasha, I get it!” Then presses his cheek to the smooth cloth covering. Taking a moment to calm the air, Julian reaches into his pocket and pulls out the ring he had bought a couple weeks prior to leaving, twirling it in his fingers.

He had spotted the red glint in a jeweller’s shop window on his way home from visiting the Palace, not the most flashy ring he’d ever seen but the tone of the ruby’s colour made him pause. When he had gotten home he couldn’t stop thinking about it for days, the image of it popping into his head from even a blush that would dust the cheeks of his partner. It’s strange to think about how something so small can hold such an overwhelming promise to it.

Passing a faint sigh, Portia pulls out a wooden chair across from Julian and sits, just watching the ring catch the glow of the gentle candle light. His mouth is set in a subtle frown and his silver eyes distant. “I’m sorry, I just supposed that when you had excused yourself it was because you were going to propose to them.” He still seems conflicted. She asks hesitantly, “do you... want to?”

Julian raises his head, “of course I do, I’ve never felt this way for anyone before. I’m over the moon for them!” He stops fiddling with the ring, placing it out in front of him and resting his chin against his palm, leaving the other to lie on the table, not saying more.

“And yet?” This makes him look away, thinking her question over.

“I think,” he pauses, “it may just be too soon to ask them. Considering everything that has happened between myself and Y/N, and even everyone else.” Julian’s gaze holds on the jewellery, and he shrugs, “I feel it may just be too much for them emotionally. We still have so much to process, it’s only been just over a month or two since things finally settled.” He sighs dejectedly, “even with this time of reprieve we’ve had, things have still been crazy with plans to rebuild the city, me running the clinic, Y/N running the shop and then traveling to Nevivon. It just still seems like it’s been so much to handle.” His eyebrows furrow and his frown becomes prominent, and he covers the ring with his hand, “I don’t even know if this is what they would want.”

Portia watches intently, mirroring Julian’s expression. She gently covers his hand with hers and leans over gaining his attention, his eyes widening, “trust me, they would say yes in a heartbeat. You two took down the Devil together for crying out loud! Give or take myself, Asra, Nadia, Maz and Nazali but that’s not my point,” she states as Julian raises a brow at her comment. “What I’m trying to say is that you two have already been to hell and back, so I wouldn’t doubt that if you went to them right now and asked, they wouldn’t hesitate to say yes.” Julian manages a smile at that, his cheeks reddening. The mood growing lighter at last. “I mean if we are being honest, you two have technically known each other for years, right?”

“Well, considering we did work together during the plague, you could say we have.” His smile falls a little, “although those memories are lost to them now.”

“And? Go make new ones with them then,” Portia lifts Julian’s hand, takes the ring and places it back, then she wraps his hand around it and holds it together, “we’re going to be here for a while yet so I’m sure there will be another chance to pop the question to Y/N and not have you sabotage yourself again.” She stands satisfied, leaving Julian to laugh at her jab.

“Hah, well I suppose you’re right.” He secures the ring back in his pocket, standing as well to head to bed.

“Of course I am, but pep-talks with you are draining so you got off lucky. Next time, I’ll kick the back of your knees and put you in a head-lock instead. It’s less effort and more effective.” With that, she heads out the door and to her allocated room, leaving Julian concerned but thankful.

He blows out the candle, allowing the moonlight to guide him to the room the Grandma’s gave to Y/N and himself to stay in while they are visiting Nevivon. Carefully, he turns the handle on the modest door and peeks in to make sure he doesn’t disturb his partner if they’re already asleep. And to his delighted surprise, they’re sitting against the head of the bed reading a book.

“What are you still doing awake, my dear? It’s late.” Despite telling them this, he’s glad he gets to say goodnight to them of course.

“Mmhmm, so I’m not allowed to stay up, but you are then?” A raised brow and a smirk grace their face as if mimicking Julian’s signature expression. Despite only living together for a relatively short amount of time, both have picked up mannerisms from the other. Bonding over little sayings that the apprentice may tell him where he now notices that he repeats in other conversations from time to time, while Y/N has been able to think of more quips to outwit Julian, and he is more than delighted when they can go into a back-and-forth teasing match until one of them ultimately loses. But it’s hardly ever a loss as one of them will usually glow red in the cheeks. Or that it will lead to other activities.

He grins at them.“Yes?”

They stare at him a little longer, until they break with a giggle. “Just come to bed already.”

Julian gingerly closes the door and strolls over to his side of the bed, sitting on the edge and tasks himself with getting his boots off and pyjamas on. “Portia seemed eager before I left.” Y/N states.

This makes Julian halt for a moment. Did they hear him and Portia talking in the kitchen? Were they too loud? Did Julian just ruin his chances at ever giving Y/N the ring while revealing his true feelings and now they want to leave him and never see him again? “Uhm, yeah. I suppose she was.”

“Is she okay?” Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.

“She’s… fine. Yeah she just wanted to tell me about how there is going to be a special town event next week.” Julian has only managed to get his left boot off. Maybe if he made a run for it now he could steal a boat and travel to another city, take a new identity and start fresh to save himself from the grave he was currently digging for himself.

“Oh really! What’s the occasion?” Y/N now has their sole attention on this mystery event that Julian has sprung onto them and alarm bells are going off in his head wishing he had just said she was okay and called it a night.

He feels sweat running down his neck. “Uh, it’s a surprise.” Portia is going to kill him when he tells her about this. “Yes, a surprise event that they hold every now and then! I guess the town thinks that our arrival here is as good a time as any to hold it.” Finally Julian manages to get his other boot off and slip out of his clothes into his pajamas. Oh there is no going back now.

“That sounds amazing! I can’t wait for it, I’m sure it will be a night to remember.” Y/N snuffs out the candle with a whisper of magic while Julian slips into bed and opens his arms to embrace them as they settle their head on his chest, holding each other close and sharing a kiss goodnight.

Julian finishes by saying, “yes, a night to remember for sure.” He’s not sure if he will be able to rest well tonight.

He is very much in trouble.

#the arcana #the arcana julian #fanfic #yes I did stay up until 4am doing this #julian devorak x reader #the arcana x reader #portia devorak #the apprentice #julian devorak x mc

[waragainstyourfaith]

Thank you to @broughtmeyourlove for listening to the beginnings of this (aka when I first got my thoughts down) and thank you to me for saying all this in the shower but most importantly thank you @hannibalhadalittlelamb whose art got me to finally think deeper about the nature of Hannibal’s trial. Let’s begin.

Hannibal’s trial isn’t something I usually see discussed within the fandom space. And why would it be? We know the final verdict and we know that besides that everything works out in the end anyway. It’s an afterthought. So who would care? That’s like reading the first few chapters of a book to skip to the final one. Characters change and so does the story as a whole.

On @/hannibalhadalittlelamb’s post (here), their tags read that their depiction of Hannibal is leaning into OOC (out of character) territory. I disagree.

During Hannibal’s trial, we have to think about how it would have gone down. Actually. There was no possible way for Will to miss or be exempt from this trial. His coworkers and boss knew his strong relation to Hannibal and how their professional relationship had definitely, at some point or another, turned personal. The mutual attempts of murder had not been lost on anyone, but, of course, that made Will all the more personal a witness.

However, Will wants nothing to do with Hannibal.

I understand there is a popular theory going around that Will and Hannibal were in a sort of understanding during the trial, but, honestly? We see Will desperately wanting to remain kept away from Hannibal, to live a normal life with a wife and son. Hannibal throws a wrench into this whole ordeal and this trial, after what conspired between them overseas, leaves Will in the headspace and with the opportunity to quite literally never see Hannibal again in his life.

And after everything and with what Will thinks he wants, how could he deny that? Helping Hannibal rule into the insanity plea was not an act of mercy but an act of protection. Will more than anyone knows Hannibal should be kept under 24/7 surveillance and away from every person he could ever harm. Being ruled out of given the death penalty was the underlying bonus his conscience wouldn’t let him think too deeply about.

In court, you are sworn in on the bible, on God, to tell “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth [...] So help you God.”. Both Will and Hannibal were undoubtedly sworn in, but considering the argument Hannibal’s legal team was using, would you trust a man under the insanity plea or his victim who is an FBI agent more? Right.

So, Will is given free rein in this courtroom to spin the story of him and Hannibal whichever way he pleases. Seeing what I mentioned before, Will is going to remove himself as far away from Hannibal as he can while still being able to confidentially and securely reveal everything without getting his hands dirty nor embarrassing himself. Hannibal does not get this luxury.

Hannibal is a man of his privacy. As many analyses have written and as many real psychologists have said while dissecting the headspace of Hannibal, his need to eat people is his need to control. The trauma Hannibal went through with Mischa, whether you know the depth of it or just the surface, is enough context to explain what happens next. Hannibal eats them. Attitude is Hannibal’s one basis of morals and consensus. “One should always eat the rude”.

To determine their fate and to consume them is him “playing God”, but at its core, it is Hannibal needing to be in control. We see the severity of his true, underlying, desperation come to light at a first glimpse with the gruesome death of Beverly Katz. Undoubtedly, this is one of his most haunting scenes and we see the insides(dissection) of Beverly as she had attempted to find in Hannibal by going through his home. By sneaking a glance under the person suit. His inner monster comes out in a rage during this murder. He is private and anything that anyone knows about Hannibal is what he has allowed them to live to be able to say so. Look at Will’s position once more.

What no one seems to realize is that, during this trial, Hannibal is not in control. Will is the spinster of their life, a life Hannibal used his truest of colors to paint, and ultimately watched it becomes torn to shreds in front of him. Remember, Will is sworn in during this trial. This does not necessarily mean he is telling the truth, but it means everyone thinks he is. It’s a play of tragedy and Hannibal and Will are the two lead star-crossed lovers.

The entirely of Hannibal and the world he has handed to Will on a sparkling platter is being dissected and shown to everyone. The story of the Chesapeake Ripper was undoubtedly massive. A criminal having not been caught for years that everyone seemed to know nothing about revealed to be one of the closest, inside links with the FBI themselves? Tale of the decade.

The spotlight is on Hannibal, but he is being puppeteered by Will without a say in it for himself.

Hannibal cracks as he’s poked and prodded and bare for the media to do as they like and Will sits by and says what he likes. Here is where we would see a sliver of what lays beneath their person suits. Hannibal’s impulsivity and monstrousness under his charming exterior and Will’s manipulative, isolatedness under his empathetic cloak.

We look at Hannibal. He would be torn to shreds from this. The porcelain pot that contains his beast has broken and shattered by the swatting hand of Will, someone he trusted and loved. The intruding eyes of the jury stay on him as he is diagnosed as insane while he considers himself to be in the best possible headspace he ever could be. Everything he told Will and what he considered truth from Will’s mouth was dismissed and disputed under oath.

Hannibal is embarrassed. People call him insane and lock him away at dig through his mind and his things without his permission with protruding needles and telescopes. Hannibal has to play nice to simply be allowed a working toilet and the books that he has collected himself. Anything and everything he writes and draws that he wants to send out is dissected and analyzed. He has no privacy. He is not allowed a toe out of line.

Looking back at Hannibal from season one, episode seven is a good one to compare from, and when we see him first after year years in isolation, we see plain as day these are not the same men. In season one, Hannibal is handsome and cunning enough so that he wiggles his way into the deepest, most protected parts of the FBI as one of the highest-ranked killers on their watch list. He is polite enough to even invite them to dinner and feed them the organs of his victims.

He’s slick and intelligent and Hannibal is the idea of a lifetime.

And then we come to the second half of season three.

Hannibal, at this point, has been isolated for three years and has been under painful scrutiny even longer. During this time, he’s had all the space he could get to rebuild the person suit, but the pieces won’t fit. It’s jaggedly put together and no matter how long he spends trying to perfect its construction to what it used to be, it isn’t what it used to be. Will had done that to him. Will had effectively broken Hannibal.

I see often the running gag that season three is immensely funnier and leaning much more into the comedy aspect of Hannibal during his interactions with Will and Alana and even jack to an extent. But this is not him being funny; this is Hannibal pushing limits.

Looking back to paragraph eleven [“To determine their fate and consume them…”] we come back to Hannibal’s need to control. Remember, in this space, Hannibal is shoved into line. He’s snappy and cynical here. This is Hannibal exercising his limits and testing patience. His acting out and making snide comments is nothing he can be punished for, but it clearly agitates them. Hannibal teeters just enough on the edge of annoyance so that his jabs still hit, but his privileges still remain.

This is his monster leaking through the cracks. Hannibal is desperate. He is grasping for a hold over these people he had looked down upon from his throne in the sky as God for so long. He is rude. This is both his shield and deception. It leaves Hannibal with the idea that he is effectively feeding them out of his hand, that he has them right where he wants them. When Hannibal does this, it is his last line of defense to keep himself from blowing up. Ruining it all.

Season three is not season one. He is gasping and hurt and that is what makes the Dolarhyde kill all the more powerful. The whiplash and bounce back with his and Will’s relationship is powerful and dangerous.

Will watching Hannibal with his dead stare, person suit thrown off the moment he decided to go with Hannibal into that car, as he is shot is groundbreaking. Hannibal can see Will. they have effectively switched positions. As though he were God, Will looks down on Hannibal’s suffering. When Will decides to fight Dolarhyde in retaliation,  this is the point it all cuts lose.

At that moment, Will has freed the beast. Hannibal has finally someone to take the reins of his monster whom he trusts. Because Hannibal never blamed Will, even during that time in his isolation, he was waiting. Waiting for Will because despite the betrayal and despite the hurt he loved him. All that time he loved him.

The Dolarhyde kill is the messiest one of the show, which makes it all the more powerful. Hannibal has--I don’t want to say “lost composure”--but he definitely has dropped the act of his togetherness. In this, Hannibal is free. So long he has spent trying to hold himself together, to fool those around him and take care of everyone and himself. 

It’s a common misconception that a person in a position of power, such as a CEO, would want to be in this position all of the time. In fact, it’s been shown that the human mind needs a healthy balance. A person who is pushed around on a day-to-day basis and has no control over their life would most likely enjoy having control over a person and vice versa.

God must be tired. Hannibal was. Wearing his person suit for years and years, with only a dangerous outlet to relieve the built-up tension of his monster. To place the control into Will’s hands is inevitable and the best relief for both of them. Hannibal in killing and Will in power.

In that final scene, Hannibal has surrendered control to Will while barring the entirety of what lay within and Will has a high enough apathy for this to no longer have any hold over him. They have switched their roles. Now, Will is the one pulling the strings and Hannibal is the one letting himself be maneuvered.

This trial was the turn of the tables. It was the biggest part of their character and the biggest foreshadowing for the finale.

In Florence, Hannibal has the hold over Will. In season two, Will has the hold over Hannibal. In season one, Hannibal has the hold over Will. This trial that has been left out was the missing piece to even their stance and to level their playing field, making it easiest for the two to blur.

The trial is effectively and consequently one of if not the most important scene that was missing from the show.

#takes a deep breath of relief #working on this all day in bits and pieces #hannibal nbc #text #hannibal lecter #this is 2k words long have fun yall i did not reread this #gro.dy