#‘don’t make me do this’ a third plea. why won’t his old friend take the hint? how far does Wukong need to go for his friend to understand?

[fluffypotatey]

Have we considered that Wukong's "don't make me do this!" is in fact, not because HE would ever think "welp, that's a darn shame. I have to kill you now." But rather, "Macosmo flower of my heart, pls stop being so freaking stupid bc I have a sworn duty to my Master and also the excruciating force of this circlet if you don't stop acting Macalooney I will have no choice but the literal will of heaven and the earth requiring me to kill you to put an end to what they all see as a worthless demon. I don't want to take the next step that will put my duty over how much you're my beloved other half, don't put that burden on me, stop please-"

oh yeah 100%

fighting Macky was also an internal battle between his loyalties. he still cared and love Mac but Mac hurt his Master (someone he may not have liked in the beginning but grew to care for despite their many disputes). it’s possible Mac even tried to kill Tripitaka, and that was something Wukong could not allow

the fact that if resulted in Mac’s death was not the plan. but, you know, Wukong has a tendency to pull a harder punch more than others

maybe he hoped Macky understood this and would stop. maybe, he thought, after leveling a mountain range, Macky would stop and leave them alone

but he didn’t

[ohnococo]

A Mess | Zeke x F!Reader x Reiner

Summary: You and Zeke sleep together from time to time, even though he knows Reiner has a thing for you. Eventually he decides to do something about it. (MODERN AU)

Warnings: Sleazy Zeke, Sex, Cumshots, Threesome, FWB

MINORS DNI/18+ ONLY UNDER THE CUT

Zeke had this innate ability to just make things messy in a way that favored him perfectly. He’d done it with you - starting out as friends with benefits and progressing that into something a little more shameless that had your whole friend group seeming a little tense about you two potentially dating, knowing none of Zeke’s trysts lasted long. He was doing it again now, albeit this one had been a much slower build up. He’d been stoking this fire from before the two of you had even begun fucking, in fact.

He saw the way Reiner always looked at you, the schoolboy crush he’d harbored from way back when he was, well, an actual schoolboy. Except now he was very much a grown man and was very much still squandering every opportunity he’d had to get with you.

Zeke knew what Reiner was like, what reservations and morals the younger man had that he certainly did not share. When Zeke had finally made the move to kiss you in front of your friends - or rather next to them while you were all on the couch during a movie - Reiner hadn’t been pushed into action. No pulling you aside for a sudden confession of love, or plea to give him a chance. Instead, Reiner seemed to decide that instead of it being now, it was going to be never. The idea of two long-time friends of a close knit group dating was already a bit awkward for everyone, you all were never the type for love triangles and unnecessary drama, there was no way Reiner would add an attempt to date you to that awkwardness. A girl dating one of her old guy friends is one thing, romantic even if it all works out, but a girl dating two - meaning most - of her guy friends leaves a bad impression. That’s what Zeke figured Reiner had reasoned, at least.

Messy bitch that he is though, Zeke decided to test Reiner’s resolve at being the noble martyr, tortured by his unrequited love that was all his own doing. Maybe he would lighten up a bit more too. So Zeke did small things to set the wheels in motion, making plans with the two of you to play a board game or watch a show then finding some excuse to leave suddenly half way through. Pretending to be much more drunk than he is while setting you on Reiner’s lap at a party, exaggeratedly slurring out, “Keep an eye on her while I go piss. She’s a wily one.”

Through it all Reiner was respectful as ever: hands to himself except for sliding you off his lap to take his seat while he stood and waited for Zeke to return, never even entertaining making a move on you. It drove Zeke up a fucking wall, especially when Reiner would end the nights he’d been stranded at your house (while Zeke feigned some sudden need to pick up Eren and drop him off at his dorm) with a text to Zeke at a nauseatingly sensible 9:30.

Reiner: Hey just got home. hope Eren’s didn’t puke in your car again lol

Reiner was big, Reiner was beefy, and Reiner was a fucking coward. Zeke didn’t know why he cared so much. Maybe because he was always trying to show his friends he was better than them in some way or another and Reiner had just taken it on the chin. Maybe it was because he felt a little bad for fucking around with someone who had been a dear friend, he didn’t intend for this to go anywhere after all, and Reiner did really like you. Zeke would never admit it if it was indeed the second one, though, so he just decided to get messier.

It was easy enough with the three of you being the only ones in the group to have the shared interest of board games. So he invited you both over to his place to try out a new game he’d gotten. You and Reiner chalked up Zeke’s smug demeanor to him showing off another overly-complicated board game he’d surely win despite playing it for the first time. Really, it was the undeniable feeling that tonight would be fun keeping Zeke in such high spirits.

One game in - that Zeke won of course - and he’d already managed to coax Reiner into drinking. Just a beer to start the game, then one more to keep it going. He wasn’t getting wasted by any means, not a man his size, but Zeke knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t have a third beer and drive. So while Reiner set the board up to start again, Zeke gave him another beer, clearing the table of old drinks and setting the new one down casually enough that his friend wasn’t even thinking about how he’d get home after finishing off the new drink.

The game went by, Reiner went through another bottle, and as Zeke was satisfied with winning again he decided to bring this part of the evening to a close.

“I’ve had enough of winning for tonight. The two of you will have to have a 1v1 on your own sometime to catch up with me.” Zeke teased, packing away the little pieces.

Reiner is quick to respond, “Pretty cocky for a guy who still can’t win at Sorry.”

Zeke takes the bait, only because he wants Reiner feeling confident for later. “Only because that game is pure luck.”

“Sure it is.” Reiner stands and stretches, grabbing his bottle to put with Zeke’s recycling. “Anyway, I should head out now, it’s getting late.”

“Not after four beers you shouldn’t.” You warn, Zeke can’t hide the way the corners of his mouth turn up, you did always pay awfully close attention to Reiner, didn’t you?

“Shit, you’re right - mind if I stay in your guest bedroom?”

Zeke shrugs, no stranger to having one of his friends crashing at his house, “Go right ahead.”

“Thanks.”

-

Zeke is quick to get you alone, and you only half push him away as he begins kissing at the spot on your neck that has heat building in your stomach as soon as you’re both in his bedroom. He’d made sure to leave his door cracked, and made sure to pick you up and lie you down on the bed before you noticed. As you sigh at his touch he decides he’s waited long enough for the main event, pulling your pants and underwear off in one rough motion and burying his face between your legs.

“Zeke, stop it.” He knows your protests are hollow, your hands coming down to tangle in his hair rather than push him away. His tongue works its way gently but purposefully through your folds, just barely brushing over your clit before working his way back to tease at your entrance. Your moan is only half out before you’re clasping your hands over your mouth, looking down at him and laughing. “At least wait until Reiner’s asleep.”

He smirks up at you and makes a deal, knowing you don’t understand the full extent of it and know he won’t be losing anyway. “If he’s not asleep in ten minutes, that’s his problem.”

You think for a moment, biting your lip, but as he locks his lips around your clit you’re not really in a position to protest as you rock your hips up against his face.

Zeke goes easy on you, sort of, he refrains from sliding his fingers in your tight little hole while he laps at your swollen clit - and he at least listens when you ask him to slow down for a second, giving you the chance to catch your breath and keep yourself from getting to the point where you can’t control the noises you make, but you were still getting steadily louder. The ten minutes go by slowly for the both of you, as Zeke teases at your most sensitive spots, until you’re glistening beneath him. His wait is over as he kisses his way up your body, pulling your shirt up and off as he goes until his lips meet yours.

“It’s time.”

You’re too far gone to pick up that hint of something else in Zeke’s voice as he flips you over so you’re on your stomach facing the door and he’s quickly in place behind you, pulling you onto all fours. You’re too ready for his cock to pay attention to how loud his soft slap on your ass is before he pulls off his pants and rifles through his bedside drawer for a condom. You turn your head to watch him as he slides it on, arching your back so he can get an eyeful of your awaiting pussy. He’s not feeling gentle or merciful tonight, and that doesn’t seem to be what you want anyway as you groan at the feel of his cock stretching you wide as he enters and bottoms out inside of you in one smooth motion.

Zeke knows you’re holding back though, doing your very best to stifle the noises he’s forcing from you as his cock slides against your walls just right, and that’s not what he wants. He slaps your ass again, hard, and you keen before getting a hold of yourself to send him a look of warning over your shoulder.

“You think Reiner’s still awake to listen to how good you sound when I fuck you?” You tighten around him, pussy fluttering at the thought, and that gives Zeke the final push to do just what he’d intended. “Do you want to find out?”

There’s no time to think about the implications of his question, as Zeke wraps his arm around your waist, hoisting you up so your back is pressed to his chest as he sets a brutal pace.

“Reiner!” Zeke’s voice booms, and this time when you’re pussy clenches around him he knows it’s not just due to the pleasure coursing through you. “Reiner, come here!”

“Zeke-”

“Shh…” He brings the hand that was previously gripping your hip tightly up to cup your face, rubbing his thumb over your lips, “He knows what we’re doing. If he doesn’t want to see it he’ll stay in bed.”

You’re blushing, equal measures embarrassed and aroused, and the wait only makes your heart beat faster. A few moments of what was no doubt tortuous conflict passes and you hear the door to the room next to Zeke’s open slowly, followed by another long moment before Zeke’s door is pushed open fully.

“See, I knew you weren’t that much of a coward, Reiner.” Zeke’s voice is straining from how hard he’s fucking you, and how excited he is to have his plan come perfectly together as Reiner locks eyes with you.

He looks you over slowly as none of you speak, watching your tits bounce as you take Zeke, swallowing hard at the sight of your slick dripping down your thighs, ears ringing at the sound of skin on sin. He’s already hard and tenting his boxer briefs, hair already disheveled from tossing and turning in bed as he listened to you try and fail to stay silent. Zeke is happy to let him watch, but he decides he wants him to do something more than just stand there like a lost dog.

“Well?” Reiner is snapped from his daze and looks at Zeke as if he’d only thought about him being there. “Are you going to do something about it?”

Reiner looks at you, and your soft cry of his name thrusts him into motion as he comes to join the two of you on the bed. He cups your face in his hands, kissing you and drinking in your moans as your pussy flutters around Zeke’s cock. Reiner is soft, so soft compared to how hard you’re being fucked, but intense as he groans into your mouth and bites at your bottom lip. He pulls away to breathe, but only for a moment before he’s working his way to your neck to leave all the marks he’d dreamt of gifting you with for years. His hands are quick to find your clit, rubbing soft circles as Zeke continues to work at you from inside, and your hands quickly reach for his cock in turn.

“So big…” you sigh, savoring the feeling of running your hands over his thick cock through his underwear, before pushing them down as far as you can reach with Zeke pulling you into his thrusts. Thankfully, it’s far enough to free Reiner’s cock and you shiver in Zeke’s grasp as it rubs against your stomach while Reiner presses his body to yours. You barely have your fingers wrapped around him before he’s thrusting up into your hand, already groaning, already close - you wonder for a moment if he’d already been touching himself to the sounds of you.

Zeke would guess yes, and can’t help getting his sly little digs in even as the two of you do exactly as he’d intended, “Close already? Good thing I’m here to satisfy her.”

Reiner doesn’t take that easily, working your clit faster and the way your pussy grips Zeke has him hurling closer to the edge right along with you both. Reiner breathes his words into your skin, sending shivers through you again and again, “Cum for me… cum with me…”

You do, and both of your work against each other stutters as you cum together, Reiner painting your stomach as your pussy threatens to undo Zeke right along with you. He holds on, however, fucking you through your orgasm as Reiner thrusts into your hand until the last of his cum is covering your soft skin and the fluttering of your pussy slows.

Zeke pulls out and releases you, sending you forward and into Reiner’s waiting arms as he pulls off his condom and finishes himself off on your ass, adding his mess to the mix as well. Reiner keeps kissing you, rubbing your back, smiling at the way you shiver when Zeke begins rubbing his cum into your skin.

“That was…” Reiner starts, then stops, looking into your eyes and trying to parse what just happened.

Zeke doesn’t want to give him too much time to think, knowing that just leads to more annoyance with Reiner, so instead he lies down, pulling you with him. “The bed’s big enough for three.”

Reiner pauses, still thinking instead of doing, until you’re patting the space on the bed next to you. “C’mon, Reiner, lets get some rest.”

For you, he’ll listen to anything, something Zeke huffs at as you rest your head on his shoulder, and your hand on Reiner’s chest. You’re first to fall asleep, and Reiner lies there staring at you dreamily, finally basking in the moment for once. Then, it’s Zeke’s turn to think, and think too much as he considers just what he might have started. He wasn’t sure what he felt, not quite jealousy… but not victory either. He felt smug, but also like he’d gotten himself in over his head. Maybe he wanted Reiner here for different reasons than he’d originally thought. Maybe he wanted you for different reasons than he’d originally thought too. Zeke closes his eyes and decides everyone’s had enough thinking for the day, deciding to sleep before he dwelled too long on the mess he’d made.

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

That Escalated Quickly

Summary: Reader goes to a party with her friends to gather info on a new group of vampires in town that want Klaus dead. However, she’s kidnapped and Klaus must rescue her. The result? An eternity with the love of her life I suppose.

TW/CW: Klaus Mikaelson x Female!Reader. Canon violence ig? Blood, gun and gunshot wound, knife and stab wound, yeah canon violence about sums it up well.

Requested?: No

Word Count: 1,788

A/N: So, I googled whether a human dying with Klaus’s blood in their system would actually make them a vampire but I didn’t find anything so let’s just assume it would lol. Also, this turned out way longer than I had expected/planned. It’s been quite a while since I’ve watched tvd so I apologize if the transition is inaccurate :/ Anyway, I hope you enjoy the read! Requests are open and as always, love to all! P.S. when I say I would simp for this man... he and Elijah would be the death of meeeee.

Prompt: “Too bad the party is going to be hosted by people who want you dead. I heard they have a chocolate fountain.”   “Don’t tempt me.”

Your POV

    I adjust my outfit in the mirror as my boyfriend enters the room behind me. “My don’t you look ravishing,” he says as he wraps his arms around my waist and places soft kisses along my neck. I giggled at the tickle of his stubble and worm my way out of his arms to add the finishing touches to my outfit.  

    I notice him pouting out of the corner of my eye and make my way back to him as I finish my outfit, “Too bad the party is going to be hosted by people who want you dead. I heard they have a chocolate fountain.”

    “Don’t tempt me,” he responds as I kiss his cheek and make my way out of our room to head downstairs and join the others. He follows closely behind and when I finally come to a stop downstairs, he wraps me in his arms once again and this time he full on buries his face in my neck. I can tell he’s not happy about the current mission. There’s a new group of vampires in Mystic Falls, the leader of which does not like Klaus at all. From what I heard it’s probably for a good reason but I’m not exactly keen on letting my boyfriend get killed for a mistake he made in the past.

    Klaus is under orders to stay home and Elijah and Rebekah are staying behind to ensure that he follows said orders. Elena, Jeremy, Bonnie, Matt, Alaric and myself will be mingling among the party guests in attempts to pick up any information we can about the new vampires but of course at the request of Klaus and supply of Alaric and Jeremy, we’ll all be armed with stakes. Damon, Stefan, Caroline, and Tyler are all tasked with discretely patrolling the perimeter and listening for whatever they can. For the most part, they’re there in case we need back up.  

    I take the stake offered to me by Alaric and stuff it into the sleeve of my jacket and look around to make sure everyone is ready. As they are, I pry myself away from Klaus and press a quick kiss to his lips before heading out, “I’ll be fine, babe. Try not to worry too much while we’re gone.” I join the others outside and then we head off for the party.

    Upon entering the house, my senses are already overwhelmed by the smell of booze and the deep bass thumping music. I follow Elena and Bonnie off towards the kitchen for a drink and leave the guys at the door looking around like lost puppies. I glance back and chuckle at the looks on their faces before turning back around to make sure I don’t lose Elena and Bonnie. We somehow manage to find something non-alcoholic in the kitchen and pour each of ourselves some to drink before departing the kitchen to wander among the crowd filling the large house.

    Everything goes without a hitch for quite some time but the information pool is pretty dry. Finally, I decide that my bladder can’t take much more and head for the bathroom with promises to Elena and Bonnie to meet them and the guys back in the kitchen when I’m done. I find the bathroom without any issues, do my business, and then start to head back to the kitchen when I bump into a man who’s blocking the long hallway. “Uh, dude? Could you move? I need to get through,” I say as I try to go around him but he sidesteps to block my path.

    “You’ll make excellent bait,” comes a scratchy voice behind me.

    I turn around to face the newcomer, “Excuse me?”  

    “His scent is all over you. Don’t act stupid,” is his only answer. Shit. I drop the stake out of my sleeve and into my hand but before I can even begin to think of an escape plan, the man behind me grabs the stake and tosses it off behind him. Next thing I know, everything goes black and I have a splitting headache.

Third Person POV

    Elena and Bonnie pause their conversation as Alaric, Jeremy, and Matt make their way over. Elena tilts her head, “Hey, did you guys happen to see (Y/n) on your way in here?”

    They all shake their head and Alaric answers, “No, why? Should we be worried?”     Elena and Bonnie share a look. “Possibly,” Bonnie answers, “She went to the bathroom about 20 minutes ago and still isn’t back.”

    “I’ll go outside and let Damon and the others know. You four split up and see if you can find her,” Alaric orders before heading to the front door, the others splitting up to search as he does. Once he steps outside, Alaric pulls his phone out and dials Damon’s number.  

    It only rings once before the oldest Salvatore picks up, “Yeah, what’s up?”

    “We’ve lost track of (Y/n) the girl’s said she went to the bathroom about 20 minutes ago but they haven’t seen her since. They’re inside with Jeremy and Matt looking for her now,” Alaric answers promptly.

    “Alright, looks like they took the bait. I’ll let Elijah know, we’ll need Klaus to track her down,” comes Damon’s response.

    “Are we sure that’s a good idea? This guy wants Klaus dead,” Alaric inquires once again for the third time this evening.     “I told you, Klaus can handle himself. The only reason he’s not here is because (Y/n) insisted that he stay out of danger,” Damon replies with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

    “Okay, if you say so. I’ll round up the others and we can head back to the house for him,” Alaric says before hanging up the phone and heading back inside. Almost immediately he finds Elena, Bonnie, Jeremy, and Matt waiting for him.

    Elena who’s on the phone perks up, “Hello! (Y/n)? Where are you?” She’s quiet as whoever is on the other end of the line says something. She looks at the others with concern plastered across her face, “I swear if you hurt her-” she’s interrupted and listens for a moment before hanging up the phone angrily and storming out of the house with the others in hot pursuit. Elena stomps over to where the vampires and werewolf have gathered, “They have her. They gave an address and said to make sure Klaus comes alone.”

    “Oh, he’s going to be pissed,” Tyler adds.

    “What are we going to do? We can’t just send Klaus in alone, can we?” Caroline questions the group.

    Stefan, Damon, and Alaric all seem to share a look before Stefan answers, “We’ll leave that decision up to him.” With that, everyone climbs into the vehicles and heads back towards the Mikaelson’s home.

    When the group piles out of the vehicles and steps inside the house, Klaus storms over, “Where is she?”

    “Klaus, would you slow down and get your head on straight before you go barging into danger?” Rebekah pleas with her brother.

    “Where. Is. She?” Klaus barks.

    Everyone exchanges glances at each other, silently arguing over who will be the one to tell him. Finally, Elena speaks up, “There’s an old warehouse just outside of town. They have her there. They said to come alone.”

    Without saying another word, Klaus is gone. Everyone looks to Elijah who takes a deep breath, “We’ll follow but we’ll keep our distance. If I know my brother, he won’t want to put her in any more danger than she’s already in, even if it means risking his life.”

    As they all head off in pursuit of Klaus, Rebekah speaks up again, “Surely, they can’t actually kill him, can they? He’s a bloody Original for crying out loud.”

    “I don’t know, Rebekah. All we can do right now is hope for the best,” Elijah answers.

Your POV     I open my eyes slowly but the bright lights overhead still hurt my eyes. I look around and find myself in an old abandoned warehouse. My arms are chained to a rafter above my head and my feet are shackled to the floor. A tall, scraggly looking man steps into view, “Ah you’re awake.”

    I recognize that voice as one of the men that ambushed me, “You’re pretty brave, you know that? You must be to kidnap the girlfriend of an original vampire.”

    “Awwww boo hoo, he’s getting what he deserves,” the man mocks. Then the front door of the warehouse is kicked down and in walks my boyfriend.

    I glare at him with a frown on my face, “I thought I told you to keep your ass out of danger?”

    “Did you really think I’d listen?” he responds before launching himself after the men around me. It seems almost instantly that the men are wiped out. However, not before one of them manages to run me through with a knife. I can tell I don’t have long but Klaus breaks the chains holding my arms up and gently lays me on the ground, placing my head in his lap. He bites a gash into his forearm before placing it to my lips. I can sense the others gathering around us as I let Klaus’s blood enter my system. Within mere seconds the wound on my abdomen closes up and stops bleeding. Klaus helps me to my feet and we begin to follow the others back out to the vehicles. Suddenly, I hear a gunshot and feel immense pain in my back.  

    The man swears but is quickly cut off by Elijah who rips the man’s heart out of his chest. Klaus clutches me close to him, “I’m sorry, love. I should’ve been more careful.”

    I laugh softly, “It’s alright, this was bound to happen eventually.”

    When I wake up again, I find myself in mine and Klaus’s bedroom. Upon entering the room, Klaus notices that I’m awake and offers me a glass of what’s presumably blood. I down the glass as he climbs into bed beside me and wraps his arms around me. He presses a kiss to my forehead before asking, “What did you mean when you said that this was bound to happen eventually?”

    I shrug and wipe my mouth, “It’s not like I want to grow old and die when I have such an amazing boyfriend and friends that I’d leave behind.”

    “I suppose that’s fair, but I’d much rather you not have to go through all this,” he replies quietly.

    “Don’t start blaming yourself. That will only make matters worse. Besides, I have basically have the professionals of how to be a vampire to teach me, I’ll be okay,” I laugh softly and cuddle closer into his chest before dozing off to sleep.

Masterlist

Taglist: @emiijemii​ @akshi8278​ 

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Soon // S.B.

Request: Ahhhh!!!!! Congratulations on such an AMAZING milestone🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉!!!!!! You deserve all this and sososo much more girly. I’m glad ur being recognized for ur amazing talents 😩💓 Now for the celebration. Could I suggest: Sirius, Hogwarts, Soulmate au, fluff #13, and Misc #5 - @leahstypewriter

Fluff 13: “Compared to you: stars pale, and the moon dulls.”

Misc 5: “Are you quoting a film at me?”

A/N: Thank you so much, lovely! Here’s your request! I hope you like! I love writing soulmate AUs and I had to go searching for one that I hadn’t done before so here we are! As always, I hope you like!

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Warnings: I continue to wax lyrical about the history of soulmates, hopeless romantic (reader and writer lol).

Word count: 2.3k

The magic of soulmates was first discovered centuries ago; too long ago for the story to be remembered correctly, but through the years, the general gist remains the same amongst families of witches and wizards.

From birth, a witch and wizard are paired with another witch or wizard. It would take time to find their match; it would take patience of the strongest sort, but they will meet their soulmate should good fortune befall them.

How do they know they have a soulmate?

Anything written on skin; be it a word, a quote, a doodle – it all appears on their soulmates skin. Anything other than their name. Centuries of debate and arguments over the exact reason for this decree fell over the world. In the end, the ministries and the scholars across the world threw their hands up in exasperation, declaring that the decree relating to the naming of soulmates would have to stay and the reasoning being that those making the decree were too awkward and stubborn to think of making life easier for an entire society that had to go into hiding.

For years, witches and wizards, once old enough, are able to communicate with their destined other half. The itch of a sentence being written becomes familiar; almost tolerable. Over time, they get to know their penmanship and their inner most secrets only dared scrawled onto their skin that could be hurriedly washed away if needed.

By the time the young witches and wizards in the United Kingdom have reached the age to start Hogwarts, their soulmate is already a part of them.

Now it was just trying to whittle down the student population of the school to discover who exactly was your appointed other half from birth.

---------

Most soulmate matches at Hogwarts are made in the months April to July – it’s when the weather starts to warm up; becoming bearable enough for the short sleeved blouses and shirts to be dug out from the very bottom of trunks.

Arms are on display for most of the day. It means that matches are made in the corridor, in the classrooms, in the Great Hall. Everywhere across the castle matches are made.

It’s wonderful, it is. But it also makes you more impatient.

You’re in the library when another match is made. Madame Pince tries her hardest to hush the new match into some level of quiet, but it does no good and thankfully, she evicts them from the library and the hush soon falls back over the great room with the same sense of a comforting blanket.

Rolling the sleeve of your cardigan up, you delicately write, “I’ve just seen the third match made of the day and it’s not even noon.”

It doesn’t take long for your soulmate to reply, “I’ve seen two so far. Where was your third?”

“The library.”

“I bet Pince was thrilled.”

You snort at their reply; amused at how well they know the school’s librarian.

“When is it going to be our turn?” You ask somewhat hesitantly.

The reply takes a few minutes, but it comes all the same in the elegant script you’ve come to know, “Soon.”

You rag your sleeve back down in frustration, repressing the building groan. You didn’t know your soulmate’s name, but you had given him the nickname of ‘aloof’. He had gone to great personal care to not reveal too much about himself other than the fact that he was male, he went to Hogwarts and he was your age.

That was something at least, but your countless attempts to find out more had been rebuffed. When you asked why, he simply answered that he wanted to leave as much as he could a surprise. You understood that, but the curiosity got to you.

You sigh heavily returning to the homework laid in front of you, but your mind continues to play the realisation that had happened only moments ago. The happiness on their faces; their utter elation tied in with the adoration they already felt for the other.

It was hard, you realise, to be in love with someone you’ve only spoken to through words and doodles on your arm.

-----

The week doesn’t get any easier; the weather only turns warmer, so the outer robes are ditched completely. You leave the Great Hall the morning Lily Evans realised she had been talking to James Potter since she was a child. You couldn’t watch it and still feel the same empty feeling that had settled within you so long ago.

Your friend June and her boyfriend follow you from the Great Hall. They find you facing one of the many tapestries that depict the meeting of soulmates; they’re found all over the castle and each one feels like a dagger to the stomach.

“It’ll happen soon,” June comforts, placing a soft hand on your shoulder.

“Soon! Soon! That’s all he says,” You explode. Then you repeat in a quieter voice, “That’s all he says. He’s here and he’s close and all he says is soon. What if he doesn’t want to meet me, June?”

June tuts, “Then he’s a damn fool. However, he does want to meet you. He replies doesn’t he?”

You nod your head, but her words do nothing to comfort the growing sense of dread within you.

It was rare, but the soulmate bond could be rejected. There were those in the wizarding world who were born without a soulmate, but there were also those who simply didn’t want one, so they never replied to their partner’s pleading. Instead, they chose to ignore every word, every plea, every beg. For the bond to be accepted, the first reply is important. If words are never painted on your skin, the bond is rejected.

For not the first time that day, you sigh, “I know we have forever to know each other, but is it so wrong of me to want that to start now?”

June squeezes your shoulder, “It’s not wrong at all.”

You continue to stare at the tapestry a little while longer after June and her boyfriend depart; the depiction of soulmates shown in the quill being held by both parties.

Running a hand through your hair, you turn your back on the portrayal of true love, your mind focused on how long it would be until you experience something of the same magnitude.

-----

The day after James and Lily have their realisations, you find Sirius Black’s eyes on you at breakfast. When you meet eyes, he smiles at you, raising his hand in wave. You smile back politely, waving back awkwardly before shaking your head and returning to your breakfast and the latest letter from your brother and his new wife.

They had settled well into their new house; they loved their wedding present, thank you; and yes, you were to have a niece or nephew by the end of the year.

Wonderful.

Shoving the letter from your brother into your bag with more force than what is needed, you feel someone standing next to you. Looking up you meet the grey eyes of Sirius Black; he smiles down at you, “Are you okay?”

You fix him with a puzzled look, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugs, “You were frowning so big I noticed it from down the table. I thought I would come see if you’re okay.”

“Well, I’m fine. Thanks for checking on me though.”

He nods, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. He doesn’t say anything else and you don’t offer to fill the void, so the silence sits between you as heavy as a rock.

You stand from the bench; throwing your bag onto your shoulder, “Thanks again, Sirius. I’ll see you later.”

Sirius shifts out of your way, clearing the path for you, “My pleasure. I’ll see you later.”

You shake your head as you walk away; the encounter being an odd one given that your social circle didn’t tend to include any of the Marauders. But there was something about his final words; something about the way he uttered them that made them sound as if they were a promise to you.

You rush the thought from your mind; refusing to let yourself being occupied by someone who wasn’t your soulmate.

---

Sirius begins to take more notice in you; he starts to strike up small conversations whenever he can as well as numerous attempts to catch your eye at any meal time.

He starts to take up a lot of your time; sitting with you in the library on the rare occasion, but also joining you in class when the other Marauders are occupied with other pursuits.

It’s odd.

Muggle Studies remains one of the few lessons that hasn’t been interrupted with the growing number of soulmate matches in your year. Arguably, this school year could be the one with the most matches – the final year of Hogwarts; that final rush to find the love of your life before being sent out into the whole wizarding world without that safety net of the school to fall back onto.

The longer the professor drones on, the harder you find it to focus your concentration. The professor paces the front of the classroom, explaining their brief overview of what they hope the next few lessons will shape up to be like, but your attention is shot. It flickers between the marauder who has, for some reason, taken an interest in you and your soulmate, who still won’t reveal any more information about themselves or when you’ll be meeting.

A headache is close to blooming behind your eyes at the stress of it all.

Shrugging off your cardigan, you dip your quill into the pot of black ink sat in its holder. With the practiced precision of someone used to drawing on themselves, you begin to doodle.

Stars, planets, and moons appear on your left arm – decorating the inner forearm with an entire galaxy. They’re pretty rudimentary drawings, but it’s enough to keep you occupied from the droll being spewed by the professor who definitely hasn’t noticed they’ve lost the attention of most of the class.

The bell rings; finally signally the start of your only free period of the day. With a grateful sigh, you drop your books into your bag and make your way to the library.

You never make it to the library. On your way there, a hand grabs the back of your robes, pulling you into an empty corridor. With an angry shout, you face your kidnapper, “Sirius!”

He lets out an amused laugh at your affronted expression, “I’m sorry, I just needed to talk to you in private.”

You exhale, adjusting the heavy bag on your shoulder, “Sirius, I have to know. Why are you paying me so much attention? Surely you have a soulmate to think of.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about.”

“Really?”

Sirius nods. He takes a deep breath before saying, “Compared to you: stars pale, and the moon dulls.”

“Are you quoting a film at me?” You ask; an eyebrow raised.

Sirius shakes his head, repressing a laugh. He rolls up the sleeve of his jumper, revealing his left arm to you where decorating his inner forearm are the very same stars, planets and moons that you had doodled instead of focusing on the classwork.

Instead of saying anything, you roll your own sleeve up, lining your arm up beside Sirius’ where the patterns match perfectly.

It seemed that his attempts at conversation and his watching you from a distance was for a purpose.

Sirius Black is your soulmate.

“Oh…” You whisper.

“I told you we would meet soon,” Sirius whispers; a sight teasing lilt to his voice.

You shake your head, “I kept thinking you didn’t want to meet me; that you didn’t want a soulmate.”

Sirius grips both of your hands, “The complete opposite. I just needed to work up the nerve to find you.”

“When did you know?”

“Not that long ago. When James and Lily got together.”

You nod your head; remembering the day well.

“I overheard you talking to your friend when I was on my way to a lesson and you kept talking about how your soulmate kept promising you soon. And I realised that that was all I was saying to mine. Soon.”

You look down at your joined hands, “I never even had an inkling it was you.”

Sirius chuckles, “I suppose that should be flattering. I must be that good at concealing information, I should be a spy.”

You roll your eyes, “It almost drove me mad is what you mean.”

“Well we have a long time to get to know each other now,” He murmurs; voice soft and filled with promise for the future.

You smile shyly at the long-haired teenager, “We do?”

He nods, “Yeah, we do.”

Tentatively, you take a step closer to the long-haired Marauder. A small smile graces Sirius’ face as he takes in your movement. With a tug of his hands, you fall into him – an arm clasping itself around your waist, pressing you to him.

Sirius’ hand caresses your cheek; you lean into the touch, wondering if this is how every match felt when they found their soulmate or whether this was entirely Sirius’ effect on you. Either way, it was addicting… and he hadn’t even kissed you yet.

Finally though, after what feels like a lifetime of staring into each other’s eyes, Sirius dips his head to kiss you. You meet him halfway; the desire you feel for him controlling your every move. His grip on your waist tightens and your arms wind their way around his neck, holding him to you. This kiss is what breaks the dam; from the lightest pressure of his lips, long buried emotions bubble up to the surface and it’s all you can do to keep yourself in control.

Sirius breaks the kiss, but he doesn’t retreat far. He beams down at you; eyes bright with elation. It’s a smile that you return and more; happy to have found your soulmate, happy to know who he is and that he loves you just as much as you love him.

Happy to know that soon is now.

*******

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @msmimimerton @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @nerdyatheletic

Sirius Black taglist: @approved-by-dentists @fific7 @susceptible-but-siriusexual​

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Six: Be My Baby

a/n: welcome back lovelies! Thank you once again for all of your kindness and support for chapter five!! I am so glad you enjoyed it :’) As promised: some more Halani sweetness that is truly good for the soul. Can’t wait for you to see what’s in store for our favorite lovebirds <3 I have had so much fun chatting with some of you and hearing your thoughts, so keep ‘em coming! Happy reading :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, sickeningly sweet PDA <3

Word Count: 4.7k 

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, and five 

The rain descends in full force, strong and unrelenting, but Harry and Alani are too wrapped up in their own little world inside the Bronco to notice. They sit facing each other with palms touching, comparing hand sizes while they ramble about everything and nothing at all. Harry still has to remind himself to blink every so often despite the irrational fear that Alani will disappear when his eyes open again. With the knowledge that every moment could be this perfect, she silently curses herself for not crossing the friendship barrier sooner. 

“Think you bit me a little bit,” Harry comments, scanning his lower lip for any signs of bruising. 

“Did not,” Alani defends with a light giggle. 

He pouts his lower lip in her direction and leans closer for her to observe. “Did too, look!”

“Fine. I guess I won’t kiss you anymore if I’m such a detriment to your health,”

Harry sneaks his fingers inside Alani’s sweatshirt and tickles her sides, relishing in the laughter that erupts. 

“Just teasing,” he offers. “But I think I’m ready to get hurt again. Do me the honor?”

“You are such a nuisance,” she grins, obliging his request for another kiss by slotting her lips between his. It’s sweet and chaste, but it leaves her mouth tingling long after they’ve pulled apart. Alani runs her hands through Harry’s messy hair and he hums in response, leaning into her touch. When her hand stills, he plants a soft peck to the inside of her wrist as a plea to continue. She combs through the chestnut curls while he occupies his attention with something in the cupholder between them. 

“What’s this?” Harry questions, lifting the smoothie she had prepared for him earlier. 

Alani glances down and chuckles to herself. “Oh, it’s for you. I knew you’d be suffering from a gnarly hangover,”

Harry’s head tilts and he grins, giving Alani a sighting of her favorite dimple. “So good to me. Don’t know what I do to deserve it,”

“Maybe hold off on the gratitude, I think it’s probably rancid now,”

He takes a polite sip and sure enough, the drink is lukewarm and barely edible. His nose instinctively scrunches with disgust, but he quickly musters an appreciative smile. 

“S’lovely,”

“Liar,”

“Wanna taste?” Harry challenges, leaning in with puckered lips that Alani playfully dodges. He plants a kiss to her cheek instead, trailing down her jaw and to the side of her neck in a way that sends shivers down her spine. Her hands weave into his hair and she searches for his mouth again, but before she does, her phone rings loudly on the dashboard in front of them. 

He grumbles and his head lands on her shoulder. “For fuck’s sake—”

“Sorry,” Alani apologizes, swiping the device to look at the caller ID. Her sister’s name and photo flash on the screen, so she decides to answer it. “Hello?”

Harry traces small circles on the tops of Alani’s thighs, his mind still lost in the heat of the moment while she listens to Pua’s panicked voice on the other end. 

“Where are you?” Alani questions, sitting up straighter in her seat. “Okay, I’ll be there in ten,”

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks, brow furrowed in concern. 

She collects her bearings and sighs. “Pua and her little friends got stranded at the mall because of the storm. Need me to go rescue them,”

“Can I come with?” he offers eagerly, not ready to part just yet. 

“I don’t know if you really wanna be stuck with a bunch of fifteen year old-girls,” Alani laughs bitterly. 

Harry shrugs and toys with the hem of her sweatshirt. “Dunno if you were aware, but fifteen year-old girls love me,”

He stops suddenly and registers the concerning undertones in his statement. “That came out wrong,”

“Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t say that out loud,” Alani giggles with a hand cupped to his cheek. “Let’s meet up afterwards, okay?”

“‘Kay,” Harry agrees, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Alani leans over and presses a light kiss to his parted mouth, indulging his request to deepen it by letting him glide his tongue over her lower lip. 

“I really have to go.” she warns before pulling away reluctantly. 

Harry groans, but he steals one last kiss and slips out of the car into the heavy rain. 

“Be careful!” he calls over his shoulder. 

 Alani waits until he’s secure inside his own vehicle before driving away down the road. 

********

“You’re soaking wet,”

“It’s raining,”

“And you’re blushing,”

Harry shakes his damp hair out as he strolls down the hallway towards his room, Mitch at his heels. 

“So?”

“I’m assuming you fixed things with Alani, then?” his friend probes. 

Harry stomach flutters at the mention of her name. “Yeah,”

Mitch rests his shoulder against the doorframe of the singer’s room and watches as he sifts through his closet and dresser. 

“So why aren’t you with her right now?”

“She had to go pick up her sister, we’re meeting up later,”

“Is it official, then? I mean are you two...” 

Harry rubs a hand along the back of his neck and offers a shy smile in response. “I guess so,” 

“Well I’ll be damned!” his friend cheers, clapping him on the shoulder. “We have to celebrate. Jeff owes me twenty bucks,” 

“Mate—”

Mitch snickers with hands raised. “Kidding! Well, sorta. I actually said that she would turn you down at first,” 

Harry rolls his eyes and continues his search for the right shirt. “Ha ha. Listen, I need a favor,” 

“Anything.” 

“Jeff said that there’s a projector and fairy lights in the shed. I’m gonna need you to dig them out.” 

********

Alani parks in front of the mall and shoots her sister a text. Within a few minutes, Pua and her three friends bolt out of the entrance and climb into her backseat. 

“Buckle up,” she instructs the girls before pulling away from the curb. 

“Thank you,” Pua exhales, sinking into the seat. 

Alani gives her a reassuring wink and glances up to the rearview mirror to see her sister’s friends chatting giddily in the back. Her mind briefly wanders to less than an hour prior and the lingering warmth of Harry’s touch before her sister chirps up next to her. 

“What happened to your neck?” she asks with her nose scrunched. 

Alani’s brow creases in momentary confusion before her entire body heats up in realization. “Oh—uh, nothing,”

“Is that a—?”

“What do you guys wanna listen to?” Alani asks the backseat, avoiding her sister’s questions. 

“Wait, were you with—?”

One of the girls speaks up and Alani passes the aux cord over her head. Pua narrows her eyes and a smug grin spreads across her lips. 

“You were!” she accuses, hushed so her friends don’t hear. 

Alani shoots her younger sister a stern look and mouths the word “don’t,” but it’s no use. Her attention is stolen when the upbeat drums of a vaguely familiar pop song fills the entire car. 

“Oh you’re gonna love this one,” Pua laughs, bobbing her head along to the music that plays. 

Alani feels a strange sense of familiarity in the singer’s voice, but she’s having trouble placing it. She looks over to her sister for an explanation, but Pua simply wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. 

“It’s your boyfriend,” she smirks.

Yeah, so tell me girl if every time we 

Touch you get this kind of rush 

Baby say “yeah, yeah, yeah,” yeah, yeah, yeah

If you don’t wanna take it slow 

And you just wanna take me home

Baby say “yeah, yeah, yeah,” yeah, yeah, yeah

And let me kiss you

Mortification settles into the pit of Alani’s stomach, but a hint of amusement sneaks in as she pictures the various ways that she can tease Harry about this later. 

“Oh my God, could you imagine kissing them?” one of the girls, a redhead with freckles, muses in the back. 

“I think if I kissed Harry Styles, I could die happy.” sighs another one with round glasses. 

The third girl, a slender face with a full afro, chimes in with a dreamy look in her eyes. “Do you guys think he’s a good kisser?”

“Good question,” Pua plays along, turning to her older sister. “What do you think?”

Alani’s jaw tenses and she suddenly feels flustered under the pressure. Glimpses of spearmint and vanilla flood her memory, but she suppresses them and clears her throat. “How should I know?” 

Luckily, the three teenagers have already moved on from the subject and chat amongst themselves about other relevant topics.  

After the last girl has been dropped off at her house, Alani turns to her sister with a glaring look. 

“Before you ask—”

“Are you guys dating now?” Pua interrupts excitedly. 

Alani lets out an exasperated sigh and clutches the steering wheel to ground herself. “No. Well…I don’t know,”

“How was it?” her sister poses gently, a starry look in her eye. “Was he a good kisser?”

There’s a glimmer of eagerness in Pua’s expression that makes it hard for Alani to remain serious. A bashful smile spreads across her lips as she remembers the dreamy boy awaiting her return. 

“Yeah,” Alani confesses. “He was,”

“Oh my god!” her sister shrieks, enveloping her in a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you! This is perfect,”

Alani lets herself be excited for the first time since her feelings had been set free. Everything was still fresh and exhilarating, and while she couldn’t wrap her head around all of it, she was grateful for her sister’s enthusiasm. 

“It’s new,” Alani explains, sorting through the last couple of hours. “So there’s really not much to tell,”

“But you like him?” Pua clarifies. 

“Yes,”

“And he likes you?”

Alani shrugs coyly, thinking of the way that Harry had practically melted in her touch. “I think so.”

“Then what else matters?”

Pua’s words comfort the anxious turning in Alani’s stomach. If Harry feels even a sliver of the affection she has for him, then nothing else could truly ever matter in her world. 

********

Harry’s towel hangs low on his hips as he steps out of the shower. Immediately, he reaches for his phone to see if there are any new messages from Alani, but he deflates when her name isn’t on the screen. He checks the time and registers that three hours have passed since they had last seen each other, though it feels like days in his mind. Quickly, he dries off and steps into a pair of black jeans and a silky red overshirt, adjusting the silver chain with a cross pendant around his neck before slipping a few rings onto his fingers to complete the look. His hair is still damp, so he runs a blowdryer over it and adds a small amount of product—still getting used to the shorter style. Harry spritzes a bit of vanilla scented cologne onto the sides of his neck and takes a deep breath to quell the pounding in his chest. He checks his phone again, but there’s still no news from Alani, so he decides to reach out first. 

Harry: We still on for tonight?

He can hear ruckus emanating from the kitchen, undoubtedly the sound of his friends cooking dinner with a few drinks in their systems. His stomach rumbles when he realizes that all he’s had to eat was a sip of Alani’s warm smoothie. 

Alani: Yes, sorry! Had to cook for my sister but I’m free now :) 

He hums, his dinner plans most likely foiled. 

Harry: I take it you’re not really hungry then?

Alani: I could eat…

Harry grins and grabs the keys from his nightstand.

Harry: Be there in fifteen xx

Fifteen minutes—that’s all Alani has to fix herself up and look somewhat presentable for Harry. She darts around her room and picks out a flowy, black mini skirt with embroidered cherries and its matching cropped tank. Her hair is still a bit messy from not combing it after her bath, so she smoothes it out with some water and curl cream, hoping for the best. She finishes her look with a swipe of red tinted lip gloss across her full lips and honey scented lotion over her skin. By the time her quick routine is complete, she still has four minutes to spare and spends them pacing her room back and forth with deep breaths. Her phone dings two minutes later and she smiles at Harry’s punctuality. 

Harry: Am I allowed to meet you at your front door?

Alani’s heart melts at his consideration, so she quickly makes her way downstairs and decides to respond to him in person. Sure enough, he’s already waiting at the door with eyes wide as if he’d just been caught doing something that he wasn’t supposed to. 

“Wow,” Harry marvels, taking in her appearance. 

“You don’t look too bad, yourself.” Alani compliments, closing the door behind her and with a step forward. 

He clears his throat and offers his hand out to her, palm facing up. “Shall we?”

She accepts it happily and allows his fingers to slip between hers. They walk down the short path to the pink Cadillac waiting for them, glistening under the last bit of sunset. Harry opens her door first, then makes his way to the driver’s side before peeling out of the driveway. As they head to their mysterious dinner location, Harry’s hand wanders from the gear shift to Alani’s palm resting on her thigh. She interlocks their fingers and runs the pad of her thumb over the silver rose around his index finger, wondering all the while about its origin. 

“Hey, what’s with the ring?” she decides to ask, lifting their joint hands to support her question. 

“It was a gift from my mum,” Harry explains. “When I first went away on tour, she was bummed that she couldn’t be at every show to throw a rose on stage. So she gave it to me as a reminder that she’d always be cheering me on, no matter how far apart we were,”

Alani’s chest stirs at the sweet gesture, wishing suddenly that she had a face to put to the lovely woman in her mind. 

“I really like that,” she comments, studying the petals and intricate details. 

Harry glances over at the girl sitting in his passenger seat and thinks that he’d very much like for his mom to meet her someday, though under the right circumstances. He lifts their joined hands up to his lips and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles. 

********

As they pull into the studio, Alani immediately takes note of a giant white tarp hanging from the roof on one side of the building. 

“What’s that for?” she asks curiously, stepping out of the car. 

Harry offers his hand and motions for her to follow him inside. “It’s for the movie,”

“We’re watching a movie?”

“Yeah,” he smiles sheepishly. “Hope that’s okay,”

“It’s perfect,” Alani reassures him with a squeeze of his forearm. 

“I had the food delivered, too. Figured we could eat while we watch,”

When Harry unlocks the door, the unmistakable scent of Alani’s favorite Italian restaurant lingers around the room. She gasps at the sight of two take-out bags from Angelo's perched on the coffee table.

“How did you…?” she trails off with her mouth hanging agape. “That’s my favorite place,”

“Ravioli with extra sauce,” Harry smirks victoriously, taking both bags and retreating back to the door. He sends a telepathic “thank you” message to Pua for the suggestion. 

“Who told you?”

“A good journalist never reveals his source, you should know that,”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware that we were switching professions,” Alani follows with her eyes narrowed warily.

“But don’t expect me to serenade you or anything,”

Harry chuckles and places their meals in the back seat before opening Alani’s door for her. “Not even a little tune?”

“Maybe the alphabet song if you’re lucky,”

“I’ll take it,”

“Actually,” she snaps, settling into the passenger seat as she recalls one of his songs that Pua’s friends had introduced her to. “Maybe I do have a little something for you,”

Harry’s brows shoot up eagerly. “Well let’s hear it,”

Alani clears her throat and tries to wipe the mischievous grin from her lips, but the enthusiasm behind her date’s eyes makes it difficult to execute the joke. 

“Close your eyes, please,” 

“Why?” Harry laughs softly, a mixture of tenderness and amusement settling on his features. 

“I can’t do it with you looking at me,” Alani whines. “Just close ‘em!”

“Okay, okay, they’re closed,”

“No peeking,”

“Yeah, yeah,”

Alani takes a deep breath and tries to remember the tune that had been stuck in her head all afternoon.

“So tell me girl if every time we tou-ou-ouch, you get this kind of ru-u-ush,”

Harry’s eyes fly open and she can hardly contain her laughter, but she continues despite his interjections. 

“What’re you—?”

“If you don’t wanna take it slow and you just wanna take me home—”

“Is that—?”

“Baby say ‘yeah, yeah, yeah,’ yeah, yeah, and let me kiss you—”

“Where did you—?”

“You’re not even listening!” Alani teases through a fit of laughter. “I’m trying to dazzle you with my angelic singing, here,”

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologizes, his voice lowered as he leans in closer. “Please, continue,”

Alani drapes her arms around his neck and sighs. “That’s all I’ve got, sorry,”

“So much for ‘not a fan,’ huh?”

“It was my sister’s friends—”

“—Sure—”

“—It’s true!” Alani sustains with a playful shove. “You should’ve seen how swoony they got over you, it was kinda cute actually,”

Harry brushes a stray eyelash from her cheek and his mouth turns up softly at the edges. “I see,”

“They were wondering if you’re a good kisser, you know, because of the song and everything,”

“And…”

“And?”

“Well what’s the verdict?”

“I don’t know,” Alani ponders shyly, feigning indecisiveness. “I think I need to refresh my memory.”

Harry head shakes gently with his lower lip caught between his wide grin. He takes a minute to lightly graze the curve of her jaw with his thumb in an effort to convince himself that he isn’t, in fact, dreaming before he connects their mouths. Alani weaves one hand into the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck while the other keeps his palm anchored securely to the side of her face. She had never known a touch so warm or soft; so intoxicating, so safe. It was like an extension of her own body—a familiarity that she had unknowingly craved all along. And with a single kiss, every remaining brick in their emotional fortresses comes crumbling down, trampled under foot like sand. If the eyes were the window to the soul, then their lips were the door: inviting, welcoming, begging the other person to stay forever and evermore. 

Their foreheads meet as they reluctantly pull apart for air; the only sound is their synchronized breathing. The sun had sunken into the sea, but twinkling lights strung across a row of palm trees leaves them in a canopy of golden light. 

“So I think it’s safe to say,” Alani begins softly. “Ten out of ten would kiss again,”

Harry’s head bobs, interlocking their fingers. “I have to agree,”

The whirring of the movie projector disrupts their thoughts and turns their attention towards the screen. Alani’s eyes widen, curious to see what film Harry has chosen for the night. 

“Forgot that I put it on a timer,” he confesses. 

“Be My Baby” by The Ronettes starts over the speakers propped next to their car and Alani immediately recognizes the intro to her all-time favorite movie. 

“Dirty Dancing?” she cries, turning to him with an elated tug on his arm. “No way!”

Harry reaches for the food behind them, but keeps an eye on her to relish in the excitement. “Yes way, had to see what all the fuss was about.”

“You won’t regret it, promise.”

Alani slips her shoes off and hugs her knees to her chest, eyes falling from the screen ahead to Harry beside her. He was constantly finding new ways to exceed her expectations, and just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, he raised the bar to unimaginable heights. She wonders what life would be like if he hadn’t stumbled into the café and imagines all the other ways that their paths would have unintentionally crossed, unaware of the bliss that could exist between them. Luckily, Alani will never have to live in a world of such ignorance, a world where Harry’s name doesn’t fall from her tongue as naturally as her own. 

********

“I would have carried that watermelon for you,”

“How romantic,” 

“And I bet we could do that lift,”

“Not a chance,” Alani giggles lightly. “Don’t get any ideas,”

Harry exhales a defeated breath, running the back of his knuckles over Alani’s legs draped across his lap.

“Why not?”

“They probably practiced that for months and had Jennifer Grey rigged up to a wire or something,”

“Nah,” Harry contests. “That’s just what they want you to think so that you don’t try and upstage the actors. Happens all the time in Hollywood,”

Alani’s head turns. “Oh really? And you would know that because…?”

“Music industry, movies, it’s all the same,”

“Sure. So what did you think of the movie? It’s okay if you didn’t love it as much as The Notebook,”

Harry’s head leans against his fist as he studies Alani’s expectant eyes, deep umber and shining in the dim light overhead. They’re the same pigment as the soil after rain and full of just as much vitality. He’d never really had a favorite color, but he suddenly wanted to own every item in exactly the same shade of brown. 

“No, you were right,” he yields. “It’s way better,”

Alani curls into Harry’s side and her cheek rests against his shoulder. “Knew you’d like it,”

“You know me well,”

“I have a question for you,” she poses lightly. 

Harry presses a kiss to her hairline before his chin settles on the crown of her head. “Shoot,”

“How did you do all of this on such short notice?”

The task hadn’t been easy; it involved multiple bribes to each of his friends, though they would have done it for free, and a top secret phone call with Pua. The projector in the studio’s shed that exclusively played DVDs nearly threw a wrench in his entire plan, but Jeff volunteered to search every store on the island for a copy of Dirty Dancing until he emerged from the fourth shop triumphantly. Harry had even hunted down the Angelo from Alani’s favorite restaurant and convinced him to make her raviolis from scratch. He wanted everything to be perfect down to the most minute detail; after all, the girl that he had planned it all for would be. 

“With a little help from my friends,” he hums in the key of The Beatles. 

“Well,” Alani sighs with a feathery kiss to his cheek. “Best first date in the history of first dates,”

“Couldn’t agree more,”

“What was your worst first date?” she pries with a curious wiggle of her brows. 

Harry lifts his head to the glittery night sky above and thinks for a moment before an unpleasant memory resurfaces and makes his nose scrunch. 

“Year ten. There was this girl I really fancied and I practically begged her all term to go out with me,” he laughs lightly. “So she agreed on the very last day of school. A friend of hers was having this party that night and she invited me to tag along. I was so nervous, but you know, things were alright. Well, she disappeared randomly in the middle of the party to go get a drink or something, and when I went to look for her, I caught her making out with some other guy,”

Alani frowns. “I’m so sorry, that’s awful,”

“It’s alright,” Harry chuckles, unaffected. “Wasn’t meant to be. What about you?”

“Probably my freshman year of college,” Alani contemplates. “I was supposed to meet up with this guy that a friend had set me up with. But he was, like, an hour late to the restaurant and didn’t even seem to notice. Then we saw some boring action movie with exploding cars and he was texting on his phone the whole time. I left the theater to ‘go to the bathroom’ and never went back,”

Harry smirks. “Good for you! Sounds like a prick,”

“I honestly don’t know how he didn’t see it coming, I took the bag of popcorn with me,”

“Well it all worked out in my favor, so maybe I should say cheers to the poor sucker,”

Alani raises her bottle of cherry coke to the night sky. “Cheers to terrible first dates!”

“Maybe don’t say that so loud,” Harry suggests with a small laugh. “People might get the wrong idea,”

“Cheers to terrible first dates and this most excellent one!” she corrects. 

“Cheers!”

“I feel like there should be some big musical number and end credits now,”

Harry glances over with a peculiar look in the corner of his eye. “I have an idea,”

“What is it?” Alani questions skeptically. 

“Two words: the lift,”

“No!”

“Come on! Please?”

“You’re gonna hurt yourself. Or me,”

“I won’t,” Harry promises with puppy dog eyes. “Pretty please?”

Alani mulls it over, unable to ignore the kiss that he peppers to her shoulder. “Fine.”

********

“Just bend your needs and jump. I’ll catch you!”

Alani’s toes dig into the sand and her fists clench. Eight feet away at the opposite end of the beach, Harry stands with his arms open and back tall. 

“I’m scared,”

“Don’t be, I’ve got you,”

She takes a deep breath through her nose and exhales out her mouth. Her feet pick up into a jog, then a sprint, and her arms fly out on Harry’s command. Alani leaps and her hands find his shoulders, but she doesn’t get enough air for him to execute the lift. His arms brace her backside as her legs tangle around his waist, but he maintains his balance.  

“See! Gotcha,”

“Did I do it?”

“No,” Harry laughs, highly amused. “But almost! Try again,”

“Harry, I don’t think this is gonna work,”

“Yes it will, love, I believe in you,”

He kisses her nose and sets her back down, running an additional eight feet back. Alani huffs, but she jogs lightly again and springs into the air. Her abdominal muscles tighten in an attempt to strengthen her balance, but she wobbles and clings to Harry with a shriek. He stumbles a few inches and lets out a belly laugh. 

“See, that was better!”

“It was not!”

“At least your legs made it in the air that time,”

“Okay,” Alani pants lightly. “You had your fun,”

“One more try,”

“Harry—”

“Just one!” he pleads. “This is gonna be the one, I can feel it,”

Alani’s eyes pinch shut, but she remembers all of the hard work and sweet gestures that Harry had poured into this date. So much thought had been given to every miniscule detail in the hopes of making it a night that she would never forget. The least she could do was humor him. 

“Okay. Let’s go,” 

“You’ve got it!” 

Her heart pounds with determination as Harry beckons her to join him at the other end. She counts down under her breath before taking off at full speed, feeling the exertion of every muscle in her body. Alani plants her feet directly under her knees and hips, shooting straight up with her arms rooted firmly on Harry’s shoulders. Her heels lift higher and higher off the ground as if they were attached to a string and anchored to the moon. In her mind, she is as graceful as Baby Houseman herself, but the reality is far less picturesque. Harry’s hand slips and he staggers backward; his arms instinctively tighten around Alani’s waist and he brings her body flush with his to break her fall. A grunt escapes his lips as his back meets the sand with a thud, but he manages to crack a smile through his pained expression. 

“Oh my God!” Alani cries, immediately sitting up. “Are you okay?” 

Harry releases a slow, shaky breath. “‘M fine,” 

“Are you hurt?”

“Just a bruised ego,” 

She brushes the curls out of his face and holds back a giggle to no avail. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny,”

“Actually,” Harry coughs, slowly regaining his composure. “It kind of is,”

“We really almost had it that time.”

“S’not as easy as it looks.”

Alani’s head meets the sand parallel to Harry’s and her hand settles on his chest. She watches the rise and fall of his breathing for a moment before her eyes trail up to his. As if the entire night hadn’t already convinced her, this very moment dispels any lingering, microscopic doubt that choosing Harry had been the right decision. It was hard to believe that less than twenty-four hours ago, Alani had no idea how he felt about her or where they stood. But now, under the full moon and shining stars, Harry looks at her as if she is the only view worth admiring and it tells her more than any word ever could.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Okay, onto my liveblog for chapter two of The Hunger Games :

Katniss’ flashback to falling out of a tree and being unable to breathe is such a good analogy, I steal it all the time in my own fics.

I wish the boy who held her up so she didn’t fall was given a name? Katniss just can’t provide names very easily, can she? 😅

“The odds had been entirely in her favor. But it hadn’t mattered” is actually an amazing quotable moment, someone make an edit pronto 👏

No one’s happy when a twelve year old is chosen but ya know. As soon as that kid turns thirteen, off with them! Fair game! 😭😂😅🙃

Hmmm how many of these kids knew immediately Katniss would volunteer for her sister? The way there was a boy ready to catch her before she fell and the way they all just cleared a path for her...

Katniss’ love for Prim had to be prominent because the other kids all seemed to be aware she would volunteer and Katniss claims this is a completely radical, unheard of thing to do. Sooo yeah. Her school peers probably noticed her a lot more than she realized.

Ooo. I just noticed the word choice in “district twelve hasn’t had a volunteer in decades”

Was there a point in time when Twelve had volunteers?

Awww the mayor being sad that Katniss is probably gonna die because he knows her as Madge’s friend 😭😩🤧.

Awww Katniss got presented a medal when her father died, I forgot 🥺🥺🥺

“Bet my buttons” is the worst phrase in history 🤨😐🤭

I like that Katniss’ dead father still has a reputation around these parts 🤧

Helps my fic writing brain to clock it for future reference

Maybe I’m just not nice but I don’t see how Prim is so wonderful that no one can help but love her. Like idk. I feel like this is just Katniss’ bias leaking through. Which is fine it’s better than some clinically detached narrator I hate those FYI

Omg everyone is saluting Katniss and she’s realizing people adore her 🥰🥰

Also ... does this mean Peeta did the three finger salute to her just before being called himself? Idk random thoughts, ignore me.

Katniss is in danger of crying. If this was me, I’d just be sobbing on the ground already.

Haymitch , the og rebel. Looking right into the cameras and calling the Capitol out.

Also ironic how the first thing Haymitch says to / about Katniss is “I like her!” when he spends the rest of the series pretending he, in fact, does not.

“Oh no, not him” is such a love interest introduction, y’all. Gale never stood a chance.

I like how Katniss considers it bad luck for her that Peeta was called 😅. Like... already taking ownership of the boy, sweetheart?

I feel like this is a good time to remind people that medium height is like 5’10. Stop headcanoning Peeta short. Poor Joshy though.

I like how she has never spoken to Peeta but describes the way his hair falls in waves over his forehead 😭🤧

Seems like Katniss thinks Peeta took being called relatively well.

“He has two older brothers, I know, I’ve seen them in the bakery” why is she already trying to defend herself to the audience like “I wasn’t really paying any attention to Peeta Mellark I just happened to notice he had brothers because I saw them once okay?”

Omg Katniss just outright asserting that Peeta’s middle brother definitively won’t volunteer for him. Girl, you just said you don’t know him or his family 😅😅😅.

“Why him?” Still has such a destined, soulmates feel to it. I know they weren’t destined and that’s what a lot of people admire about their relationship but the writing here has always had such a “this guy right here is her soulmate” slant to it, I’m sorry.

“He’s probably forgotten our only interaction. But I haven’t. And I know I never will.” Still continuing with the soulmate-y narration here, Suz Suz, I see.

Oh my god I don’t even remember this line but it’s so sad 🥺🥺🥺🥺🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧😩😩😩😩😩

“The numbness of his loss had passed, and the pain would hit me out of nowhere, doubling me over, racking my body with sobs. ‘Where are you?’ I would cry out in my mind. ‘Where have you gone?’”

I’m so sad now. 😭😭😭

I like that Katniss said “no amount of pleading from Prim” would affect her mother’s depression, as if Katniss easily believes that her own pleas don’t matter but her sister’s are what’s impossible to ignore.

She really needs to stop putting Primmy on this pedestal though it’s not as cute the second or third read around.

“I suppose now that my mother was locked in some dark world of sadness, but at the time, all I knew was that I had lost not only a father, but a mother as well.” I feel like this is just criminally undiscussed. Katniss didn’t know or understand or grasp what depression even was. Like it’s hard enough for kids to forgive parents who abandon them to mental illness when they’re aware what mental illness is. Let alone if you’re just stuck for months / years, not knowing that your mother was sick, instead thinking she just stopped caring for you.

Omg Katniss saying she couldn’t let Prim go to a community home 🤧. Selfless of her. But also sister worry about yourself.

I’m just kidding, I know it’s her character to only be concerned with her little sister above all else.

Mr. Everdeen hating how coal dust settled on everything in the Seam is such a small but interesting detail.

Omg so the meadow is a common place to find corpses of those who starved to death? We maybe should stop romanticizing it.

I like that Mr. Everdeen took Katniss places with him but was like “Hmm, imma leave Prim home, she isn’t cut out for the hunting life”

Idk Katniss being too afraid and shy to go to the Hob without her dad is such a little kid thing though.

Katniss explaining that she was essentially in the merchants backyard

She was essentially dying in Peeta’s backyard 🤧

Wow, I forgot how blatantly violent Peeta’s mother was

Maybe it’s just Katniss’ perspective but every interaction is just her screaming

Aww, his mother called him a stupid creature, why don’t I remember this.

This is so sad omg.

Poor both of them.

One’s starving to death, the other’s utterly abused mentally, verbally and physically.

What’s a weal?

I always read that word as a welt.

Ok I googled it, it’s a big red swollen mark.

So same thing.

Omg now Katniss is saying Mrs. Mellark hit him with an object weapon. This just keeps getting more and more.... sad.

Honestly I haven’t read the books cover to cover since I was a teenager, some of this is a surprise to me.

I always wondered though how that bread was any good, it literally fell onto the wet ground. 😟🤢

Aww, Katniss saying Peeta would get a full beat down if discovered that he burned the breads to feed her 🥵🥵🥵

Okay but if his mother hit him with an object and his eye swoll up and blackened the next day, that could be another reason why he tossed the bread in her general direction and didn’t look at her. I know it was so he wouldn’t be caught by his mother but also he probably couldn’t even see clearly where she was.

The dandelion symbolism 🤧😅😭🥳

Her sarcasm 🤣🤣🤣

Katniss just keeps comparing Peeta to the loaves of bread 😅😅😅

Also she keeps calling him warm and solid and steady

I’m starting to think unconsciously she was already finding herself attracted to him even here.

Him squeezing her hand reassuringly and her chalking it up to a nervous spasm 🙃

I hope when they got married they got a nice screencap of this shot of them on TV facing the crowd, shaking hands.

Make a nice anniversary photo.

Okay, that’s all for my thoughts on chapter two! 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Hiya!!! Could you write a scenario where jean gets in another dumb fight with Eren and the readers patches him up and scolds him for getting in a fight cuz it makes them worried and they confess their feelings at the end?? Thank you and no worries if you don’t wanna write this ❤️ also please tag me if you do write this

Omg I live writing requests like this one bc Jean doesn't get enough love. Thanks for requesting and sorry it took so long! @two-rolls-of-tape

Warnings: none I guess this is just fluffy, but it does involve a minor description of reader patching up Jean but since I'm squimish my self I've kept it on the low

__

"I can't believe you!"

"aw come on pretty please y/n, Sasha is going to beat me to death it's the third time this week!"

"that's exactly what I'm saying!"

For anyone, it would be normal to assume that Jean's and Eren's bickering would eventually stop after everything that they had been through together as comrades. For some it's a given fact that after something as traumatic as these boys went through happens you kind of stop being fifteen an feisty. But hormones are hormones and puberty ones hit you as hard as it gets. Everyone is awfully aware of that.

Although teenage hormones and newly rushes of testosterine are not an excuse for this constant bickering, not anymore that is according to the Captain, you can't help but bite into it and help Jean. He's always got that like a mantra at the tip of his tongue 'it's not my fault' 'i can't help it' 'he gets on my nerves', some of the few lines he pops up every time he has Sasha stich him up. You're always there, always helping, but you never actually stitch him up, one because you're also sixteen and as any typical teenager you have a crush and two because you crush is him.

Jean's eyes are glimmering with plea as he stares at you, signaling you to let him in in an unspoken way. And you do as his eyes tell you mostly because you don't feel like having to deal with seconds thoughts after that. You are soldier after all, this comes higher in hierarchy than being a teenager.

You sit him down on the wooden floor by the edge of your dorm bed, your supplies neatly sitting next to you in an old medical box. Momentarily, you make a note to yourself to clean any rust on it once the morning sun crept in your window.

Jean is stiff as he takes a look at your candle lit illuminated face. You have a few superficial scars here and there, but as far as he knows, puberty is going to eliminate them before you manage to make new ones. With titans not in the picture anymore you won't have to wound yourself for sometime.

"care to tell me what happened this time?" You ask with a tiny pinch of salt that Jean catches a soon as it leaves your mouth.

"Eren said something that I didn't like." He briefly looks away, embarrassed in the tiniest bit.

"Let me guess. Mikasa said something about being devoted to him and you got super mad and you told Eren off and then he spoke with the worst remark on the history and you got mad."

He flinches, suddenly as you toss him your shirt.

"here, bite this"

"your shirt?"

"Jean I ready don't have anything else"

He flinches once again when the needle pierces his forearm. He knows he eventually has to bite onto that cloth but he's embarrassed since it smells like you and also since your face is so close to his.

" If you come any closer I might-" Why does he even feel a need to ruin this.

" shut up, Jean boy"

" I'll get boogers"

"you really are something right, your brain is like on another level of thinking." You're proud of your remark until it hits you that you're no better than him for trying to tease him. Especially when he's not into you. You focus on the opening on his arm for now. It's obvious Eren threw him at the edge of a table by the way it's opened up so you make sure to check for any more splinters as you go.

It doesn't really take much time for you to finish patching him as a matter of fact, but you really enjoy that blushed look on his face.

"you shouldn't get into these fights. It's childish, and it makes me worried about you."

This isn't something he expect you to mouth with such ease.

"well I won't if you tell your sweet Eren to stop getting on my nerves."

"my sweet Eren?" This is confusing to say at least, but you can't not think superficially at the moment. Teenage hormones should be your excuse for once too. "Weren't you like super in love with Mikasa?"

" yeah b-but no. Eren said you two kissed."

"Jean this is not a reason to get into a fight with him"

"so you're not denying it"

"of course I didn't kiss Eren. You should have known better than to believe him. He's a friend but he keeps hurting you when I've told him to be patient with you."

"you've told Eren to be patient with me?" Jean can feel his blood boil at the hearing of that. He doesn't need Eren to show him any pity.

"yes, because seriously we're all drained an tiredz so be patient with him too, please? For me?"

He avoids looking at you and your semi sassy tone because his ego is hurt and because if he looks at you he will snap. You on the other hand keep pushing him to speak as you start to take a better mental grip of this whole new level of information you've got.

"don't take Eren's side when as you said he lied about kissing you."

"I'm not, he does that to get on my nerves. And if Mikasa isn't mad about it then she's in it as well."

Coming to think of it, Mikasa didn't even bat an eye when Eren spoke those words. How could he have not seen it earlier. He's still confused about why this had happened, though.

"wait why? Why would he want to get on your nerves if he doesn't like you."

You sigh, deeply, in despair. He definitely has shit for brains, the captain is right. He really has never noticed your liking in him.

" because, Jean boy." You squat before him and ruffle his hair in a way you know he hates. "I like you. And the guys are always on my ass teasing me about it."

Jean shakes his head in disbelief as you get up from your squatting position. His hand is on yours, stopping you in your track before you know it. How can you be so casual about this, when he can already feel his cheeks glow red and his heart trying to escape from between his ribs.

"So you didn't kiss Eren?"At this point it's only fair that you bang your head against the wall, but you're not as thick skulled as Jean.

"Jean for the last time i-"

Before you know it he's up and his hands are on the sides of your face, pulling them with a somewhat painful force. It takes a moment for you to realise that Jean, is in fact kissing you, not just shoving his face into yours to bump his forehead against yours.

"thank you"

"Did she seriously say thank you?"

"they're a lost cause I'm telling ya"

You easily recognize Mikasa's and Sasha's voices from outside of the room but you can't even master up the courage to form a right sentence in front of Jean right now, so you'll have to deal with their eavesdropping later.

[araluenrangerdanger]

Okay thanks for reading-but can you make a crawlt fanfic with Halt thinking that Crowley is dying, so he slowly sings "far too young to die" by Panic! At The Disco, and then makes out with him, because why the hell not?

I am so, so late with this, but: tw: head injury, blood, injury, violence

I hope you enjoy 

Halt and Crowley had been waiting for this moment the last six hours. They had info that the bandit group took this road every second week, and today was the day.

A few weeks ago, a message came to Castle Araluen. It was from the north side of the Araluen fief, a fief that, by all standards, was now Crowley’s.

It was a few weeks after Pritchard’s death. The two young Rangers were grieving, but criminals never took breaks. Crowley was still heavily burdened by the weight of all paperwork that he had to sort (it seemed as if Stilson intentionally left the office in the biggest mess he could before he was kicked out of the Corps for good) and all the other responsibilities that came with reinstating the Ranger Corps, finding new apprentices, trying to keep everything running and the crime in fiefs that didn’t have their own Rangers in check, and of course, the past weeks had been silent torture.

When Halt had returned from Castle Gorlan with the news of Pritchard’s death, he already had several days to take it all in, and composed himself as much as he could before coming to Araluen. Crowley, however, didn’t have that luxury, which resulted in Halt delivering the news, and both of them broke down, remembering their mentor. It was the only time Crowley saw Halt cry.

The two of them dove into work, both silent and effective, without Crowley whistling or cracking his usual jokes. It was inappropriate. Death had always been a part of a Ranger’s job, but neither of them considered just how real it could be. At least Crowley and Halt managed to clear out some paperwork, and a month after Pritchard’s death, Farrel joined them in their work, seeing as he broke his leg when pursuing Morgarath.

Together, they managed to deal with most of the paperwork, but piles of it were still waiting for them.

However, the message came one hot summer afternoon. Crowley and Halt had been filling out forms and trying to figure out what to do with Redmont fief (as the Ranger’s spot was currently vacant since Farrel was on sick leave), the window was opened, but neither that nor the cool castle walls helped them escape the heat. Crowley got rid of his shirt altogether while Halt and Farrel only rolled up their sleeves.

“I don’t mean to order you around, Crowley,” Farrel remarked. “But maybe you should put the shirt back on. Maybe not because someone could come in, but otherwise Halt might overheat.” He told everything with a smile, watching as Crowley saw Halt’s red face as the Hibernian Ranger hid behind a pile of paperwork, and sheepishly put his shirt back on, leaving it loosely unbuttoned.

That was the ice breaking in their relationship, and the grieving atmosphere lifted. Halt and Crowley knew they were attracted to each other, but never expressed anything more than friendship gestures. If something happened to either of them, they didn’t want to experience heartbreak again in such a short period of time.

The message they got was clear. There was a group of bandits in the northern part of the Araluen fief, and therefore, they needed to be stopped. Crowley also saw this as an opportunity for Halt to show some more skills Pritchard taught him - who was he kidding, of course, he used the opportunity to spend more time with him, sharing a tent once again, just like in the good old times when they were getting the rebellious Rangers together.

The two young Rangers left the next day at dawn, travelling to the villages and gathering information about stolen goods, people who had become their targets, and the travelling routes the bandits took.

So here they were, both hidden in the bushes along a small forest clearing. Halt sat with his cowl over his head, unmoving, an arrow nocked in his bow, waiting for the bandits to come. Crowley sat a few meters away, mimicking Halt’s movements, also prepared.

Nothing happened for hours until they could hear hoofbeats. The Rangers stilled, knowing that any movement could cost them the element of surprise they had on their side. However, they planned on offering the bandits one chance to give up without a fight. They just needed to surprise them.

As soon as the group arrived at the clearing, riding mules and old horses, Crowley stepped out from the bush he was hiding in, and called in a sonorous voice: “King’s Ranger! Stop and surrender!”

The bandits stopped their horses, drawing their weapons and, in some cases, also stolen swords.

Their leader was a big, burly man whose teeth were missing in several places, and he now turned to his companions.

“Rangers aren’t what they used to be! This one must be one of those pompous idiots, can’t even harm a fly!” he laughed, mocking the Ranger Corps. Crowley gritted his teeth. Those vain insults wouldn’t make him angry, they wouldn’t. He knew that the Corps wasn’t what it used to be, and he and the others were doing everything they could to make it better again.

“I am giving you a warning, surrender, or see how fast I can be,” Crowley called again, losing patience with these guys. Fortunately, he knew that Halt and he could take them all on, and they still had the element of surprise, as the bandits didn’t know Halt was ever there.

The bandits cried with laughter.

“What are you gonna do, go to mommy to cry?” their leader asked before pointing his sword at Crowley. “Let’s get this over with. Kill him!”

In that moment, several bandits nudged their steeds and started moving. At the same time, Crowley let go of the arrow in his bowstring, hitting the leader’s calf, and another arrow came flying through the side, taking down another one of the men.

The action started, Halt came out of his hiding spot and fired an arrow after arrow. Crowley stepped into the shadows of a tree, knowing that it would be impossible for riders to turn their horses so quickly. Furthermore, they couldn’t go after him; they had to dismount first.

While Halt was dealing with three of the bandits, successfully shooting one into his thigh and killing the other, having trouble only with the third one, Crowley had to fight off six of them. He shot three of them before stumbling backwards as one of them tried to decapitate him with a sword. The Ranger regained his balance, his bow, however, got stuck in the tree’s branches.

“Crap!” he cursed, not having the time to try and free his bow. It was stuck for the rest of the fight, and Crowley desperately reached for his knives.

The Ranger turned around just in time to see a man trying to hit him with a hammer, but Crowley was quicker. He grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it, making him drop the hammer. With a well-aimed kick to the stomach, Crowley sent him to the ground. Then, he quickly looked at the distance the other two attackers had.

One was already charging at him and the Ranger knew he had to act quickly. In one smooth motion, he let go of his throwing knife, not waiting to watch as it sunk into the man’s chest.

The last man came in too quickly though. Crowley didn’t have time to retrieve his throwing knife or apply the double-knife defense. He was stuck, and when the bandit’s sword collided with his Saxe knife and sent it flying, he regretted the choices he made.

Crowley’s eyes widened as he realized that he had nothing to defend himself with, and he immediately ducked as the man swung the sword where his head had been just a few seconds ago. The man seemed surprised, allowing the Ranger to send him to a dream world with a good punch.

Crowley was about to go retrieve his knives when he heard Halt’s cry of “Look out!”. The next moment, an arrow flew past him. Halt had seen the man who had a hammer sneaking up on Crowley and swinging the hammer. In the next second, the man threw the hammer and let out a squeak as Halt’s arrow struck him in the chest, killing him on the spot. However, the hammer was flying and Crowley wasn’t fast enough. With a loud thud, the hammer collided with his head, sending him unconscious to the ground.

Halt gasped.

“Crowley!” he called, running to his friend. The red-haired Ranger laid on the grass, a trail of blood colouring his red hair an even darker shade of red, his eyes closed. He didn’t appear to be breathing.

“Crowley!” Halt repeated forcefully, trying to find a pulse on his neck. He panicked when he couldn’t find it, his eyes widening with a silent plea.

“No, no, no no,” he repeated frantically, trying again, but Crowley was either dead or his pulse was so weak that he couldn’t find it.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Crowley! I can’t go through this again!” he yelled. He couldn’t lose them both. He couldn’t lose Pritchard and Crowley in the span of just a few months.

Hearing no response, Halt sunk to his knees. His lips moved on their own, and he started singing, his voice raspy and filled with sadness:

“While the crown lies heavy on either side,

give me one last kiss while we’re far too young to die.”

Halt closed his eyes, letting the tears fall. All the bandits were forgotten, now there was only Crowley and him.

Suddenly, a second, faint voice, said: “Well, I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me.”

Halt’s eyes snapped open. Sure enough, there he was, blood still dripping down his temple, but his hazel eyes were looking up at him, and he was grinning.

The Hibernian Ranger gasped, but then grabbed him by his shirt and leaned in to kiss him.

It lasted just several seconds, but both men enjoyed the soft lips of the other, and broke the kiss, both red in the face.

“And don’t ever do that to me again!” Halt nudged him in the arm to be clear. “Do you know how worried I was?”

Crowley smiled at him weakly.

“I won’t Halt, but if I got a kiss like this every time you were worried about me…”

Halt wiped his eyes with his sleeve, his expression dark.

“Don’t you dare,” he started before he was pulled down by Crowley for another kiss. The usually grumpy Ranger just melted into it and kissed Crowley back, happy that he was alright and would heal.

The two broke the kiss, smiling at each other before Crowley groaned in pain.

“That was great, Halt, but please help me stop the bleeding, otherwise I might really die.”

He watched, amused, as Halt panicked once more.  

[sherrybaby14]

Bucky’s Bride

Request: Bucky stalks Y/N, pretends to be her friend, gets jealous that she's engaged, she's saving herself for marriage and her jerk groom is leaves her on the aisle. Or in other words Bucky steals the bride. 😉

 Warnings:  Noncon (Please do not read if this offends you), loss of virginity, smut

 Words: 8K

              The cover of the magazine was a smiling bride, decked out in a beautiful lace number.  The headlines read ‘Dream Honeymoon’ and ‘Ten Best Bridesmaid’s Gifts’. You weren’t planning on a honeymoon or having bridesmaids.  But your fiancé was getting annoyed with your lack of caring about the wedding, so you reached for the rag.  

            “Excuse me.”  A stranger went for the same magazine and you grazed hands.  

            “Sorry.”  You turned to see beautiful blue eyes and a handsome smile. His face was enough to make you blink twice.  “Go ahead.”

            “Thanks.”  He grabbed two copies of the bridal magazine and handed one to you.  “Getting married?”  

            “Yeah.”  You nodded. “You?”  

            “Congratulations.  A beauty like you, I’m not surprised someone popped the question as soon as they could.” He smiled a million-dollar smile. You felt like the only one in the store. “No.  No marriage for me.”  

            “You just like bridal magazines?”  You tried not the think about the compliment, not used to hearing such things.  

            He erupted in laughter and threw his head back.  You glanced from side to side, unsure why this handsome man was even paying you a lick of attention.  

            “I own a catering business.”  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a card. “Research.  I have to stay on top of wedding trends.”

            You took the card and nodded, realizing you were just a mark.  

            “I’m planning on a courthouse wedding.  Maybe a small dinner after.”  You handed the card back.  “Not in the market for a caterer.”  

            “That sounds like a lovely wedding.”  He pushed your hand.  “I was only showing that I’m not some weirdo collecting bridal magazines. Keep it.”  

            You looked at the front:  James Buchanan Barnes, owner ‘Longing Rusted’ restaurant and catering.

            “This is the most popular restaurant in the city.” You’d heard stories of a month-long waitlist.  “You’re Bucky Barnes?”

            “Guilty.”  He smiled.

            You looked him up and down, suddenly feeling self-conscious.  His clothes probably cost more than your rent.   You wanted to get away from the intimidating man, buying the magazine was no longer worth it, but not wanting to bolt from the store.

            “Hold on one second.”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a buzzing phone.  “Hello.”

            Bucky had turned to answer the thing and you used the opportunity to accomplish option two, dropping the magazine as you left the shop and walked out on to the busy New York street.  

           It was rude, but the man was a celebrity around the city, and you didn’t want to embarrass yourself more than you already had. Your fiancé could deal with thinking you didn’t care about the wedding a bit longer.

 ~~

           “Come on out.  I am sure that one is perfect for you.”  The Bridal consultant was starting to sound annoyed.  

            “I told you, it’s just a courthouse wedding.” You sighed, the ballgown over the top, as you opened the door from the fitting room.  “This is way too much.”  

            “But you look gorgeous!”  She tightened the fasteners and led you over to the pedestal. “I thought you said your fiancé wanted a more traditional look.  This is a traditional bride.”  

            “It’s not me.”  You hiked up the skirt.  “I don’t even care if the thing is white, to be honest.”  

            “If it isn’t the runaway bride?”  A voice made you turn your head.

           There stood Bucky Barnes, a smile on his face as he rested his arm on the wall.  

            “What are you doing here?”  It had been two weeks since the magazine incident and all you could do was stare at him in shock.

            “Stalking you of course.” He raised his eyebrows.

            “Mr. Barnes.”  Your consultant glared at you before going to kiss Bucky on the cheek. “I have the samples at the front of the store.”    

            “Most people at least say goodbye.”  He pushed off the wall and walked toward you. “Where was the fire?”

           You make me uncomfortable.  Why are you talking to me anyway?  That was what ran through your head.  

            “You’re a busy man.  I didn’t want to waste your time.”  You fidgeted, feeling his eyes on you.  

            “That dress doesn’t suit you at all.”  He frowned.  “Where’s your bridal party?  Mom?  Friends? You need some extra opinions.”  

            “Couldn’t make it.”  You wanted out of the dress.  “They’re coming in for the wedding.  I haven’t lived in New York very long and they can’t afford to come out for all the little stuff.  Really the only person in my life who seems to care about the wedding stuff is my fiancé.”

            “Then where is he?”  Bucky folded his arms.  

            “Doesn’t want to see the bride in the dress before the wedding.”  You felt tears sting your eyes.  

            “Woah.” He reached out and grabbed your arm.  “Is everything okay?”

            “I’m fine.”  You wiped your eyes before a drop fell.

            “Come on.”  He led you off the pedestal.  “Get changed. I’m getting you out of here.”

            “It’s okay. Really.”  You didn’t object as he guided you to the fitting room.

            “The only tears allowed in a bridal shop are tears of joy.”  He stopped at the door.  “I’m not taking no for an answer.  Get changed.”

            You sighed and felt some relief as the door shut. Wanting the gown off of you more than you realized.  It didn’t take long until you were back in your jeans and sweater.  

            “I should really get home.”  You grabbed your purse before opening the door.  “And I’m sure you have some reason for the samples you need to get to.”

            “A client wants the appetizers to be influenced by her dress.”  Bucky laughed.  “The same texture as the fabric.  A picture wasn’t good enough.”

            “Really?”  That sounded so absurd to you.  “Man I am not cut out for weddings.”  

           “What makes you say that?”  Bucky grabbed an envelope from the consultant who didn’t even bother saying goodbye to you.  

            “All I want is the courthouse, a small dinner with close family.  I’d rather get married in this than that.”  You pushed open the door to the bridal shop.  “Ugh, I do not need to unload on you like this.  You’re a stranger.”

            “I’m around a lot of brides.  You don’t fit the mold.”  Bucky ignored your last comment.  “Most are excited about the dress, and the lavish party. Celebrating their love.”

            “I don’t want the attention and it’s a waste of money.” You sighed as you looked up.  “But my fiancé is getting annoyed with my lack of caring.”  

            “Well if he wants the big wedding make him plan it?” Bucky stopped a few stores down and pulled open the door to a coffee shop.  

            “I brought that up, but he doesn’t want to wait any longer. Plus he doesn’t even have a guest list.  Not inviting a soul.”  You went to the counter.  “He’d rather I get my wedding with bits of his suggestions thrown in.”  

            “Like a ballgown?”  Bucky pulled out his wallet.  “Two black coffees.”  

            “Lucky guess.  I take my coffee black.”  You were happy for the change in subject.  

            “No luck.”  Bucky winked at you.  “I’m a stalker, remember?”

           “Right.”  You laughed. “How could I forget?”  

            “So why the rush?”  Bucky took both coffees and nodded his head to a booth.  “With the wedding?”

            “We’ve been together for six months, he proposed. Doesn’t want to wait any longer.” You slid into the seat and took your coffee.  “And I’ve kept him waiting long enough.”  

           Bucky’s eyes went wide at the innuendo.  

            “He’s been patient.  It was important to me to wait for marriage.”  You felt your face get hot.  It was the reaction everyone you told had.  You were crazy.  How old were you?  Why wait? What was the big deal?  “I don’t expect you to understand.”  

            “There’s nothing wrong with values.”  He gave a warm smile.  

            “This coming from the man who takes a new model to every opening?”  You raised your eyebrows.

           “Hey.”  Bucky swatted your hand.  “Now who is the stalker?”  

            “I may have googled you after our last run-in.”  You felt yourself relax at the confession. “You’re accomplished.  You should be proud.”  

            “What about you Y/N?”  He leaned back.  “What do you do for work?”

            You chatted away about yourself.  Shocked at how easy he was to talk to, giving little to no thought to the wedding dress debacle.  

~~

           Calling around hadn’t worked, every place was booked. You thought if you made a plea in person someone might give, but you’d already crossed off your first two choices and your heart was heavy as you walked into your third.

            “How many?” The hostess grabbed a menu.

           “Actually, I was hoping to make a reservation for three weeks from Friday, for twelve people?”  You thought three weeks' notice was plenty of time.  

            “Shouldn’t be a problem.”  The hostess pulled out a notebook.

            That was a good sign.  This place didn’t even use computers.  They had to have an opening.

            “That’s strange.”  She frowned.  “We’re completely booked.”

            “I didn’t even say the time yet.”  Your stomach started to ache.

            “Maybe we’re closed or something.”  She turned the book to show you red blocking out the entire thing.  

            “On a Friday?”  You thought you were going to throw up.

            “Why is it whenever I see you, you’re in distress?” The familiar voice calmed you.    

            Bucky was right behind you with his million-dollar smile. After your last run in he was the closest thing you had to a friend in the city and you didn’t hesitate to fall into his chest and start sobbing.  

            “Hey.”  He rubbed your back.  “Shhh. It’s okay.”

            He didn’t ask you any questions.  Just held you as you cried.  It was a week since your trip to the coffee shop.  You didn’t exchange numbers or anything, he probably didn’t even remember your name.

            “Shhhh.”  He held you as he walked you to a corner of the restaurant and sat down in a booth, pulling you against him.

            You cried and cried and cried.

            “Here.”  He brought a glass of water to his chest and you hiccuped as you took a sip. “Everything will be okay.”  

            “I’ve tried every restaurant and they’re all booked.” You lifted your head.  “I haven’t had time to find a dress.  My fiancé won’t help at all, but then he is mad at me for not doing enough and I don’t even care.”  

            “Did you try my recommendations?”  Bucky didn’t stop rubbing your back.  

            “Yes!”  You wiped your face and took more water.  “All but two. I even name-dropped you.”

            That experience had made you cringe, and you weren’t going to repeat the mistake.  

            “The marriage matters more than the wedding.” Bucky smiled at you.  “A lifetime of happiness.  Think of that.”  

            “The way I keep screwing up.”  You leaned back in the booth.  “And he’s been so busy at work with some new client.  We haven’t even seen each other.  It’s so stressful and I feel so alone.”  

            “That settles it.”  Bucky grabbed your shoulder.  “You’re having your wedding dinner at my restaurant.”

            “Thank you.”  You rolled your eyes.  “But you’re out of my budget and don’t you have a month wait?  I’m sure you’re all booked.”

            “Consider it a gift to me.”  Bucky squeezed a little.  “I insist.”

            “I can’t accept.”  You sniffled. “It wouldn’t be right.”

           “You can pay me in feedback.”  Bucky laughed.  “I’ve got a few new menu ideas I want to try out.  I get to choose what you eat.  That sound fair?”  

            “Thank you.”  The tears started to well again, but you felt some relief.  

            “Party of twelve?”  Bucky pulled you against his chest. “I’ll make rabbit, venison, there’s a wonderful cricket dish I’ve wanted to make.”

            “I know you’re joking, but I’d been fine with any of those at this point.”  You let out a laugh between a sniffle.  

           “Only the best for you.”  Bucky rubbed your back.

            “Why are you so nice to me?” You lifted your head and stared at him.

           “I’m nice to everyone.”  He shrugged. “And one month?  Try six.”

           “I know you’re trying to tease me.”  Your lip started to quiver.  “But now I feel worse.”

            “Come here you silly girl.”  Bucky pulled you back in as more tears fell.  “You really are a one-in-a-million.”

 ~~

           Your fiancé was thrilled with the reservation.  Of course, he was too busy with work to come celebrate, but a week later you found yourselves together.  

            Dinner turned to a movie that had turned into some kissing.  You moaned into his mouth as he grabbed at your shirt.  

            “I don’t want to wait any longer.”  He kissed your neck.  “It’s only two weeks.”

            “Stop.”  You grabbed his wrist. “We’ve waited this long.  It’s only two weeks?”  

            “Fuck.”  He hopped up from the couch and ran his hands over his hair.  “Do you know there are lots of women who would be thrilled with this?”

           He ran his hands over the air in front of him.  

            “I’ve been pretty fucking patient.”  He grabbed his coat.  “Working eighty hours a week and can’t even get any from my own fiancé.”  

            “What?”  You stood up and followed him.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “Nothing.”  He rubbed his eyes.  “I’m just stressed about the wedding and now this mystery client at work.  I’ve already ignored at least five e-mails from them tonight.”  

            “Are you leaving?”  You were hoping for some cuddles and time together.

            “Really what’s the point?”  He sighed and pulled out his phone.  “Fuck. I have to head back to the office.”  

            “What’s the point?”  Your nerves flared.  “Relax. We can watch another movie?”

            “Relax?” He scoffed.  “I’ll take my blue balls somewhere else.”  

            You didn’t know how to respond as he went for the door. With another sigh he stopped and turned back to you, placing a hard kiss on your forehead.  

            “I didn’t mean that.”  He opened the door.  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”  

            Before you could process anything, he was gone. What did he mean his fiancé?  Was there some other option?  Now he had a problem, this close to the wedding?  Your stomach was in knots.

            You went to your phone and debated on calling your mom. But she wouldn’t understand. Maybe an old friend?  Who did you talk to anymore?  They all thought your choice was silly.  They would side with your fiancé.  

           Your mind flashed to Bucky.  You wished you could call him.  Then your brain went off like a lightbulb.  You went into your bedroom to the area you emptied your pockets. There it was, the business card.

            You were bothering him, you were certain of it, but you didn’t want to be alone.  Before your mind could talk yourself out of it you dialed the number.  It was going to be the business line anyway.

            Each ring made your heart skip a beat.  Then you were met with one word.

            “Hello?”

 ~~

           “I didn’t know your preferred flavor.”  Bucky dropped a bag on the counter.  “So I brought choices.”

            You watched as he unpacked several types of ice cream on your kitchen table.  

            “I shouldn’t have called you.”  It felt wrong having a man in your apartment this late.

            “Yes, you should have.”  He held up chocolate.  “This is everyone’s favorite.  Right?”

            You nodded your head as you grabbed some spoons.  

            “Your menu is coming together.  I think you will be surprised in a good way.”  Bucky opened the lid.  “Any luck on the dress?”  

            “No.” You brought your hand to your forehead.  “I don’t want to think about the wedding tonight.”

            “Let’s not think about anything.”  Bucky grabbed your hand and led you to your couch. “Let’s eat ice cream and watch bad movies.  Commentary encouraged?”  

            “I don’t know what that even means.”  You sat down as he picked up your remote and started scrolling for a movie.  “Ah perfect. A superhero film.  Let’s point out all the flaws.  Make fun of their costumes.  Plot holes.”

            You smiled and laughed, enjoying the levity.  Maybe it wasn’t a mistake calling him.

 ~~

           Beep.  You pulled out your phone.  

           You think I can win this fight?  The text was followed by a photo of Bucky holding a lobster over his head.  The sea creature snapping at him.  You grinned.

            “That fiancé of yours sure has you smiley lately.” Your coworker gave a wink.  

            A bang of guilt came as your smile dropped.  Texts from him were less and less.  Ever since the ice cream night, Bucky had your number and no problem using it.  A friendship was fine, but once you were married this couldn’t continue.  Not in this manner at least.  

            At Work. You almost didn’t hit send.  But maybe some boundaries had to get put up.

 ~~

           Bucky never responded.  You counteracted by texting your man, but all he sent was one word: swamped.

            The guilt from both of them was gnawing at you.  Bucky knew you were engaged.  He was a friend.  Harmless.  But it still felt wrong.

            Then your future husband’s lack of response made you angry.  You stared at your phone, unsure which of them you should text.  

            A knock at your door sounded and you tossed your phone. It could be missionaries, but you would invite them in for the distraction alone.  

            Instead, you were greeted with a delivery person.  

            “Please sign.”  They didn’t have a package behind them, but a dress rack.  

            “What is this?”  You saw garment bags.

            “Don’t know, don’t care.”  He sighed.  “Just sign your name lady.”  

            You scribbled it down and he shoved took off the bags and handed them to you.  They were heavier than you thought and walked them to the couch with fear they would make your kitchen chair topple over.  

            The top one had an envelope attached to it.  You ripped it open.  

            Sorry I was bugging you today.  One week to go.  Pick a dress.

            Your heart melted.  It wasn’t signed, but you knew who it was from.  You opened each bag seeing beautiful after beautiful dress.  

           What an amazing friend.

 ~~

           You were about to text Bucky, but it didn’t feel right. You needed to call him.  This time you were filled with excitement at the ring tones.  

            “I hope this means you liked your presents.” Bucky’s smile carried through the phone.

            “Thank you.”  You curled into your couch.  “I now have a wedding dress.  I picked…”

            “Eh, eh, eh.”  Bucky coughed.  “I don’t want to know.”  

           “Where should I send the other ones?”  You didn’t want to know the price tag.

            “They’re all yours.”

            “NO!”  You covered your mouth.  “I mean, I can’t.  You’ve done too much for me.”

            “Then you want to do me a favor?”  Bucky paused.  “As repayment?”

           “Whatever you like.”  You were in no position to turn him down.

            “Come taste test some stuff for me.”  

            “Now?”  You looked down at your pajamas.

            “I am tapping confirm on the Uber…they will be there in two minutes.”  

            “Two minutes?!?!”  You shot up from the couch. “I’m ready for bed.”

            “Two minutes.” Bucky laughed. “I’d start heading downstairs unless you want to ruin my five-star rating.”  

            “Ugh.”  You grabbed your purse.  “I’m on my way.”

 ~~

           A Friday night at Bucky’s restaurant.  Your comfy pants may as well have looked like a Halloween costume.  

            You almost didn’t walk in, but the hostess waved you from the window.  Some people sneered at you, but you were escorted to the very busy kitchen.  You expected to see Bucky, but all you saw were heated chefs yelling at each other and paying no attention to you.  

            Basement stairs appeared and you were walked downstairs. The hostess opened the door and it looked like a mad scientist’s lab.  

            “You’re here!”  Bucky was putting this finishing touches on what looked to beautiful to eat. “Have a taste?”  

            Before you could acclimate, he held a spoon to your lips. It tasted like heaven and you plopped down on a stool by the counter.  

            “Please explain why I was hesitant to come if you’re going to feed me that?”  You licked your lips at the flavor.

            “I promise.  They won’t all taste that way.”  Bucky went back to his bizarre kitchen.  “I expect a full report on every dish.”  

            You settled on the stool, eager for this night now.

 ~~

           “I can’t believe this place is so empty now.”  You walked into the main restaurant, lights off and tables empty.  “It was so crowded when I got here.”

            “I don’t like crowds.”  Bucky flipped on a low light.  “It always looks this way to me unless I have to put on an appearance.”

            “You don’t strike me as the put on an appearance type.” You walked next to him, not ready to leave.  “You’re so genuine.”

            “It’s rare when people like us find each other.” Bucky shrugged.  “Genuine people.”

            Your breath caught in your throat.  You were getting married in a week.  Here.  

            “I’ve narrowed my date for your big day down to three.”  Bucky ran his hand over his hair.  “I assume I am invited?”

            “Of course.”  You laughed and hid the disappointment.  You were being crazy; you were nothing to him.  “I value our friendship.  One week to go.”  

            “Relax.”  Bucky pulled you in for a hug.  “Enjoy yourself.”

            “My mom lands on Tuesday.  I’m going to try to entertain her.  She is a bit out there.”  You weren’t sure you wanted to get into it, but the thought left your mouth. “I mean I love her, and I am so excited to see her.”  

            Bucky stopped at the bar and pulled out a chair.

            “Tell me all about it.”  

           You didn’t hesitate as you sat down, ready to speak your mind.

~~

           “Am I ever going to meet the man who is finally marrying my virgin daughter?”  Your mom took another sip of wine.  “The wedding is tomorrow right?”

            “Work has him crazy.”  You looked at your phone again.  

            This week was met with no messages from Bucky and minimal ones from your fiancé. The last one was him bailing on dinner tonight because of how crazy work was.  But plenty of comments from your mother about how you should test the goods.  

            “Do you know how many men I have slept with?” She put her hands above her head in a stretch.

            “No.” You almost messaged Bucky, but then thought it should be your fiancé.

           “Neither do I.”  Your mom grabbed your chin, making you ignore your phone.  “Baby are you sure you want this? I love you.  I know how different we are.  You’re not me, you’re better.  But…be you, not some fantasy of you.”  

            “Would you paint my toenails?  Like you did when I was little?”  You tried not to cry.  

            “Of course.”  Your mom grabbed your hands and kissed them.  “Anything for my little girl. The night before her big day.”

~~

           A knock on your door woke you.  You groaned as you rolled out of bed and went to answer.  A swarm of people entered your apartment like you weren’t even there.

            “James said we’re to make you flawless.”  There was a chorus of five people saying the same thing.

            You gave up objecting after five minutes.  One went for your misspainted toenails, you stopped them.

            “Those stay.”  Memories of your night with your mom flooded back.  

            There was a warning in your gut to check your phone, but you left it in the bedroom, and you didn’t want to disrupt Bucky’s final gift. Besides, it was your wedding day. There was no point in complaining.

 ~~

           Your cellphone now felt like the weight of the world as you paced back and forth outside of the courtroom.   Constantly calling your fiancé on repeat.  

           The ring….ring….ring…to voicemail was killing you.  

            Did something happen to him?  Was it cold feet?  Something worse?  You thought of the ten people seated inside, waiting for you two to enter.  

            “I was hoping you would pick the black and silver number.”  Bucky’s voice made your head snap up. “You are stunning.”

            Bucky was there, a white shirt and black pants, hair slicked back.  Arms wide open, ready to congratulate you.  

            “I don’t know where he is.”  You couldn’t hug Bucky, you needed to get a hold of your soon-to-be-husband.  “What if something happened?  Is he standing me up?  Thank you for the hairdresser and makeup artist, and the masseuses, and the nail technician.  And everything.  But where is he???? We were supposed to start our five-minute ceremony one minute ago?”

             Bucky looked nervous.  He glanced around the hallway.  He always had the right answer, but he looked lost.  

           You about had a collapse on the floor laughing. Everything was so fucked.  

            “I’ve held my tongue, but he is an asshole.”  Bucky picked you back up and glared you in the eye. “You can do so much better.  

            “But I love him.  He is going to be my husband?”  It came out like a question as you stared Bucky in the eye.  “This is so embarrassing. My mom, aunts, uncles, and cousins are in there.  They came to New York for no reason.”

           “Do you love him?”  Bucky looked around your face.  “Really?”

            “Yes. No.  I don’t know.  Maybe?” Right now you had a hard time believing you could ever love someone capable of standing you up on your wedding day. “I have to go in there and tell them. The wedding is off.”  

            “Hey, none of your family know him, right?”  Bucky rolled his shoulders back.  “I don’t know what is happening. But I’ll be your groom.”

             “What?”  You snapped your neck toward him.  “Are you insane?”

           “It won’t be legal.  Just a show. Then we’ll take your family back to the restaurant.  Have the party.  You can save some face and come up with some story later.”  Bucky grabbed your arm and wove it around his.  “Come on.”

           Your mind was racing with objections to Bucky’s idea and fury over your fiancés’ absence.  But before you pulled your arm away he pulled open the door.  

            The only people in the room were your family.  They all rose and smiled as Bucky walked you down the aisle.  

            “Smile.”  He leaned in to you.  “You look terrified.”

            “This is a terrible plan.” You whispered back.  

           “One we are doing anyway.”  Bucky squeezed your hand tight when you stopped right in front of the judge.  

            “This is one of the best pleasures of my job.”  The man in the robe beamed at you.  “You look like a fine young couple and I wish you much happiness in life.”  

            “We will have a very happy life.”  Bucky beamed, but you felt as if you were in a daze.

           “Did you write your own vows?” The Judge asked.  

            “No.” Bucky was taking the lead. “Just want it short and sweet.”

            “Alright, I can do that.  You’re up first.  Repeat after me.”  The Judge cleared his throat.  “I, say your name…”

            Your body went on autopilot when Bucky looked at you, holding both of your hands as he repeated the marriage vows.  When it was your turn you didn’t stop, feeling all your family’s eyes on you as you spoke the words.

            “By the power invested in me from the state of New York, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”  The Judge smiled.  

            Bucky’s hand touched your cheek, cupping your face as his lips pressed into yours.  He parted them slightly.  He was soft, inviting, and his kiss struck you at your core.  

           It felt like the entire world went silent, the cheers of your family distant in the background.  When he pulled away, you lunged in for more and a whimper left your mouth.  

            “Congratulations!”  Your mom hugged you first. “Welcome to the family James!”

           “Please, call me Bucky.”  He added.

            “I knew she called you something other than James.  That didn’t sound right.”  Your mom laughed, not even noticing that Bucky was certainly not your fiancé’s name.

            “Let’s go celebrate.”  Bucky wove his fingers in with yours.

            The little wedding party followed you outside.   Your phone buzzed and you pulled it out as you walked don’t the steps.

  I’m sorry.  Don’t hate me.  

            With one quick push, you blocked the number.  

            At least you didn’t need to worry about him being dead in a ditch.  

            “Everything okay?”  Bucky whispered in your ear.

            “No.” You gave him a fake smile.  “My family thinks you’re my husband and I just got left at the alter.”  

            “Worry about that later.”  He pulled your hand to his lips and gave a kiss.  “Enjoy your day.”  

            You rolled your eyes in disbelief.  This was out of control.

 ~~

           “He is quite the catch.”  Your mom whispered to you in the private room in Bucky’s restaurant. “You did good.”

            “Mom, there’s something I have to tell you.”  You turned toward her.  

            “Can I have everyone’s attention?”  Bucky stood up from the table where you’d just had the most delicious meal of your life.

            A server came into the room with a tray of champagne.  Your family all took a glass and you did the same.  

            “The second I saw my lovely wife I was smitten.  It was at a grocery store.  She was shopping for an avocado.  She picked up so many and held them, putting them back I had to watch.  Eventually, I started to count.  I missed the first half, but she tried fifty-one others.  Who does that?  At first, I found it odd, but then I started to think what is she making with that avocado?  Why does it need to be so perfect?  She’d passed up at least thirty great choices.

            “I was about to tell her as much, but then her nose scrunched and she walked away. I was smitten.  And I wanted to chase after her with a perfect avocado.  That’s when I fell in love with her.  Before we’d even said hello.  I knew I wanted to spend my life giving her perfection.”  

             There was a chorus of awwws, from your family.  Bucky waved you over and you went next to him.  

            “To the happy couple!”  Your uncle rose his glass.  

            Everyone said cheers and clicked glasses while Bucky placed a kiss on your cheek.  

            “That story.”  You whispered in his ear.  “That’s true?”

            You remembered searching for the avocados and giving up.

            “Every word.”  Bucky gave you a peck on your lips.  “Please, stay as late as you like.  But I think it’s time I took my lovely wife home.”  

            Everyone applauded as Bucky started to walk you out of the room.   You were touched by his story, but there was a nagging in the back of your mind.  

            Bucky held open a car door for you and you slid inside.  Trying to piece it together.  

            “The avocado thing.  It wasn’t the same trip as the bridal magazine.”  You looked out the window.  

            “Sure it was.”  Bucky laughed as he started the car.  

            “No, it wasn’t.  I remember because that’s when my fiancé told me to get a bridal magazine.  I came home with no avocado and he said I should have at least grabbed one of those from the checkout.”  You looked at Bucky for a clue.  

            “You shouldn’t bring up your fiancé to your husband.”  Bucky smiled.  “Screw that guy.  He isn’t worth a single thought of yours.”

            “Thank you.”  You shook your head.  “For what you did today.  I’ll have to come up with a reason we aren’t married in a few months, but you saved me from some major embarrassment.”  

            “It was an honor.”  Bucky turned right.  

            “My place is the other way.”  You pointed to the left.

            “Isn’t your mom staying there tonight?”  He tapped the wheel.  “Spend the night at my place, to keep up appearances.”  

            “You’re right.”  It would be hard to explain not spending your wedding night with your husband.  

            Bucky turned into a parking garage.  The attendant waved him through.  You looked up at the skyscraper as you disappeared inside.

            “You live here?”  The building looked expensive.  

            “When I’m in New York.”  He pulled into a reserved parking spot.  “I’ve got a few properties elsewhere.”

            “I didn’t realize you were so…”

            “Rich?”  Bucky opened the door and you did the same.  “I know.  It’s part of your charm.”  

            Bucky led you into a luxurious lobby, waving at the concierge as he held your hand. You walked into the elevator and he hit the button for the top floor.  

            “Facial recognition.”  Bucky smiled. “Pretty neat huh?”  

            “This is crazy.  I knew your restaurant was popular, but….”  This was too fancy.  

            “You didn’t google much besides the models huh?”  Bucky laughed.  “I own six restaurants…in New York.  Fourteen other restaurants around the globe.  I’ve also got a portion of a casino in Vegas with a friend.”

            “But you’re so down to earth.” You shook your head.  

            “Thank you.”  Bucky shrugged and the elevator came to a stop. “Home sweet home.”  

            The doors parted to an amazing space.  The view of the city was insane.   There were modern couches and an open floor plan with a top of the line kitchen.  This was not what you were expecting.  

            “Looks like word travels fast.”  Bucky walked to the table and saw a bottle of champagne and strawberries.  “The building sent up a congratulations bottle.”

            “That’s odd.”  You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the view.  

            “I’ll get some glasses.”  Bucky walked into the kitchen.  

            “All of this and you have a catering business?”  You turned to face Bucky as things started to connect in your brain.

            “Well, I don’t do the day-to-day.  Really it’s not that successful.  I’ll probably focus on other operations.”  Bucky pulled out the stemware, reaching the top shelf.  A folded up piece of paper fell out of his pocket.  

            “And that bridal shop, you were picking up the sample from, that wasn’t high end.  What bride would buy her dress there and afford you as a caterer?”  Your mind went to the coffee shop.  “You knew my coffee preference, and you knew my name.  I never told you.”

            “Of course, you did.”  Bucky came back over and started to pour the drinks.  

            “And all the places that were booked were your recommendations.  Did you tell them to blacklist me?”  You locked eyes with Bucky.  “So, I’d be forced to celebrate at your place.  And my fiancés’ mystery client, keeping him so busy at work, was it you?”

            “It’s been a long day.”  Bucky put his arm around your shoulder.  “You’re sounding a little crazy.  Why would I have this elaborate plan?”

            The nerves started to fizzle out as you shook your head.  

            “I’m sorry.  You’re right.”  Besides what did Bucky have to gain from it?  A fake marriage.  “Today was crazy.  And you helped me.”  

            You rested your head on his shoulder and he kissed your forehead.

            “I would like to take you out on a date though.”  Bucky clinked your glass.  “Not as friends.”  

            “It’s a little soon.”  You gave a nervous laugh.  “Maybe I should take some time to heal.”

            “You don’t seem broken to me.”  Bucky’s hand slid off your shoulder.  “Want a tour of the place?”  

            “Sure.”  You hoped you hadn’t hurt Bucky’s feelings.   You touched your lips and thought about the kiss earlier.  There was a spark between the two of you.    

            “Gimme a second to make sure I hid all my psycho stalker stuff.”  Bucky made a fake pistol with his hand.

           You rolled your eyes.  At least the man had a sense of humor about it.  You wondered how long it would take to live that down.  

            The apartment went quiet as he disappeared down the hall.  You tapped your fingers on the table and then noticed the paper on the kitchen floor.  It stood out against the perfection of the place.  

            You walked over and picked it up, almost setting it on the counter.  But your fingers got the best of you and you unfolded it.  

            The words weren’t registering.  You read them over and over again.  How was this possible?  Was this a mistake? A joke?  

            “I was hoping to wait a bit until you saw that.”  Bucky’s voice no longer brought comfort.  

            You turned toward him with the paper in your hand.  

            “It seems like a lot, I know, but we’re perfect for each other.  You know it and I know it!  What was the point in waiting?”  

            “How?” There was a tremble in your wrist.

            “I have some friends.  Pulled some strings.”  Bucky scratched the back of his head.  “Really, this is a good thing.  Think about it.”

            “I was right.  About everything.  Wasn’t I?” Your voice shook.  “The avocados, the fake catering company, the dress shop, the restaurant, the marriage?”

            “I may have created some situations that led to our interactions.”  Bucky sighed. “I don’t want to start our life out with lies.”

            “Start our life?!?!”  You glanced at the paper.  “Oh God. My fiance.  What did you do to him?”

            “He’s fine. I promise.”  Bucky walked closer to you and you took a step back, holding up your hands.  “He may have drank something that caused him to oversleep.”    

            You thought back to the text message he sent.  I’m Sorry. Don’t hate me.  You had blocked him so you didn’t see the rest.

  “He wasn’t apologizing for leaving you at the altar.  He was apologizing for oversleeping.”  You pushed passed Bucky and went to your purse.  Grabbing your phone.  

  You went to his contact and hit unblock.  A whole flood of messages came in.  

  “He showed up at the restaurant.  Your employees threatened to call the cops.”  You looked up at him in shock.  

  “What are you doing?”  Bucky’s eyes went to your phone.

  “Texting him!”  You started to type out an apology, but the tech was snatched from your hands.

  “HEY!”  You reached for the phone, but Bucky held it away from you.  “Give that back!”  

    “I know this is hard to hear, but that guy was bad news.  I had a private investigator follow him.  He has girlfriends all over town.  You’re one of three.  He made no mention to any of them he was getting married.”  Bucky continued to move away from you as you clawed for your phone.  “His computer was filled with searches about annulments and divorces.  He was only marrying you so he could sleep with you.  Then he was going to leave you right away.”

  “I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!” You reached for your phone, but Bucky kept twisting.  “Annulment?”  

  Relief flooded your chest.  One problem solved.  

  “Keep the phone.”  You grabbed the marriage license and picked up your purse.  

  “Where are you going?”  Bucky looked shocked.

  “Home.”  You walked to the elevator.  “That way I can get an annulment first thing in the morning.”  

  You looked around for the call button.  

  “I wish you wouldn’t have said that.”  Bucky’s voice went cold.

  “You think I was going to stay married to you.”  You spun on a heel.  “I don’t even know how you got the license without me.  I’m getting the hell out of here.  Now call the elevator.”

  “This is why I wanted to wait to tell you.”  Bucky cracked his neck.  “With divorce.  I can hire the best attorneys. Drag it out. There’s still plenty of time to prove to you that you love me.

 “I don’t love you.”  You snapped. “I don’t even know you.”

 “That’s not true.”  Bucky stepped closer.  “Don’t be cruel just because you’re hurting.  Everything I did, was with your best intentions at heart.”

  “Best intentions?”  You scoffed. “You manufactured our whole friendship and married me without me even knowing.  I’m getting this annulled ASAP.”

  The frustration rolled across Bucky.  

  “You can’t get an annulment if the marriage is consummated.”  Bucky cracked his knuckles.  

  “You think I’m going to have sex with you?”  You didn’t have time to even say the next part before Bucky came forward and put his shoulder into your stomach, hoisting you in the air.  “PUT ME DOWN!”

  “I was gonna take you on a few dates.  Get you to open up more.  Then ask you to marry me.”  Bucky carried you down the hall as you pummeled his back.  “Then we’d go to get the license and surprise! We’re already married.  We would laugh and call it fate. It was all planned out.”

  “Bucky you’re scaring me.”  You tried to wiggle off of him.  “Please put me down.”

  He set you down on the bed and kneeled in front of you, putting his hands on either side of your face.

  “You never have to be afraid of me.”  He locked eyes with you.  “I love you so much.  I only want what is best for you.”  

  He hopped up to his feet and you looked around the bedroom.  It was as fancy as the rest of the apartment, the bed was huge.   You stopped looking at the interior when Bucky took his shirt off in front of you.

  “What are you doing?”  You stood up, but his hands found your shoulders and pushed you back down.  

  “I am going to make love to my wife.”  He spoke with conviction.  

  You thought about shrieking.  Running. Hitting.  Kicking.  Biting. Fighting.  But instead, you froze.  Terror leaving you glued in place.  

  “I know it’s your first time.”  Bucky took off his socks and shoes.  “I promise I’ll be gentle.”  

  Little gasps were leaving your mouth as you sat on the bed.  Trying to will your body to react.  To do anything.   He pushed his pants down and you felt a tear drip down your cheek.  

  “Don’t worry.”  The bed dipped.  “I’m going to take such good care of you.  You’ll see.”

  His hand went to the zipper on the back of your dress.

  “NO!” The movement shocked you into gear you shoved at him and ran for the door.  

  “Shhhh.”  Bucky grabbed you, wrapping an arm around your waist and putting a hand over your mouth. “It’s still me.  Think about all our time together.  Ice cream at your apartment.  Late night chats at the restaurant.  I’m still that guy.”  

  You cried into his hand and went limp.

  “That’s it.”  He kissed your neck.  “Don’t fight me or I’ll tie you down.  If you scream I’ll gag you.  Do you understand?”

  You nodded your head as more tears fell.

  “Good.”  He placed a kiss on your head and loosened his grip.  “I love you so much.  I had to have you.  All to myself.”  

  “You don’t have to do this.”  There was a shake to your voice.  “Please. Not like this.”  

  “If I don’t you’ll leave me.”  There was a hand on your zipper, taking it down.  “And now that you know it’s our wedding night I want it to be special. There’s really no point in waiting. We are married.”

  You grabbed the straps of the dress, but Bucky wrapped his fingers around your wrists and pulled your hands down.  The garment fell forward.  He pushed it down over your hips so it fell in a pool at your feet.  

  “Stop.”  You whimpered.  “Please.”

  “Shhh.”  Bucky turned so you were facing him, both of you only in your underwear.  “Just try to relax.”  

  His hand cupped your sex over your panties.  He pushed his palm against you and ground down.  You let out a meep and fell forward, bracing yourself on his shoulders.

  “That’s my girl.”  Bucky kissed your neck.  His other hand at the small of your back. “Enjoying herself already.”

  “I’m not.”  You wanted to bite him, kick, scream, run.  Anything, just to get away.  

 But while your brain struggled to make a plan your body reacts to his touch.  

  “Don’t lie to me.”  Bucky gave a playful laugh.  

  “I’m not.”  You caught your breath.  

  “Oh yeah?”  Bucky stopped moving his hand, but your hips were rocking, humping his touch.  He gave a chuckle and kissed your neck again. Before resuming his motions.  “Its nothing to be ashamed of.  I want you to enjoy this.  I want you to enjoy every single one of our times together.”  

  You brought your hands to your face and covered it in embarrassment.  How could you be participating?  This wasn’t what you wanted.  

  “All those times I wanted to touch you, hold you, feel you this way.”  Bucky started to move faster.  “That body. That beautiful face.  The way you hold yourself.  I wanted to be perfect for you.  To give you a perfect life.  And I will. This is just the beginning.”

  You wanted to tune him out, pretend this wasn’t happening.  But You felt something growing inside of you.  A need.  One that was coming on fast.  

 “Oh God.”  You grabbed on to his shoulder again. “No. I don’t want this!”

  “Of course you do.”  Bucky continued rubbing you.  “I can feel how wet you’re getting through your panties.  You’ve been turned on since the courthouse.  Admit it.  That electricity in the kiss?  You felt it. We’re made for each other.”

 “No!” You gasped as you gave up any semblance of control, letting your hips wiggle and grind against his hand with a moan.

  “Don’t lie or I’ll stop.” Bucky threatened.  

 “Yes!”  You cried into his shoulder, the need for release hovering.  “Yes, I felt it!”  

  “Good job.”  Bucky pushed down hard.  “Now you don’t have to worry about me stopping.”  

  You realized that he just threatened you with the one thing you wanted less than a minute ago.  Your heart flared at the response and then you cried out as pleasure erupted from your center.  

 You fell forward on to him, gasping for air as the room seemed to spin.  

  “Beautiful.”  He kissed your cheek.  “Absolutely beautiful.”

  You didn’t have time to recover before he guided you back to the bed.  You were still seeing stars when he unhooked your bra and slid off your panties.  You went to cover yourself, but Bucky pushed off his boxers.

  The sight of him made you groan and a shake run through you.  

  “I promise it will only hurt for a second.”  He put a hand on your knees and spread them.  “Then you will be all mine.”

 “I’ll stay.  I won’t leave you.”  You tried to scoot away.  “I promise. You don’t have to do this.”

  “I want to.”  Bucky smiled. “It’s our wedding night.”

  His hand found your hip and he pinned you down while his cock ran up your slit. There was no denying you were wet and you cringed.

  “It’s okay.”  Bucky kissed your lips.  “Don’t tense up.  You were made for this, for me.”  

  “Please?”  You hated the way you sounded.

  “Shhhh.”  He brought his mouth on to yours, kissing you hard.  

  You should have fought, but all you did was part your lips and let his tongue slide inside.  Memories of the church filled your mind and you moaned at how good he was the skill.

  But then you felt pressure.  He was sliding inside of you.  It burned, but almost in a pleasant way.   You tried not to clench as he moved further.  Spreading your walls in a way you never thought possible.   You bent your knees and readjusted trying to spread your legs further.  Not wanting it to hurt.  

  “You did so well.”  Bucky broke the kiss.  

 You looked between your bodies and saw he was satiated inside of you.   You hated how hot it looked.  

  “But we’re just getting started.”  Bucky resumed the kiss as he pulled out.  

  You didn’t mean to kiss him back, but there was so much happening your tongue responded.  Then you felt the tingle between your legs grow again.  This time much harder.  Like all the energy in the room was being sucked inside of you.

  You started to roll your hips to meet him.  Grabbing on to his shoulders for something to brace yourself with. Needing more leverage to meet his motions.  

  This didn’t feel good.  It felt amazing.  You had to break the kiss as you struggled for air.  

  Both of your bodies worked with each other and against.  A sheen of sweat grew on your skin.  

  “What….why?”  You didn’t understand as you rolled your head.

  “Cum for me.”  Bucky railed into you.  “Cum for your husband.”

  You gripped the sheets as your toes curled.  You didn’t try to fight it as your body let loose.  Waves of passion and ecstasy spread from limb to limb as you did what you were told.  

  The urge to fight and flee with every pulse of the orgasm.  

  “What a good wife you are.”  Bucky kissed at your cheek.  “I’ll take such good care of you.  Forever.”

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump day 3

Prompt: imprisonment

Warnings: medical trauma

read on AO3!

A Long Way Down

Bright lights pass in quick variables, and it takes Obi-Wan a moment longer than it should to realize he's lying on a stretcher, oxygen mask strapped to his face and wires and cuffs on every available piece of skin. He groans, catching the attention of Commander Cody who is running beside the stretcher.

"Not to worry, General, we are almost at the med bay."

That is exactly why I am worried.

He reaches up slowly to pull the mask off his face as the stretcher slows, looking up at his Marshall Commander. "Cody... what happened?"

"An explosion, sir. Tunnel collapsed," he pauses. Cody already knows his follow up question. "The men are okay. You... Force-pushed them out of the way."

Well, that explains why my body feels like it has been crushed under a ton of rocks... supposedly it has. 

Obi-Wan has no memory of this, but from the grim looks on the faces of all the troopers surrounding him he suspects he 1. doesn't look good and 2. is as bad as he looks.

"How bad?" he asks as they guide the stretcher into the med bay and stop it next to a bed.

Cody looks at Helix, the medical clone who seems to be trying hard not to make eye contact with him. With the penetrating stare of both his Commander and General, Helix finally looks up from the datapad.

"We're gonna have to dunk you, General."

He blinks, letting the words slowly settle into his discombobulated brain. Usually, he would protest. Make a fuss about being fine, because usually, he is, and medical can put their resources elsewhere. Usually, they would lock the doors as soon as he enters-- he glances over and yes, they did. What am I going to do, run? Obi-Wan is fairly sure both of his legs are crushed judging from the odd angles they are at, so he isn't sure how they expect him to make a break for it.

But today, Obi-Wan just lets his head fall back and he stares at the ceiling. He cannot protest because the tightness in his throat won't let him. He's afraid to open his mouth again because if he does his words will turn into sobs and his men do not deserve to see their General cry.

He can feel Cody and Helix's surprise. He doesn't have to look at them to know they are now even more concerned for him now that he hasn't tried to raise hell about being taken to medical. But they also seem to be relieved, so at least he can give them that respite.

He stares at the ceiling as movement begins to happen around him. Medical troopers pulling at the needles and sensors, inserting new ones. It all fades into a blur of hands touching him gently but firmly, frequent pinches and jolts of sharp pain, and the cool stickiness of applicators against his skin. Obi-Wan just stares at the ceiling.

He is fairly convinced that every medical facility has the same designer. Even the Jedi Halls of Healing have walls that are stark white. Sterile white. So bright they rival the glow of the iridescent lights, which is a design flaw in his opinion. Obi-Wan has spent a lot of time seeing these ceilings-- but not because he has spent a lot of time in medical. There is a reason he doesn't like to end up in the med bay, and the reason haunts him every time there is even a prospect of him having to go to see a healer.

Seven-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi had feet too big for his body. It's like he began to hit a spurt, but only his feet realized that growth was the plan and the rest of his body was still figuring out how to stretch his small stature a few inches taller. It gave him the unfortunate nickname of Oafy-Wan, coined by his age-mates who he didn't exactly consider his friends. His clumsiness wasn't horrible, but it was distinctive enough to cause him a bit of trouble when practicing lightsaber katas and doing his physical activity tests.

On this particular day, seven-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi had already had a very bad day. He fell in the middle of a practice spar in front of everyone. He wasn't even doing an acrobatic move or anything, he just fell over his own feet. The roar of “Oafy-Wan” was the only thing he could hear as he stared at the floor in shock of how quickly everything had transpired. Despite Bant's sympathetic reassurance and his other friends trying to overpower the chant, he spent the rest of the lesson trying to make himself as small as possible.

His pouting continued through the day, even to their long-awaited field trip to the Senate Rotunda. He walked with his creche mates, tuning out of their excited conversation of seeing the massive Galactic Senate chambers and instead focusing on the speeders rushing past just meters away from them. He wished to just jump into one and speed away from it all. Despite his prior excitement for this journey out of the Temple, he now wants nothing more than to go back to his dorm and curl up in his bed.

"Don't trip, Oafy-Wan," a familiar snide voice rings in his ear. He turns to see Bruck Chun, one of his age-mates that often leads the cause against him, sneering at him. "It's a long way down."

They're walking along a more narrow section of the street. Just a few meters to the left there is a deep chasm that goes into the lower depths of Coruscant. So deep he cannot see the bottom.

Obi-Wan brushes him away, in no mood to deal with him. "Get lost, Bruck." His arm presses into Bruck's side, pushing him away, which is not to the pleasure of his age-mate. Bruck's eyes narrow, and he jabs his elbow into Obi-Wan's back.

"Don't push me."

Anger surges in Obi-Wan's chest as he staggers forward. He whirls around and uses both hands to push Bruck into the wall of the building they are passing. A few initiates have stopped now to watch them, but as they stand at the back of the group the mass have not noticed their tussle.

"Funny, it seems I'm doing just that."

Bruck runs at him this time, his anger potent in the Force, and Obi-Wan suddenly has the clarity that maybe this isn't a good idea. He jumps out of the way of Bruck's charge, vaguely aware he is standing at the edge of the street now. Bruck skids to a stop.

"Coward," he spits, just as the Master leading their field trip calls for them to stop lagging.

Obi-Wan avoids Bruck's gaze as he passes by him, pointedly smacking his shoulder into his. Obi-Wan sighs, and turns to join the group.

As he turns, he finds himself suddenly caught in the air stream of a speeder that is too close to the sidewalk. He feels his small body lifted off the ground, and he flails in fear at the lack of anything for him to grab onto. A chorus of yelling erupts, most of them either calling his name or Master Vant. Obi-Wan can see the ground, and he tries to position his feet to land there, but another passing speeder sends him into a tailspin.

And Obi-Wan falls.

Even years later as a Jedi Master, Obi-Wan remembers falling down that speeder shaft. When he thinks about it he can hear the screams of his friends as they watched him fall. He can see them peering over the side. Master Vant running up and raising her hand to reach for him in the Force.

Had she reached him a moment earlier she probably could have saved him. But his downward momentum was suddenly ceased as he crashed against a speeder before she had the chance to cushion his descent. And he was met with horrendous pain and the taste of blood. Much like how he feels laying in the med bay now. Everything afterward was a blur.

"Are you ready, General?" Helix asks. Obi-Wan looks past him to see the bacta tank is all set up. Obi-Wan swallows hard, and he says nothing, but Helix takes that as a yes. His stretcher starts to float toward the tank, and he squeezes his eyes shut as the horrible memories come rushing back.

Choking. Obi-Wan expected to wake up in a reality beyond life-- he truly believed he would be returned to the Force, but instead, he woke up choking. He started to panic before he opened his eyes, and when he finally tried to find the reason for his restrictive breathing the initiate realized he can't see either.

He tries to thrash around, but his movements seem to be restricted somehow. Like he is tied up, but he can't feel bounds. His body just isn’t listening to him, which is even more terrifying. He tries to blink through the thick goo that seems to be covering his eyes, but it won't clear. It burns instead. He's trapped in a senseless prison, and he lets his panic radiate outward into the Force. He needs someone to hear him. Find him. Anything.

The Force responds with a collective feeling of shock. He repeats his plea for freedom, and finally, he hears something. Distant talking. Yelling, actually. Frantic. There is the deafening sound of suction, and then Obi-Wan is falling again. Slower than before but in his mind's eye he sees his friends staring down at him. Laughing at him. Oafy-Wan! They cackle. It's a long way down.

He hits the floor. The gel material that once encased him sloshes everywhere. His body curls into a ball and he feels many pairs of hands grabbing him and positioning him onto his back despite his protests. The touches are not comforting. Their goal seems to be to push him right back into the place he just escaped, and he begins to sob in terror. The voices are blending together as his vision begins to tunnel again.

"...sedative wasn't enough."

"How did he wake..."

"Get him back under!"

It was explained to him by one healer that his IV fell out of his arm. Another told him that the dosage was too light. A third said the adrenaline caused his metabolism to spike, making the correct dosage go quicker. Obi-Wan isn't sure why he woke up while in the bacta tank that day, but he suspects knowing the reason wouldn't have changed the panic he feels every time he has to take a dunk.

Obi-Wan grabs Helix's arm as he is about to inject his IV. The medic freezes and looks down at him.

"You have my correct doses from the Temple, correct? For the general anesthetic?"

Helix blinks before nodding. "Of course, General."

"And you know Jedi tend to metabolize quicker as well? You will have someone monitoring my consciousness?"

"Yes sir, we have detailed training from your healers on Jedi care. We will ensure you receive the right dose and don't get too much anesthetic."

He nods with wide eyes. His medic is slightly off in the reason for his inquiries, but it is comforting enough.

Even so, as the drugs begin to take him under he can't help but feel like he is seven again. Faded conversations of the medical troopers become the hushed words between Jedi Healers. The same fear of waking up within the tank again grips him with an iron fist around his already-intubated throat.

Never again could he look at a bacta tank and see it as an innovative medical advance. To Obi-Wan, it is a torturous prison that causes his fear to shamefully make an appearance.

He is positioned into the tank. The transperisteel doors close around him, and already he can feel his heart rate elevating. Why am I not asleep yet? Why am I still awake for this? Am I to do this conscious?

The bacta starts to fill at his feet slowly. He feels the urge to lift his legs and climb away from the rising gel, but his body has already separated from his mind. He cannot slam his fists against the doors and beg to be let free. Cannot scream with the tube down his throat.

As the bacta reaches his knees, he finally feels the heaviness reach his eyes, and Obi-Wan says a last plea to the Force to let him stay asleep for the entirety of his imprisonment.

[futurewriter2000]

If we are not this, than what are we?

- pt. 1- 

A/N: I got inspired by tik tok for this and let me tell you, I’m so glad I did write this. I’m probably gonna do a part 2 because I couldn’t put all the request in and I have to. It didn’t fit all together and Imma finish it in part two I gues??? Idk. Just school is in my head right now so it’s hard to think.

REQUEST: Can I request a James PotterxSlytherin!Reader where they were neighbours and bestfriends as kids and when she got sorted in slytherin, james was an arse to her. When they are older (6th/7th year) they spend time and realise they like each other but all their family and friends are against it.

XX

James Potter.

An asshole.

A true, unpredictable asshole.

"GIVE IT BACK, JAMES!" you shouted, stretching your arm to get the journal in his hand.

You didn't know how he got a hold of it. It has always been under your pillow, sometimes under the cushions or the bed but never in reach for someone to grab.

He threw the journal to Sirius, who was laughing a few feet behind him. James wrapped his arm around your neck and stood behind you. You grabbed his strong arm that was tightening your neck and causing your head to be in an uncomfortable position. "YOU'RE HURTING ME! JAMES!" you shouted, feeling tears well up in your eyes as other students started to gather around and watch.

"Hurting you?" he loosened the grip and you pushed yourself away into Sirius' arms, grabbing the journal from his hands and pushing it against your chest. "You know we're always playing, lil Snake." he kept goading you, seeing well clear you were about as close to crying as Sirius was close behind you.

"You're an asshole!" you fumed at him. "A self-observed, narcissistic, prideful, son-of-a-bitch asshole!"

"And you're a slag, (y/n) (y/l/n)."

"Oh, I'M A SLAG?!?" you stepped back, scoffing and laughing forcefully. "Have you looked yourself in the mirror lately, Potter? Or were you too busy playing with Bibby the Bear? You know, coddle him like you did when we were kids? Kiss him a kiss goodnight?" you goaded and saw the colour on his skin turn bright red.

"Hold her, Pads!" he growled and you felt your arms being whisked away from your book.

Sirius was locking your arms behind your back, causing the journal to fall to the floor and being picked up by none other than, James Potter.

You knew there was no way out of this. You knew it and you admit to it but it's your journal and it's all of your feelings on a page.

You've been bullied by him since the first year. He was the one causing you to be anti-social. Because everybody loves James and who James likes, they like but who James doesn't like, they do not like either.

So as he opened the cover with the malicious smirk plastered on his lips, he took one last look at you. "Got any other words to say to me or do you want me to just read it?"

You felt your knees go completely numb and you were might as well hanging in Sirius' grip. "Please, James. Please don't." you pleaded, begged, prayed even... But it was James... And James hates you.

He opened and started to read. He laughed immediately. "Okay, okay. You weirdo." he commented and tears started to trickle down your eyes. "Dear thinking book, May 5th, 1973 - blah blah blah - Oh!" he exclaimed, looking up at you. "You fancied the Perfect Klemmens in your third year? - 'His eyes are so wonderful! Green marbles-"' "he laughed, barely containing it, just as the other students around you. "- sorry. It's just too funny. " he continued to laugh. "- for you to think you ever had a chance with Klemens."

"STOP!" you shouted but he just turned around with his finger in the air.

"I'm just gonna skip 73' since Klemens is all you talked about." he flipped a few pages. "What happened to 74'?"

You don't talk about 1974.

"Oh, here I am!" he beamed. "September 3rd: 'Back here and nothing has changed. Everything is the same, even the infamous Asshole of the Gryffindor tower hasn't grown up a brain.'" he looked at you and touched his heart. "Ouch. To be quite frank with you my brain is evolved just fine. It's yours who need some working." he was up close, watching you and blinded by the wet cheeks.

A tear fell and you felt absolutely defeated. You spat in his face, kicked Sirius in his crotch, and pulled out your wand "Inferno!" you shouted but instead of hitting the journal as you wanted you, you lit up James robe.

At this point, you didn't care.

"Missed!" you heard his mocking laugh but you just ran. You ran outside, you ran out of the castle, you ran so far until you were sobbing at the edge of the lake.

His voice kept repeating in your head as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. You lost your whole energy to that night. You laid on the side, rocks digging in your hips and causing you much more pain but to that pain, you were numb. The real pain was inside of you. You grabbed the grass and pulled it out because you were so furious and so upset. You just wanted to die right there and then.

'He used to be my best friend!' you cried in your head, tears enabling you to open your eyes as a scene of a messy 8-year-old boy, prancing around you and pulling you into the mud with him rolled in your head. 'We used to be best friends.'

---

He walked into the dorm, seeing Remus help Peter with his homework. He stomped proudly, throwing the journal on his bed and taking off his school robe. He pulled up the burnt edge and shrugged. "Oh, well. I'll just write mum to buy me another one." he laid on his bed with his shoes still on.

"Where's your other half?" Remus asked.

"Saw some Tinkerbell down the corridor as we walked. Got distracted."

"Should I ask about the robe?"

"Nah. No, fun without someone else telling the story. We'll have to wait for Sirius."

"Alright."

"Alright." repeated James, looking at the ceiling and thinking of you. It plastered a smile on his face to know you wrote about him in your journal. "I wonder..." he mumbled to himself, laying on his stomach and opening the journal again.

" November 16th, 1975: 'I thought I was over this. I thought I was strong enough! I THOUGHT I WOULDN' T BE TREATED LIKE THIS ANYMORE! I keep repeating the same thing because I know that I still can't get it through my thick head of how he went from my best friend to my enemy. '" James turned the page and kept reading. It was obvious. You were a Slytherin. You betrayed him. Everybody knows Slytherins are the worst."' I can remember us just chasing each other down the big grass. His mother hated me as a child. Both of our parents disapproved of our friendship- his mother hated me because of my parents but I can' t choose which family I was born into. He promised that he doesn't care about what his parents think of me but clearly, he does. Clearly, he thinks I am just as WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!'" he backed his head away from the page, completely shocked by this sudden burst of anger.

What? Why would you think he thinks that?

He furrowed his eyebrows at the page and continued to read. " 'He hates me just like everybody else. He hates me just like his parents hate me. He hates me just like my own parents hate me. He hates me just like the rest of Hogwarts- hell he' s the cause behind all of that in the first place. And you know what's the worst part?! When he bullies me and belittles me in front of everybody- when he makes me cry and weep in the long nights after that - I still can't do it. I still can't bully him back AND I HATE MYSELF BECAUSE OF IT! I'M SO DUMB AND SO STUPID! I CAN' T EVEN STICK UP FOR MY OWN SELF, LET ALONE SOMEONE ELSE!!! - "

Again...that burst of anger but... But what was he feeling currently? What?

What's happening in his head right now? Why does he feel like his world just flipped? Why does he feel like he wants to cry? What's this uncomfortable feeling inside of him that feels like it's eating away his stomach?

" 'I hate myself. I just hate myself so much. I hate everything about me. I can' t even look myself in the mirror anymore. I'm just so bloody ugly and pathetic. Why am I still putting up with this? Why don't I just end it as a normal person would? Why don't I just end it right here and now? "

He read and his eyes were wide and watery. He didn't even know what he was doing until he was outside the castle grounds, breathing heavily.

Merlin?! - he grabbed his head. What if you kill yourself because of him?! What if you- how could he live with himself! - he-

"I can't breathe!" he gasped for air. "I- what's happ-" he tried to grab the air with his hands but then his eyes saw you- you in the far distance. You in your Slytherin robes, looking at the mirror of yourself in the water. You were on your knees, just letting your fingers dip and move along the waves.

His breathing got calmer, the air filled his lungs and for some odd reason, he smiled.

"Thank God!" he breathed out, getting on his feet and moving forwards.

You heard branches snap behind you and you quickly turned around, eyes widening in terror. "Please, James don't hurt me! James, pleas-"

He opened his arms and crashed into you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a hug. "Thank God, you're alive!" he squeezed you tight and you felt the confusion hit your brain cells.

"What?"

He squeezed you harder against him, digging his nose into your neck. "I'm so sorry, (y/n)" he felt a lump form in his throat and he started to choke on it, letting out fat tears. "I'm so sorry (y/n)!" he sobbed and started to cry in your arms.

You were completely shaking. You didn't know whether this was a prank or if he was truly honest with you.

"I'm so sorry for hurting you!" he continued to sob and you felt it. You felt it in your bones. This wasn't you being naive. This was you feeling old James in your arms. "I didn't know! I didn't know- I'm so sorry!" he pulled away with a completely runny nose and puffy red eyes, almost matching yours. His hands rested on your shoulders and he sniffed. "I won't do it again. I promise. I'll leave you alone. I'll do anything to make up to you, I PROMISE! I PROMISE I WON'T HURT YOU- just don't think like that?"

"What in the bloody hell are you talking about, James?" you furrowed your eyebrows at him, putting your own hands on his arms.

He sniffed one more time, pulling up the journal and putting it in your hands.

The realization hit strongly. "Oh.." you took it in your grasp. "So, you uhm-"

"I read sum of it." he let go of it, wiping his cheeks. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Are you joking?" you forced a laugh. "You can't be serious right now? Why didn't I tell you? Because it was obvious-"

"I wasn't that horrible?"

"You were terrorizing, James." you spoke completely serious. His eyes kept watching you in shock. He didn't believe it. "I'm scared of you, don't you get it? I avoided you since the first year and every year it got worse. I didn't come to eat unless I knew you weren't there. I asked my professors to not give me classes with you. I did everything I could to stay away from you because I was scared and terrorized by you. " you removed your hands from him and stepped back.

Why were you even holding him in the first place?

"I was really that bad?"

"Yes, and you still are."

"I made you hate yourself? " he asked, eyes guilty and ashamed, afraid of the answer.

"Yes, you did." you continued to watch him.

You were honest. It felt good saying these things to him.

"You think it's because of my mum?"

"You hate me just as much as she does. It's a clear explanation."

"But it's not true."

"well, whatever the explanation is, it surely wouldn't change anything you did. You're horrible, James." it just kept coming out and at some point, you knew this was dangerous but at the other, you couldn't stop. "You used to be so kind and so sweet when we were kids, neighbors even but I couldn't shake you off. Not home, not here. It was like living with a shadow. You always followed and I was always in such pit of darkness and loneliness because of you. I hated myself because of you. I tried to love me, something, anything but you never let me and this! "you shouted, lifting the journal in your hands." This was my safety. This was my listening ear. My healing. My only trustee but now I don't even have this. So thank you, James. For taking everything away from me. " you threw the journal in the lake and moved passed him. "Thank you for killing me."

[anarchyduck]

Axe, Sweat, and Cigarettes pt. 2

Part 1

Also read on ao3.

ALERT:  There are some behaviors that can be seen as forms of self harm. There is also some chatter alluding to child abuse/molestation but nothing graphic.

-------

Ned has been around Peter Parker long enough to pick up on the tell tell signs of when something is bothering him. He fidgets more than usual and spaces out a lot. He jumps every time Ned touches his shoulder, which Ned wouldn’t have to do but Peter stops responding to his questions and is staring off into space.

Peter also bites his nails when something is eating at him. And after he has bitten his nails down to the quick, he picks at the skin around his cuticles. He does it absentmindedly; Peter himself doesn’t seem to notice until he’s bleeding.

At first, Ned thinks it’s Spider-Man related. The superhero gig - no matter how awesome and cool it is - takes a toll on Peter. When asked, Peter denies anything is wrong.

“Just stressing about midterms.”

Ned finds that hard to believe. Peter is one of the smartest (if not the smartest, in Ned’s humble opinion) guy at Midtown. He lets it go with the lingering reminder that Peter can always talk to him. Peter just smiles and they move on to talk about something else.

Michelle notices too.

“What’s up with Peter?” she asks Ned one day during lunch. Peter is conveniently absent with the unofficial ‘I’m sick’ story. The real one, or so he texted to Ned that morning, is him being stuck at home dealing with a sensory overload migraine.

“What do you mean?” Ned asks. “He’s sick.”

“I mean what’s up with him lately.” Michelle clarifies. “He’s been acting weirder than usual.”

Ned bites the inside of his cheek. Sure, Michelle is cool in her own blunt kind of way, but she doesn’t know anything about Spider-Man or the real reason Peter isn’t at school. While it is awesome no one else knows except for him, Ned sometimes wishes someone like Michelle did know.

“I… don’t know.” Ned says truthfully.

MJ raises a brow. “Aren’t you two like, best friends or whatever?” she asks.

Ned frowns a little because, yeah, he knows she isn’t being malicious, but it does hurt a little. Peter is his best friend and if anyone should know what’s wrong with him, it should be Ned. And Ned doesn’t know.

“I heard he ran out of the boy’s locker room yesterday.” Michelle continues as she peels off the sticker on her apple. “Knocked Flash down on his way out.”

Ned remembers that. It was so weird. One second, Peter is fine, just finishing dressing out, and the next he is bolting out of the locker room like it was on fire. Flash was the unfortunate victim (Ned uses that term lightly) when Peter shoulder checked him on his dash out. Flash bitched and complained the entire time until someone told him to shut up. Ned didn’t see Peter again until lunch. By that point, he seemed fine again.

“He also spent third period in the nurse's office.” Michelle takes a bite of her apple.

Now that is something Ned didn’t know about. “It’s just stress,” he says. “You know, about midterms.”

“Midterms. Sure.” she scoffs and takes another bite, chews on it, and says, “You better talk to him. You losers shouldn’t have secrets between you.”

It sticks with Ned for the rest of the day.

On the way home from school, he sends Peter a text message.

Ned: How are you feeling? Any better?

Peter doesn’t respond immediately, and Ned tries to not worry about it and rationalizes that Peter has his phone muted. Maybe his migraine isn’t totally gone.

Ned’s phone chirps with a reply.

Peter: Little. Out rn

K. Want to hang out later? Ned sends the message off as he steps off the train to head home. His stomach twists, knowing the answer but hopes for a different outcome.

Peter: Sorry dude have to study

Yeah. He should have known better. Ned sighs and types out k see you later! He is about to put his phone away when he decides to send one more text.

Ned: If you need me let me know

The only response Ned gets from Peter is a thumbs up emoji and smiley face.

It doesn’t make him feel any better and he makes a mental note to check Twitter for Spider-Man news later. If Peter won’t fill him in on anything, he has other ways of keeping tabs on him.

Which brings him back to his conversation with MJ earlier. Peter has been acting weird and Ned feels like he should know why. The more he thinks about it, the more his mind keeps going back to that day at the bodega. Peter had been off for the rest of the day. Nothing alarming, just distracted.

Now that Ned thinks about it, Peter has been distracted nearly every day since then. It could all just be coincidence, but Ned doubts that very much. Something happened and he missed it.

The scene at the bodega replays over and over in his mind even after Ned walks through his front door. The apartment is empty, except for his sister’s tabby cat Speckles. The feline trills at him from her lounging spot on the back of the couch, tilts her head up as Ned pets her as he passes by to drop his school bag in his room.

He turns on his computer and, while waiting for it to boot up, wanders into the kitchen for a snack. Afterwards, he unloads the dishwasher (more of an oversized drying rack since it broke) and washes up the remaining dishes left in the sink. Both his parents won’t be home until after dark and his sister is staying over at her girlfriend’s apartment closer to Queensborough Community College. It leaves Ned to his own devices for at least a few more hours.

He checks Twitter for any Spider-Man sightings. He still thinks it would be cool to set up an official Spider-Man account to have a place where people could post messages or whatever. Peter was on board with the idea until Tony Stark caught wind of it and quickly shut it down, citing how much of a bad idea it would be. Ned thinks it is because Stark doesn’t understand how social media works.

Nothing new shows up in the tags except for a new Daily Bugle article ranting about the dangers of neighborhood vigilantes. Ned frowns and decides to close out the tab before he ends up reading it. He decides to open a program to practice coding with hopes it will be enough to distract him.

And it works.

Then his phone rings.

Ned knows it’s Peter just from the ringtone (the ever-iconic Wilhelm scream) and pauses his music as he answers, “Hey Peter, what’s up?”

“Hey.” Peter replies. Ned thinks he hears the wind blowing in the background and wonders if Peter is swinging while on the phone again. “Nothing much, uh… What are you up to?”

“Nothing much, just working on coding.” Ned puts the phone between his shoulder and ear as he puts both hands on the keyboard again. “There’s that coding competition coming up, you know, and I thought about entering. There’s a sweet prize of like a thousand dollars. Think of the Lego sets we could buy with that.”

Peter gives a noncommittal response. “That would be cool.”

Ned waits a beat for Peter to say something else. In the background, he thinks he hears traffic moving. Or maybe it’s the wind again. The silence stretches out a little longer than Ned’s comfortable with and he starts, “Are you feeling any better? Because MJ was asking about you and-”

“Do you think I’m a bad person?”

Ned’s fingers freeze on the keyboard. Where the hell did that come from? “No, of course I don’t think that.” he assures.

“But what if…” Peter breathes heavily against the phone. “But what if I did something bad?”

“Like what?” Ned asks carefully, treading light even as his heart rate picks up. “Peter, what happened?”

“N-Nothing, just uhm…” his friend trails off and Ned’s concern only grows as the silence once again lengthens. He can hear Peter breathing, can hear the wind, and the distant sound of cars honking.

“Peter?” his chair squeaks as Ned turns, taking both hands off the keyboard completely. “You’re starting to freak me out, dude. Say something.”

Through the phone, he can hear Peter’s breath hitch and catch. “Uhm…” he clears his throat and there is an odd strain in his voice as he says, “I’m thinking of doing something really stupid and I…” - he takes a shuddered breath - “I’m scared.”

Ned straightens in his chair. A million thoughts fly through his head, one right after another and none of them are good. He thinks about calling May or reaching out to Happy or, hell, even Mr. Stark. But Peter didn’t call them; he called Ned.

“Come over.” he says.

“Dude, I can’t. I-”

Ned cuts him off. “Peter. Come over right now. Just stop whatever you’re doing or about to do. Come over and hang out with me.” He tries to keep the worry out of his words. The underlying plea of please come over so I don’t have to worry about what you’re about to do. If you’re here, you can’t do anything stupid. Please please please

“... Okay.” Peter sniffles on his end of the line. “Okay, I-I’ll come over.”

Ned sags into his chair with relief.

----

 It’s half an hour later when he hears a familiar rhythmic knock at his window. Ned crosses the room from his desk to unlock his window and let his friend inside. The most out of place thing is realizing Peter isn’t in his Spider-Man suit. His clothes are dark though and he’s even wearing a black mask with goggles that look an awful lot like the ones from his old costume.

“Why do you look like a bank robber, dude?” Ned asks before he can stop himself.

Peter takes off the mask and runs his hand through his hair. “Oh, it’s like a stealth suit.” he says, as if that answers everything.

“Why do you need a stealth suit?” Ned asks as he closes his window. “And how come you’re not wearing your regular one?”

“Because Mr. Stark has a bunch of stupid surveillance equipment in that one.” Peter replies. “He doesn’t have to see everything I do.”

Ned returns to his chair as Peter flops down onto his bed, arms outstretched beside him. A hundred questions come up all at once (what don’t you want Tony Stark to see? Why do you need a stealth suit? Why have you been asking so weird the past couple of weeks? What were you doing?).

Instead, he asks, “What’s up?” Ned immediately cringes at how painfully casual it sounds. Good job, Leeds.

Peter exhales a sigh as he stares up at the ceiling. He picks at his fingers and shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, man.” he huffs a bitter laugh and brings his hands up to cover his face.

Ned bites the inside of his cheek. He wants to say something to break the silence, to push whatever is eating Peter inside out. “Where were you?” he asks finally.

“Out.” Peter replies, voice muffled by his hands that remain on his face.

“Yeah, but where?” Ned presses and, when Peter doesn’t answer, adds, “You’ve been acting weird, and I’m just worried about you. MJ is too. She asked about you today.”

“She did?” Peter asks in surprise. He uncovers his face as he sits up, a move Ned considers progress.

“Yeah.” Ned nods. “She wanted to know where you were today and why you’ve been acting… weird lately.”

Peter breaks eye contact as he fidgets with the black fingerless gloves. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you guys.” he quietens for a moment. He picks at the skin around his fingers and Ned wants nothing more than to reach over and grab them, to stop him. “I uh… I’ve just had a lot going on. W-With the internship and…” Peter trails off, not willing to finish what Ned knows is a lie. “Do you remember that guy who used to babysit me when I was little?”

Ned grimaces but nods. “Yeah.”

“I saw him.”

Ned’s eyes widen. “What? Where?”

“At the bodega, a couple weeks ago.”

Oh.

In an instant, everything clicked into place and Ned could see that moment when he caught Peter just standing in the middle of the shop’s aisle, staring off. How pale and out of it he looked, as if he was going to pass out any second. But he doesn’t remember that guy being there.

“And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him and the more I think about it, the more it freaks me out.” Peter rubs the corner of his right eye and sniffs. His leg keeps bouncing. “Now it’s like, every little thing just sets me off.”

“So,” Ned draws out, pieces falling into place. “That day, when you ran out of the gym locker rooms, something set you off?”

Peter nods. “I can’t really stand the smell of Axe body spray.” he says. “And someone was spraying it and it just… I just freaked out.”

“Is that why you skipped class and stayed in the nurse's office?” Ned asks. If Peter is surprised by him knowing this, he doesn’t show it. He just nods and continues fidgeting. “Peter, you could have told me.”

“Told you what? That I was being stupid? That I can’t handle smelling that stuff without thinking about him?”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. What he did was awful. It’s not-” Ned says but Peter cuts him off.

“Not my fault. Yeah, I got it.” Peter laughs bitterly as he gets to his feet to pace. “Logically, I know it’s not my fault. I know. But that doesn’t stop the dreams or, or the memories from coming back up. I should be over this by now. I mean it’s not like Skip” - Peter’s voice catches on the name - “did anything serious. It was just touching.”

“That still doesn’t make it okay!” Ned raises his voice a little higher, hoping it drives the point across through Peter's thick skull. “He still hurt you!"

“I found out where he lives.”

The sudden statement is enough to nearly give Ned a whiplash.

“He’s here. In Queens.” Peter continues in a rush without giving Ned a chance to recover. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it so I looked him up and found his address.”

An uncomfortable chill rolls over Ned. What does that even mean? “Dude don’t tell me you went to his house.” he says gravely. Peter’s refusal to make eye contact and nervous nail biting is enough to confirm it. “Oh my God, dude.”

“I’ve been watching him, and I thought, you know, I wasn’t strong enough back to stop him but now I’ve got all these powers. And what if he was hurting some other little kid? I couldn’t let that happen, Ned!”

“Yeah, but you can’t just…” Ned trails off because yeah, if he could stop a bus with his bare hands, he would probably think about doing the same thing. He tries imagining his friend staking out Westcott’s house and then the phone calls springs back into mind. “Is that where you were tonight?” A grim thought comes to mind and he looks at Peter with alarm. “Peter, don’t tell me you-”

But Peter shakes his head. “No. But I was going to do it. I was going to sneak into his house and confront him. I was just so… angry.” he runs his hand through his hair and finally, finally, looks at Ned. Eyes shining with unshed tears and his hands are still shaking, breath coming out a little quicker. “I wanted to hurt him so bad, it’s all I could think about. What if I did do it? What if I killed him? A-and then May would find out and Mr. Stark would find out and and they would lock me up and May would be all alone and-”

Ned is on his feet before he realizes it, crossing the space between them and catches Peter’s trembling hands. There are specks of dried blood beside his bitten down nails, the spots where Peter was picking already healed. Ned holds his friend’s hands firmly and looks at him to catch eye contact. “Dude breath.”

Peter blinks, eyes red-rimmed, and he does exactly that. Breathes in through his nose and exhales through his mouth. Ned nods encouragingly, remaining quiet as he gives Peter’s hand a light squeeze. It takes a moment for Peter to squeeze him back.

There are several things on Ned’s mind. The biggest being how Peter tracked down that asshole Westcott and planned a confrontation with him. If he had, well, Ned doesn’t want to think what could have happened. Going off just the videos on YouTube alone, he knows Peter could have seriously hurt Westcott, even killed him if he didn’t hold back. Ned thinks the guy would deserve it (he does, 100%) but it wouldn’t do Peter any good.

“So…” Ned begins, trying to find the right words. “You found the jerk, but you didn’t confront him. Which is good! The guy totally deserves to have his ass kicked, but I don’t want to lose my best friend to prison. Plus, I don’t think you’d survive prison.”

Peter chuckles lightly and sniffles. “Prison would suck.” he lets go of one of Ned’s hands to wipe the tears from his cheek.

“Plus, I want to call first dibs on kicking his ass.” Ned adds and gives Peter an earnest look. “For hurting my best friend.”

Peter ducks his head, bottom lip trembling until he bites it. He sniffles and takes another calming breath. “Thanks, man. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Ned shrugs, “Probably fail history class and become less cool.” he says easily and smiles when Peter laughs again.

They stay like that for a while longer until Peter’s stomach growls obnoxiously loud. They laugh and decide frozen pizza rolls and ice cream are excellent ways to recover from draining emotional situations. Peter sends May a message to let her know where he is, and Ned talks him into spending the night.

Ned may not have super strength or be able to climb walls, but if he can help make his friend feel better, then it is enough. 

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “John Wick” Part 3

Y/N left The Organization 3 years ago for the one reason strong enough to make her settle down: love. But after tragedy crushed her to pieces, she decided to leave The Joker and seek refuge with an old friend and mentor - John Wick. Needless to say The King of Gotham can’t accept his wife running away without a word, especially since he didn’t have a chance to tell her things she might want to hear.

Part 1     Part 2

The Joker listens at the bedroom’s door, impatient to have a conversation with you. It seems you are engaged into a fervent phone call with Winston and figured he shouldn’t interrupt.

“Please, anything you can discover would be a great help! U-hum… U-hum… Thank you,” and you hang up, which queues your husband to walk into the room.

You completely ignore him, scrolling through the numerous text messages you sent to your connections; several are already answering back and hopefully you can get some news soon. The more people are involved into the project, the more chances to find Kase and untangle the mystery of what happened to him after he was removed from the car.

“You left me there,” The Joker sneaks in and closes the door behind him. “Luckily we had Wick with us so he gave me a ride.”

No reaction. He takes a deep breath, trying to get your awareness.

“I didn’t sleep with Evelyn; sex wasn’t the reason why I kept visiting her. I know how that asshole made it sound and he was totally out of line!”

You quickly glance at him, busy replying to Ares since you feel you’re going to explode soon.

“The only skill I was interested in is the fact that she is an excellent painter and a popular art smuggler, OK?” J raises his voice, sort of annoyed you neglect to participate into his monologue. “I did not cheat, alright?” he approaches his wife. “First of all: I’m VERY picky! Second of all: why would I want a woman everyone else had?! I don’t like used toys. Third: nobody’s been polishing my gun as you tastefully addressed the issue! I have one Queen and I married her!!”

A little bit of doubt in your eyes and he utilizes the opportunity.

“You said you saw me going to her house? I did! The Bowery King asked if it was for the last 6 months? Yeah, I did! You know why?!”

At least now The Joker got your attention: you play it cool but he guesses you’re torn apart by his confession.

Many unfortunate events crammed in lately and hating the man you love made life infinitely more unbearable.

“Why…?” you barely muster the strength to inquire and he sees it as a possibility to mend a few broken pieces; although you can hide your emotions well, J can still read between the lines.

Maybe that’s why he answers with another question:

“Do you realize there are just three Monet paintings in circulation on the black market in the entire world? You admire his work and it took a lot of effort and a substantial fortune to acquire The Water Lily Pond painting. Evelyn Black helped with the transaction, then I had her make some modifications to the original masterpiece.”

You keep staring at The King of Gotham, uncertain about the stuff being tossed your way: is he lying or telling the truth?... In your line of work translating feelings is a huge part of the job; ultimately you had the best mentor to teach you the ropes when you started with the organization: none other than the legendary Baba Yaga. Despite his reputation and to your own amazement, John was one of the few hitmen with integrity and perfectly mastered the aptitude of not being a jerk. Such a rare gem… And blissfully unaware of it himself.

On the opposite end, The Joker is a jerk and flawlessly acquainted with his own “captivating” personality that made you fall in love with him anyway.

Also, doesn’t appear to be deceitful for the moment.

And you despise yourself even more for wanting to believe him.

“What… modifications?...” you throw him a bone and J is definitely not going to pass on the alternative of explaining his actions.

“I wanted to surprise you so I took advantage of Miss Black’s capabilities in the art field; I had her add small images to the authentic canvas: an evolution of you being pregnant, the nine frames culminating with a tenth: the new mother holding our son. Similar to a timeline,” he emphasize and you look intrigued, which might be a positive sign. “Needless to say it was tedious, difficult work, especially because she had to apply special pigments you can’t find at every corner of the street. Apparently you can’t mix old paint with contemporary shades, thus I had to order aged, special colors from Italy, Spain and France. That’s why I went to her place so often: I had to supervise the long process and make sure it turns out astonishing. Then…” and The Joker pauses,”…Kase was gone and I didn’t know what to do with my gift: bring it home or not? Would you have loved it? Would it make you sadder? I continued to drive to Evelyn’s and glare at the stupid painting for hours, undecided on what to do…”

J watches you bite on your cheek, then straightens his shoulders as you utter the words:

“… … … You ruined a genuine Monet?”

Your spouse might be a smooth talker when needed, yet he’s not wasting his versatility on this statement:

“I didn’t ruin it; I made it better!”

Silence from both parties. A good or bad omen? Hard to decipher the riddle with two individuals tangled into a relationship that somehow worked despite countless peculiarities meant to keep them apart.

“I have to talk to Jonathan,” you finally mutter and The Joker steps in front of you.

“Talk to me!”

“Unless you know the exact location of the suitcase full of gold coins he’s been safekeeping for me, I really have to speak to him. Or do you want to hammer the whole basement searching for it?”

Y/N walks out of the bedroom and J lingers inside, evesdropping on the conversation happening downstairs. He can’t understand the chat, but you are probably notifying John about the details your husband left out.

Might as well join the party, therefore The Clown pops up in the living room with a plea impossible to refuse:

“Hey Wick, can I stay here? I don’t care if you say no, I’m not going to leave.”

Your friend crosses his arms on his chest, focusing on the random topic:

“How could I deny such a polite request? Of course you can stay Mister Joker; my house is your house.”

You’re watching the free show unamused; usually it would make you smile…now you lack the depth for such connotations.

“Don’t get smart with me, Wick!” J growls and Jonathan pushes for a tiny, unnecessary quarrel.

“I’m not; although generally speaking, I fancy considering myself a smart guy.”

The Joker opens his mouth and you’re not in the mood for whatever the heck they’re initiating:

“I’m going to pump, then after you dig out the suitcase I’ll take half to the Bowery King,” you announce your plans to them.

“You can do that and rest; I’ll deliver the coins,” John immediately offers. “I can stop by Aurelio’s car shop and ask for his collaboration: he has a lot of associates, doesn’t hurt to get him involved. You have plenty of gold.”

“I have two more suitcases in the Continental’s safe and two more at The Penthouse. It doesn’t matter if it’s all gone as long as I can find my son.”

���I know gold coins are preferred; don’t forget we have a lot of money too,” J reckons with spite.

Is he reminding you or Jonathan?...

*************

Your husband spent the last hour in the garden, talking and texting with a lot of people; needless to mention he’s capitalizing on his network also. Winston disclosed Stonneberg’s contract is still opened, meaning the son of a bitch is out there; you have to scoop him before anybody else does.

“Y/N…” The Joker tiptoes in your quarters. “I thought you were taking a nap,” he huffs when he sees you at the edge of the bed.

You glare at the vial on the nightstand, sharing your idea for a future you wish will come true:

“I didn’t have my medicine in two days; I won’t take it anymore because if we get Kase back… I will nurse him. It all goes in the milk and I want to be able to feed my baby… Do you think his little heart is still beating?...” you sniffle and J is currently debating on a clever response since his mind is blank; one could deduce messing up is encoded in his DNA, but on such a huge scale… well, it gives new interpretations to the term even for him.

The grieving woman seeking reassurance for their loss is trying to make sense of the pointless occurrences that lead to Kase being an innocent victim and The Joker can’t render clarification: he has no clue why he asked her to marry him and why she said yes, it’s not that he’s husband material or a family man. Perhaps Y/N thought he could be… just enough to get by, that’s why she accepted his proposal.

Most women would have cringed at the concept. Most women. Not Y/N.

Most women would have flinched at the notion of having his baby. Most women. Not his wife.

Above all, she trusted J with their son and he treated the three weeks old like a trinket: didn’t drive him home because he had an important meeting, didn’t bother to assign escorting cars nor extra security. The King of Gotham took his child’s safety lightly and it definitely had severe consequences. Too late now to fix past mistakes... but he can attempt.

“You’ll be able to nurse him, OK?” he sits by you and hands over his cell. “Can you enter your phone number in here? Or am I not allowed to have the present digits?”

You’re hesitant and he slides the screen while you hold the gadget.

“Lemme help you,” The Joker sarcastically mumbles. “It should be the first on my list, right where the old number you canceled was.”

You exhale and fulfill his demand out of pure frustration when he squeezes in a second innocent petition.

“Chose my avatar.”

You grunt at his rubbish, scrolling through his folders for a picture anyway; J hopes the largest file will get your attention and that’s the point. How could Y/N miss it?!

Entitled “Baby”, the humongous cluster of pics contains 5,723 items. You open it quite absorbed by its size; what’s more puzzling is the collection depicting Kase’s ultrasounds, hundreds of frames with you being pregnant taken without you knowing: there’s a few when your ankles were so swollen you had to sleep with your feet up on 4 pillows, others with you munching on strange food you craved, more with you in the shower focused on your bump, a decent amount of couple selfies when you were sleeping and J had to immortalize the moment without waking you up and approximately 1,500 images of the newborn.

“You didn’t gross me out when you were pregnant,” The Joker reminds a teary Y/N. “Not sure why you would believe such aberration...” he pulls you on his knees and yanks the phone away, tossing it on the nightstand. “I would also like to underline I didn’t have an affair with Miss Black, alright?”

J lifts your chin up, forcing to look at him.

“Let’s put it this way: why would I fuck around with another woman when I have a wife at home that wants to kill me on a regular basis, hm? Where would the fun be? I mean, she didn’t pull the trigger yet but it’s exciting to hope she might. You know me: I’m a sucker for thrills!”

“Do I?”

“Huh?” J steals a kiss and you frown at his sleekness.

“Know you?”

“Yeah,” the green haired Clown acts composed while in fact his feathers are ruffled. Before you catch onto it he has to ultimately admit: “I’m sorry I didn’t drive the car… I should have…”

The Joker holds in his breath when your arms go around his neck very tight.

“I’m suffocating…” he grumbles. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to hug me or choke me to death,” J keeps on caressing your hair, prepared to block your attack in case you’re actually in killing mode.

This is the excitement he was speaking about: with you, one could never know until it’s a done deal.

“I bumped into Magnus at the Continental,” you give him a bit of space to inhale much needed air and The Joker is surprised at your revelation. “I had no idea about his scheme, otherwise I would have skinned him alive right on the hotel grounds! I wouldn’t have cared about the consequences!”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” J cuts you off and he can tell you’re getting mad; maybe you think he doesn’t give a damn but the reason is simple. “You would’ve been declared excommunicado for murder on neutral ground and I don’t want my wife to be the target of such punishment from the company she so proudly retired from. I need my partner!”

The King of Gotham touches your forehead with his as you whisper:

“I hate you!”

“Mmm, regarding this true love affirmation, I’m gonna need you to take a break from detesting me until we have Kase, then you can despise me full throttle again. Deal?” he extends the palm of his hand and you reluctantly shake it, not realizing you’re reacting to his nonsense. “Is that a smile?” J returns the favor with one of his creepy silver grins.

“No.”

“Liar,” he pecks your lips and can’t explain the weird feeling in his heart when you kiss him back.

*************

Jonathan enters the house and becomes suspicious after a few minutes: too much silence.

Omg! Did you and The Joker engaged into a brawling that ended up badly? Did you end each other?!

John frantically runs to the garage, nervous to see your car and J’s are still parked inside. Shit!

“Y/N?” he shouts, concerned about your fate; The Joker’s… irrelevant. Nobody in the garden, patio is empty also. Downstairs is deserted thus he rushes upstairs to your room. The door is not completely shut and he slowly pushes it, knocking.

“Y/N? Can I come in?”

The first thing he notices are clothes scattered on the floor, then he halts his movement at the sight of Y/N and her husband dozing off on the bed sideways: the naked bodies are covered with a blanket, but he can tell you’re snuggled in J’s arms.

Jonathan steps backwards, guilty of invading his guests’ privacy; he certainly didn’t expect to intrude in such a manner and softly closes the door, grateful it’s not what he feared.  

You and The Joker are so worn out the sound of your phones vibrating on the nightstand doesn’t wake you from the deep sleep. Your numerous contacts keep replying back to the text messages, the most important one showing up on his cell: one of the people J reached to is Evelyn Black and the two sentence conversation lights up the screen.

“Let me know if you see Stonnenberg.”

“He’s here.”

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[toxic-gorgon]

Visiting Hours: Atticus Rhodes (Fubuki Tenjouin) x Reader x Zane Truesdale (Ryou Marufuji)

First up is a never before seen fic on tumblr, it’s on my Ao3 though. Still, reader-chan may get more than what she bargained with. 

“No, you can forget that! Let the poor guy rest!” you growl, rolling your eyes at the brunette. “Besides, I’m sure that isn’t even good for his heart’s current condition.” you explained, placing your palms on your hips, and stomping your black-leather boot onto the ground. Atticus shakes his head and waves you off, much like he did any time you reason with him.

“So naïve, Y/N. Zane can’t heal on bed rest alone. Men have other areas that need healing too.” he says, matter-of-factly. You groan, crossing your arms over your chest. Your friend was really pressing his luck this time, so much so, he won’t leave the subject alone no matter how much you plea. “Look Y/N, it’s the least we can do for him, after all that happened last year.” Of course he would use that against you.

 On your third year, it started normal enough. Seeing old friends, mountain sized stacks of homework, and of course dueling. You were sure things would finally calm down from previous years, but boy you were wrong, so very wrong. Most of that year was a blur (thank god), but of what you do remember, sometimes makes you wake up in cold sweat. It seems everyone was dealing with it in their own way.

 Zane received the worst of it, his heart too weak and barely beating. After his many duels with his underworld deck, it weakened his heart, but his final duel, the one with a twisted Jesse that was the final nail in the coffin. How you wish it was just a figure of speech. You wince, remembering, and not much longer before that, most of your friends were “sent to the stars”. Thankfully they took it one day at a time and came to terms, with an exception being Jaden, who no one really sees much anymore. Poor guy.

 With a sigh, your gaze meets Atticus’ chocolate ones. “Suppose I go along with…this, there’s always a nurse on hand, so we’ll be caught.” you explain, poking a rather obvious hole in your friend’s plan. He flashes a flawlessly sly smile, his orbs beaming even brighter.

 “That doesn’t seem to stop you. You remember, two days ago, when you came over to my dorm for the night. Girls are forbidden from the boy’s dorm, after all.” he grins, placing a hand on your shoulder. Leaning in, he whispers in your ear. “Though, I’m surprised the RA’s didn’t bust us, you were pretty loud.” You fought back a blush. Surprisingly (even to you), no one’s caught you those nights.

 You doubt it was your stealth skills, since literally everyone, if they’re lucky enough to have trees outside their windows, uses them, or even get to the floor/hall they’re rooms are on. You’ve been seeing each other, but only as friends with benefits all year. With all the never ending crazy adventures, you and Atticus confided in each other that you weren’t looking for a relationship, but agreed in this arrangement, of course remaining as friends. It was for the best to keep each other’s sanity.

 You looked around; making sure no one was around to listen to your conversation. Luckily, the far end of the courtyard was vacant, except for you two. “Will you keep it down? And fine, you have a point, but how do you know this sort of thing is ok with him? Have you asked?” Atticus shrugs, but again dismisses your questions.

 “It’s meant to be a surprise, but no, I haven’t asked him.” he states. “But, what man wouldn’t appreciate such a gesture? You’re such a great friend Y/N!” he smiles, giving you thumbs up. He won, he pulled the power move he was saving to seal the deal. Every time he says that exact line, all you can do is shake your head and zip your lips.

 “Fine, but if we get expelled for this, I’m dragging you down with me. Trust me, you will suffer.” you threaten him, which he wastes no time and grabs your hand, literally dragging you from your spot.

 “Yeah, yeah. We’ll worry about that when we get there.”

________________________________________________________________

You knock on the white door and stood back. Not a second later, it slides open, the current nurse on duty peering her head out. “Oh, you have some visitors!” she exclaimed, her overly perky voice making your ears ring. You pushed back your nervousness and smiled at her, while she steps aside to let you in. Atticus urges you to go, by gently pushing you forward.

 The room was pretty decent sized, most likely average from most hospital room standards. Everything was white, sterile with everything put in their place, and joyless, everything you would expect from a hospital room. Across the room, nestled against the wall, was the only bed in the room. In that bed laid Zane, who seemed to be wrestling his own thoughts. You nearly stumbled over with Atticus’ constant prodding you forward, far too eager in your opinion. The nurse takes long strides over towards Zane and gently nudges him.

 “Zane, are you awake? You have visitors” she says softly. The male stirs and finally his eyes flutter open, adjusting to the lights. He looks up at the nurse with a reassuring smile, but then notices you and Atticus. You swore he smiled a little wider.

 “Hey Zane, how are you feeling?” you ask, standing next to his bed, with Atticus standing behind you. Zane slowly sits up, adjusting his pillows to better support his back, with the help of his generous nurse.

 “Fine, just resting. Sirus visited this morning. He’s doing well.” he chuckles, making light. Your heart sank, after all, who wants to be confined to bed all day, unable to do anything else. You cursed yourself for not visiting him often.

 “That’s good to hear. I’m glad.” you smile, another friend you don’t visit often. With graduation coming near, everyone’s already drifting apart. How inevitable, yet the sickness within your gut wished it prolonged a little longer, no matter how unrealistic it was.

 His nurse over watched everything, her smile ever so brighter, until her beeper-like device, which all nurses were required to carry on them. “Oh no, one of my patients needs his medication. You guys will be fine, right?” she asked, as Atticus reassured her with a nod. You stayed quiet, jolts of anxiety welling up within you.  

 As soon as the nurse left the room and shut the door, Atticus immediately began tugging your Obelisk Blue girl’s uniform. “Hey Zane, Y/N has a get well gift for you!” he grins, as you reluctantly comply.

 “W-Will you let me ease myself in?” you grumble, your fingers releasing one button after another, slowly exposing your chest to your bedridden friend. Light dust of red graced Zane’s cheeks, his expression resembling a deer caught in the headlights. The only one sure of this risqué event, was the one with such a scheme, Atticus.

 “If you wait too long, the nurse will come back and see you in such a compromising position.” he sings, tucking his hands into your shirt and grasping your breasts. You gasp, but continue unbuttoning, and tossed it to the floor. Atticus works on your skirt, unzipping it and pulling it to your ankles, revealing your full ensemble of lingerie: lacy, crotchless panties and a matching bra, with your nipples poking out of the keyholes.

 Zane sits up stiffly, his quick wit still processing what’s going on. “Y/N? Atticus, what’s going on?” He finally snaps out of his daze. Your face resembles a tomato, as you saunter over. You stood in front of him, biting your bottom lip. Even in such a delicate state, Zane still looked simply gorgeous. Maybe within your gut, you wanted this, but admitting such a thing and taking advantage of him like this, doesn’t sit well.

 “Atticus, if Zane doesn’t want this, I can’t-“ you were cut off by a sudden gasp, as your friend/sexual playmate gropes your breasts, causing your knees to buckle under you. Atticus grins towards Zane, pinching and rolling your nipples.

 “Nonsense! Zane, we did this for you man. Y/N went through all this effort to help lift your spirits. Why not give her a chance, huh?” Before Zane could protest, you were bent over by your friend behind, his firm hand slaps against your ass, pressing for you to continue. Your throbbing core ached, as Atticus’ digits wandered between your increasingly wet folds.

 Your nimble fingers, hesitant at first, slipped under the blanket and when you glanced up to see Zane not bothering to stop you, you pulled his half-hard cock free. Giving his shaft a couple of pumps, you tucked your hair behind your ear, as you dove in to kiss and lick from base to tip. Your eyes look to see your friend’s reaction, but his aqua orbs wouldn’t dare leave you. You took that as ‘keep going’, so you lick your lips and wrap it around the head, bobbing your head down his shaft, your tongue flicking against his veins along your way down.

 Sharply inhaling, Zane shuts his eyes for a moment, and places a hand on your head, threading his fingers into your once styled locks. Giving a satisfied hum, you swirl your tongue around his tip bobbing back up, Zane’s hips thrust up, but you push them down. Both of you were lost in the moment; you let out a surprised whine when Atticus inserts three long fingers between your dripping folds, forcing you to take Zane’s robust member right down the base, deepthroating him.

 Atticus’ fingers curl and extend teasingly against your walls, as you arch your hips higher for better access. “So, how is she?” he laughs, caressing your reddening ass, only to give it another smack, watching it wobble. Zane forcibly cracks an eye open, while his lips contort into a smile.

 “S-she’s…aah..wonderful.” He mutters a string of swears under his breath when you hallow out your cheeks, your throat constricting around his cock. Atticus nods, holding you firmly by the shoulder, and pulling you up, earning a growl from Zane. He was so, so close.

 You release his cock with a pop, drool dripping down to your chin, and you gaze down at the needy man with a lustful haze. Atticus, pleased with himself, because there was no more need of convincing either of you for this little ramp. He removes his digits from your core, bringing them to the front of your face. Without him having to spell it out, you lick your juices off, sucking them clean.

 Atticus looks over to his friend, who couldn’t take his eyes off you. Zane’s chest heaves rapidly, as his eyes narrow predatory-like. After an intense minute of Zane staring at you, Atticus speaks. “Hey, Y/N. It looks like Zane needs some extra attention, how about it?” he asks, and before reaching out to guide you, you were moving. In the pit of your core, you craved to ruin him. The blush heating his face, the way his breathing became ragged, and his clouded gaze wasn’t enough, not yet.

 Your hips straddle his, as you grind your soaked cunt along his length. You bend forward, planting a rough but passionate kiss against his lips, slithering your tongue into his cavern. Zane takes your lead and intensifies it, reaching to your hips and giving them a firm squeeze, as he quickly dominates the kiss, rubbing his tongue against yours. Smiling into the kiss, you unbutton his night-shirt, slipping the fabric just barely over his shoulders, your hands finding purchases over his toned chest.

 When you broke apart, he didn’t hesitate to lean down and take one of your pert buds and sucked on it, while he pinched and rolled the other. Arching you back, you whimper and grind your swollen lips desperately against his cock. “Z-Zane, please…” you moan. He releases your nipple, with a string of saliva connecting to his lips, as he sits up and kisses you again, while pressing the blunt head of his cock between your folds. Digging your nails into his shoulders, your hips angle down and he fills you oh so completely. A moan vibrates from Zane’s throat, as his lengthy member pulses within you. His nails grip into your hips, as your hips roll against his seemingly on it’s own.  

 The bed dips, as more weight was added. Zane glances up and past your shoulders, a knowing smirk towards the newcomer. Your mind blank with passion didn’t register, until you felt Atticus’ stiff cock slap against your ass. Whipping your head to look behind you, the brunette gave you a soft smile, his chocolate orbs clouded by the same playful lust you’ve grown to expect from him. He teasingly trails the tip down your crack, leaving thin trails of pre-cum, pushing you forward, your breasts and Zane’s chest press together, and Atticus rests his chest against your back.

 Without warning, Atticus dips his digits between your wet folds, massaging the small space that was barely left from Zane’s cock. “My, you’re still so soaked Y/N, it’s begging for more.” he whispers huskily into your ear, his warm breath tickling your ear. You let out a strained whine, as he removes his fingers. The blunt head of his cock slips between instead, and he slowly pushes himself in, stretching your walls painfully delicious.

 The slight burning of being so full wasn’t enough to deter you from accepting both cocks. Atticus kisses your shoulders and back, while Zane brings you back down for a fiery kiss. Your tongues danced and his hands grip your ass, while Atticus set the pace, gripping your hips and bouncing you at an agonizingly slow pace. You spread yourself wider, allowing both men a little more room, as you bounce into their laps with them taking turns to piston into you. You were never fully empty, as when one cock was almost slipping out with the tip remaining, the other would plunge in deeper.

 Zane’s member was longer with the head hitting the back of your depths, and Atticus’ member, shorter but more girthy. The best of both worlds you never knew you craved. Atticus gives a throaty chuckle, as he kisses your neck. “Such a greedy girl, desperately taking two men at once. I didn’t know you were into that, Y/N.” Blushing, you open your mouth to retort, but instead a loud moan flows out instead of words, earning a laugh from both men.

 “She certainly is, but what sort of men would we be to deny her?” Zane pipes up, nipping the shell of your ear. Shutting your eyes tightly, you wrap your arms around the bluenette’s neck, arching your back when their combined efforts forcing you to bounce faster into their laps, their pulsing dicks pounding against your constricting walls. You moan into Zane’s ear, shuddering between the two, and your pussy aching for more. Rolling your hips for more friction, you nearly came undone when your back entrance suddenly became filled with someone’s finger, though you couldn’t tell who’s, as they expertly thrust in time with your bouncing.

 “A-Attic…ah! Mmmn, Zane…” you moan, burying your head into Zane’s neck. Their cocks throb, as their end is just under the cusp. Your clit being flicked and rolled by again by who knows, making your back arch. Your pussy walls flutter from the added stimulation, whining and chanting their names like a prayer, losing yourself with their every thrust. They pick up the pace, skin on skin slapping echoing against the walls. Suddenly, you see white, your eyes shutting tightly, and you convulse between the two, gripping the back of Zane’s nightshirt in pure ecstasy.

 Their cocks barely had room to move, as your walls tighten in urgency to milk them. Atticus grits his teeth, stringing along swears and muttering your name, before pulling out and releasing ropes onto your backside. Zane climaxes soon after, coating your walls, and letting you rest against his chest. As all three of you rest against each other, coming down from your highs, heels clacking against tile down the hall.

 “Shit.” Atticus mutters and hops of, stuffing his cock back in his pants and pulling them up. Zane helps you off his lap and buttons up his shirt, while you gathered your uniform and slip back into it. The boys had no problems straightening out themselves, while you scrambled to put your shirt on the right way. The door opens and in steps the nurse from before, smiling at the three of you.

 “Sorry I took so long. At least that gave you guys more time to visit, right?” Her eyes widen when she looks everyone over. The boys of course as nonchalant as ever, your face still heated from almost getting caught. “Is everything ok? You look warm.” She trots over to you for further examination. Smiling nervously, you wave her off.

 “I-I’m fine, really! It’s a little warm in here is all.” you laugh, hoping your half-ass lie will work. The nurse nods and goes over to open the window and you sigh in relief. After the window was opened, the nurse turns around and looks at the time on her watch.

 “Oh, it’s that late already? It’s time for Mr. Truesdale needs his rest.” Zane smiles and nods to you and Atticus.

 “Thank you both for stopping by.” Atticus smiles back and waves.

 “Hey, no problem buddy. Glad to see you’re doing better.” he says with a wink. You nervously smooth your skirt, a lump in your throat.

 “A-Anytime Zane. We should come by more often.” you squeak, your face beat red. Atticus smirks and you can swear behind Zane’s smile, was a light dust of pink on his cheeks. Atticus grips your wrist and turns around to walk out the room.

 “Common Y/N, we’ll visit again tomorrow, ok?” You purse your lips, but nod.

 “Y-Yeah, I’m sure we can.” you gasps, being dragged out of the room. Waving goodbye to Zane and the nurse, you follow Atticus down the wall, the evidence of your misadventures dripping down your inner thigh. He chuckles, looking behind towards your ass. You frown and glare back at him.

 “What are you looking at? That was incredibly embarrassing.” you mutter and Atticus points.

 “Your skirt’s inside-out.” Your mouth opens slightly, but instead of dignifying the boy with a response, you hurry along, huffing. Tomorrow I’ll wear something simple then. You smile, leaving Atticus behind, calling your name, and running to catch up to you.

[kiruuuuu]

Smoke/Mute oneshot in which Mute meets someone close to Smoke - or: Witness Two Boners Die In Slow Motion. (Rating M/E, sexual content + humour, fluff, ~5k words)

.

“You’re what he came for.”

Mute’s eyes slide over in suspicion and despite the unexpected statement, he leans back to maintain an aura of nonchalance. His interest is piqued, however, directed at the handsome features made more attractive by a genuine smile. Even more by the fact that his curious stare is reciprocated with quick glances now and then, like someone wanting to dance but too shy, like seeking reassurance. Like checking availability. Mute knows better than to display a large neon sign saying VACANT and yet he refuses to do the opposite. “That so?”

“Aye.” Sledge takes a sip, not letting the object of Mute’s attention out of his eyes either. “Dressed up for ya, he did.”

It’s one of Rainbow’s first outings and meant to strengthen the so far loose bonds between the international operators – as of now, country ties bind them together more closely than interests and Six astutely remarked on having to change this if they’re meant to form a coherent unit. Therefore, they spent the day suffering team-building exercises and are now out drinking together. Invitations were polite but firm and so most of them came, some earlier, some later, some left already. Mute was punctual and delighted to see Sledge, a Scotsman with whom he’s worked together in the past, if briefly. They maintain a professional friendship which runs deep enough for Mute to consider meeting up with him off duty.

Smoke was late. Possibly on purpose, seeing as the first two whisky and coke noticeably impeded Mute’s judgement; inhibitions and standards have lowered. Nonetheless, he’s noticed the man’s cat-like movements favourably before and would be lying if he claimed his gaze didn’t linger where it should’ve brushed over. Now especially, watching the tight t-shirt cling to Smoke for dear life, the loose boots and well-fitting jeans flattering his legs, hair messily combed back like he already rolled in the hay before coming here and honestly, that wouldn’t make it any less hot. The opposite, if anything. A sated Smoke still hungering for him, not able to help himself? Hell yes.

Mute is occupying a booth, long legs stretched out into empty space and not yet ready to embark on his third journey of peaty pop, so he merely wipes the condensation off his glass and wonders whether he should try to approach this the classy way, and if so, what that would look like. Or whether it really matters in the grand scheme of things – if either of them remembers this night in a few years, they definitely won’t focus on their first interaction that day. Time moves at a sluggish pace yet Mute is filled with an increasing impatience. He knows he’s not meant to be right here, right now, not when there’s a perfectly good bed both in his and in Smoke’s room.

“Why for me?”, he asks and it’s vanity speaking. He’s not wondering whether he’s Smoke’s target, not when it’s made abundantly clear by absent-minded lip biting and fiddling with hair and almost dropping the phone and maybe he’s making Smoke nervous by staring at him. He enjoys the thought. Smoke is older and with a much bigger gob, plus he’s a vain bastard with too much confidence. Mute doesn’t know how he caught his eye, but he wants to hear why Sledge thinks he did.

“‘S just his modus operandi. He thinks breaking in the newbies in the SAS is gonna earn him a merit badge in the long run.”

Smoke looks over and offers a smile, a small, tentative thing, and Mute is too slow – his heartbeat reacts faster than he does, spikes in anticipation, but his facial muscles need a moment. He allows his enjoyment to bleed into his expression once he’s overcome the shock of just how fucking good Smoke looks and when their gazes meet once more, they’re both smiling. Just then, the group around the other man breaks out into laughter and Smoke joins, too late, obviously missed the punchline and fuck. That’s – Mute takes a big gulp to cool down a little.

“That’s what he does? Go after the young ones?” Not a deal breaker, but leaving behind an unpleasant taste on his tongue. Imagining them old and still gunning for a few decades below their own age isn’t part of Mute’s definition of sexy.

“No. The new ones. Nothing to do with age.” Tearing his eyes off the topic of their conversation is harder than he thought. Sledge doesn’t seem to be sugar coating, not with how earnest he looks. “If they’ve been with us for less than two, three years, he’ll pursue. No clue why. Blackmail material, maybe, or some warped sense of accomplishment. You won’t find a single troop where nobody has let him have a go.”

Interesting. Sledge’s tone of voice conveys exactly what he thinks of this achievement but to Mute, it makes Smoke all the more alluring. “Is he any good?”

The scandalised reply almost makes him laugh: “You’re not gonna fuck him, lad. You barely know him.”

While correct, it’s hardly a reason not to fuck Smoke. “That’s the point”, Mute explains despite the outrage in Sledge’s face, “less likely to get attached, the both of us. Early on is the best time to fuck anyone – later on it’s all ‘don’t sleep with his ex’, ‘don’t sleep with my best friend’, and maybe I wouldn’t ever wanna fuck anyone if I knew them enough. No chance of knowing it better when I’m lacking all the details.”

“That’s a horrendous point of view”, Sledge states, not even causing Mute’s grin to waver. “And what if he turns out to be a tosser?”

“I don’t plan on making a habit out of this anyway. He wants a quick shag, I want a quick shag. Besides, I do hope he’s a tosser, then I won’t have to worry about getting him off.”

Giving up, fortunately, seems to be the only course of action Sledge still sees. “Alright. Go on then, lad. Hope you’ll have no regrets.” He leaves behind an empty bench perfect for a tight little arse to squeeze in instead.

And Mute doesn’t have to wait long.

You’re what he came for, echo the words through his mind, prompting a giddy recklessness flaring up once he’s joined in the booth. The sizzling is audible and his drink forgotten in favour of attentive eyes drilling into his skull. I’m not calling back after tonight, Mute decides and remains unsure whether it’s out of self-preservation or vindictiveness. He’s too pretty, fingers curling around a glass, black strands falling into his forehead, body language open and inviting and provocative.

“I heard you’re the prodigy around here”, Smoke addresses him, still fully in control over his tongue. He can’t have had much yet.

“I heard you’re fucking your way through the Blades”, Mute responds politely, and the smile grows.

“Only the good ones.”

Cheeky. The hand on his knee goes uncommented and his silence is taken as the very encouragement it was intended. “How do you tell them apart?”

“What colour shirt did I wear yesterday?”

His palm burns and Mute wishes he could show Sledge how he feels in this moment, alight under a smouldering, watchful gaze, the idea of doing the deed almost more enticing than the actual thing. He figures the Scotsman would still judge him, albeit less harshly. Mute begins wondering what would need to happen for him to consider calling Smoke back. “You wore a black hoodie”, he drawls and parts his lips at the sudden squeeze of his thigh. Smoke looks delighted.

“The bad ones don’t pay attention to detail”, he explains and the next thing Mute knows is the taste of stale cigarettes and beer on his tongue.

.

~*~

.

“Babe, come on. Please, babe.” The whispered plea sends a crackling shudder down his spine, translating into a twitch of his fingers, grip on solid hipbones wavering, and the following breath right into his ear makes him consider spilling all of the imagery contained in his mind.

Mute lost count a while ago. They’re in the double digits for sure, both of them pretending they really want to try out this new game, really want to visit this restaurant again, really just want to hang out; and amidst good-natured laughs and sharp quips, their fingers brush during an exchange of bottles, one of them sits a little too close, and a compliment during banter comes out too genuine. They’re terrified, but fortunately they get off on danger. They’ve become addicted: outlets, catalysts. Wildfires.

Nothing ties them together and by all logic, they should’ve left it at that one night – and the next morning, really, and Smoke delayed leaving without overstaying his welcome. The times after that were so coincidental, telling themselves it wasn’t deliberate was deceptively easy, and these days Mute comes over with Smoke’s favourite takeout, bursting with trivia, tidbits and gossip to share and knowing there’ll be a second toothbrush. When he first saw it, he nearly faltered. It was lying there so innocuously as if it really was just a toothbrush, and after a moment Mute convinced himself that’s all it was. A mere toothbrush. Nothing more.

And now Smoke is riding his cock like his life depended on it, and maybe it does; the way he holds on to Mute reminds him of a drowning man but the ecstatic grin disrupts the image. He’s glowing from the inside, or maybe it’s the dying light of the sun painting him golden, or maybe it’s Mute’s mind which casually notes that they end their evenings earlier each time, give in faster, allow the tug around their midsections to make them collide.

“Just a bit”, Smoke continues and he’s so fucking overwhelming Mute wishes he could come in him ten times just to watch his reaction. Or make him come ten times just to watch him. Either is good. “It’d be so fucking hot, babe, please, I’ll do you any favour, you know I’m good for it.”

Is he ever. Mute vividly remembers the last time he was given a blank cheque like this. “I don’t know what to say”, he shoots back a big fat lie, mostly because he enjoys being difficult and a frustrated Smoke makes for fantastic memories. They’ve slowed down and every grind seems to go marrow deep, making it impossible not to grin. Mute fucking loves this, loves doing this and especially with Smoke, loves that they always end up here, inside each other in some way, loves the mutual respect and attraction and the fact that both of them play along. No egos getting stroked, only their dicks.

“You ever listen to me run my mouth?”

Often, and gladly. Mute’s grin widens. “I might need another demonstration.”

“No dice, babe. Just imitate all the porn you’ve undoubtedly watched while thinking of me.”

“Thinking of you is usually enough.”

He really went there. A heated gaze darkens and there’s no doubt Smoke is picturing it, judging by the slightly absent expression Mute switches to an appreciative one with a hard thrust. “That’s a good start.”

“Sorry, that was all the material I had.” In his mind, he’s mapping out his game plan: proper filth at the end, all the graphic details need to be staggered or else he risks a verbal premature ejaculation leaving them both dissatisfied. Compliments here and there – his stupid fucking luscious hair still growing like from a shampoo commercial despite having been burnt off several times; he’s proud of it so Mute will have to include it. Then his fingers, God, his fingers, producing the worst chicken scratch Mute has ever encountered and yet able to stroke him into another dimension nonetheless, not only over his dick or prostate but also his scalp. He’s not telling him he’s never felt so comfortable and refreshed like the time Smoke petted him to sleep. He is, however, telling him about the day he spent half hard over Smoke winning against the entirety of the GIGN in hand to hand, the boxer in him clearly visible in his fearless stance and the way he either fully dodges or simply absorbs the hit.

Mute is perceptive and thorough. Once he’s done talking, Smoke will be on his second orgasm and begging for more personalised compliments and spot-on dirty talk.

“Honestly, just throw out a few ‘fuck’s and describe what you’re doing and I’m happy.”

The urges to laugh and to interrupt their lovemaking for a reproachful, deadpan stare compete viciously. Smoke is taking him seriously, genuinely believes him to be inept and it shows in his lack of exasperation – if he knew Mute was deliberately being a little shite, he’d roll his eyes or sigh or try to make him cream himself by twisting his nipples, but instead he’s being gently supportive.

He knows enough about Mute’s history, so it’s more of an intentional insult than a faux pas.

Neither of them are faltering through the entire exchange, which is impressive in its own right. Mute still possesses the presence of mind to nail Smoke’s sweet spot often enough to keep the dopey look in his expression, and yet he’s got the brain capacity left to vow revenge.

Repeat after porn, he said? “Oh fuck, you’re so big”, he moans, earning an odd look almost shattering his composure already. None of his body parts are purposefully touching Smoke’s cock and still he takes the comment in stride.

And then he goes in for the kill: “Fuck yes daddy. Oh, fuck me daddy.”

The effect is as instant as it is hilarious and Mute has his iron composure to thank that he doesn’t break out into hysterical laughter immediately. Slowly, like a tree falling over, desire turns into disbelief turns into shock turns into thinly-veiled disgust – and Mute already outlines more horrific statements like his previous to frustrate Smoke. A displeased Smoke is a dominant Smoke and it’s oh so enjoyable to hold him down.

Instead of completing the full circuit and circling back to helpless amusement, Smoke simply stares him down, unmoving, unresponsive to the slight nudges from Mute’s hips, and says: “Dude.”

He sounds serious.

“Too far?”, Mute asks. It might be a prank – he hopes it is, hopes Smoke’s suddenly sober attitude is based in well-hidden mirth instead of genuine dismay, because the consequences would be far too dire. Maybe something happened to a friend of his, a sister, a cousin, maybe even to him, leading to a knee-jerk aversion of this particular kink and dear Lord, he’s flagging now, and so is Mute due to the uncomfortable twist in his guts. The concern that he overstepped an invisible line by straying from well-lit paths without asking permission. The fear that he might not be invited back.

“It’s just -”

Avoiding eye contact. Fuck. Mute’s in the shite now. Last time Smoke looked this uncomfortable was when he turned down an old flame, out of earshot and yet in full sight of Mute who sipped his beer and tried not to show his inordinate pleasure. Though he did lean closer once Smoke returned, looking away when Sledge’s gaze met his.

He doesn’t want this to be over.

An apology forces his lips apart, pride and ego violently shoved aside by an odd sense of self preservation, as if Smoke was food or sleep instead of an irritating fucker with an atrocious gag reflex who’s infuriatingly beaten Mute in every single one of his favourite video games and then stole the blanket all night afterwards, and he can’t fucking lose this. He went too far, he made a dumb joke which might’ve hit too close to home and he’ll be damned if -

“I have a daughter.”

Mute’s brain freezes.

“And, well, she called me that, so it’s a bit – you know.”

“You’re fucking kidding me”, Mute breathes softly.

“She’s almost done with school now, but just don’t go there, alright?”

She’s fucking what.

The following is the most awkward of silences, considering Mute is still halfway inside Smoke yet neither of them display any motivation to keep going, and when they eventually separate, Smoke sitting next to him with an uncertain aura of anticipation, Mute’s mind still hasn’t caught up. “Is this – I mean -”

Is this a deal breaker, he isn’t saying, much to Mute’s benefit as he wouldn’t have an answer. What kind of deal do they even have?

“Do you like kids?”

And it’s not about that, fucking hell, it’s about the omission thing. Lack of trust. “I don’t know. I kinda still am one”, he replies and is fairly certain it’s not the response Smoke wanted as he pulls a face and mutters something like well we’re done here and Mute doesn’t dare ask what exactly he means.

.

~*~

.

Society generally expects an answer where a question was posed, that much Mute knows, but attempting to take in all these shocking turns of events simultaneously occupies his entire mental capacity and thus he leaves the vaguely annoyed can I help you echo uselessly between them as he stares at the personified nightmare right before him.

He’s terrifyingly bad with children and worse with teenagers, swinging between trying so desperately to be the ‘cool uncle’ by teaching them easy explosions achievable with common household items and treating them like adults, meaning he ignores them for the large part unless they have anything genuinely interesting to say. Which happens rarely enough, in his experience.

It’s worse when the child belongs to someone close to him. Being stuck at a friend’s birthday party where the predominant topics were family friendly vacation places and shortcomings in the kindergarten system has happened to him more than once. He’s slept with a guy a few times who was adamant on having a family later in life and watched him try to convince his best friend to be his surrogate mother, and it took no longer than another week for Mute to break off all contact.

Now he’s faced not only with a kid with an attitude, no, she’s also Smoke’s daughter. And as if this wasn’t alarming enough already, her hair is blue.

“I, uh”, he introduces himself elaborately.

A brown eyebrow lifts. This seems to be her natural hair colour, though her mane is dyed a vibrant aqua and looks like she hasn’t brushed it today.

He realises belatedly that a strange man appearing on her doorstep and proceeding to gape at her idiotically isn’t the best way to gain her trust. “James sent me, I’m Mark. You’re – you’re Charlie?”

She nods curtly and makes no move to let him in. Just a typical girl, Smoke had said with a smile and a shrug, smart, but otherwise normal. Charlie looks like she attended a three-day punk festival and hadn’t gotten a chance to shower yet. At least Mute can’t detect any smell of cigarettes – or worse. He begins wondering how Smoke describes him to anyone if he considers his daughter to be wholly generic. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I’m not here to babysit. He said you’re running low on a few things and to help clean a bit.”

“Ah. Bitchwork.”

“That’s what I usually say to your dad.”

One of the many reasons Mute prefers not being alone with anyone ten years younger than him: having been surrounded by older people instead of peers for most of his life gave him a skewed view of what’s appropriate and, uh, what’s most definitely not.

Fortunately for him, disgust and disbelief aren’t the only emotions fighting on Charlotte Porter’s face – delight and amusement are among them. “Wow. Well. Come in then.”

If he’d known that one fateful night in the early days of Rainbow was such a slippery slope leading to him being Smoke’s confidante to check on the most important person in his life while he sits on his arse all day in Colombia waiting for something to happen, Mute might’ve made a wide berth around him. If he’d known that sticking with him and waiting for a half-arsed apology about the omission of offspring eventually delivered between very wet and malty kisses would result in him having to spend half a day with this punk of a teenager, he might’ve ended it after learning of Charlie’s existence.

He tells himself this, exasperated, and ignores his own voice calling him hypocritical. There’s a star next to Smoke’s name in his phone, in every app that allows it, and it facilitated checking the address ten times. It’s not the fucking tuna or a sudden weather change why he’s nauseous. It’s because he doesn’t want to fuck this up.

The house is more spacious than he’d thought but the area also more rural. Posters line the walls, a lot of the floor is naked and there’s a casual air of neglect Mute immediately finds charming: paperwork crammed into shelves, a few dust bunnies peeking out of cracks, more jackets than one person could ever need draped over various pieces of furniture. It’s neither cramped nor ultimately untidy or dirty, but it has a rugged lived-in look he can’t imagine to be popular with most girls of that age. Fifteen, he remembers Smoke saying. Finishing school next year.

“You’re not allowed in my room”, Charlie tells him and closes a door right before he gets to it. He catches a glimpse of a bright pink wall, fairy lights and what looks like a janbiya, an Arabic dagger. Maybe Smoke brought it home as a souvenir.

Endless questions are on his mind: how is he as a dad? What’s the stupidest thing you heard him do or say? What was he like five years ago?

And then, inevitably: does he bring other guys here often?

“Are you alone a lot?”

Only teenagers have perfected this utterly indifferent shrug when asked a personal question, Mute has never witnessed anyone over twenty perform it this flawlessly. “I’m usually out, you’re lucky you caught me.”

She’s on break – hence the hair, he figures – and Smoke mentioned some difficulties in her friends group. Charlie doesn’t strike him as someone who’s left the house for a few days and the state of most horizontal surfaces supports his suspicion. “No parties happening here? Even when dad’s away?”

“We don’t just invite people over. This is our place.” She’s scrutinising him again. Smart, Smoke called her and Mute is inclined to agree, her eyes certainly are attentive and flit about like they’re trying to catch him doing something unsavoury, thus warranting a ban for life.

.

“What do you do?”, Charlie asks in between tossing some pasta and rice into the cart. She cooks, surprisingly, and Mute can’t help the image of a small ten-year-old Charlotte with brown pigtails fixing dinner for them both and chastising Smoke for his unhealthy eating habits. Over time, she’s thawed – as has he. Putting her seatbelt on is second nature, she asks first before changing CDs and doesn’t put her dirtied boots on the dashboard. Smoke could learn a lot from her. It seems she chose this hair colour out of personal preference and not as an act of inconsequential rebellion and who is Mute to judge anyone’s taste in fashion.

“Same thing as your dad.” He snatches some off-brand cereal off the shelf as Charlie mentioned wanting some and watches in amusement as she rolls her eyes and exchanges them for the much pricier branded version.

“You save people and blow things up?”

He couldn’t have described Smoke’s actual function on the battlefield more concisely. “Mostly I prevent things from blowing up, but the premise is the same.”

“Are you the smart one? Did you attend Oxford?”

“Cambridge. Yes.” He’s momentarily caught up in witnessing his ego grow a few sizes at the thought of Smoke talking about him to his daughter, so he forgives her for the gaffe. Most people who mistake one prestigious university for the other aren’t so lucky and invite a lengthy lecture over the age-old rivalry between the two. Charlie gets a pass.

“Same thing.”

Alright. Okay.

All bets are off.

“I’ll have you know that they’re extremely -”, and this round goes to Charlie with her unbearably smug grin making it impossible to think she’s not a blood relative of Smoke’s. He looks exactly like this whenever he’s managed to rile Mute up as well. He deflates and manages to catch himself before he rolls his eyes. “Brat. That won’t work again.”

“Wanna bet?” She’s laughing now yet there’s no malice behind it. Growing up with half a parent left an impact on her, Mute can tell: trying to stay positive and find joy in everything, but her level of independence reminds him of his own at her age. There’s a few aspects of a typical childhood he didn’t get to experience. Regardless, she’s fiercely loyal and her love for Smoke obvious. “Are you better at maths than him?”

“Easily.” He fondly recalls the look on Smoke’s face the one time he gave in and actually explained the calculations he was doing.

“I got a ton of homework over the break and my maths teacher is a hardass.”

“Need my help with anything?”

“Well, I’m done with all of it. But maybe you could just check it for mistakes.”

At this point, he wonders how Smoke managed to raise such an angel. She’s distant in a friendly way and he assumes she takes time warming up to anyone, just like he’s sure there’s a bubbly, excitable and emotional girl hidden under the nonchalant façade. “Sure.”

“And you need to teach me how to defend myself. Dad still refuses.”

Finding it a little odd Smoke would neglect to train his own daughter, he agrees once more and forgets two very crucial details in the process: Charlie already baited him before. And Smoke boxed for a long, long time.

.

His fight response kicks in the moment the mattress dips and it takes several it’s me, it’s me until he stops struggling against the grip around his wrists, loosening as soon as he sinks back into the unfamiliar sheets. Smoke’s wearing a grin that’s entirely too handsome and yet not pretty enough for Mute not to take a swing at him when a sharp jolt of pain shoots through him at the welcoming kiss.

“Ow, fuck”, Smoke hisses and glides under the covers to drape himself over Mute like a second blanket. His clothes are cold, he must’ve returned home not long ago. “We got sent home early, otherwise I would’ve stayed another week. What happened to your nose?”

They’re keeping their voices down and together with the dulled lamp in the corner, the room is filled with softness: velvet shadows, kind whispers, gentle touches. Mute relaxes again and wraps his arms around the familiar body the way he couldn’t the past two weeks. “Charlie”, he says.

He missed this ungraceful snort. Missed all of him, really; now that he’s back it’s clear as day. “Your fault for falling for it.”

“She do this often?”

“Only with me. But then she doesn’t hold back. ‘Dad, I think I forgot everything you taught me’. ‘Dad, can you show me that one kick again’. ‘Dad, I’m not gonna embarrass you again, I promise’.” Their giggles echo in between the rustling of clothes. Mute is undressing him without motive, but when Smoke starts moving against him with purpose, his fingers become more insistent. “I didn’t expect you to stay overnight. I only asked you to make sure she’s got everything she needs.”

“It was her idea. She destroyed me in Mario Kart, I dominated her in Smash Bros., and then it was late already.”

“You didn’t even clean. The place still looks like shite.”

“Listen. We went shopping, I taught her scary-sounding maths words to intimidate you, she almost broke my nose, then we watched some cartoons and played video games. There was no time.”

Smoke is beaming at him and he can’t take it. He looks fucking stoked, as if Mute offered to take his brat off his hands or to cook for him for the rest of their lives, and somehow it’s scarier than coming here, facing such a significant part of Smoke’s life all on his own. There’s devotion in these eyes, and adoration, something far bigger than simple gratitude. They both know Mute’s visit here isn’t a courtesy. It may be a test of some kind, and he seems to have passed with flying colours if Smoke’s maniacal grin is anything to go by.

He’s terrified of what’s gonna come out of Smoke’s mouth next.

Because he -

He just doesn’t know -

“God you’re fucking hot”, Smoke breathes and thank Christ, this is familiar territory.

His fist is enough for Smoke to push into while sucking deep purple bruises onto his shoulder to stop himself from anything more than a mewl, and though Mute is too tired to get off himself, his toes curl the moment it splatters warm on his stomach. There’s nothing new to their touches, nothing remarkable about the way they instinctively wrap around each other as they drift off, and yet it’s Smoke’s bed in Smoke’s house and therefore it’s all foreign somehow.

The love bites thrum in gentle pain, the flat creaks like any strange place when his ears haven’t started filtering out the usual yet, and none of it matters because Smoke is drooling on his arm. Small steps. Mute can do small steps.

He has a feeling one of them is coming up with an excuse for him to spend some more time here soon.

No guys, Charlie said. He only sent babysitters over. No friends, nobody from work. No one like you.

And then the young woman who probably upended Smoke’s life the day she stepped into it, the grown-up girl for whom Smoke grew up himself more than ten years ago, the blue-haired student who’s earned so much of Smoke’s love and time gave him a meaningful look. Added: He doesn’t get attached.

Me neither, Mute replied. And was already looking forward to watching her and Smoke interact.

[ayma-nidiot]

In the White Light - Prideshipping fic Chapter 6

Also on AO3.

Chapter 6 – Like A Red Rose

Huh? Where am I? Kaiba had reawakened in a place that didn’t appear to be his plane. To add to his confusion, his surroundings seemed unusually… tall. So, Alister has send me to a giants’ world, has he? Another hallucination… I know I’m still on the plane!

Just then, three boys began to storm in from the trap door above. “Oh boy, oh boy, some food! Finally!”

“Say, Tony, maybe we can play chess after dinner!”

“Okay, Dennis, I’m up to it! We deserve a break after what we’ve gone through.”

Is that… Kaiba had to do a double-take at the third boy who entered. He looks just like Mokuba…

“I don’t know about Aaron up there, haha!”

Aaron felt hurt by Tony’s words, but he eventually noticed Kaiba sitting on the table. “Oh? What a cute little dragon!”

L-Little? Kaiba growled and attacked, but all that came out was a tiny ball of light.

“Aww, he’s so cute!” Aaron picked Kaiba off the table and started to pet him. “Can we keep him?”

Brat! …Huh? Kaiba looked into a mirror nearby. Sure enough he was in dragon form, but no bigger than a housecat. Aaaah! I look like one of Pegasus’ toon monsters!

“No can do, man. We can’t afford dinner for four!”

“Hmph!” Defying his friends, Aaron picked some food off the tiny dining table and fed it to a barely willing Kaiba.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Dennis nearly threw a fork at Aaron. “You’re going to pay for that!”

“And we mean literally,” Tony added. “How about you and your new pet go get us dessert. Hahaha!”

Without thinking, Kaiba snapped back, “Are you brats always this friendly?”

“Whoah!” Tony dropped his spoon. “He can talk!”

You and me both, Kaiba thought, not impressed at his pipsqueak-sounding voice.

“Okay, we’ll get your stupid dessert!” As Aaron carried him out, Kaiba gave the boys one last snarl before they crossed the trap door. I won’t fall for any of this, Alister!

“Wow, a dragon that can talk!” Aaron sounded amazed as he walked out. “Maybe when you grow big and strong, you can finally squash KaibaCorp! All right, I’ll go find you some food while I go look for dessert, too!”

Ugh, don’t remind me… For once, Kaiba could keep his power-hungry tendencies in check, and was thankful for it. “Say, Aaron… When did all of this KaibaCorp nonsense start?”

“I don’t really know… It feels like it’s been forever.” Aaron jumped onto a nearby ledge. “Let me think… Gozaburo bought out our land about a year ago, then when we refused to move, he started attacking. That’s when I met my friends… I know they seem mean, but they work really hard just to find me something to eat. I kind of owe it to them to return the favour.”

“Oh, I see…” Kaiba frowned, feeling a little ashamed. My father… What a repulsive man he was.

“Hey, are you okay, little guy?” Aaron stopped walking.

“It’s… It’s nothing.” It’s also a good thing that I’m not wearing my usual clothes, complete with the KaibaCorp logo.

“Well, if you insist.” Aaron continued down the ledge. “We shouldn’t stay in place for too long, or Gozaburo’s men might find us. A lot of my old classmates had to go hide… I hope they’re okay. It’s a good thing us kids are so small, haha!”

Alister, I think I’ve learned a long time ago that my stepfather hurt you! I’ve seen enough!

Aaron’s next words disturbed any further thoughts. “Say, do you want to play chess when we get back?”

“Huh? Where did that… Er, of course! I was the best when I was young.”

“But you’re already young.”

Crap… Well, I’m not lying. “Wait… Aaron, look over there.” Kaiba nudged his head to his right, indicating a tower of smoke.

“Oh no! That’s where the hideout is! Quick, uh… What should I call you?”

“Seto is fine.”

“Let’s go, Seto! We have to save my friends!”

“Wait! It’s too dangerous!” Kaiba tried to break free and stop Aaron, but that only made him tighten his grip.

When he arrived at the scene, the entire hideout was in flames, and all Aaron could really see was the frame of the building. “Oh no! They might be trapped!”

“No!” Kaiba released himself from Aaron’s hold and pulled him by the collar, vigorously flapping his wings.

“Please, Seto!” Aaron’s voice sounded different this time.

“Mokuba?” Kaiba stared at the brief mirage of his younger brother before he could hear tanks nearby.

“Aah! It’s KaibaCorp! Quick, we need to find a new hiding spot!”

“Grr… Face me, Alister, you coward!” With a loud roar, Kaiba could not only feel himself grow, but also turn back into a human. “Let’s finish this duel!”

The mirage of Aaron disappeared, with Y-Dragon Head and X-Head Cannon taking its place. But the former didn’t last long, as with a quick blast, one of the tanks had taken it out.

“Hahaha! Feeling the burn yet?” At last, Alister had shown his face.

“What burn? Your mind games aren’t working anymore! See, your little illusion you call a ‘friend’ is already gone!”

“But it is no illusion. You see, those were my three best friends growing up. We also had a pet cat that Aaron and I particularly loved. He was one of the few happy moments in our lives back then… We all looked out for one another, and the cat even brought us a few scraps of food every now and then. But he died trying to protect us from a tank, and that’s when the tanks ran my other friends out of town!”

“…”

“So now you’ve had a taste of my past, and you’ll see how it feels to be attack by the tanks that ruined my life. Oh, and by the way, I thought I’d like to mention what’s happened in our current reality. I just used a trap card called Tank Corps, powering up my KC One Crayton and giving it 1500 extra attack points. I had more than enough to defeat your Y-Dragon Head and inflict 2000 life points of damage on to you. So now, I place a card face down. Your turn!”

“My Y-Dragon Head is down but not out! I use Monster Reborn to bring it back! Now say hello to XYZ Dragon Cannon! And thanks to its special ability, I’ll discard one of my cards to get rid of one of yours! Your Tank Corps is gone!”

“Oh!” Alister turned around as he watched the tanks around him blow up, leaving only the KC One Crayton in its place.

“Now, XYZ Dragon Cannon, attack!”

With six blasts of light, the XYZ Dragon Cannon struck its foe, creating a storm of light that took everyone back to the real world.

“Hm. I should have expected this brutish behaviour from you. You really are just like your father after all! That’s why… That’s why I’m going to end you today, so that people like you will get the suffering they deserve, and the less fortunate can live in peace!”

“Shut up, you- Aah!” Kaiba wobbled as the plane started to nosedive. Oh no… Mokuba! He’s in the cockpit!

“I wouldn’t worry too much about your brother if I were you. It’s a shame you can’t even protect him… Now you know how it feels. And you’ll suffer even more when I take your soul, then that of your precious pharaoh!”

Kaiba blushed, but still keeping up his usual anger. “What the hell do you know?”

“You saw what he did back there… He sees you as nothing but an enemy, a monster to save the world from. Do you really think he could ever fall for you?”

“That’s none of your damned business!”

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.” Alister drew another card.

Despite how concerned Kaiba felt for his brother, Mokuba could handle the plane fairly well, even though he was so small. “Oh! Roland, am I glad to see you!”

“Mr. Mokuba! What’s the matter?”

“There’s no time to explain… Seto and I are on a plane that’s about to crash land! You gotta send help!”

“On it, sir!”

“Mr. Mokuba!” Another one of KaibaCorp’s employees came onto the video call. “I’ll help you fly the plane! Just follow my instructions word-for-word, got it?”

“You got it!”

“Push the buttons on the right…”

“Uh huh.” After following a few more instructions, Mokuba had barely averted the mountain ahead. “Yay! Now I can just put the plane back on autopilot and go see if Seto’s okay.”

Meanwhile, Alister felt so confident in himself, despite the heavy hit he just took. “I summon Kinetic Soldier in attack mode! I play Junk Dealer to bring back Science Soldier and Cyber Soldier of Dark World back with half of their original attack points! Next, I activate my trap, Soldier Revolt, to destroy all of your in-play cards and the cards in your hand when I have these three monsters on the field! Next…”

“There’s… a next?”

“You bet there is! I now play Sky Union… Now get ready for my strongest monster, the Air Fortress Ziggurat! Not only is it strong – both naturally and from the Seal – I can summon a Robot Token for every turn it’s in play.”

“This is nothing…” Kaiba drew one of his cards – one that hurt him badly in the duel with Yami Yugi, but one that he couldn’t be more thankful for now.

“Seto! Please, stop this duel!”

Ignoring his brother’s pleas, Kaiba continued, “I use Pot of Greed to draw two cards. I place one card face down, and now my turn is done.”

“And so are you! Air Fortress Ziggurat, attack his life points directly!”

“Not so fast! My face down card lets me use your Junk Dealer, and I protect my life points with Judge Man!”

“So? You’re just delaying the inevitable.”

Kaiba could hear the faint sound of choppers in the distance. “The only thing that’s inevitable here is my rescue – and your doom.”

“So you even hide behind your army of cronies like Gozaburo! Raaaaa!” Alister’s anger grew more profound, increasing not only the Seal’s power, but also damage to the place.

“Forget about that snake! I’ll make sure you do with Soul Exchange! I know I can’t take your Ziggurat, but I can take the tokens! Then I use these tokens… as tribute for one of my strongest monsters! The Blue-Eyes White Dragon!”

“Seto, don’t!” Mokuba cried.

“Ngh…” Upon playing this card, Kaiba’s back pain and nausea started to set in.

“You know if you use that card, you could go mad again, right?” Alister teased. “Then you’ll turn back into a dragon and feel the pain when the pharaoh attacks you again. So you’re not going to win either way! It’s either become that dragon the pharaoh hates or lose your soul to the Seal of Orichalcos!”

With a strong mind, Kaiba managed to wear his pain off. “You’re wrong. I’ve made a vow today that I will stay strong and not let the curse take me again. But enough about me… Our monsters now have an equal attack power of 3000.”

“Hmm, such fighting spirit!” On his seventh turn, Alister spoke up, “I activate Toy Robot Box, discarding three cards to summon three more robots! I’ll use one of them to activate my Spell Canceller.”

“So stopping violence… with more violence. Maybe you’re the one who’s like Gozaburo. What would your brother say?”

“Y-You know nothing, cur! Now, my Ziggurat, attack his-”

“A wasted effort. I activate Tyrant Wing, giving my Blue-Eyes 400 attack points!”

“Way to go!” Mokuba cheered.

Mokuba… I’ll protect you. “Now I can take down your Ziggurat!”

Now I’ve only got 1000 life points… Alister thought as he began to lose hope. “You’re going to lose…”

“If you didn’t notice, you’ve got no monsters, and I’ve got my Blue-Eyes!”

“I didn’t mean the duel… If I have to lose my soul to Orichalcos, then I’m taking you and your fucking little brother with me!” Alister declared as the plane’s propellers stopped.

“You will do no such thing! I summon… The Fang of Critias! He fuses with my Tyrant Wing and Blue-Eyes White Dragon to create… The Blue-Eyes Tyrant Dragon!”

“No… No, it can’t be!”

“Tyrant Dragon, destroy those tokens and eliminate the rest of Alister’s life points!”

“Hah… Hah…” Alister panted as he fell to the floor in defeat. “I’ve… lost.”

“Alister!” Mokuba fully expected what was to come next. “No, don’t go!”

“Mikey…” Alister stretched out his hand with the Dyna-Dude action figure in it. “Mikey, forgive me… I’m not a good older brother… So I deserve… this…”

“Alister…” Even after everything Alister did to him, Mokuba couldn’t help but shed a tear for the man who just lost his soul.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have time to worry about him! This plane’s about to crash!”

“Th-Then we’ve got to do something!” Mokuba led Kaiba to the cockpit. “No! What are we gonna… Seto, look at your Duel Disk! It’s glowing!”

“Yug, look, your Duel Disk is glowing!” Joey alerted from several thousand feet below.

“Yours, too! Ah! Timaeus! Hermos!”

“Look!” Téa was the first to notice the crash-landing plane. “The dragons are saving that plane!”

“We’ve got to go see!” Tristan suggested. “Hurry!”

As the friends got closer to their destination, Yami Yugi noticed the third dragon as well. “It’s Critias! Could it be…”

“Yug, watch out! The plane is crash landing now!”

Aided by the dragons and the soft lakeside, the plane landed with only minor damage – something that Kaiba was certainly thankful for as he exited.

“It's...” Téa pointed. “It’s one of Kaiba’s planes!”

“Hmm?” Kaiba noticed Téa, Joey, and Tristan first. “Oh great, if it isn’t the Dweeb Patrol. What are you doing here?”

“Listen, rich boy, we’re the one who should be asking questions. Who is that you’re carrying?”

“…Just some guy I dueled on this plane.”

“By the looks of it, his soul… It got lost to Orichalcos, didn’t it?” Téa remarked. “Then… We’ve got to get him to the hospital, too.”

“‘Too?’”

“It’s a long story, but Weevil Underwood and Rex Raptor lost their souls, too,” Tristan replied. “And all for some petty revenge.”

“Anyway, we were looking for you! Especially Yug over there, he was pretty eager to see you again.”

“Yugi… He’s here?” Kaiba felt the butterflies again – but they were the good kind now. “L-Let me see him!”

And just like that, Yami Yugi revealed himself to Kaiba once more, staring at him with a pleasant silence.

“Yugi…” Kaiba could feel his heart pounding as he took a step forward.

To his surprise, it was Yami Yugi who took the first approach – and a very emotional one at that. “Kaiba… Oh gods, Kaiba, I thought I had lost you for good!”

Kaiba didn’t know what to make about the fact that a pharaoh – a revered king – just knelt in front of him while crying.

“I’m… so glad… I thought I had failed to save you… I thought I had… Eh? What are you doing?”

In the midst of his thoughts, Kaiba had given Yami Yugi a strong hug, bringing him back to his feet in the process. That’s right… Ever since our first duel, I have felt this way. Even more than a rival, pharaoh… You are…

“…beautiful…” Kaiba pushed the long golden bangs out of the way to get a better look at Yami Yugi’s eyes. His eyes… I thought they were purple before, but they glow like a red rose.

“What? Kaiba, this isn’t funny- Mph!”

Any insignificant thoughts Yami Yugi might have had at that moment were stifled in Kaiba’s kiss.