#Was kicking my feet giggling while drawing this I won’t lie

[kittykatninja321]

Phone sketch inspired by this post by @batmanshole

[gloomwitchwrites]

morning after one night stand with 141?

Anon! You have me kicking my feet and giggling over here!! I am cackling so hard omg. I've been waiting for a prompt like this, and I know it has been sitting in my inbox for a while. (Really there are a ton sitting in my inbox and I will get to them all I promise). But after feeling like garbage and having some health issues, this prompt just came to me naturally and I didn't need to force anything. I thought it would be best to tackle this first on my dive back into fulfilling these requests after the 1k follower event.

I went spicy with this one. I won't lie. Because, let's be real, a morning after with any of these four will only end up with you still in that bed. I know I'd fold instantly. No question about it.

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, feelings, oral sex (male & female receiving), sex w/ and w/o condoms, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.6k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

The ceiling fan above you spins slowly. It’s not nearly enough air. Your skin is sticky with sweat, and you’ve hardly slept at all.

The sheets you’re tangled in are thin, but what can you expect from a cheap hotel?

All of this was last second. A moment of tipsy-laced passion. Now you’re reaping the consequences. And the air is too damp, too hot, too—

Fuck.

You glance to your right, at the man softly snoring beside you. All the memories from last night appear before your eyes, replaying like a grainy recording. Images of all the positions this man put you in, and how fucking good his dick felt inside you.

Even now, you still feel the slight sting in your scalp from when he tangled his fingers in your hair while you took him into your mouth.

You need to leave. You need to leave with a thread of your dignity in tact before he wakes up. Before John wakes. You know the name well enough. He had you screaming it nearly all night. Insisted on it, and you happily obliged.

Shifting slightly, you shimmy to the very edge of the bed, trying your hardest to sit up without making too much noise or rocking the bed.  Swinging your legs around, you push up, coming to an upright position, feet planting firmly on the floor. Between your legs is a mess. You don’t have to see it to know.

Most of the night, John used condoms. But when the two of you finally curled up together, John had slid his hand between your thighs and parted you just enough to push right on in. You didn’t protest. You had sighed heavily, and then groaned when he rocked his hips, moving inside you.

In the moment you didn’t care. Not one bit. In a way, you still don’t, but what the fuck were you thinking?

You breathe in deep through your nostrils and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Lingering won’t help. You need to collect your clothes from the floor and leave.

As you open your eyes, and blink, you’re faced with your reflection. The full-length mirror against the wall shows the carnage from the night, but it’s not your appearance that has you pausing.

It’s John.

He’s awake.

And he’s staring right at you.

“You leaving me already?” His voice is husky. Sleep-tinged. The sound of it goes straight to your pussy.

“No,” you reply automatically.

He yawns, muscled chest flexing. “You’re lying, love.”

Your limbs do not cooperate. Move. That’s what you need, but your body isn’t listening. It’s melting instead, wanting to draw back into his arms.

“Am I?”

He nods, and rubs his large hand across his chest. The dark hairs there are tempting. You remember running your hands over those pectorals, and how your fingers dug in as you used him to rock back against his cock.

John pushes up and reaches over, that hand pressing against your back lightly, rubbing soft circles.

Fuck.

“Come here,” he says softly, and yet it isn’t soft at all.

It’s not pleading. It’s not exactly a command. John isn’t demanding anything and yet you are unable to form any will of your own. It’s like John has just taken a shot of whiskey.

Finally, your limbs move, but it is not away from him. Your feet find the bed again, and John is grabbing onto your thighs and waist, drawing you back. The whimper you release when both of his hands grasp the backs of your thighs as he pulls you into his lap is obscene. It’s silly. Downright ridiculous.

But it’s cut off. Cinched.

John’s mouth is on yours and then you’re kissing him. It is open-mouthed. A bit messy. But fuck is it good. His hands slide up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and meander their way over your back. One arm wraps around your waist while the other comes up to your throat.

He won’t let you leave. He won’t allow you to slip away. John’s hand seems so large against your throat, and yet you don’t care. It’s possessive the way he claims your mouth. When you begin to wiggle, John growls, and you’re flipped onto your back.

John doesn’t cease kissing you, and his hands are everywhere. Your legs effortlessly part from him, and you feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

What’s one more? Couldn’t hurt.

You shift your hips, and it’s like John already knows. Drawing your legs up and into a more bent position, there is little effort in the way he buries himself to the hilt. You almost choke on your next breath but that is all you have.

There is nothing lazy or soft about this. John’s hips snap forward and back, skin smacking against skin. He presses his face against the side of your head, lips brushing along the lien of your jaw as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the bed. Your hands claw at his back, fingers digging for a semblance of steadiness.

“Can’t leave yet,” he huffs against your throat.

Your face shifts toward him and John takes this opportunity to find your lips again, and this kiss is so much different. It is passionate, and speaks to something more desperate than a mere need.

This is only supposed to be a night. A fun, drunken fuck you can latch onto your belt.

But no. That’s not what this is.

Not really.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The air conditioning kicks in, and that is what wakes you. A cool burst of air travels over your skin, making you shiver, pulling you from sleep.

You groan, snuggling against the warmth you’re curled against. It’s a comforting warmth. A bit soft with some hardness too. Not completely comfortable but better than the blast of cold air.

When you sink further against this warmth, it shifts beneath you. Dazedly, you blink, pulling back slightly from this nice heat you don’t wish to leave. Your cheek grazes against something scratchy and then you’re frowning down at chiseled pectorals.

The night before comes rushing forward. It is a battering ram of information, one that sends your already foggy brain into overload.

“Morning, love.” The husky, Scottish voice grounds you, slamming you back to reality.

You twist slightly and are greeted by soft blue eyes and a lazy smile.

“Johnny,” you murmur.

“Remembered my name,” he laughs. He reaches over to grasp the back of your thigh, drawing it over his waist. That large hand of his squeezes gently and you shiver.

“You remember mine?” you ask, teasing back.

He hums softly, and then draws you in, whispering your name against your lips.

This was a one-time thing. A quick hookup. You met Johnny at a pub. He had zeroed in on you instantly, making his way toward you with eagerness like he knew he wanted you out of everyone there that night.

And you had melted. Complied. Fallen for his Scottish accent that only seemed to thicken the more he drank. He cracked jokes, and gave you all of his attention. It was nice to be wanted for once, and when he discreetly asked you if you wanted to go back to his place, you didn’t hesitate.

But the morning is here. It has come calling. And now you’re left with the consequences.

“I need to go,” you murmur, drawing away from him.

Embarrassment is starting to sink in. You have no idea what you might look like at the moment but it can’t be anything other than a mess. Your makeup is likely smeared, hair tangled like a bird’s nest, and you fucking ache everywhere.

Which is fucking understandable because Johnny has stamina. You’ve never been with a man with such quick recovery time. He’d finish, take a couple minutes, and come right back at it like he wasn’t winded at all. He also put you in all sorts of weird positions.

No wonder you’re sore.

Johnny’s face falls slightly, and his arms tighten, keeping you crushed against him. “Don’t want to stay for a bit? Could grab some breakfast.”

He’s offering it to you casually as if your rejection won’t mean anything, but you see the hesitation in his gaze. Johnny wants you to say “yes” and yet you don’t know why. It could just be a show of kindness. An offering of nourishment after the workout he put you through last night. But perhaps it’s something more?

No. That’s silly. Ridiculous.

The two of you met just last night. If anything, the two of you have only known each other for twelve hours. That’s hardly enough to go on.

But breakfast sounds lovely.

When you don’t answer right away, Johnny adjusts his hold on you. His face draws close, gaze lazily scanning your body. Slowly, he moves in, brushing his lips against your shoulder, and then the curve at your neck.

“Or we could stay here for a bit longer.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Breakfast after?” Johnny’s hand changes position, slipping up to grasp the curve of your ass. His body twists, and you feel his hard cock against the inside of your thigh.

Your pussy immediately clenches, remembering all the things he did to you. You attempt to push the feeling aside but it only grows, flowing outward, zapping your self-control.

“Johnny,” you whimper as his hand ventures further downward, sliding between your legs.

His fingers part your pussy, and the sound of the mess between your legs reaches your ears. The two of you didn’t use condoms last night, but you’re both clean and you went for it. It seems overly loudly in the room, and Johnny’s breathing quickens slightly as he explores.

“Don’t mind me adding to this?” His lips come down on your neck before his teeth lightly sink in.

Your lips part and you cry out as Johnny slips a finger inside your pussy. He takes his time, slowly moving in and out of your pussy. Lazily, his thumb brushes over your clit. He repeats the gesture, and your hips buck against his hold.

“Staying?” he asks, lips brushing over collarbone to descend downward to your breasts.

His actions aren’t fair. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. He’s supposed to kick you out. To tell you to leave either politely or like an asshole. Instead, Johnny is trying everything to get you to stay. And you can’t say you’re all that mad about it because—fuck, this man knows how to use his fingers.

Johnny runs his tongue over your nipple and you nearly come undone right then. Your hips flex forward, pushing your clit against his palm. He inserts a second finger, and Johnny groans against your breasts as your orgasm builds toward its peak.

“Stay,” he says, and you squeeze around those two digits, gasping for air as your fingers dig into his pectorals.

Johnny withdraws and rolls you onto your back. You spread your legs gladly, your orgasm still buzzing under your skin. He boxes you in, the head of his cock pushing in. All that soreness returns but it is fleeting. Once he’s seated entirely inside you, you hardly care.

“I’ll stay,” you gasp as he rocks his hips.

“For breakfast, too?”

“Whatever you want.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

When you awaken, it’s a jolt. A sharp shake.

You blink, not recognizing your surroundings for a moment. Hazy memories bubble up to the surface. There was a man with blonde hair and scars. There was whiskey. Lots of it. A bottle shared between you and him.

His hand kept straying to your thigh, squeezing with intention. You leaned in, asked if he was interested in going elsewhere.

This is elsewhere. And it’s not a hotel.

Simon.

You remember him now. His gruff voice, his large hands on your body, and the way he stripped you down in seconds before his mouth sought supple skin. Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you absently press your palm there, the warmth radiating into your fingers.

Glancing over, you find the bed empty. Reaching out, you test the sheets, finding them cold. Simon has been gone a while, but this is no hotel room. It’s too personal, which means he’s somewhere. This must be his home.

If you’re careful, maybe you can slip out. You sit up, and listen. Quiet. No running water or feet padding softly against the floor. The bathroom door is ajar and the light is off. Simon might be out in the kitchen or living room—or he might be gone.

That’s happened before. You’ve awoken only for the man to be gone, leaving you alone in his home to put yourself together and make an exit at your convenience.

It’s…fine.

Simon was a good fuck. You can’t complain on that front. He knew exactly how to work your body. He found all your spots—all the things that make you melt—and stuck with it.

Sighing heavily, you crawl out of the comfortable bed. Your limbs scream in protest, soreness making itself known in places you’ve never been sore before. It’s a game finding your discarded clothes on the floor. With only a sliver of sunlight from the window, you’re forced to grab and hold the item up in the air to determine if the clothing item is yours or Simon’s.

“Finally,” you mutter, identifying your shirt. It’s halfway over your head when you hear the front door. “Fuck,” you hiss, only tangling yourself further.

You take a step back only to smack your leg against the bed. It sends you backwards, sprawling onto your back. You manage to sit up and wrestle your shirt on when Simon enters the room.

He stands in the doorway holding a plastic bag, and wearing a black tracksuit. Simon’s hair is a bit of a mess like he quickly ran his fingers through it before leaving.

“Hi,” you say weakly, because you can’t stand awkward silence.

“Leaving?” asks Simon, but he doesn’t sound upset.

You shrug, and swallow down the lump in your throat. “What’s in the bag?” you reply, switching tactics.

Simon is quiet a moment before he reaches in and tosses something to you. You manage to catch it without fumbling it.

Glancing down, you look at the box. At the—oh.

“We ran out last night,” he states simply.

It suddenly grows hot in the room.

“We did,” you agree, clutching the box of condoms like it’s a lifejacket.

He bought more. Which means—

“You’re welcome to leave,” he says, crumbling up the bag and setting it on top of the dresser. Simon reaches into his pocket and deposits his keys along with his phone. Unzipping his jacket, Simon reveals bare chest.

When the jacket is gone, Simon is left in only black joggers. He’s on full display. Broad shoulders, muscled arms and chest, large hands that perfectly wrapped around your throat as he bent you over and fucked you from behind.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, but you already know the answer. If Simon really wanted you gone, he wouldn’t have left to purchase another box of condoms.

“It’s what you want,” he replies. Simon is so calm—so casual. He’s not moving away from the door. He stands there, shirtless, gaze intense.

You sigh loudly and glance down at the box of condoms. “You did go out of your way to buy these.”

By the time you glance up, Simon is right there, grasping your throat, easing your head upwards so that you can look at him. With his other hand, he takes the condoms and tosses them onto the bed.

“You’re staying.” It’s not really a question, more of a confirmation.

You nod once and Simon’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip. That soft touch is enough to part your lips, and Simon makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds like a groan.

“Take me in your mouth,” he rasps. “Like you did last night.”

Your hands find the top of his joggers. Sliding beneath the band, you wiggle them down until the base of his cock appears. You pull a bit more, and then it’s free, already hard with a tiny bead of cum blooming in the slit. Your tongue darts out, swiping it up.

Simon shivers, and his hold on your neck adjusts to grasp the back of your head. He doesn’t haul you against him, or force himself down your throat. He is waiting for you, and that action in and of itself is enough to get you to stay a bit longer.

The head of his cock slides over your tongue and you throat him deep. Simon’s eyelids flutter and his groan is sweet. You bottle it up for later with the intention of recreating that sound—to make him moan like that again.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Sunday mornings are lazy mornings.

Some of the alcohol from last night still lingers in your pores, leaving a tightness behind your eyes and at your temples. But it’s not all that relevant.

Right now, you’re floating. There’s a man between your thighs. Well, his head anyway. And his tongue is doing all sorts of things to you.

Kyle’s tongue lazily flicks back and forth over your clit while he pumps two fingers in and out of your pussy. He is in no rush. No hurry. He’s taking his time, and you’re in blissful motion, hips rocking against his tongue, meeting his fingers with each thrust.

He groans softly against your pussy just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your back arches off the bed. Kyle’s name is on your lips. A repetition you cannot cease.

Even with your orgasm blossoming, you feel his smile against your skin. Kyle is smug that he’s done this to you.

What a way to start the day.

Kyle’s fingers slip from your body, and then he’s pushing up, reaching for the box of condoms on the bedside table. He snatches one up, tearing it open quickly.

“How do you want me?” you murmur, not trusting your voice. It’s still hoarse from sleep and the smokes you accepted last night.

Kyle rolls on the condom. His skin is glossy with sweat. The two of you have hardly slept. You thought this would be a quick fuck but it’s something else. Kyle takes his time, and that has drawn this one-night stand out into an all-night fucking marathon.

“You’re good as you are, love,” coos Kyle, settling between your legs again. You both groan aloud when he slides home.

It’s the next day. You should be out of this bed. You should be doing your usual walk-of-shame, and yet you’re still in Kyle’s bed, full of his cock, and completely strung out on orgasms.

“Promise I’ll let you rest after this,” he murmurs, testing with a roll of his hips.

You almost laugh. “You said that the last two times,” you moan as he hits somewhere deep.

“Did I?” he asks, absently.

Kyle is sweet, but he knows how to make you yearn. It’s agony. And it’s fucking beautiful. This isn’t how any of this is supposed to go and yet here you are, getting dicked down by a man who is clearly beyond simple hook-ups.

This man is boyfriend material, and even as your mind starts to drift back into a lustful haze, it’s scheming of ways to keep him.

Shifting slightly, Kyle adjusts your legs, setting a pace that makes each stroke divine. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re exhausted that it feels so goddamn good. And maybe the two of you will actually rest after this.

The birds are chirping, and traffic is already moving. It’s the morning after, and yet the night seems to have been unending.

Kyle leans forward, and then your lips are connecting. Each kiss is deep. Tender. It’s unfair how nice this is. It shouldn’t be like this, and yet it is, and that makes it all the more painful when you do finally leave. This is not your home. It is his.

This is just an agreement made in a smoky pub. Nothing more.

“Kyle,” you moan, drawing his name out as your orgasm crests.

He smiles against your mouth, his pace stuttering out as the rest of him starts to tense.

“Almost there, love. Promise.” That word, promise, is strained. Kyle’s eyelids flutter, and then he too finds his end.

In the muted dark, the two of you exchange breaths. A car honks outside but it’s a muted thing. You’re hardly paying attention.

“Can we rest now?” you ask. It’s almost a laugh, but it’s also cautious. Maybe rest just means rest for him, and you’re about to be kicked to the curb.

“Yeah,” he smiles, rolling onto his back. Kyle reaches down to remove the condom before pushing himself out of bed and into the bathroom. The light flicks on. Water runs. And then Kyle returns with a damp cloth.

“Open those legs for me.”

You do so obediently, and Kyle patiently cleans you up before returning the cloth to the bathroom.

When he returns, the words tumble out of you unexpectantly. “I just need a couple hours and then I’ll go.”

Kyle frowns as he slides back into the bed. “You don’t need to rush out of here.”

You don’t need to rush out of here.

“I don’t want to bother—” Kyle shakes his head and you cease speaking.

“Come here,” he murmurs, offering himself. You slide up next to him, and Kyle wraps his arms around your body, dragging you into his chest.

Your lips begin to form words but Kyle makes a grunt and you promptly close your mouth. Kyle has you locked in his arms, and it’s comfortable. Normal. This is all too personal, and yet Kyle doesn’t seem to mind.

Maybe you could make this into something else.

Maybe this is him offering more.

Whatever it is, the concept fractures, slipping away as the warmth and comfort of him lulls you to sleep.

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[country-lee215]

Jailed With A Baby

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

“There ya go,” Rosco said, setting Rose Duke down in the middle of his desk, keeping the 10-month-old as far enough away from the edges as he could. “Just sit right there while I run and grab the paperwork for your daddies.”

“Rosco, you better not be thinkin’ you’re gonna leave her sittin’ on that desk,” Bo warned, jumping up from where he was sitting in the corner jail cell and joining Luke against the bars. “If you walk away with her sittin’ there-,”

The Hazzard County head sheriff spun to face the cell, pointing to them with a scowl. “Hush! You’re a prisoner! Now you’ve had your phone call, so sit down and just hush!”

“Dadadada,” Rosie babbled, reaching out for her fathers.

“I know, baby,” Luke sighed as he wrapped his fingers around the cell bars. “Your mama’s gonna wring our necks for this.”

“Rose,” Rosco said, bending over so he could straighten the collar of the little yellow dress she was wearing. Daisy had bought it for her a few weeks ago, she could never stop herself from buying cute things for Rosie as much as the boys and Y/N insisted that she had more than enough toys and clothes. “You sit right there. Don’t move.”

“Rosco,” Bo growled.

“I said hush, convict!”

“Calm down,” Luke advised, pressing a hand to his cousin’s shoulder without ever pulling his eyes away from Rosie. “Yellin’ ain’t gonna get us outta here any faster.”

Rosco took a hesitant step away from the desk, watching Rose to see if she’d go anywhere. When she didn’t move, only continuing to babble and giggle to herself, Rosco took the last few steps to the filing cabinet and began leafing through the papers inside.

“Stay right there, baby,” Luke said. Rose looked over and smiled, giving a small wave.

“Here!” Rosco grinned, pulling a file from the cabinet and giggling to himself. “I love it, I love it, I love it.”

Rose kicked her feet, tired and annoyed that no one was paying any attention to her. “Dadadada!” she cried as she banged her heels against Rosco’s desk.

“Oh, hush now,” Rosco said softly, much kinder than he had said to Bo only a moment ago. “There’s no need to cry.”

She reached for his hat, humming to herself as she clenched her fingers repeatedly.

Rosco smiled and pulled the black cowboy hat from his head and set it on the desk in front of Rose. “You like my hat?”

She giggled and kicked her feet again, her small palms beating on the top of the hat. Rosco chuckled and moved to place it on her head. It was far too big and fell down over her face but she pushed it back up, her bright blue eyes, the same color as her daddies’, shining out from underneath.

“Ain’t you just the cutest thing?” Rosco cooed, tickling her stomach. “Just as pretty as your Mama.”

Bo scoffed as he continued to talk to Rosie, drawing laugh after laugh from her. The blonde pushed away from the bars and stalked back to the corner where he had been sitting. “You’ve got no right to keep us here and you know it, Rosco. We ain’t done nothin’ wrong today.”

“Don’t you lie to me, Bo Duke,” Rosco said, the angry look returning to his face as he turned away from Rose. “Don’t act like you boys weren’t haulin’ shine today when you were runnin’ around.”

“Shine?” Luke echoed incredulously. “That’s what you arrested us for? Rosco, Bo and I haven’t run shine in forever. You really think we’d be runnin’ shine? Especially when we got Rosie with us?”

Rosco bristled. He knew the charge was nonsense, the Duke boys were completely innocent. But Boss’ orders were Boss’ orders and Rosco couldn’t help the fact that he loved seeing the Duke boys behind the bars of the jail cells at the station.

“We’ll just have to check your trunk, now won’t we?” he asked. “I know you Dukes always got shine tucked into your trunk.”

Bo groaned. “The only thing we got in the trunk is diapers and groceries. Y/N sent us shoppin’ while she was at work today.”

Rosie let out a loud wail and pushed the hat off her head, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. She was used to having all the attention of everyone in the room. Y/N blamed Bo and Luke for that, the boys were always showering her with attention and she was getting a little too spoiled.

Boss Hogg poked his head out of his office, frowning around a cigar. “Who’s causin’ all that noise?”

Rosco laughed lightly. “Boss, I got the Duke boys. I got ‘em, I got ‘em.”

“You got ‘em, hmm?” Boss said, pulling his cigar from his mouth as he wandered over to the cell. He grinned when he saw the unhappy looks on Bo and Luke’s faces. “You got ‘em.”

“And!” Rosco added, gesturing excitedly to Rose. “I got Rose too.”

Boss hummed thoughtfully and moved back to stand at Rosco’s desk. He stared at Rose, his eyes locked on hers.

“Baba,” she murmured seriously, hands fisting in the material of her dress.

“She looks like her mama,” Boss mused.

Rosco nodded. “Spittin’ image, ain’t she?”

Luke let out a long sigh and let his forehead thunk against the bars. Y/N was really going to kill them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rosco had to step away to file the paperwork he’d filled out for the Duke boys so he’d set Rose down on the floor by Bo and Luke’s incessant requests, leaving Flash behind to keep an eye on the baby. She sat on the floor by his desk, Flash sound asleep next to her as the young Duke ran her hands over Flash’s ears.

“Rosie,” Bo murmured, crouching down in the cell and reaching out through the bars. “C’mere, sweetheart, over this way.”

“Dada?”

“Yeah,” Bo said. “Come this way. Come get daddy.”

Rosie giggled and started to slowly crawl towards the cell. Flash opened one of her eyes and watched her go reproachfully.

“There ya go, baby,” Luke praised, squatting down beside his cousin.

“Dada,” Rosie giggled. “Dadas.”

Once she got close enough, Bo helped Rose up, assisting her as she pulled herself up on the bars. Luke adjusted her dress, straightening over her shoulders and flattening out the bottom.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Bo mumbled, pressing a kiss to her head. “You shouldn’t have to be here.”

Rosie only smiled, oblivious to what was going on. She reached up to his face, her fingers tugging at his hair. “Dada!”

“You hungry, sweetheart?” Luke asked, running a thumb over her cheek. “Want something to eat?”

Bo thought for a second. “Do we have a bottle for her in the General?”

“No,” he sighed. “They’re at home. I didn’t bring one, figured we’d be home by now.”

“Rose?” Rosco’s voice called as he wandered back towards his desk. “Where you’d get off to? Uncle Boss is lookin’ for ya!”

Bo frowned. “She ain’t his niece Rosco, he sure ain’t her uncle.”

Rosco sent him an annoyed look and scooped up Rose. She complained, whining as Rosco pulled her away from Bo and Luke and set her on his hip.

“Dada,” she cried, squirming in Rosco’s arms. “Dadadada!”

“It’s alright,” Bo tried, stretching as far as he could through the bars to try and grasp her hand. Rosco stepped further away and Bo’s fingers only managed to ghost over Rose’s.

She began to cry then, a loud wail that quickly turned to sobs. Rosco looked caught off-guard by her sudden meltdown. He tried to calm her, murmuring that it was okay, but it only made things worse. Her sobs built to a scream and Bo and Luke shared a look.

“Diaper change?”

“Diaper change.”

Rosco turned, alarmed. “What do you mean diaper change?”

“A diaper change?” Boss echoed. He’d stepped out of his office, apparently really looking for Rosie like Rosco had said.

“Just give us Rose,” Luke said. “And the bag out of the trunk of the General Lee, we’ve got diapers there.”

“Oh, and while you’re in the trunk,” Bo added, smirking at Rosco who was still holding a screaming Rose. “You can check for that moonshine we don’t have.”

“You can’t have her!” Boss argued. “That baby is evidence!”

“That baby is my daughter!”

“Boss,” Rosco said softly as Rose continued to cry. “Maybe we should give them the baby, she’s awfully upset and I bet they can calm her down, daddies can always calm their babies down.”

“No!” Boss insisted. “She’s evidence! Ya cain’t just give the evidence over to the convicts!”

“But, Boss-,”

Rose let out another loud wail and tipped in Rosco’s arms, leaning towards the jail cell. “Dada! Dada!”

“Just hand her over,” Luke offered. “We’ll change the diaper and get her to stop cryin’, just gotta give her to us.”

Boss shook his head, giving a small huff. “Rosco!”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Change her diaper. And make it quick, I’m tired of listenin’ to her cry.”

“But, Boss,” he said, shifting Rose in his arms. “I, uh, I don’t know how to change a diaper.”

Boss looked at him for a minute, eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t?”

“No,” Rosco said with a little shake of his head. “Sorry, Boss.”

“Hmmph,” the shorter man said. He looked at the Duke boys before turning back to Rosco.

The bells over the front door to the police station chimed merrily as the door was pushed open, drawing everyone’s attention to the front. Enos stepped inside, a wide smile on his face.

“Howdy, y’all! I’m all done for the day, Boss,” he said. His smile faded as he took in the sight in front of him. “Bo and Luke? What are you two doin’ here? Why’s Rose cryin’?”

“Enos, do you know how to change a diaper?” Rosco asked. Rose kicked and flailed in his arms, letting out another loud screech when Rosco didn’t set her down.

“Change a diaper?” Enos said. “I don’t know, I mean I’ve done it before if that’s what you’re askin’. My cousin’s baby, I had to help her one day.”

“That’s perfect, Enos, that really is,” Rosco said. He set Rosie back down on the desk, which elicited another round of complaints from Bo and Luke when he stepped away and walked over to Enos. “Now I need you to go out to the General Lee and get a bag from the trunk, it’s got diapers in it.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Enos asked.

“Don’t matter!” Rosco said, setting a hand on Enos’ shoulder. “I’m your superior officer and as your superior officer, you gotta do what I tell you! So get out to the General and get the bag from the trunk.

Enos bit his tongue, eyes flitting from Rosie, still crying, to Boss, looking at Rosie uncomfortably, to Bo and Luke, both wearing exasperated expressions. He gave a small nod. “Yes, Sheriff.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t do that!” was the first thing Y/N heard when she pushed through the doors of the Hazzard County Police Department.

Bo and Luke were sitting in the corner jail cell, pressed up against the bars as they barked instructions at Rosco, Boss, and Enos. The three were gathered around the desk by the cell, Rose laying on the desk. She was crying half-heartedly and kicking her legs, much to Boss, Rosco, and Enos’ displeasure.

“You can’t do that!” Luke said.

Bo groaned, rolling his eyes as Rosco knocked a file off the desk. “Just fold it over, it’ll stay that way.”

“Thought you said you knew how to change a diaper,” Boss grumbled, bending to pick up the spilled papers and slam them back on the desk.

Rosie squirmed, arching her back unhappily. She went to scream again but her eyes fell on Y/N standing by the front of the station and she let out a little whimper instead. “MAMA!”

Immediately, everyone’s eyes moved to the front door. Bo and Luke’s faces lit up. The other’s expression fell, eyes going wide.

“Uh-oh,” Boss said softly.

Y/N let out a long sigh before slowly walking up to the desk. “Out of the way.”

Rosco and Enos were quick to move, not eager to try and stay between Y/N and her daughter. Boss tried his best at giving her an innocent smile but she shook her head and he quickly side-stepped.

“Poor baby,” she muttered. “What did they do to you?”

“Mama,” Rosie cried. “Mama.”

Y/N brushed the tears from her cheeks and proceeded to change Rose’s diaper, hands moving quickly to fasten the diaper and tug her dress back down, all while murmuring to her baby.

“There you go,” she cooed, picking up her baby and hugging her tightly. Y/N swayed back and forth with Rose in her arms for a moment before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “It’s alright now.”

“Y/N-,” Boss started.

“Let the boys out.”

Rosco made a small noise. “Y/N, you know we can’t just-,”

“We all know they’re innocent,” she said evenly, shifting Rosie to her hip. “There’s no shine in the trunk so you’ve got nothin’ to keep them in there for. Let them out.”

“Yes ma’am,” Enos said. He pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the jail cell, pulling the door back so Bo and Luke could walk out.

Bo grinned and bent to press a kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “Have I mentioned I love you today, darlin?”

“Don’t you darlin’ me,” she warned as Luke moved to stand on her other side. “Of all the days you could’ve been arrested, you waited until I was workin’ and you had Rose?”

“It wasn’t our choice,” Luke pointed out softly. He set his hand on her hip, hoping the affection would make her a little less mad at them. “We told them we didn’t have any shine in the trunk.”

Y/N huffed but knew Luke had a point. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I like my baby, or my boys, being in the jail all day.”

“We know,” Bo said, mimicking his cousin’s movements and pressing his to her other hip, letting his thumb brush back and forth over Rose’s side.

“I don’t want you boys gettin’ arrested for anythin’ else while you have Rose,” she said, looking between them seriously.

“Yes, darlin’,” they said together.

“And I mean it.”

“Yes, darlin’.”

Y/N nodded, satisfied with their response. “Here,” she said, squeezing Rose once more before passing her to Luke. “Hold her for me.”

“Anything you say, darlin’.”

Boss, Rosco, and Enos had been smart, quietly avoiding Y/N’s wrath as she talked to the Dukes. But when she turned back to them, they froze under her angry glare.

“Enos.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You’re not to blame for this, are you?”

“No, ma’am.”

Y/N nodded. “Thought so. You can leave.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She hummed as he passed by, pausing to tip his hat to the family. “Have a nice evenin’, y’all,” Enos murmured.

“Thanks,” Luke said. Rosie babbled happily in his arms as she toyed with the collar of his button-down.

“I’ll say hi to Daisy for you,” Bo said kindly, giving him a small smile.

Enos smiled back before slipping outside, leaving Y/N with Rosco and Boss.

“Now,” Y/N said pleasantly. “We all know Bo and Luke were innocent today, there’s no shine in the trunk and there hasn’t been for a long time.”

Boss nodded begrudgingly. Rosco nodded as well.

“So you should’ve known better than to arrest them when they had Rosie too,” Y/N went on. “Shouldn’t you have?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“You won’t be arresting them again when they’ve got Rosie, will you?”

“No, ma’am.”

Y/N smiled. “Perfect.”

Bo chuckled to himself, smoothing a hand over Rosie’s back before pressing a kiss to her head.

“Mama,” Rosie said. “Dadas.” She turned in Luke’s arm, reaching out for Bo and the blonde was quick to pull her in and set her on his hip.

“Darlin?” Luke asked. “Did you wanna go home? Rosie’s probably hungry, we didn’t bring any bottles for her today. We figured we’d be home by the time she was hungry.”

Y/N turned to look at him. “You’re tellin’ me she hasn’t eaten since this morning?”

Bo and Luke gave her a sheepish look.

With a tired sigh, Y/N plucked Rosie from the boys and headed for the door. She’d done everything she came for, it was time to go home and feed the baby.

“See you at home,” Y/N said as she pushed out the door.

“So,” Luke said casually. “Are you gonna make dinner?”

Bo gave a small shrug. “Figured I’d give Rosie a bath, let you fix dinner.”

“That’ll work. Y/N’ll love it.”

Bo nodded. “Alright then. Let’s go home.”

[devilyn]

i want to tell you i love you | tsukishima kei

— alexa, play: i won’t let you feel alone again by demxntia

Every single time that I lay my eyes on your face I'm falling for your body and your mind too Forget the past we can leave it all behind you I won't let you feel alone again I won't let you feel alone again, no

— synopsis: sometimes, tsukki wished he could be more honest with himself. because if he had honestly told you how he felt about you, he wouldn’t be standing outside your front door wondering how he should beg you for forgiveness right now. — genre: angst, happy ending, implications of nsfw, tsukki’s pride again. — word count: 1.8k

He wondered if he should even be here, standing outside your door without calling you beforehand. He knew you had to leave in 10 minutes if you wanted to make it to lecture in time, and he knew if you saw him your day would most likely be ruined.

Yet he didn't move from his spot by your front door.

Did you even want to see him? Chances were low. If anything, him being here was more likely to hurt you. But without thinking, his feet had brought him to your doorstep. Softly, he cursed and ran his hand through his hair.

He never knew what to do when it came to you and your undefined relationship.

"What are we?" you finally asked the other night with a softness in your eyes he never wanted to let go. 

"Nothing," is what he instinctively said to keep the walls around his heart up, but he felt it throb in his chest when he saw the way your expression fell. 

He hated labels. He hated defining things. It's why the two of you lasted so long. But it was only natural that you'd want some sort of definition of what was happening between the two of you.

If his high school teammates saw him now, most of them would probably be disappointed in the type of man he became. In fact, they'd yell at him to treat you better. So what was stopping him?

Pride. It was always his pride, and he hated it.

He nearly jumped in surprise when he heard your front door click and then swing open. You let out a similar noise of shock before finally looking up and meeting his golden eyes. Your haggard expression managed to become even more tired than before just at the sight of his face, and suddenly, he regretted coming.

"Why…?" you trailed off, knowing he knew what you meant.

"...needed to see you," he answered honestly, though he almost regretted that too when your brows furrowed and your expression darkened.

"I have class," you responded coldly, stepping outside the warm comforts of your apartment to brave the winter air. Tsukishima could see your breath, and the way you shuddered at the cool wind that blew by.

"M'not here for sex," he murmured and you scoffed, checking the time on your phone.

"Yeah, I figured that. You never come anytime before 9pm for sex," you tilted your head. "In fact, you never come before 9pm at all."

He felt like he was going to collapse, but his feet stayed rooted to the ground as he gazed down at you with an unreadable expression. Despite that, your hard expression softened into one he couldn't understand. He watched you glance at your phone again and curse under your breath. You would be late if you didn't leave now.

"Look, Kei," you stated quickly. "I need to go or I'll be late to class."

"You can miss one lecture."

You rolled your eyes and took a step forward in an attempt to slip past him. He wasn't sure how, but he managed to pull his feet from their spot by your front door to plant himself in front of you instead, blocking you from taking any more than three steps away from your doormat. Your expression morphed into one of displeasure once again.

"Kei," you spoke in a warning tone. "I'm going to be late."

"I want to talk--"

"You had your chance to talk last week," you interrupted, voice calm. "So move out of my way, or I'll block your number and you definitely won't be able to talk to me then."

"Either way, we know you're going to end up blocking my number after today anyway," he retorted with narrowed eyes, as you desperately looked for a way around his unnecessarily tall frame. "so let's talk now."

You scoffed and threw your hands into the air in defeat. Quickly, you whirled back around and forcefully unlocked your front door before yanking it open. Before stepping inside, you turn your head to glare at him.

"This is your last chance, Tsukishima Kei." 

He flashed you a bitter smile before following you inside your familiar apartment.

"Excuse the mess," you mumble, dropping your bag by the couch as you head into the kitchen to grab him a beverage.

He closed the door behind him, the soft click of the lock sealing his fate. How would he go about this? It's not like he came here with a plan. He had acted on emotion alone, and somehow ended up here. Yet, as you said, this was his last chance to be honest with himself, and with you.

"I hope water's fine. I don't have anything else," your soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He watched you toss used tissues and napkins from the coffee table into the trash, briefly wiping it down with a wet towel before setting his beverage on top.

He took in your apartment for the first time during the daylight. It was uncharacteristically messy, with an emptied bag of chips tossed aside and a blanket and pillow laying haphazardly on your only couch. Your shoes were kicked to the side, and some clothes that he deemed as your pajamas were on the ground by the couch. As if you knew he was observing the sight, you hurriedly cleaned up the area.

"You don't need to clean," he said softly, though you made a soft noise that sounded like a snort. Clearly, you weren't going to listen to him.

"Sit," you told him as you made your way back to your bedroom to toss everything onto your bed to clean later. "And think thoroughly about what your excuse will be."

He did as you told him, taking a seat comfortably on your couch. He's spent an excessive amount of time here with you, usually with you perched in his lap with your lips against his. You always had this soft giggle he adored, and would try to draw out of you by kissing areas on your neck he knew were ticklish. He would rest his head on your lap after a long day of classes, volleyball practice, and generally dealing with others. You would run your hand through his hair absentmindedly while watching a show on your laptop, and he would gaze up at your focused expression with stars in his eyes. Then, his hand would reach up and pull you down for a kiss, which would eventually lead to more. 

There were many nights where he'd let you force him into washing the sheets because of the mess the two of you made, and you insisted it had to be a team effort because it was mostly his fault for initiating in the first place. Still, the sight of you writhing beneath him with red cheeks pleading for more always made the laundry day worth it. Plus, the bright smile you wore watching him reluctantly pull the sheets off your bed made him feel things he couldn't put into words.

"I love you," Tsukishima whispered softly to himself, as he heard the quiet pattering of your feet become louder with each step as you approached the common area. That was the lame excuse he had come up with.

You took the spot on the other side of the couch, turning so you could face him.

"So?" you tilted your head, fingers messing around with your phone as a distraction. "What's the excuse you came up with that was good enough to force me to skip class?"

He was silent, eyes taking in every inch of your face and the small changes that occurred over the span of the two days he hadn't seen you.

The bags under your eyes were new, along with your chapped lips and the sadness in your irises. His hand reached forward and he inched closer to you, leaning in to cup your cheek gently. Though you allowed the action, you stiffened and never tore your gaze from his. His golden-brown eyes flickered to your lips, thumb brushing over them slowly.

"I'm sorry," he finally mumbled, eyes closing as he leaned in again to rest his forehead against yours.

"For what?" you inquired quietly. You were testing him, and he knew it. He deserved it, really.

"For saying you meant nothing to me when that obviously isn't true," Tsukishima still had his palm cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your supple skin as he sighed quietly. The two of you were silent for a bit before you spoke up again, your voice shaky.

"...what am I supposed to believe, Kei? That you really want to be around me for more than just sex, or are you cruel enough to lie to my face to keep me around as someone you can run to whenever you wanna fuck?"

"You're worth more than that," his voice was weak, and he suppressed his pride that scolded him for speaking his true feelings. "And I'm sorry that I made you feel like you weren't. I'm sorry that I disproved my actions with my words because I was scared of giving my heart to someone."

He finally opened his eyes, and his heart trembled at the sight of your teary expression.

"I can't forgive you so easily, you know," your fingers reached up to trace the outline of his jaw, and a pleased hum left his lips.

"I'll make it up to you, until you believe me," he placed his hand over yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips and pressing light kisses to your fingertips. Your gaze was soft, admiring the adoration in his eyes.

"I like you a lot," you whimpered weakly, and he couldn't help but smile. He leaned down to finally kiss you like he had been wanting to since he first saw you, his fingers intertwining with yours.

"I know," he mumbled against your lips, and you weakly smacked his shoulder to which he snickered.

"Do you like me…?" you asked quietly, voice even smaller than before, as if you were afraid of his answer.

"...yeah. A lot," he answered honestly, and his heart swelled up with joy at the sight of your teary smile. With a soft giggle that sounded like home to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of you to press your lips to his again.

One day, he'd be able to vocalize just how much he loved that laugh of yours. One day, he'd be able to tell you honestly just how much he loves you.

[bonny-kookoo]

👹Bad Habits (JJK x Reader) 💜☁️🔞

👹Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

👹Genre: (Twisted)Romance, Angst, Smut, Psycho!JK

👹Warnings: Size kink, Body worship, biting, rough manhandling, JK accidentally hurts her a bit (but apologizes dw), mildly disturbing themes (blood, guts, bones cracking...), criminal activities such as theft (mentioned) and murder (not actively stated, but heavily implied), panic attack, psychotic episodes, psycho!JK because holy shit I actually got scared what did I create, degrading names (he calls her a whore in his mind like once..), possessive JK, strength kink, reader is unable to conceive (chances are very slim), unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it folks), impreg kink, dead dove do not eat 🕊 manipulative Koo, Dom!Kook, therapy talk, relapses, horrible anger management, emotional koo, emotional reader, look mom I actually wrote a happy ending

👹Summary: Oh monster monster under my bed, you’re the only one I have left, come out and play ‘cause I need a friend.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

You know this, you are very aware of it if the very much still gaping holes in the walls of your apartment, left from his most recent violent episode is anything to go by. He's got anger issues, that much is very apparent to anyone who genuinely knows Jungkook. Somehow he just can't keep himself in check, it's like he just needs the perfect trigger to simply go off like a bomb dropped from ten feet. It doesn't take much to rile him up. It takes a lot however to get him back down again.

Now, this would be the perfect moment to explain that you are the sweet and kind ray of sunlight calming his temper and cooling his ever violently burning mind- but that's not the case. There's nothing that can tame the young man at your side, nothing that can snap that collar around his neck and chain him up to a wall until he's safe to be around again. You can't do anything more than watch and pray that he will keep his promise to never ever hurt you. At first, you were worried. Anyone would be.

But then the first outbreak came.

Then the second.

And you were fine.

He would wreck the apartment, throw furniture, or beat someone to a bloody mess in an alleyway next to a nightclub simply because the guy had looked at your admittedly short skirt the wrong way. While for the longest time he didn't care about anyone, you've become his possession, in every way that the word stands. He owns you, every single cell of your being is his, and he's ready to push anyone's eyes back into their skull just for looking at you weirdly. No one is allowed to lust after you but him. No one's allowed to even think about you but him.

It's quite bittersweet, the reasoning behind his obsession with you. You're not scared, you're never running away, you're always so gentle, so delicate, such an angel around him- and in one way he fears that one day he's gonna be the wolf eating the sheep in a frenzy. In the other however, he's weirdly amused by it; the way you still look at him so innocently as if you didn't know that his hands could snap your neck like a twig between his combat boots he's typically sporting. It's a very twisted story with you two, and in a sense, he's certain that you have to be just as sick in your head as he is for genuinely loving him and his bad habits.

Just like now.

You're not saying anything. Even when you can hear the young mans ribs cracking underneath the steel toed black boots of your boyfriend, you're quiet, watching, unable to tear your eyes away from him- and you don't even know who exactly you're watching. You have already forgotten what the young man looked like- your eyes unable to reconstruct his facial features back to what they were before Jungkook had thrown his fists into them until the stranger couldn't even open his eyes anymore, face bloody and bruised to the point where you're hoping he won't survive it. You're also simply watching as Jungkooks pretty long hair, drenched in a mixture of sweat and rain from above whips around violently as if to mimic the way his muscled leg stomps into the man's chest over an over again, face holding a determination that should scare you. It's all over after a moment however, as your boyfriend seems to grow a bit tired now, slowly calming down as his anger ebbs down, waves finally evening as he breathes heavily. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks at what's in front of his feet; unable to quite realize that this was actually him. He turns, looking for you, and his entire facial expression suddenly changes.

While he looked absolutely terrifying just moments before, he's suddenly holding such a sweet and calm glint in his eyes as he takes off his jacket, putting it over your head as he smiles down at you, inner demon now fed again as it seems to crawl back behind his actual soul it consumes daily. You smile back, and he leads you out of the alley, giggling like a teenager when you playfully start to run towards the car, calling him a sore looser when he doesn't let you win like he usually does.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's just a young man as well, deep down.

He's got you sat on his lap as he greedily licks at your neck, teeth suddenly clamping down on the skin as you mewl underneath his touch and actions. He's grinning like the devil in person, his large-in-comparison palms holding your behind as they suddenly sneak underneath your shirt; his shirt, actually, and the main reason he suddenly got hungry to devour you. Your hair is still slightly damp, but he doesn't care as he lifts you up, placing you underneath him on your shared bed, hair falling into his eyes as he pulls the dark grey carharrt shirt over your head, immediately kissing your collarbone, hands kneading your breasts needily as he seems too eager to slow down anytime soon. He grabs your ribs and its as if he doesn't know where to touch- he wants it all, wants to feel it all, all at once, because it drowns out all the bad things he usually does. You're an outlet for his pent up aggression, only that he lets loose differently with you. He's got no hunger to make you suffer, to give you pain or to have you look at him in fear. No, he simply craves the way you writhe underneath him, ready for him, wanting, needing him. Such an angel, such a whore, so needy for his love and affection.

Something he wasn't sure he was capable of.

But he is, and it shows; while he usually moves with his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed, ever so agitated by the simplest of things, his face is calm now, relaxed, eyes however still feral- his gaze enough to make your core ache and your skin tingle. He's chuckling as he moves you around, suddenly impatient as he noticed your panties won't leave your legs as fast as he wants them to. It irritates him to the point where he just rips them as the seams, the fabric now ruined, but neither of you care as his hand instantly finds its way down to cup your heat, ring- and middle finger collecting your slick to bring it upwards to your clit, thumb running in circles over it as you squirm and whine, making him smile.

You're so sweet like this, and he can't help but move your legs, pulling you closer to him in his usual rough manner- he's not capable of being all gentle and sweet, after all. He tries, he really does, but Jungkook is like an overgrown puppy; he doesn't know how much strength he actually has. And it shows, as you squeak, painfully so, as he had gripped your legs a bit too tightly; fingerprints already an angry red on your skin, and he cooes at you, apologizing. "I'm sorry, so sorry.." He hushes against your skin, placing sweet kisses on the pulsing marks on your leg. "can't help it baby.." He muses, and you simply nod your head, hands reaching out for him as he smiles again, kissing your lips, finally.

He's never been fond of the gesture before, not understanding why something as unsanitary as this could be meant to signify any romance at all. But eventually he's gotten to know the intimacy of it, and had decided for himself that he'll never kiss anyone but you in his life. He doesn't want anyone but you anyways. You're his, for now, and forever.

"You're so sweet angel, you know that?"

He humms it against your neck as he finally rids himself of his own clothes, erection hard and proudly waiting to bury itself into your sweet cunt. "Hmm.." He humms again, amusement in his voice as he continues to draw patterns over your sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "I still can't believe how I fit inside that pretty body of yours." He says, as you suddenly feel the hot skin of his length against your middle. "Can't believe you can take it so well princess." His hand leaves your core finally, as he slowly enters you, making you mewl as he groans.

He doesn't have much self-restraint, but every time you're together like this, you're both amazed by how much he can control himself. The way he plays you like an expensive instrument makes you hang from his hands like a puppet on its strings. And you love it- the simple fact that he's able to do anything he wants with you, yet he'd never use you just to throw you away. He'd never hurt you. You know this.

He grins as he places his hand over the slight bulge forming underneath your skin where his cock is moving inside you, all warm and swollen, impatient as he can't help but move more vigorously, harder than before, as your body moves along with the beat he's giving you. He's in control, its impossible to lie about that and you don't see any problem with that. Your mind is empty, only pleasure remains as he bites down onto your skin again, hands roaming as if they can't decide where they want to stay; because it's the truth after all. He can't decide what he loves most about you, if your body is whats the most desirable or if its your soul locked inside of it and chained to his own like a prisoner. He gets a kick out of this feeling, out of the way you're speared on his cock like the doll you are, and if he desired to, he could simply snap your bones like those pepero snacks you always eat, and it would be just as sweet as they taste. Yet he doesn't- he's being oh so generous with you, letting you live beside him, keeping you as safe as he could at his side, never to let anything come close to you. You're his.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also head over heels in love with you.

You don't know what it was this time.

You only know that he's currently in your shared apartment, having returned from Job hunting, and by the sounds of crashing glass, he's probably having another one of those days. You know you should just leave him, but ever so often your own curiosity gets the best of you, and you sit up on the bed, dressed in nothing but a shirt, your panties, and socks to keep your feet warm, since the heating in your apartment broke months ago. You carefully open the bedroom door, peaking around the wood to spot him as he currently kicks his shoes off in an ever so violent manner. He spots you, eyes dark and feral, but this time it's not lust in them. "Get back inside." He barks out, and you know why he does it.

He wants to keep you safe.

Against all odds he knows what he is. He knows he's sick, knows he's a danger to himself and others, and that's why he's always telling you to stay away from him whenever his anger is boiling over like this. It's his way of keeping you safe, keeping you protected and you know better than to go against his own judgement. He knows himself best, after all.

Only as you can hear him hiss in pain do you go against him.

As the apartment grows quiet, you slowly step outside the room again, eyes searching for the form of your boyfriend, before finally spotting him near the kitchen table, one hand on it, while the other is held close to his chest. You can see blood on the white cracked tiled floor close to him, and you immediately grow worried for him. You slowly creep inside the bathroom, retrieving some stuff from the first aid kit, as you walk back outside, spotting him on the couch now. "..kookie?" You carefully ask, wary of any signs of his body that he's not yet down to earth yet. But he doesn't move at all. You slowly walk around the couch, squatting down in front of him as your hands carefully reach out for his inked arm, and he lets you, his eyes eerily not looking at anything at all. You hiss a bit and sit down on his lap as he doesn't argue with you, almost delicately treating his wounded skin. He's probably somehow cut himself on the broken glass from the photo frame he broke. He seems awfully exhausted, which isn't a new sight to you. He usually is after a day like that.

"We're gonna loose the apartment." He says darkly, yet you don't stop what you're doing, simply humming an acknowledgement at him, while you don't look up at him. "Are you even listening?!" He suddenly barks out, grabbing your wrists as you look at him; not in fear however. You simply wait for him, like you always do, until he suddenly looks down onto his hands, letting go of your now red wrists with a look on his face like his favorite puppy has just been killed. "They simply said because of my criminal record they can't employ me-" He began, already getting riled up again as you kissed his cheek to distract him before he could slip again. With you situated on his lap like that, it could prove fatal.

"I'm gonna get a job, from home maybe. We'll figure things out." You softly say, and he doesn't seem like he quite believes you. He doesn't need to, at least not yet. It takes time, but you'll take yourself the time you need, even if its someone else's. Its not like he ever really cared about whats who's after all. "I still love you, you know?" You say, and that's when he breaks.

For the first time in those years you know him, he falls to the ground, crashes onto concrete with full force, and it wrecks through his entire body as he pulls you close, sobbing into your neck as he hiccups and chokes on his emotions, his hug painfully tight, but you don't complain. You're too shocked by his state to react much, other than running a hand over his back in a hopefully soothing manner. He doesn't stop for a moment, and you don't have a good feeling for time, so you cant tell how long you both sit like this, until he's finally exhausted to the point of simple slumping down, asleep as his body finally gives up. You carefully stand up, letting him somehow softly fall to his side as you struggle to pull his legs up to properly lay o the couch. Walking into the bedroom you retrieve blankets for him and yourself, as you crawl underneath his arm to lay against his chest, underneath the blankets, as you try and think of a way to help him.

You can't get a job. Not only because he won't let you, but because you get sick too easily. You're not allowed by doctors advice to work in any field that requires direct customer contact- and sadly that's all your educational level would allow you to work in. It never bothered Jungkook however, if anything he welcomed it as a good reason for you to stay at home, and at his side at all times. For him however, there were different reasons he didn't have a job. He couldn't keep one, with his short temper making him unfit for any job that required him to handle other people. He was a bomb ready to explode any moment at all times, and it was hard for him to land a job at any interview he somehow got. And nowadays, as word got around, no one simply wanted to employ him; stories of him going off at complaints and always being ready to throw hands made him the talk of the town in terms of who to look out for. He also had a criminal record- which didn't make the situation any easier.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. And it's a serious issue.

You somehow made it another month concerning rent.

With you selling some clothing you made yourself for a reasonable price, you somehow had at least a bit of an income, yet Jungkook didn't really seem like himself these days. He didn't leave the apartment much, and seemed much more grim to everything around him. You somehow thought that maybe he was just in a bad mood- but it seemed like this time things were a bit more serious than that.

"Princess?" He calls, as you rub your hand over the side of your neck, having laid on the couch weirdly as you had been taking a nap recently. You perked up at his call, walking out of the open kitchen to meet his gaze in the living room, his eyes serious as he pats his thighs; an invitation for you to sit down. He likes having you seated on his lap like this; it makes him feel all comfortable, knowing that you're so close to him. "I.." He starts, and visibly struggles with finding the right words for what he wants to say. "I want to get therapy." He states, and its quiet for a moment. You need to process his words for a second, as he never spoke about his issues like this. You never really thought about this option at all, and it makes you feel bad, deep inside, as you now realize that this was something you should've thought about as well, from the start on maybe. But you never wanted him to change for you; making you kick yourself in your thoughts. It never occurred to you that he wasn't changing for you, he didn't need to change for you, he needed to change for himself as well. You simply started to smile, and your arms snaked around his neck as he breathed in your scent, happy that you take this so well. He had struggled with the acceptance of it for a long time, and with you at his side, he knows he can somehow maybe change.

Even if its just a bit.

"I want to be a better man. For me, and mostly for you." He starts, and you attempt to speak, but he smiles, and kisses you instead, successfully shutting you up. "Don't say I don't need to. We know I do." He explains, and you nod. You're curious on why he suddenly realized it, but you decide not to dig too deep, as he currently seems vulnerable enough to you. So you simply let him hold you like this, quietly, calmly, while outside the thunderstorm continues, rain hitting the windows with as much force as the wind sees fit. Its ironic, really. Typically the situation is the opposite.

But somehow it feels like everything is changing, right in that moment. Just a few words have been spoken, but the ones that did make it out were a promise, a vow, a sentence of hope to finally get a hold on the future you both had dreamed about before, tangled in sheets and each others limbs. He's always said he wanted a family, as cheesy as it sounded to him back then, and then he'd laughed about it as if it was a joke. It somehow was, at least during that time it was; how could he be a better father than his if he was just the same? He didn't want his story to take a turn like that, to end up hurting you in the process of his own selfishness just to get what he wanted. No, he wanted something different in his life; he wanted his children to look up to him as a person they could be in awe of not because they were scared, but because they were proud to have them.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also finally realizing it.

Therapy never goes smoothly from A to point B. It's never a smooth ride, never a straight line connecting the start to the goal. And Jungkook is feeling that as he walks through the door, fuming after an in his eyes pointless session with his therapist. Why the fuck would they want to know about his childhood? That's his business and his own only, it doesn't concern anyone other than himself. Hell, he never even talked to you about it- and he sure as hell won't start chatting away with a stranger like this. He can't control himself as his fist connects with the wall next to the door, drywall cracking underneath the force as you stand in the middle of the living room, looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. He's disappointed in himself in that moment; he was supposed to get better. He was supposed to have himself in check by now, it was supposed to end; yet here he is, just the same as a month before he started. You try and walk towards him, and he's ready to tell you to turn around and leave him alone, but he doesn't. For some reason, this is not pure anger he's feeling.

It's frustration.

And it leads to his eyes watering, as he lets you hold him close, your warm palms running over his back as best as you can with the height difference, and he simply lets his forehead rest on your shoulder, breathing while you softly count next to his ear. He concentrates and lets go of his emotions all at once, taking his time to feel them before he opens his mind up to letting them go. It sounded stupid to him when he was told that this could help him, but now that he's doing it, he gets why its being taught. It helps. Its like a bandaid being taken off after your cut has heeled. It hurts a bit as its being taken off, but the fresh air on the newly connected skin feels so good that the short sting before is more than worth it.

He sniffles, and you giggle, making him chuckle as well, as he runs a hand over your head, a silent sign that he's okay now. "Try again next week. You're doing so great now, Kookie." You say, and its this small encouragmenent that makes him grin brightly.

Because as you both stand in the kitchen, making homemade pizza for the first time in ages, he feels at ease with his surroundings. He calms down rather quickly even though some things don't go as planned, and laughs more freely at his own mistakes as you smile brightly at him. Sometimes you feel like crying, seeing him change like this, but you're strong enough to hold it in until he leaves during the day. You're still unsure how the future will be changing, still a lot unknown to the both of you, but for now, you'll continue to keep each others heads above the waves with your sewing, while he does his best at getting better. You know he can make it, you're certain he can, and will.

Because Jungkook is sick. But he's finally getting help.

You don't know what has happened when he bursts through the door, uncaring to either take off his shoes nor to close it behind him, as he picks you up, spins you around, grinning so much his eyes crinkle at their sides, and you laugh, even though you don't know why he's so happy. "I got a job! Baby, I finally got a job!" He yells, screams almost, and it makes your eyes water; not because he's taking a huge weight off your shoulder, but because this has been one of his biggest goals ever since he started this journey of getting help. He's so happy about it that this time you can't keep it in, you can't stop the tears as they flow out, making you hiccup and wheep into his shoulder as you struggle to get your words out. "Baby- Princess, hey hey-" He says, setting you down as his hands wipe away at your eyes, the letter confirming his acceptance still in his left hand as he worriedly looks at you. "Why are you crying angel? hm?" He cooes, admittedly a bit amused, because he can imagine what's happening.

"I'm so happy!" You squeeze out, before another wave hits you, and he kneels down, holding you tightly again, as he doesn't let go of you, his love for you overflowing inside his veins as it fills his entire body. He's so thankful for your existence in his life, and he will never be truly able to properly tell you that. It's impossible to put it into his words how much he appreciates you staying at his side through this entire endeavor. Every time he's asked why he does this, his answer is always your name on his lips, always spoken with a slight smile, nowadays a bright grin he's not ashamed showing.

You don't let him go until he chuckles. "Will you let me close the door at least?" He asks amused, as he feels the slightly cool breeze coming inside from the complex' hallway. You disconnect yourself from him for a moment, wiping your eyes with your sleeve as he closes the door, finally taking off his shoes at last, as he walks back, running towards you with a playful growl that makes you laugh as you try and run away from him. But he catches you easily, carrying you over his shoulder into the bedroom, where he bites and licks at your neck, hands pinching your sides making you squirm around and laugh, desperately trying to get away from him. He'll never let you, and you know this, so its unsurprising that he's suddenly pulling your sweater over your head, needing to be close to you. It's cold inside the apartment, and you shiver as the almost icy air around you nips at your skin. "Can't wait until we can use the heating again.." He murmurs against your skin as he shifts around a bit, carefully undressing himself before he crawls underneath the heavy covers with you. "then you can flaunt around in your pretty underwear all day without getting cold." He chuckles, as you hit his chest playfully at the remark. "What? Its always so cold I never get to see you in it." He whines, as he reaches between your legs, inked hand easily working you up as you squirm around. "I never get to see your pretty body properly because we have to hide away like this." He complains, and you simply whine at him, as he suddenly enters you. "For now I'll just warm you up like this, hm?" He humms out, and you nod, not really understanding what you're agreeing to, but you do it anyways.

He's awfully slow and soft, you notice, as he' way more collected as usual. "I love this." He suddenly presses out, eyes closed in bliss as he kisses the side if your neck, trailing down to nip at your collarbone, while his hands find yours, intertwining your fingers in a gesture you can only describe as awfully romantic. "I love being able to make love to you." He explains, as you open your eyes a bit, meeting his as he watches you underneath him. "Though I think you don't mind me being a bit rough with you, no?" He playfully suggests, and your cheeks grow a bit red at that, before he laughs, head dipping down to properly kiss your lips, tongue instantly searching for entrance as he doesn't pick up the pace. "Can't wait until you're all round with my baby." He suddenly suggests, and your eyes open wide as you open your mouth to correct him, but you shut up as his eyes meet yours, determination in them as he suddenly grabs the behind of your thighs, positioning them a bit differently to hit even deeper. "I know, I know-" He chants, as he picks up his pace. "I don't care." He presses out between his own heavy breaths. "I'll just-" He begins, loving the way you mewl under his touch, "I'll just fuck you over and over again until it works." He promises, and you simply nod, unable to deny him. The chances you'll ever conceive are slim- but as he states, never zero. "I'll just- I'll just fill you up until your body can't help but give me a child." He muses, as you start to clench. And he knows, notices, how much this idea is just as enticing to you as it is to him. "You gonna cum? Hm?" He asks, and you nod vigorously before you arch your back off the mattress, making him groan as he shoots his load as well, the visual image of your pleasure underneath him combined with the way you clench his aching length inside granting him his release as well.

As you lay on your sides, all snuggled up underneath the covers after cleaning up, he kisses your bare shoulder, eyes closed. "I mean it, you know." He says, and you humm a reply, before he explains further. "I want a family with you. Someday. When I'm ready." He says, and you nod. You'll somehow make it work, you know this. If he can overcome his demons, you can overcome your own cursed body as well. You deeply hope, at least.

Because Jeon Jungkook is sick, but he's starting to see a future.

"Jeon!" His coworker yells in the big hall he's working in. "Why, pray tell, did you never tell us your girl is that fucking pretty, aye?" He barks in a playful manner, as you walk inside beside the old man, carrying a small plastic bag with what he assumes is a lunchbox. The view of you next to that man stirs something inside him, as he slowly gets up, wrench still in his hand, brows furrowed.

"Because your filthy hands should stay six feet away from her." He responds, with his brows still furrowed, before he finally sneezes.

"Bless you, hah! I'll let you have your break earlier-" The old man winks at you, then gives Jungkook a firm hit against the chest, taking the wrench away from him. "But only because she's cute!" He laughs, as he walks into the hall, Jungkook now walking towards you.

You're proud of him.

Months ago, this would've never been possible; neither the simple fact that he had a job, nor the small incident with his coworker just now. He still got easily irritated, but he worked through these emotions way more easy nowadays. His coworkers and boss know of his past, know what he was like and know that he's still deep in therapy, but they don't judge. They simply accept him, tame him back into his cage whenever he's close to boiling over again. You love the fact that you can walk inside the breakroom with him, eyes sparkling with newfound childish playfulness as he peaks inside the bag you brought him. He's still very careful with you leaving the house, but its not anymore just for his own gain- he's more open to his surroundings, he's starting to think about how he and his actions can affect others. He doesn't care much still; but he's realized that pretending is enough for now. Small steps.

"The handyman was there today." You say, as you watch him dig into the fried rice you brought him, his interest now gained. "They turned on the heating again. Can you imagine? I didn't even know we had floorboard heating!" You exclaimed excitedly, and Jungkooks eyes widen as well.

"Really? I didn't know either. Fuck, can't wait to come home now." He says, swallowing his bite before taking a sip of his canned soda. "Did that label contact you yet?" He asks, and you shake your head. Recently, you had gained the interest of a bigger clothing label, who wanted to collaborate with you for this season's designs. "Ah, that takes time I guess. We'll wait, its fine." You know he's not only saying that for you, but himself as well. He still gets agitated over small things, but he deals with them a bit more easily. "I'll be home in a couple hours. Do you wanna wait here, or go home?" He asks, and you stand up, packing his now empty food container as you smile.

"I'll take the bus, don't worry." You say, and he furrows his brows playfully.

"Mask?" He asks, and you hold it up proudly, well aware of the precautions you need to take to make public transport safe for you.

"Good girl. Text me when you're home yeah? I'll get us takeout for dinner." He says, as he kisses the top of your head. You nod, and wave him goodbye as you two go separate ways, at least for now, until he's finally free of work.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

But he's slowly healing.

[duckymcdoorknob]

The Fall of Red Riot

Warning! This is a tickle fic!

Ships: KiriBaku

The breakdown: Lee!Kirishima, Ler!Bakugo and Ler!Kaminari

Warnings: tickling, swearing, fluff overload

Prompt: The 1-A boys are hanging in the classroom during lunch and they’re stumped. They could not get Kirishima to spill his biggest secret: his crush. Bakugo rolls his eyes and volunteers his methods...

“There’s gotta be some way!” Kaminari whined.

“No way! I’m never telling any of you!” Kirishima barked in response.

“Tch, we’ll get it out of you at some point, shitty hair.” Bakugo noted coolly.

“OYE DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Kirishima yelled.

The boys groaned as they all ate their lunches. It was just them and Aizawa, who naturally was asleep, all alone in the classroom.

Kirishima was in a really fuckin’ bad place; he was being pestered by his friends. They all wanted to know who his secret crush was. Luckily, due to his quirk, the boy could withstand anything.

“There isn’t anything?” Midoriya questioned, “not even one thing?”

“Punch me, kick me, swirly, wet willie, draw on me, whatever you want. I’m not talkin’.” Kirishima answered bravely.

Bakugo let out a scoff as he rolled his eyes. “You’re all idiots”

“Well I don’t see you offering any ideas, Kacchan!” Deku grew defensive.

“Literally you’re all fucking stupid.” Bakugo was getting agitated; are they all really this dense?

Deku and Bakugo glared daggers at each other before Bakugo squeezed Deku’s sides.

The smaller boy yelped and leaped at least a foot in the air.

The blonde scoffed, rolled his eyes, then finally spoke up, “there’s your method. Try it out, I’m sure it’ll work.”

Kirishima, who had not been paying attention, turned toward Bakugo, “What method? What do you mean Bakubro?”

“Well now that you’ve got him wondering, I think that you should do the honors.” Kaminari chimed.

Deku grinned menacingly while Bakugo tackled Kirishima and straddled him.

“W-woah there! What gives, Bakugo?” Kirishima grew anxious, what the hell was this guy’s deal?

“Last chance to talk, shitty hair.” The blonde was smiling evilly, a side Kirishima had never seen before.

Red Riot sucked in a breath.

“Do your worst!” Kirishima cried preparing for inevitable pain, “what man can’t take a little pain?”

“Wh-Pain?” Deku asked with furrowed brows, “no-no! You got it all wrong. Kacchan is just going to exploit your body’s sensitivity is all.”

“Ohh!” Kirishima beamed. Then the realization struck, “oh”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Way to go shitty Deku, now he knows the plan!”

Nonetheless, the Katuski clawed his hand and started to lower it down to an already giggling Kirishima’s tummy.

The red haired boy used his summer camp training: act quick in heavy pressure situations.

The hero in training hardened his skin, adding an extra layer to his abdomen, causing Bakugo to groan.

“Seriously? Your shitty quirk!” Bakugo rolled his eyes, “well I can wait here all day. And when the girls come back, you get to say which one you like in front of her.”

“HAVE YOU NO MERCY?” Kirishima roared.

The sudden loud noise awoke Aizawa. He was not a happy camper when he was woken up, especially from a good nap like this.

“You know what Bakubro! I’ll be fine holding out! I can keep my skin hard as long as I wish!” Kirishima yelled cockily.

Oh this will be good.

Aizawa stood up and stealthily stood next to Midoriya. He put a finger to his lip and winked at the greenette.

“How can you interrogate me with no method? You really didn’t think this through Bakubro.” Kirishima was getting cockier by the minute, “can’t tickle someone with no soft skin!”

Aizawa grinned.

Midoriya clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from spoiling another surprise.

As Aizawa’s hair stood up in an instant, Kirishima’s rock hard abdomen disappeared into a soft, pudgy, tummy.

“YES!” Bakugo cried

“M-MISTER AIZAWA!” Kirishima whined.

“You’re the one who woke me up. Just thought I’d keep my quirk alert Incase if any villains attack.” Aizawa responded in a monotone.

Bakugo didn’t hesitate. He immediately started scribbling his fingers along Kirishima’s sides.

The red haired boy kept his composure, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Oh? Nothing’s working huh.” Bakugo lifted his attack, “I guess we’ll just have to stop then.”

“Man you really suck at th- EEP!” Kirishima squeaked as Bakugo raised his arm above his head and poked the hollow of his arm.

It all happened so fast, Kirishima couldn’t even attempt to hold in his laughter.

“waihihihihit. Bahahahahakuhuhuhgohohoho!” Kirishima’s bubbly giggles melted Midoriya’s heart. Normally, Red Riot would be rolling all over laughing, but the uniform definitely helped minimize the feeling.

“You ready for talk yet?” Bakugo asked with a cocked grin.

“Nehehehehehever! Ihihihihihihihi cahahahan lahahahahast!” Kirishima manages through his uncontrollable giggling.

“Midoriya I might need some eye drops. This could take a while.” Aizawa muttered.

Deku chuckled and grabbed drops from Aizawa’s desk.

“You’re getting boring shitty hair. I’ll find your death spot and you’ll never stand a chance.”

“Jokes on you! You can’t even access it!” Kirishima spoke without thinking.

“Oh? Why is that? Is it blocked by me or clothes?” Bakugo cooed as he started to untuck Kirishima’s uniform shirt.

“Waihihihihit Bakubrohohohoho!” Kirishima giggled uncontrollably before any contact was made with his hyper-ticklish skin.

“What happened to being unbreakable? Where’s the great Red Riot now?” Bakugo teased as he prepares an assault, “I wonder if you share your worst spot with the shitty Deku.”

Deku yelped with wide eyes as attention turned to him. He could kill Kacchan.

“W-where’s his death spot?” Kirishima asked, followed by a gulp.

“Nowhere special. Just-“ Bakugo drilled his thumbs into Kirishima’s hips, “here.”

“BAHAHAHAHAHAKUHUHUHGOHOHOHOHO!” Kirishima cried out.

“Ohh maybe you do have the same death spot as Deku!” Bakugo teased confidently.

Kirishima’s bright belly laughter filled the room. All of the other boys gathered ‘round to see what was going down.

“Bakugo, you do know you just exposed Deku right?” Kaminari questioned with amusement.

“And I care because? I’m the only one who knows how to get him howling anyways.” Bakugo replied cockily.

A loud yelp was emitted from Deku’s side of the room after Aizawa took a squeeze at both of the boy’s hips.

“Well he’s not lying.” Aizawa said calmly.

“Come make yourself useful, Pikachu. Hold his arms up.” Bakugo commanded.

Kaminari obliged and soon Kirishima was under Bakugo’s mercy, meaning there would be none.

“Tell us Shitty Hair!” Bakugo spoke louder as he removed a hand from one of Red Riot’s hip, and added a scribbling hand to one of his underarms.

“NNGH- NEHEHEHEVEHEHEHEHER!” Kirishima cried.

The boys of class 1-A all shared the same look: fearful amusement. They now knew to never mess with Bakugo, especially after today.

Bakugo lifted his attack fully. “Alright Kirishima, you leave me no choice.”

Kirishima gulped nervously.

“Either you tell me your death spot, or I embarrass the hell out of you right now.” Bakugo said menacingly.

“Y-you. Fiend. You’ll get nothin’ outta me.” Kirishima barked in rebuttal.

“Suit yourself.” Bakugo said calmly, “Pikachu.”

Kaminari drew his attention to Bakugo. While this happened, Aizawa realized that Kirishima was too weak to use his quirk, so he retreated back to his sleeping bag.

“You might wanna sit on those arms, things are gonna get ugly.”

As Kaminari obliged, Bakugo began to pinch at the pudge right above Kirishima’s bikini line. This caused the hard-rock hero’s laughter to jump up an octave.

“Found it~” Bakugo purred in a low voice.

“BAHAHAHA! BAHAHAHAHAHAKUHUHUHUHUHUGOHOHOHOHOHO! MEHEHEHEHEHEHRCHYHEHEHEHE!” Kirishima tried to writhe from under the blonde’s evil clutches.

“Then tell us!” Bakugo demanded angrily.

“NOHOHOHOHOHO!” Kirishima whined in response.

“Then die.”

Bakugo’s evil smirk was all that Kirishima saw before his eyes squeezed shut and he was a screaming, blushing mess.

The blonde continued to squeeze the boy’s worst spot. But, he also demanded Kaminari to spider his fingers under Red Riot’s arms. And to top it all off, Bakugo started blowing fat raspberries on Kirishima’s abs.

Red Riot moved into quiet hysterics, unable to bear the tickly feeling.

“Maybe you should stop soon.” Tokoyami butted in, “He doesn’t look too good.”

“Shut up bird brain! He’s done when he confesses!” Bakugo barked back.

Kirishima was trying his best to get out of his friend’s clutches, he was even squeezing Kaminari’s butt with his free hands. But, It had no effect on the electric boy.

“BAHAHAHAKUGOHOHOHO, KAHAHAHAHAMINAHAHAHAHRIHIHIHI STAHAHAHAPPIT! Q-QUIHIHIHIHIHIT IHIHIHIHIT! I CAHAHAHAHANT TAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHT!” Kirishima squealed as tears leaked from his eyes.

“Last chance to tell us before we get you to exhaustion!” It was Kaminari’s turn to interrogate now.

“OKAY- OKAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAY IHIHIHIHILL TEHEHEHEHELL!” Kirishima cried.

The attack ceased, leaving Kirishima panting. After a few seconds of greedily gulping in air, Red Riot looked at his attackers, then his classmates. He had no dignity left, so why should he lie?

“It’s um... it’s...” shit. He needed to come up with a name quick, “it’s Mina.”

“You liar.” Kaminari said as he skittered his fingers once again.

“IHIHIHIM NOHOHOHOT LYIHIHIHIHING!” Kirishima cried.

“That’s enough Pikachu. He knows to tell us the truth.” Bakugo unstraddled Kirishima, Kaminari did the same. The blonde reached a hand out and helped Red Riot to his feet.

His classmates surrounded him in a circle, there was nowhere to run.

“Ah jeez. This is gonna be embarrassing.” Kirishima spoke softly.

“Just say it!” Kaminari commanded.

“It’s Ururaka!” Kirishima yelped.

“No! You’re still lying! I know when you lie because your quirk activates on only your hands!” Bakugo yelled.

“Mister Aizawa! The one time I needed you to erase my quirk!” Kirishima groaned bashfully.

“Just tell us dude we won’t judge you.” Kaminari said with a reassuring hand on Red Riot’s shoulder.

Kirishima looked at all of his classmates curious faces. What if they judged him? What if they didn’t want to be his friend anymore because of who he liked?

“W..well.. um...” Kirishima closed his eyes and sighed, “it’s.. its B-Bakugo.”

Bakugo’s eyes widened along with all the other boys.

“I.. I shouldn’t have said that...” Kirishima said before running out of the room.

“Kirishima! Stop!” Bakugo yelled.

The blonde went chasing after Red Riot, leaving the rest of the class dazed.

“What did I miss?” Aizawa asked with a yawn. He saw all of his confused students, “Jesus was it Mt. Lady or something?”

“N-no... Kacchan” Deku spoke quietly.

“Oh that was obvious.” Aizawa said with an amused breath of air. “Now I owe All-Might 200 Yen.”

[kisekinodrabbles]

Can we get detective Aomine, who gets assigned a female partner but from the start they're always at each other's throats. During an undercover case, reader has to be super flirty and Aomine gets all jealous and mutual confessions ensues. Maybe some sexy times at the end? :') Sorry if this is too specific, feel free to come up with your own interpretation! I'm such a huge fan of your work Sam and I'm so excited that you're opening your askbox even just for a little while!

ngl idk what im doing here but this is the last request in my inbox so i wanted to finish it haha pls enjoy (not proofread so excuse mistakes) - also my first time writing smut in like years so forgive me!!

Sometimes, Aomine thinks that if he isn’t a law and order professional, he thinks he might actually commit murder and hide your body away in some undisclosed, obscure location. Most of the time, you feel the same way about him. 

The two work in different divisions—Aomine in homicide and you in robbery. The two divisions have always been highly competitive especially given how much overlap you both encounter. Things can get territorial, but their teams are used to your snide remarks and Aomine’s verbal assault. It’s just the way the world works. 

After all, the two of you were in the same graduating class. You, a valedictorian by books. Aomine, top of the class by combat. It’s natural that the two of you are so competitive with your conflicting personalities.

The two of you may have also fucked at some point. 

–

“I’m not fucking working with her, are you kidding me?” Aomine spits out at his boss. Any other person would’ve been kicked out of the room or probably fired, but Aomine is the best detective in his division so Akashi would never do such a thing. For now. Aomine’s been wearing his patience thin. 

The red-haired man sighs, folding his hands together atop his desk. “Aomine, I understand you both have had your immaturity in the past. This, however, isn’t the time for such trivial matters. There’s a double homicide downtown during a robbery. She’s the lead for the case on the robbery end because they’ve been tracking a series of these.” Aomine opens his mouth to argue again. “No more buts. She’s already down there getting witness statements. Unless you want to be behind again, I suggest you get in your car and start driving.” 

He grits his teeth. Breathe. Don’t strangle your boss, he’ll probably kill you first. “I’ll take Wakamatsu.”

By the time he arrives on the scene, a crowd has gathered behind the police line, snapping pictures in the hopes of getting something Twitter worthy. He growls past all of them and ducks underneath the tape. “Where’s the officer that called it in?”

“Inside talking to the detective.”

“I’m the detective,” he snaps right back, knowing full well you’re already three steps ahead of him. And you definitely won’t let him forget that.

He marches past the thick front doors, Wakamatsu in tow. From a distance, he spots you talking to another officer. When he finally approaches you, he realizes that you’re in a skin tight dress covered by an oversized police jacket.

Your name slips past his lips. “Did we interrupt a hot date?” He smirks.

You whirl around, knowing full well the irritating voice that grates on your nerves. Aomine Daiki. “Unlike you, I have actual friends and actual plans on a Friday night. Did you decide to give your wrist a break for the night?” 

Aomine bites back, “Well, it’s not getting much rest either when I had my fingers knuckle deep in something tight and wet tonight.” Complete lie but he’s not about to lose this battle. “Not sure you know how that feels though.”

“If you’re talking about the pudding in your fridge, you might want to ease up on that. Doesn’t look like it’s doing you any favors,” you smile right back at him, knowing full well you’ve won this argument.

Aomine growls low under his breath, jabbing Wakamatsu hard with his elbow when he hears the snort escape him. “Brief me on the situation,” he tells the police officer.

“Well, uh, I already told this detective here—”

“I’m the other detective in charge for homicide. Now, you better fucking brief me before I tell your captain.”

The guy glances at you warily and you just laugh. “Told you he hasn’t gotten any in a long time. Come on, sugar, I’ll brief you on the way down to the vault.” You curl your finger in a gesture to get him to follow you and he sucks up his pride for the first time and do as he’s told. If he solves this case, he still gets the credit and you can go back to that sewer where you came from.

There are two bodies at the vault and forensics are already working to collect evidence when they arrive. “Your area of expertise, double homicide. Both are surprisingly the robbers. Four of them broke in, only two were seen exiting with money bags. No other casualties.”

“Fucking weird,” Aomine mutters. It’s not new for robberies to go wrong, but for two of them to die with no civilian casualty? That’s fucking weird.  

“Interesting, isn’t it?” You grin, seeming way too pleased considering there are two dead people in front them. “The ammo is the same as the previous bank robberies in the area. We’re going to assume they’re linked to the Red Dragon clan.”

“Fuck,” he groans, “I fucking hate those guys. Bitches to deal with. Hard to infiltrate.”

You flick your hair over your shoulder, grinning at him. He can’t help but draw his gaze to your neck, a very attractive neck. Now that he notices how tight that dress is, he can’t help but admit that it has been a while since he’s gotten any action. The curves of your breast defined so clearly by the fabric that stretches across the mounds, the flow of your hips, every dip and rise. Your exposed legs further emphasized by your heels. God fucking damn. He feels his pants tighten as he licks his teeth. Get it together, Aomine. 

Of course, the clothes do nothing to remove the memory of your nude body from his mind. He’s seen all parts of you some time ago. A drunken mistake that ended in a brief, but extremely satisfying night of passion. Your tight pussy wrapped around his cock, your nails digging into his biceps. He can still picture the sheen layer of sweat on your skin as he rams into you, your broken moans falling from your lips. 

“Well, lucky for you,” you start again, pulling him out of the hazy cloud of lust. “I already have someone on the inside. They’ve set up a meeting for me tomorrow night meet with the head’s son. I’ll try to get some information done.” 

“Lucky for you, I’m free tomorrow to be your backup. You’re welcome,” Aomine smiles, “Don’t fuck this up. I don’t feel like cleaning up after your ass.”

“I should say that about you, asshole.”

–

Aomine is sat in a dingy van just across the street from the bar you’re having your meeting. You’ve hidden your mic in the perfect spot, a location which you do not disclose to Aomine. However, he has a feeling it’s somewhere promiscuous that he wants to be aware of. They can see the restaurant clearly, their brat hacker Sakurai having plugged into the restaurant’s security cameras. 

“Shut the fuck up, Aomine. I can hear you munching on your stupid sour cream and onion chips.” You mutter into your mic before the guy arrives. You sip your wine and take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone undercover but it is the first time to have Aomine behind you while you do so. 

The detective looks down at the can in his hands. Sour cream and onion. How did you know? He sets it aside, bringing the mic up to his lips. “Maybe you should do your job better and focus on your meeting instead of listening to me. Why are you so obsessed with me, hm?” 

However, a man’s voice on the other side of the headphones has him straightening. “Good evening, I didn’t expect to be meeting a lovely lady like you tonight,” the sleaze says and Aomine can just imagine him kissing your hand. “When Tanaka said I’d be meeting with the right hand of White Claw, I didn’t expect it to be a woman.”

“Well, we are moving up in life, Mr. Ito.”

“Your good looks are certainly quite persuasive. I’m sure there are ways you can convince me to strike a deal.”

Fucking. Sleaze.

“Oh,” you laugh lightly, “what a flatterer. You’re not so bad yourself. I can imagine people fall at their feet for you.”

“Well, I am quite knowledgeable in more ways than one. Perhaps I can show you tonight after dinner.”

The two banter back and forth, trading flirty comments that puts Aomine on edge. You’re supposed to be doing your job and he knows that. He knows this is all an act but you’re a damn good actress. 

“Aomine, where are you going?” Wakamatsu’s concerned voice carries through the speaker.

You freeze. This fucker better not screw this whole operation up. “Well,” you say, “this has been a lovely dinner. I’m sure we both can come to an agreement without doing anything reckless.” 

The double meaning, a sentence meant for the man across from you and the man listening to you rings clear. Aomine growls, sitting back down petulantly in his seat. He was about to rage in there and start a war, but holds himself back. Be professional, Aomine. Job first, dick needs later. 

“The same to you. It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” the man smiles. “Are you sure you won’t join me for the night?”

Aomine snarls low into his mic. Wakamatsu shoots him a weird look. You let out a little giggle and he knows it’s meant for him. “No, thank you, Mr. Ito. I’m afraid I have other commitments to tend to.” 

When he knows it’s safe, he storms into the restaurant where you still sit, sipping your drink. Sliding into the seat across from you, he rolls his eyes. “Enjoy yourself?” 

He didn’t see when you were set up with the mic earlier so he also hadn’t seen what you were wearing. He’s almost grateful because he knows he might’ve lost it if he did. Tight ass dress, deep neckline that shows ample cleavage (he’s always a sucker for this), sultry eyes, red lips. God, all his favorite things packaged into one. 

Your lips quirk up. “The breadsticks here are quite nice.”

“Fucking hilarious. Let’s go.”

“Why the hurry?”

“Unless you want Wakamatsu to hear me fuck you, you better dump that mic and get your ass up.”

You lean back, narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to like my tone to enjoy what I’m going to do to you.”

Licking your lips, you consider your options as you bring the wine back to your lips. “Fine,” you mutter, unclipping the mic from the strap of your dress. Aomine moves faster though, snatching it from your hands and dumping it into the wine. Before you can protest, he already has a hand wrapped around yours, tugging you up from your seat and into the back room. 

You’re stumbling in his manic rush, heels barely keeping up with your movements. “Aomine!” You chide as he pushes all the way to the employee break room. The space is fortunately empty and Aomine locks it to make sure it stays that way. “Can you please stop?! You’re such a caveman, I—”

He’s quick to shut you up, swallowing your words with his lips as they slot over yours. He doesn’t waste time, shrugging off his leather jacket as he licks your bottom lip for permission. You gasp a complaint, but he takes advantage of the situation to stick his tongue in, pressing it up against yours. 

All your worries fall away into a moan as he separates from you only to gasp for breath and pull his t-shirt over his head. With nimble fingers, he’s unzipping the back of your dress and yanking it down, leaving your top half exposed. Shivering, you’re about to voice your disapproval but your brain seems to stop functioning the second your gaze lands on his tanned body.

Aomine’s always been attractive. No one can deny. There’s a reason why he’s simultaneously the precinct’s most eligible bachelorette and most insufferable jackass. His confidence matches his skills. His looks live up to his brags. Hard lines and shadows are painted on him like a masterpiece in a museum. His broad shoulders make him look even bigger with his height. His jeans that hang just low enough to be tantalizing with the hint of a v that leads to the space between his legs. 

Your mouth dries up at the sight and Aomine smirks knowingly. You’ve fallen into his bed before, he can make it happen again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Fifth grade humor doesn’t become you, Aomine.” You scowl as he backs you up against the table in the middle of the room. He effortlessly grabs you by the ass to lift you up and onto the surface, the metal cool against your exposed thighs. 

“Did you dress up for me, doll? Knowing full well that this was going to happen,” he grins devilishly, bringing his hands up to shamelessly cup your breasts. 

It’s not as if you’re embarrassed for being so bare before him. You’re proud of your body and he damn well knows that. You let him fondle you through your bra for a little bit. “No, you animal. I dress for the job.”

“You tell me you wear this flimsy thing—” he teases the light coverage of your lingerie. The lace is sheer and barely covers your nipples, the material holding onto your breasts for dear life. “—for the job?”

“I do my job right, asshole,” you spat right back. “So are you just going to stand there or are you going to fuck me?”

A wide grin stretches across his face. The heat in his eyes carry to his hands as he works to unclasp your bra and let it fall to the ground. Aomine doesn’t waste time as you lean back on your palms, granting him full access to fondle and suckle on your tits. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nubs that have grown stiff in the contrast between the cold air and his warm breath. His teeth graze the sensitive skin hard enough to have you groaning in pleasure. His lips close in around them and suck. He uses his hand to tease and tug your other breast, pinching it to elicit that delicious whimper out of you. Aomine alternates between the two, making sure you stay warm. 

Meanwhile, you let your hand fall to the bulge between his legs. He lets out a small grunt at the initial touch but seems to respond favorably to the way you stroke the tent, nudging his hips forward for more friction. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just excited to see me?”

“You’re so fucking ridiculous,” Aomine mutters, both humored and unamused by your comment. 

“Fuck,” you let slip as your fingers struggle to unbutton his jeans. “Your fucking pants. Don’t you live in sweats? You choose today of all days to wear your stupid tight jeans?”

Aomine chuckles, “Patience, baby. You know you like my ass in these.”

You do, but you’re not about to admit that. He quickly works off his pants, letting them drop to his ankles as he moves towards you again. While he continues to stimulate your tits, your hand begins groping his cock which is rock hard and peeking from the top of his boxers.

“God, I miss having this inside me,” you whine, pulling the flimsy fabric off and letting it pool on top of his jeans. “Condom?”

“You don’t want me raw? You know you want to feel all of my cock,” he grins. You throw him a glare and he just chuckles as he reaches for his wallet on the floor, pulling out a packet and tossing it onto the table. “But first,” he pauses, letting his hands slide down to cup your pussy, which is admittedly already drenched at that point. 

He hisses when he feels your juices drip and coat his fingers. “You’re so fucking wet, goddamn. How long have you been waiting for this?”

“When that robbery happened, I was about to get laid for the first time in months. So fucking sue me,” you snarl at him. 

“Well, I am here to please,” he wets his lips. He slips one finger in, sliding in all too easily. So he adds another finger and feels your walls pulse around him. He begins pulling it out before shoving it back in, repeating the measure to stroke your walls. He curls his fingers inside as he watches your face closely.

Your expression morphs from irritation to blinding pleasure in an instant. Your eyes slide shut, your lips part to exhale shaky breaths. Aomine seems to know exactly how to angle and twist his fingers to induce a heart attack. The sounds falling from your mouth are ephemeral, Aomine wishes he can film this moment so he can replay it over and over again. 

He pumps his fingers into you and ducks his head to take your nipple into his mouth again, tongue circling the tip. “God, you taste so fucking good. I forgot how wet you can get. Don’t even need lube to slide into you, huh? You’re already dripping for me.” 

“Asshole,” you murmur weakly, clearly in no place to retort. 

“Remember the first time I fucked you? God, you were so easy,” he grins, “you were so wet, so turned on already. Remember when I stuck my tongue in your pussy? Licking up your juices. You tasted so sweet.” 

Your breath stutters in your chest, hitching in your throat. “Fuck you, let’s not forget how quickly you came when I sucked you off.”

“I mean, the sight of you on your knees is enough to get anyone off, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck me,” you groan. Any rational thought has fizzled from your brain. The feeling of his fingers inside you is enough to consume you whole, overwhelming you in waves of rapture. 

“What was that?”

“Dickwad.”

He chuckles darkly, licking his lips again. “Beg me.”

“I’m not going to—”

Aomine yanks his fingers out, looking down at you, taunting you. He waits as you internally struggle with your moral convictions. Are you willing to give up your pride for one night just to get fucked out of your mind?

Easy.

Yes.

“Please,” you huff, “please fuck me.” 

“Please fuck me who?”

Your eyes find the ceiling, wondering what in the hell you did in your lifetime to have met the devil that is Aomine. Biting your lip, you lean closer to whisper, “Please fuck me, Da-i-ki.” 

The man is a sucker for you calling him by his first name. And to get what you want, you’re willing to play into his hands. Aomine lets out a low growl before ripping open the condom packet and rolling the thin rubber along his length. Your pussy squeezes at the sight. Just imagining what it’s like to have that thickness inside of you, fucking you full, has you on edge. 

He doesn’t waste a single second, pulling you forward and slowly positioning himself in front of you. He holds onto his cock, letting the tip trace your pussy lips, circling it and letting your juices drip onto his cock. Stroking the wetness along his dick, he uses it as a lubricant before he slides himself inside you.

When he’s buried to the hilt, Aomine leans forward and lets his forehead rest on your shoulder. Your pussy is so fucking tight. It’s squeezing and throbbing around him with the engulfing heat. He feels as if he’s going to explode right then. 

“Fuck, you really haven’t been screwed in a while,” Aomine rasps. 

“Told you.”

Aomine starts off slow, pulling out and pushing back in. With how thin the condom is, he can feel every ridge, every bump in your heat rub up against his cock. The sensations is enough to have his thighs quivering, but he’s not one to back down. He begins to pick up the pace, thrusting deep inside of you repeatedly. HIs mouth latches onto your neck, tongue lapping and teeth nipping to paint purple blooms upon your skin. 

His movements are building a bubbling pressure in the pit of your stomach. You feel your heart tightening with every move, your insides squeezing. The absolute pleasure that crashes over you has you breathless, your hands finding purchase on his arms. 

He mutters filthy words in your ear, one of his hands reaching up to tangle in your hair. He yanks back lightly, just enough to have you moaning. You like it rough, he’s well aware of that. He pounds into you relentlessly, hands keeping you in place as whimpers tumble from your mouth. 

“Fuck, right there, oh god,” you gasp, “fuck me harder. God, your dick feels so good. Filling me up so full with your thick cock.” 

“Keep talking like that and I’ll be tempted to come in you, baby,” Aomine grazes his teeth along your ear, hot breath kissing your skin. “God, I want to just fucking cream inside you.” 

“Better watch yourself, Daiki.”

Aomine grins lasciviously, sweat beginning to bead his forehead as he attempts to keep himself in check. He feels you tighten your pussy, walls closing in around him. “Bitch,” he growls. You know what you’re doing but he’s not about to let you gain dominance of the situation.

So his hands dig deeper into your hips as he fucks you harder and deeper, his cock pulsating inside of you on the brink of his self-control. “I’m about to come,” he says with eyes squeezed shut. If he sees your tits bouncing as he fucks you again, he might actually combust in that second. 

“Me too,” you panted, fingers scraping down his arms. 

With a few more pumps, Aomine spills into the rubber with a grunt. He feels you convulse around him, your entire body trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm. He can feel his come continue to leak from his cock. God, he hasn’t come this hard in a fucking long time. 

His heart is thundering in his chest from the impact of his climax. He slumped forward, leaning against you for support—also partially to feel your tits press up against his chest. “Fuck,” he huffs.

“That was good,” you admit to yourself, still breathing heavily as you begin fixing your hair. “We should do that again sometime.”

Aomine just laughs, huffing against your skin. “You’re the fucking she-devil.”

“Says the guy who’s fucking me in the back room in the middle of an undercover operation.”

“Dick first, job second.”

–

Wakamatsu looks at him when he walks into the precinct that morning. “You do realize the captain is going to kill you for fucking up that expensive mic, right?”

Fuck.

[alyss-spazz-penedo]

So this is not actually the next part of the unedited v!Wind fic but I got the sweetest anon ask in my inbox and like, suddenly *m o t i v a t i o n,* y’know?

So have this sort-of one-shot, set in some nebulous hypothetical future of that fic. Idr if I’d brought up the possibility of Phantom traveling with the boys before (I really need to find time to reread what I’ve written), but this would be set after they'd been past that point for a while.

Nonny, I hope you enjoy <3 This one’s for you! (And the amazing @w1lmutt, of course.)

TW: cursing, bleeding and self-inflicted harm. Nothing graphic, I promise. (Also, the hero boys being stupid martyrs, but that’s practically par for the course.)

They manage to make it to camp before Phantom explodes.

"What the fuck, old man!" the boy snarls. He grabs Time by the collar and drags the taller man down to his level. Time lets him, which only serves to incite the boy further. "What the hell do you think I am? Some kind of charity case?" He spits.

Time says nothing. He doesn’t even have the decency to wince when Phantom jostles his broken arm.

"Look. At. Me!" the boy demands, punctuating each word with a small, ineffectual shake. "I am more than just another one of your failures! I make my own damn choices! I can deal with their consequences! You are not responsible for me, who the fuck do you think you are?"

Time shakes his head, still too calm to be doing their youngest’s temper any favors. He doesn’t look at Phantom like the boy’s a perfectly capable hero in his own right, and Phantom cannot stand that. "I understand that you-" the man begins.

Phantom decks him.

"That’s enough!" The others step in then, pulling them away from each other. Time, however, won’t stop looking at him like that.

Phantom rips himself away, snarling. He needs to get out of here.

He stalks off before he can do something really rash, like go for his sword.

~o0o~

"You here to lecture me?"

Phantom kicks his feet in the air from the branch he’s perched on, eerily reminiscent of the first time the heroes had met him. His eyes are dark.

"Not gonna lie, I was expecting the captain or the puppy," the boy drawls.

Four sighs. With a quick burst from his Roc’s cape, he climbs his way up to a branch nearby, settling so they’re vaguely facing each other. "You did go too far."

"Fuck off," Phantom growls, jabbing his blade at Four threateningly. “He was asking for it.”

Four eyes the blade, then its wielder. "You shouldn’t point that at someone you don’t intend to use it on. It’s a weapon, not a toy."

"If you think I’m merely playing around, then man have I got unpleasant news for you."

Four sighs. "I know being babied sucks, but watch what lines you cross," he tells the younger boy bluntly.

"Oh, shut up. What would you know?"

"Who do you think got the brunt of the group’s mother-cucco tendencies before you came along?" Four points out, dry. In the ensuing silence, he ticks off, "I'm the shortest of the lot, and sometimes that means they like to pretend I’m not mature enough to handle ‘adult things’," he makes air quotes with his fingers. "Meanwhile Hyrule regularly overextends himself, but he’s got one of the best senses of when to cut and run, so he’s better about tolerating the fretting and gets hurt less frequently than, say, the Champion. And Legend gets out of most of it by being an asshole." A pause. "Though even he has the good manners to thank someone who saved him, however roundabout the Vet might be about it."

The boy looks nearly contemplative, under the stubborn mulishness. Four lets the silence sit for a minute. Then, lightly, he tacks on, “Though if you’re trying to pull a Legend to get out of being fussed over, I should warn you: that ship has long sailed for you.”

Phantom stares at him with that fantastic pissy face he makes sometimes. “Was that a boat joke,” he deadpans. Four grins at him, quick and impish, and the boy rewards him with a groan. "The sailor puns are getting really old."

"You're not the one who gets to decide that," Four giggles. Then, "Feeling better? Ready to face the music?"

"Absolutely not." But the kid climbs out of the tree anyway, no threats or violence necessary. Four will count it as a win.

~o0o~

Back at camp, Phantom marches up to Time. With everyone else not-so-discretely looking on, he makes a show of leaving his sword out of easy reach and points at the ground.

“Sit,” he orders, as though the armored hero were a very large dog.

Time stares down at him. “If you mean to hit me again, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline,” he says wryly. Phantom scowls.

“Sit, you big lug. I know a spell for that arm of yours, and I’m not doing it with you standing over me. You’re too tall.”

Time lowers himself to the ground obligingly, even as he prods, “A spell, hmm? What exactly does it do?”

Phantom, somewhat alarmingly, snaps his fangs over his fingertips hard enough to draw blood. “It’s not quite a healing spell, but it’ll get rid of that shiner I gave you, and probably patch up your arm too. Gonna use your magic to do it, though.” He lifts bloody fingers to his own face, dabbing marks on his skin with a hesitance that speaks of relying on borrowed memories, before pausing. “Close your eyes, old man. I’m not teaching you this spell, you’re an idiot who’ll misuse it.”

“So pushy today.” Time closes his one eye, reluctant but confident that the others will stop the boy from attacking him if it comes down to it. “I don’t see what the problem is. It sounds useful; it’d be good to take some of the burden of healing off Hyrule.”

“You would think that,” the boy huffs, right before wet fingers brush at his cheek. Time twitches away with a faint grimace.

“Are you bleeding on me now,” he asks, plaintive. Phantom huffs.

“Don’t be a baby; it’ll flake right off. Quit moving.”

The man exhales slowly, obviously uncomfortable. But despite his suspicions and reservations, Time doesn’t move and he doesn’t ask. He merely lets the boy do as likes, lets him keep his secrets. This, Phantom knows, is Time’s own kind of apology.

He’s not above taking advantage of that.

The former villain dots a final smear under the hero’s eye, then immediately presses his wide sleeve over his work, obscuring the design from the curious eyes of their audience.

“I’m starting it now,” he warns.

Time feels a tug on his magic—much smaller than he was expecting. A song on his Ocarina might cost him the same amount. The pain in his eye and then his arm ebbs away, pulled somewhere by the spell, and the dampness on his face ashes off right off, as promised. Time raises a hand to scratch at the lingering itch even as he opens his eyes.

“I still don’t see why-” he begins. Stops.

Phantom turns away swiftly, but the boy is standing too close to hope to hide the bruising on his face. Bruising he did not have before.

Time seizes the boy by the arm before he can flee. He drops that arm just as quickly when Phantom yelps in pain, registering too late that it’s the same arm Time himself had just had broken—had just had healed.

“What have you done,” he hears himself ask, even though he already knows.

Phantom rocks back on his heels, trying for nonchalance and failing badly at it. “This isn’t something I plan to do often,” he huffs, refusing to look Time—or anyone—in the eye. Time clenches his jaw hard enough for his teeth to creak. “You can suffer from your own mistakes. But if you’re gonna take a blow meant for me, again-”

“This isn’t happening again,” Time cuts in, cold down to his bones. He needs to nip this in the bud, right now, or it'll only get worse as their battles grow harsher. “I forbid it.”

Phantom gets a mulish look on his face. Time feels his horror mount as the younger hero growls, “Just try and stop me.”

Time grabs the kid by the shoulder—the uninjured one this time. What does he need to do to make the boy see sense? “Do not use that spell again, Phantom.”

“Let go of me,” Phantom snarls, futilely trying to claw his way out of the older man’s grip. Unfortunately, Time doesn’t think he could make his own fingers loosen if he tried. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite. Don't pretend you wouldn't do the exact same thing if literally anyone got so much as a scratch on them."

"That's-" different, he almost says, but he recognizes that it would be exactly the wrong thing to say right now. He deflates ever so slightly, just enough for Phantom to rip himself free and start rubbing at his arm, shaking faintly. A distant part of himself remembers the boy's issues with touch guiltily. "What made you think that was remotely acceptable? Why do you even know a spell like that?" He demands, side-stepping the accusation with what little grace he can scrounge up in his rattled state.

In his own display of blatantly dodging around a topic, Phantom looks away and snaps, "Gee, I wonder why Ganondorf would possibly know a spell that let him pass off wounds to hapless victims. Such a mystery for the ages."

The silence is deafening. Too late, Phantom snaps his mouth shut, realizing he's said too much.

"Are you saying you used a fucking torture spell on yourself-" someone begins.

"Why in the world would you even-?"

"Are you actually out of your mind-!?"

"When I said 'thank him' this is not what I meant-!"

"We're not all this bad, are we? It's just the two of them?" Warriors groans loudly, looking pained. At his words, Twilight whips around just in time to catch sight of the terrifyingly thoughtful look on Wild's face.

"Cub, don't you even think about it-!"

"ENOUGH!"

The bellow comes from, surprisingly, Hyrule. The boy scowls at them all disapprovingly.

"Wild, dinner's burning," he starts, very evenly. The aforementioned hero takes the chance to duck his mentor's fretful clutches, scampering over to the fire.

"Phantom, congratulations, your arm's broken," the wandering hero continues, voice more than dry enough to make up for his homeland's lack of a Gerudo desert. "That means I'll be working on you instead of our leader. Do not-" he interrupts preemptively, jabbing a finger forward and speaking over the boy's attempts to protest. "Just. Don't. We're out of potions, and that means I look over everyone that gets hurt. I'd be looking at that arm if you'd gotten your injury naturally. I'd be looking over Time right now if you'd been a bit less hasty with your ritual. And I think we'd all prefer it if you didn't use that spell again, or teach anyone how to do it."

A glance around the clearing reveals a show of nods, no one disputing Hyrule's words.

Phantom tries to cross his arms before dropping them with a wince. "You can't actually stop me," he sulks at them all. The pout really brings out the bruising on his face.

"It would be hard to, yeah," Sky agrees, soothing. "But it should be fine if there's no need for you to use it, right? Because Time," he shoots a Look at their stoic leader, "isn't going to do something reckless like throw himself in front of a monster with no shield again, right?"

Time grimaces faintly. "I'll try," he promises, which—from the looks on his companions' faces—isn't nearly good enough. But they all recognize that it's entirely honest, and the best they're going to get out of him tonight.

So ends the incident; they let the matter lie there, awkward and ignorable, and move onward with their evening.

OMAKE:

Phantom corners Twilight during his watch shift.

"Tell me you have blackmail on that idiot," he hisses. His request comes out like an order.

There's no need for their youngest to clarify who he means. The rancher pats the kid on the head, just once, like he thinks Phantom's cute but also knows he bites. "I'm not giving you blackmail on Time," he replies cheerfully. The younger hero has far too much influence on the man already. "You'll use it for evil, which I'm afraid goes against my personal code of honor. So sorry."

Phantom narrows his eyes, letting the needling slide entirely. "So you do have dirt on him," he divines.

Twilight rolls his eyes. "Leave him alone, brat. Do we need to have this talk again? Quit tormenting him."

"I'm not. Blackmailing him into self-care will only be good for him, promise."

"You can't honestly think that'll work." A pause. "Or that we haven't tried it already. It doesn't work."

"Bet you I could do it." Phantom's eyes have that disturbingly obsessive gleam in them again. "Bet you I've thought of something you haven't."

"Uh huh. And what would that be."

"All have to do is threaten to snitch on him." The boy's grin widens mischievously. "To you."

"..."

"Come on, think of it," the sailor wheedles. "He hates you fusing over him. It's why you never give me those don't-touch-my-almost-dad talks while he's still in earshot, yeah?"

Twilight's face does a funny little twitch.

"I know it, you know it, and I'd bet good money the others know it too," Phantom presses on. "How much more self-preservation do you think we could squeeze out of him if we pretend that the alternative is me giving you more reasons to shoot him worried looks all day and do that hovering thing you like to do?"

The older hero appears to consider this seriously for a long, long moment. Phantom leans in, eyes wide and imploring.

"...Nope. Still not telling you anything." Twilight tries to keep his face stern, even as a traitorous twitch pulls at the corner of his mouth. "You're not going to trick free blackmail out of me that easily."

The boy deflates. "Screw you," he grumbles. "It would've worked. I know it would've worked."

Twilight ruffles the grumpy kid's hair. "It was a nice try," he offers, and accepts the kick to the knee he gets in return as his due.

(In his bedroll across the clearing, pretending to be asleep, Time feels something tight and anxious in his chest finally begin to relax. He's nearly giddy with the sheer relief of his epiphany.

That's how he'll keep Phantom from pulling stunts this stupid again. Tell Tetra.)

[harryhandstan]

wonderful and warm

gif credit

I’m so excited to share this piece with y’all for @tbslenthusiast​‘s dad-a-thon!! I’ve been debating whether or not to expand more on I Want Your Belly for a while now, so I’m considering this part two to that, though you don’t really have to read it first to understand this one. Hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

thank you @peachybloomss​ and @tbslenthusiast​ for beta reading for me! love y’all both!!

word count: 2.6k

//

You had been adamant about not telling anybody for at least the first two months. 

Your mom’s complications with each of her pregnancies prompted a fear in you that you might share in that gene she carried, so you just wanted to be sure. Make it to your first ultrasound at least to confirm the baby was happy and healthy. Harry, of course, had agreed to whatever it was you felt was best. He wanted you to be comfortable and truth is, all the complications or things that could go wrong, terrified him too.

But the second you put this man in front of a crowd, all his previous filters go out the window and it was slipping from his lips easily, telling the world that you were having his baby. You were angry at first, spending half of the show trying to calm your shaky hands. Honestly, most of it was just nervous energy at the idea of so many people knowing. It was out, and you had no control over the reactions of the millions of people that shared in loving your Harry. He was quick to remind you that you were the one he loved, no one else’s opinion mattered to him and it shouldn’t to you either.

Making such a public announcement meant the news reached your families ears a lot faster than you’d planned too, and you just didn’t want any of them to be hurt that they weren’t told first.

Anne is the first one to contact Harry from his side, promptly inviting you to dinner the following weekend with a small group of Harry’s family. But the closer you get to the day, the more anxious you are and he once again reminds you how much his family adores you already, would now love you even more.

“Even more than they love me now, probably,” He chuckles, taking your hand on the drive to his mother’s house, “Gonna be just like any Sunday dinner at Mum’s, innit? We just have something a little extra special t’celebrate now, lovie.”

Gemma answers the door to let the two of you in and she tugs you in for a hug, pulling you into the house without so much as a glance to her younger brother.

“Nice to see you too, Gem.” He follows the two of you inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Ignore him..someone’s just jealous they won’t be Mum’s favorite anymore.” She giggles, rolling her eyes as she leads you into the kitchen where Anne mimics her daughter’s greeting, scolding Harry playfully that he spoiled the surprise so soon.

By the end of the night, the two of them are already making predictions about what the baby will be, giving family name suggestions, and planning a baby shower for you. 

//

Calling your family was a whole new level of anxiety you hadn’t experienced yet on this journey, and you paced back and forth in front of the desk where your iPad was already set up to FaceTime them. Harry sits on the foot of the bed, waiting for your nerves to settle enough to contact them.

“D’you want me to join you?” He doesn’t look at you, just continues to fiddle with one of the buttons on his shirt.

Your head pops up to where he sits, “Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugs, “S’just..sometimes I think you might still be a bit mad at me. For letting it slip earlier than we wanted. Thought you might wanna talk to them alone first..in case they’re upset with me too.”

“I was never really mad. And I don’t think they’ll be upset..just may take them a little longer to accept that I didn’t tell them before you told everyone. They may not have even seen it yet.”

That was a lie. Your sister had texted you last night saying that she was thrilled to soon have a niece or nephew, but your mom had cried for a two whole days after they saw a clip from the show and your dad refused to even talk about it. Your brother was normally so far out of the loop that you truly didn’t know if he had heard the news, so you make a mental note to call him later too. 

You wouldn’t tell Harry any of that though, not now anyway. Maybe later, when everything didn’t feel so tense. You knew your family wouldn’t be upset forever, they loved Harry almost as much as you did. The joy of having a new baby added to the family would soon override any hurt they were feeling now.

“Harry, whatever they say..this is still happening. I’m still having your baby. I can’t even begin to tell you how happy that makes me.”

The smile he gives you makes your heart flutter, drawing you closer to sit next to him.

“Say that again.”

“What? How happy I am..”

“No, the part before that.”

A giggle works its way up through your chest, a deep blush flushing your cheeks, “I’m having your baby,” You can’t resist, the tune now stuck in your head, changing the lyric slightly to fit, “It’s none of their business.”

“What? S’your family, of course it’s their..oh, right.” He shares in your laughter, melting away any tension that had settled in the room, restoring your confidence that everything would be alright.

//

As many changes as your body had gone through during pregnancy, one thing that hadn’t changed was Harry’s love for your belly. His obsession had grown with each month, constantly finding reasons to be close to you throughout your days spent together. Usually it was a hand nudged gently against the side of your bump, trying to coax the baby to kick or move for him.

Your child already adored the sound of their dad’s voice, would normally start to wiggle around the second Harry would start talking or singing anywhere around you. The first time it happened, the two of you were attending a birthday party for a friend and Harry was halfway across the room, animatedly telling a story to a group of your mutual friends. It was one of the many reasons you had fallen for him so quickly, his ability to have a room full of people so captivated by a tale you were sure they had heard at least 5 times before. 

But he doesn’t seem to care about anyone else’s reactions, his eyes continuously flicking back to gauge your feedback, knowing which parts make you laugh the hardest no matter how many times you’d listened to him tell it. When your mouth falls open with a soft gasp and a hand clutching the side of your belly, he hurries through the ending to weave his way back through the party to you.

“You okay, love? Somethin’ wrong?” The tears falling on your dress don’t match the glowing smile radiating across your face and he’s turning his head amusingly from where he hovers over you.

“Everything’s great, H. Think someone just loves the sound of daddy’s voice.” You take the drink he still holds in his hand and set it on the table in front of you, turning your body to face him and tugging his wrist down to where you had felt the kick moments before, “Say something else now that you’re closer. See if she moves for you.”

“She? You find out somethin’ you wanna tell me, darlin’?”

“No, just a feeling. Haven’t you thought about which you would rather us have?”

He shakes his head no, his eyes bright with a pride you’ve never seen burn so intensely, “As long as you and they end up happy and healthy in the end, s’all that matters to me.”

He scoots his body to sit on the bench next to you, bending his head to speak softly, “Hello, little one. S’daddy. Mummy’s here too. Wanna move around a bit more f’us?”

He rests his head there for a moment, a hand rubbing along the side of your stomach, not caring who at the party may see the two of you or how silly he may look. He looks like a child who’s just been granted his one and only wish when your baby responds, a foot landing against where his cheek is pressed.

“There you are, baby. You kickin’ at me? Cheeky little thing y’are already..just like mummy, huh?” He turns to kiss the spot where the foot had been, ”We’re g’nna have so much fun when you get here, angel.”

//

Harry watches your feet a lot more closely these days.

You didn't notice it at first. But today as you're coming down the stairs, you catch his eyes watching carefully as he waits for you. One of your hands cradles your bump that seems to be growing daily now, while the other glides along the railing to keep yourself steady.

"Am I wearing mismatched shoes or something?" You lean forward in an attempt to look at your feet over your belly, nearly toppling down the last few stairs. The look on Harry's face would have been comical if it wasn't laced with so much fear as he lunged forward to meet you and help you the rest of the way down.

"Careful!" Even with you settled safely now against his side, his voice is full of worry, "Nothing's wrong with your shoes, honey. Just wanted to make sure you made it down safely, know how clumsy y'are."

"You worry too much, Harry. I would've made it down fine if you hadn't been staring at my feet."

"My girl's carrying my baby..m’allowed to worry about you both. Y'sure I can't convince you to stay home and let me do the grocery shopping this week?"

"No, I wanna go. Last time you forgot the bagels."

"Are you ever gonna forgive me for that?" You're glad to see the fear has fallen away from his face as you both reach the bottom of the stairs together.

"Maybe." You shrug, "Might take a few more kisses though."

"Deal." One of his hands comes to rest warmly on the underside of your belly, the other one still supporting the small of your back as he bends down to place kisses across your face.

A kick from within your stomach has both of you giggling and looking down to where it's pressed between the two of you.

"Are you mad at daddy too, hmm? Already two against one around here, I see. Alright then, baby gets kisses too."

//

“Harry will you please get up? We only have an hour to get ready and make it to the appointment. I don’t wanna be late!”

He rolls over, intending to pull you closer to him for a morning kiss, an important part of his usual routine. He frowns when he finds you’re already out of bed, digging through drawers of your dresser to find what you need to get ready for the day.

You haven’t noticed he’s awake yet so you keep encouraging him, “C’mon, made you breakfast. It’s an important day!”

“You’re not allowed to do that, y’know.”

“Do what?” You’re only half paying attention, tugging a dress over your head and scowling at your reflection in the full length mirror when it doesn’t fit over your belly. You quickly pull it back off and toss it in the pile you’ve already tried (and failed) to stretch over your growing bump.

“Daddy’s s’posed to make breakfast for mummy while she sleeps in, not the other way ‘round.”

“Well, mommy was too nervous to sleep in so she’s up getting ready, as daddy should be!” You tug one of your maternity shirts from a hanger in your closet and throw it over your head, declaring to yourself that it’ll just have to do. Thankfully it pairs well with the black leggings you’ve already struggled through pulling on. You plop on the edge of the bed, a deep sigh falling from your lips as you look around at the mess you’ve made of your shared bedroom.

“Mummy needs to relax. She looks beautiful in whatever she wears, no matter what day it is.” He rubs a hand along your back, up to soothe over the pinch between your shoulder blades.

“Nothing fits anymore, swear this belly gets bigger by the day. If I find out today you put a set of twins in me, Styles, you are gonna be in so much trouble.” 

He throws his head back, a deep rumbling laugh erupting from his chest, “Aww c’mon, lovie. Twins would be so fun! Think we’d get lucky and have one of each? A boy and a girl?” He kisses your shoulder.

He’s pulling you in to rest against his chest now, the fabric of his well worn t-shirt cool and soft on your cheek. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, pressing a kiss firmly to the top of your head.

“Just lay with me a minute, hmm? Did you get any sleep last night? Felt you tossing and turning for half of it.”

“Maybe a couple of hours. I was too nervous.”

“You should’ve woken me. Hate the idea of you being awake and nervous alone, honey.” One hand trails up to cup your chin, a thumb smoothing over the tension set in your jaw.

“I honestly don’t know how you got any sleep. I wasn’t alone though, I think I kept the baby up half the night too.” You shift to face him, resting your chin on his chest, seeking the comfort of his face, “Are you okay? You’re not nervous at all?” 

“M’fine. What’s to be nervous about? We get to see our baby today, find out what it is. I couldn’t be happier about that.” He brushes a strand of hair softly away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“Maybe it’s more excitement than nerves. I just felt..restless. Maybe it’s silly, but I just wanted to look nice today too and none of my good clothes fit me anymore.”

“You’ve always been beautiful to me, baby. But now? I’ve never seen anyone look as gorgeous as you look now. S’important to me that you know and believe that as much as I do. I’ll remind you everyday if y’need me to.”

“You really mean that, Harry?”

“‘Course I do. I know this has been new and scary for both of us, and I’m so proud of you. You’ve fallen into this with such ease and grace, already started gettin’ our home ready for our little one. I can’t wait to see you with them when they’re born.”

“You’re gonna be the most amazing dad. Teaching our child kindness and love, reminding them it’s okay to be whatever they choose to be. It’s important to me that you know how much I adore you and seeing you become the dad you were meant to be? It’s gonna be incredible. I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.”

“Me either. Think I’d be miserable if it were anyone else.” 

“Nah you’d get used to them eventually. Especially if they were having your baby.”

He laughs again, pulling you closer to smush his lips against your temple. 

“Alright, up we get,” He scoots away to push himself up and off the bed, offering you his hands to help pull yourself up, “Let’s go see if our little bub got blessed with your nose or cursed with mine.”

//

You’re over the moon every time you see Harry’s beaming smile when he passes the black and white sonogram photo now proudly displayed on the refrigerator; your son’s nose a perfect mixture of yours and Harry’s.

[cthulhuliet]

playing his game

6.1k words | AO3 Link | warnings: explicit content, canon-typical violence

L is hoping for something-- to see any flash of Kira behind Light's eyes. He would do anything to draw him out again, even play a silly party game for a brief hint. He ends up with more than bargained for.

“Ok, truth or dare,” Light asked, looking expectantly at L.

“Is this really a good use of our time?” L bit the corner of his thumbnail, pointedly looking away from Light.

“You have asked that already,” Light crossed his arms, annoyed, “And I don’t see any better use of our time,”

L knew that, in a way, Light was correct. The Kira case had reached a cold spot after Light and Misa’s imprisonment, which left L feeling depressed and unmotivated to work on anything (despite the… encouragement from Light). Playing a party game with a teenager was towards the bottom of his priority list. However, that teenager was currently L’s prime (and only suspect) in the most difficult case of his career, so it would be foolish not to play.

Furrowing his eyebrows, L pulled his knees closer to his chest, “Fine, we can continue,”

“Truth or dare,”

L paused for a moment. He knew that even if Light asked something incriminating like his name for truth, he could simply lie or refuse to answer. Though, it is interesting that for the past rounds, Light has simply been treating this as a fun “get to know you” party game, while L is looking over his shoulder and analyzing every one of his questions.

“Dare, I suppose,”

Light smirked, “I dare you to take these off,” He shook his wrist, the handcuff jangling with the movement. L said nothing, simply raising an eyebrow, “Eh, worth a shot,” Light stood up from where he was sitting and quickly reached over to the coffee table behind him and put the phone in front of L’s feet, “Fine. I dare you to prank call Misa,”

L opened his mouth and closed it, shaking his head, “No, I am not doing that,”

“What? Giving up already?’ Light smirked leaning in close to L. He could smell the aftershave on his cheeks and the toothpaste on his breath, “I guess that means I win, Ryuzaki,”

A ripple of heat waved through his blood. Despite being a stupid party game, L was not about to lose, especially not about to lose because of Misa. He snatched the receiver from Light’s hand, “No, you do not,” He put the receiver between the crook of his shoulder and ear, “I am not about to lose to you, Light,” A devilish grin spread across Light’s face, as he wordlessly dialed in the numbers. It was only when the line was trilling did L realise how ridiculous this was. Covering the end of the receiver, he whispered to Light, “What am I even supposed to say?”

Light looked like a child at a birthday party, biting his lips to fight off a smile, “Figure it out,”

The line connected and he heard shuffling on the other end, “Light? Why are you calling? It is 2 in the morning,”

L froze, looking at Light with owlish eyes, begging for help. The latter would be of no help, seeing as he was using every muscle in his body to suppress his laughter, “Oh, apologies for the late call Misa, this is actually Ryuzaki,” His voice felt stilted and awkward, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, is Light still awake?”

“No,”

There was an elongated pause, L could hear Misa’s quiet breath on the other line, “Do you need something? This better not be something perverted, calling me at 2am…”

L rolled his eyes, “Of course not. I, uh, just wanted to let you know that… Watari is making waffles tomorrow. Do you want me to put you down for some?”

Misa hummed on the other line, “I don’t know, all that sugar will make me fat,”

“These are 0 calorie and organic fair trade,” He goaded.

She sighed, taking a moment to consider, “That actually sounds lovely. I don’t know why you had to call me instead of just waiting until morning.”

“Uh-”

“It’s probably just an excuse to hear my voice,” She giggled, “It’s ok Ryuzaki, I won’t tell anyone,” Misa yawned dramatically on the other line, “I am going back to bed. Tell Light to come visit me tomorrow.”

“You realise that I would also be-”

“Goodnight!” The call disconnected. L pulled the phone away from his ear and slowly put it back onto the cradle. He looked over at Light, amusement sparkling in his eyes, “Misa is looking forward to a date with you tomorrow,”

Light slapped a hand to his forehead and started laughing. There was something infectious about Light’s laugh that made him smile too.

“Ryuzaki, that was the worst prank ever,” He choked out between chuckles.

Light’s smile lit up the room and L could feel swells of warmth coursing through his body, hitting him gently like waves on your ankles in the ocean. Light’s smile, his genuine smile, was one that lit up a room and kept people watching. When his laughter and joy reaches his eyes, L is not surprised about Light being so popular. And in moments of weakness, L could see why he would fall for him as well. Though, that warmth was nothing compared to the twisting of the icicle in his gut. The flaring up of every neuron in his nervous system, with anxiety spiking up to 11. The logic center of his brain turning him and shaking him by the shoulders, begging him to remember that none of this is real .

The real Light would have never laughed like a schoolboy as L prank called his girlfriend, finding hilarity in something so trivial. The real Light would never playfully, but softly, ruffle L’s hair, telling him to lighten up. The real Light would never look him in the eyes, and thank L for playing along. The real Light would have never let L see a single moment of vulnerability. He would have never admitted that the toll of this case was genuinely making him extremely stressed. He would have never apologized in that moment for punching L, admitting to him that sometimes he reacts with anger when faced with complicated emotions. No. Because the real Light laughs at others he deems beneath him, and not with them. The real Light had more brick lined walls with white lies as cement built around his true emotions. This is not Light, this is not Kira--The real Light doesn’t care about other people, the real Light only cares about himself.

And yet it was so easy to get lost in the fantasy. So easy to allow L to sink into the idea that this is who Light really is. Light is, and always will be, the hard-working honors student. He always will be charismatic and charming and clever. Light always will have a strong sense of justice. Light always will be a bit bashful and awkward when confronted with any embarrassing emotions. It’s easy to look at Light that way. It is easy to see Light the way his family, the way the task force, and the way the world sees Light Yagami. Of course it is easy. It is easy to ignore red flags when you are looking at a monster through rose-colored glasses.

L watches Light balance his heels against the wall, attempting to do a handstand for his dare, and he almost wants to stay like this with Light forever. A part of him wants to take what is given to him and keep Light like this. His emotions are at war as he needs to grapple with the fact that it would be selfish to quit now. L knows deep down that there is a good chance will die at Kira’s hand, and a large part of him dreads the moment he sees Light behind Kira’s eyes as he closes his for the last time.

Kick his heels against the wall, he tries the handstand as well. The blood rushing to his head does help L clear his head a bit. He looks at Light, sitting on the floor but hanging off the ceiling, small chuckles escaping from his lips but nodding, telling L that he is impressed.

L scoffs, but not because of Light’s seemingly patronizing comment (which was most likely sincere). It is so easy to love Light like this. But he doesn’t think that he could ever truly love Light without everything else. Without the dubious morality, without the knowing smirks and mental chess, without Kira . Loving Light like this is easy, but L hates easy.

“Wow, you’re surprisingly flexible,” Light told him, L huffed out an exhausted breath when his feet finally touched the ground again.

“Thanks, my joints aren’t exactly what they used to be, but I am glad I could still do that,” L grabbed a teacup off of the coffee table and sipped the contents of the mug. Cold.

Light shook his head, “Well, maybe if you didn’t pull your knees up when you sit and crouch like this … you would have an easier time,” He pulled his legs away from his chest and sat cross legged.

L simply rolled his eyes in response, “I sit as I want, and still only struggled slightly more than you, despite being over half a decade older than you. I would be more concerned with your flexibility then commenting on my habits,”

Shaking his head, Light threw a pillow at L’s face, “I don’t like when you say it like that, Ryuzaki,”

“It doesn’t matter what you like and not, I am simply stating the truth,”  L cocked his head to the side, “Not to say that you do not have your strengths as well,” Hooking his finger in his mouth, his eyes trailed over Light’s toned biceps and broad shoulders, “Those years of tennis are still owing you favors it seems. No wonder you are so popular…”

L trailed off, eyes still trailing over Light’s figure, the latter now rubbing the back of his neck, “I hope that is not the only reason… And the attention isn’t always… great…”

L hummed, “I am sure Misa-Misa is not the biggest fan of all the attention you garner from other women,” Light did not respond and L narrowed his eyes at him. The other man refused to make eye contact with him. His fingers were twitching and there was a faint redness on his cheeks that was certainly not from the previous physical activity. L clicked his tongue, “Why do you not like Misa?”

Light was pulled out of his own head, “What?”

“That is my truth or dare question.”

“What if I pick dare?”

“Then I dare you to tell me the truth.”

Light frowned, glaring at L. The two locked eyes for a brief moment and it was hard to tell what Light was thinking.

“ He really does have pretty eyes ,” L thought, “ Iris that are too brown to be red, but when they hit the light just right, it is the opposite, with golden flecks dancing around the pupils …”

“I don’t dislike Misa, it’s just…” Light sighed, leaning back on his hands, “I am just not interested in her-- romantically that is-- and I have informed her multiple times of my feelings but… She does not seem to listen, or more likely she does not care,” Light bit his lip, looking down at the carpet. L subconsciously followed the same action, “It is difficult to be around someone who doesn’t seem to listen or respect your wishes.”

“I see. I apologise that you have to be around me so much then, Light.”

Light looked up at him and frowned, either confused or simply playing dumb. L took his finger from his mouth and shook his wrist, the chain rattling. In response, he rolled his eyes, “That is different, Ryuzaki.”

“Oh?”

Light nodded, “You are not doing this because you want to, this is for the Kira investigation. This situation benefits both of us. I get to prove to you that I am not Kira, and you get your suspicions of me assuaged. I never really agreed to be Misa’s boyfriend.”

“I see.”

“Besides,” Light chuckled slightly, “It is much easier to have a conversation with you than with her,” He closed his eyes, and shook his head. L watched carefully as his hair fell over his eyes, “And even without the overbearingness, I could never see myself dating someone like her.”

L leaned forward. Anyone with worse balance than himself would have most likely fallen on their face, but he was hooked onto every word coming out of Light’s mouth-- pure voyeuristic curiosity getting the better of him, “What does Light look for in a partner?”

Light’s expression shifted. He was not uncomfortable, L determined, but his eyebrow was raised and eyes narrowed, looking suspiciously at L, “Does it matter?”

“This is truth or dare. This is a truth question.”

“You already went.”

“I am going again.”

“Have you ever played this before?”

“You can do two in a row for me.”

Light shifted on the floor slightly, sighing, “Fine,” He uncrossed his legs and stretched them out in front of him. He looked up at the ceiling and thought for a moment. L thought as well. What kind of person is Light Yagami? What does he want in a person? Surely if he is going to bring another person into his life, in a close intimate way… Is that someone he even wants? Human connection is essential for survival, but for Light, one needs to think more critically. What does he get out of it?

“This is hard,” Light muttered, “I don’t know. I suppose I want what anyone wants… Someone kind and honorable, probably intelligent as well. A person who shares interests with me, something like that I suppose.”

L said nothing for a while. He pressed his thumb against his lips, critically staring at Light. He narrowed his eyes, “That is incorrect.”

“Excuse me?”

“I asked you a question, and you refused to give me a truthful answer. For once, stop lying, Light, you are not very good at it.”

Light eyes flashed red for a moment, and he leapt to his feet, staring down at L still sat on the floor, “What the hell are you talking about? You asked me a question and I answered it when I didn’t even have to, now you��re saying that I am lying about what I told you?”

“That is exactly what I am saying, yes,” Light balled up his fists, and L instinctively steeled himself for an oncoming punch. He would not be able to react if he hit him from this angle, but there is a possible countermove he could make one he gets to Light’s level playing field. Though, instead of a punch, Light yanked the chain, hard, forcing L to his feet. L yelped, his balance unsteady and he felt as though he would trip and end up on the ground again at any moment. He only had to worry about that briefly, as Light balled up the front of L’s shirt and harshly pinned him to an opposing wall.

Light’s hands were pressed hotly against his chest, his knuckles digging into his sternum. He was sure he could feel how fast L’s heart was beating, and he prayed to God that Light assumed it was fear and adrenaline.

“I am not Kira, Ryuzaki, I know that’s what you’re thinking!” Light yelled in his face, the previous clean smell of aftershave was replaced with sweat and anger, “What, you think I am some heartless serial killer so I just want someone I could manipulate, or hurt? After all this time is that how little you think of me? You really think I cannot care about anyone?”

Light’s diction was filled with rage, and he tried to take that simply at face value, but L could sense the trepidation behind the words. Stripping them of their anger and removing Light from his aggressive position, they take on a new meaning.

“I am not Kira, Ryuzaki, I know that’s what you’re thinking!” Is that really all you see me as?

“...some heartless serial killer..” Have I not done enough to make you believe me?

“...don’t just want someone I could manipulate, or hurt…” I am a good person.

“ After all this time…” We are together 24/7 and you still don’t get it.

“...how little you think of me?” I am not made of ice, Ryuzaki. It hurts that you think of me this way.

“You really think I cannot care about anyone?” I have feelings. I care about people.

L’s breath was shallow at the close contact between them. He swallowed, choosing his words carefully, “I am not saying that, I am saying your reasoning is not entirely accurate. That is the surface level answer I would expect from a 12 year old. Light demands something more for his relationships. If you didn’t, then there are hundreds of intelligent, honorable people in Japan that you could easily be attracted to. But you are not, so what is missing for you? What makes you want to grow close to another person?”

Light’s hands balled even tighter, L could feel the stretching of the fabric around his shoulders and neck-- it dug into him uncomfortably, but the physical pain could easily be ignored in favor of the tinder in Light’s eyes, “ It’s not as simple as that! Who knows what anyone wants. Besides, how can you even ask that question? What do you even want?”

L shrugged simply, “I do not desire a relationship.”

“Liar.”

“Excuse me?”

Light smirked, “See how it feels?” L rolled his eyes, tired of Light’s petty actions. He squirmed to break free, but Light’s hold on him against the wall was too strong. It was only now that he was cursing the years of tennis and his taut biceps.

“You are behaving like a child.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Light snarled, clearly losing his patience, “I did my best to answer, and that clearly wasn’t good enough. You aren’t even trying.”

“Why does it even matter, Light? It is a stupid question to begin with,” L muttered, desperately needing Light to move away from him. L needs to not be able to see the light dusting of freckles across Light’s cheeks and how his hair was curling up at the ends slightly or the traces of loose leaf tea on his breath or the equally shallow breaths coming from him holding L in place-- every one of his senses was being overwhelmed and the circuit was going to overload.

“Because, Ryuzaki, we are playing a game. Now play.”

L opened his mouth and closed it. He pursed his lips, “Fine. I do not desire a relationship because most people bore me,” Light’s expression softened, but his wide eyes narrowed in suspicion, “I meet others who are passably attractive and their traits are so transparent it doesn’t excite me. It doesn’t make me feel anything. If for whatever reason I were to want to have any kind of relationship, it would need to be exciting. I don’t do easy-- I want a challenge. A person who doesn’t challenge me I have no interest in keeping around long term,” Light’s grip loosened slowly. L sucked on his lower lip. “I need someone to keep me interested. Keep me on my toes. I want someone who tests me, who I can be in opposition with, but also who I can see as an equal. As shallow as it sounds, simplicity is not attractive. I do not believe I could ever find myself a partner, because just by existing, as L, I am a challenge,”

Light let go of L’s shirt, but simply stood in front of him for a while. He didn’t say anything, just stared at the other man with an unreadable expression, like he was emotionally undressing L.

“I see,” Light said, “That makes a lot of sense.”

L quirked up an eyebrow, “Really? Because most people would not say they want a pugnacious partnership like myself.”

“Well, you do not seem to be the type for domesticity.”

Light awkwardly dropped his hands to his side. It was moments like these that L remember that Light, well this Light, was still just an bright student who didn’t have much experience with dating, or possibly any kind of relationship at all. But still, if he prods enough…

“So, what about you?” L asked simply. Light looked at him and then pointedly stared out the window, “Well, there is no need to be shy now. You wanted me to open up, and now it is only fair,” L took a step closer to Light, instinctively biting his nail, “Besides, we are playing a game, aren’t we?”

“Well-”

“So tell me. I am morbidly curious,” L teased, hoping it would pull back some of the awkwardness, but it has no effect on Light’s overall demeanor.

Light sighed, running a hand through his hair, the chain rattling in its wake, “I obviously have… Desires. They are just the wrong… The wrong kind.”

Cocking his head, L frowned, “Please clarify.”

“The things I want, and what I can have are different. I don’t break rules on purpose-” L held back his comments, “- and I do my best to do what I think is right. But sometimes I do things just because… Well I feel like I should. And it is what is expected of me. My desires would be crossing every line…”

Light rubbed the back of his neck and stared off and out the window, his mind clearly somewhere else. L’s mind was also analyzing Light’s words. Desires… What does Light desire? He says it as if it is something uncouth, something forbidden. What is out of his reach? What motivates him? What gets him out of bed in the morning? What would Light kill for? Sacrifice himself for? What would Light put everything on the line for?

“What exactly do you want that your mind has deemed so wrong?” L asked.

Light shook his head and turned away from L, “No, I am not telling you.”

“Why not?”

“It will simply make everything worse.”

L raised an eyebrow, prodding more, “Light, you are my prime suspect in the largest murder case in recorded history; unless these desires are bloodlust, I doubt you can make anything worse.”

“Ryuzaki, enough, I am not saying.”

“And why not?”

Light turned around to face him, taking a step closer, “Why do you even care?”

L took a step towards Light, “Just for my own edification.” Lie. “Besides, you made me share and do things I did not want to.”

Light pushed a finger into L’s chest and slowly walked him back against the wall, “I do not owe you anything, Ryuzaki.”

“Of course not,” L grinned wildly, “But we are still playing a game.”

“No.”

“Truth or dare, Light?”

“Neither.”

L blinked slowly and tilted his head, “Then I guess you lose.”

Light scoffed, “Who is behaving like a child now?”

“Still you, somehow,” L smiled, and he watched Light grow more and more furious. It wasn’t as though he enjoyed pressing Light’s buttons, but he cannot lie and say it is fun to see the reaction of the typically calm and collected golden child come undone; it is refreshing to see the perfection mask slip every now and again. And when it did, L would be ready.

“I am not playing any more.”

“Forfeiting is still losing.” L smirked, and Light gripped the front of L’s shirt again, pushing him against the wall. The taunting brought back memories to the Lind L. Tailor ploy: laughing at Kira from miles away, begging him to try to kill him even though at that point L knew there was nothing Kira could do. Waiting for his next move. Waiting...

“Stop acting entitled, I don’t have to tell you,” Light’s breath was becoming more shallow, he was nearing his breaking point.

“Why don’t you just play the game?”

“It’s not just a game, Ryuzaki!”

“So, you’re admitting to losing?”

“Shut up.” Light warned him, the grip on L’s shirt becoming deadly.

L shrugged the best he could, “I didn’t realise that Light could fail so outstandingly at a party game.”

“Shut up!” He was desperate now. He was pleading. L wanted more.

“I would have thought that Light could just lie his way out of any situation,” He pressed a thumb to his lips, “He does seem to do it a lot.”

“Ryuzaki, I am warning you!” Light anger was almost at its peak. He was unraveling. L needed to push just a bit further. He was going to poke and prod and wind Light up. He needed to tear away all his layers until Kira stared back at him.

“Warning me of what, exactly?” L asked calmly.

Light pulled L towards him briefly before slamming him back into the wall, face mere inches away from his. His pupils were blown out and sweat sheened on his forehead and upper lip, “Shut up, before I shut you up.”

L chuckled lightly, before gazing hard into Light’s eyes, “I dare you to try.”

A challenge. L left it dangling in front of Light. He sweated out those painful seconds that felt like hours, waiting for when the bend became the break. What does Light Yagami do when his pushes turn to shoves? L braced for impact. He waited for knowing smirk, or a kick to the jaw, or a shove to the ground. He looked through Light’s eyes and waited for those too brown eyes to shift to familiar red.

When Light cupped both of his cheeks, and pressed his lips against, L’s he still waited. He waited for the punch. He waited for the slap. He waited. L waited as he pressed his lips back against Light’s, the other man softly sighing as he loosened his grip of the white shirt. L expected a harsher tug when Light threaded his hands through his messy black curls. L was waiting for the catch, waiting for the cruelty.

Light tilted L’s head to the side, kissing up and down his pale neck, “Is this ok?” He mutters into L’s ear, pressing a brief peck to the lobe of his ear.  His subconscious was shaking him, telling him none of this is real , but Light’s lips were on his neck and roaming over his chest, and actions speak louder than words.

“Yeah… This is good,” L told him, breathy. If L didn't have it before, that was all the definitive proof he needed that this was almost-but-not-quite Light. Light is not the type to ask permission. Light takes and he takes. He consumes unapologetically, and has to be told to stop, rather than need permission to continue. There is something to be said in respect to the morality of messing around with someone who is not quite the same person as they used to be. L knows that Kira would never tenderly kiss him or softly suck love bites into the junction of his neck and shoulder, though it is undetermined if Kira desired him in any way other than in a coffin.

Light led him to their bed, and L should have stopped Light then, but he didn’t. As L unbuttoned Light’s pyjama shirt, he wondered what it would be like with Kira. What would Kira want? What does Kira desire out of a partner?

Light straddled his waist, and L’s wandering hands make their way up to his hips. Grabbing his wrists, Light pins L down to the bed. L groans in response and Light licks a stripe up his neck, softly kissing him before biting down on his bottom lip. L makes a noise he would typically be embarrassed by, but it’s ok, because Light is already hard.

“Control ,” he determined. Kira would never submit to anyone. He sees others as lower than himself, and he would never have the displeasure of anyone having authority over him. Kira would make his partners say his name over and over again, or call him “sir” or better yet, “God”. He would want a partner he could manipulate like putty in his hands.

Letting go of his pinned wrists, Light lifted L’s shirt and latched his mouth onto L’s nipple, licking at it slowly. L’s hands found their way to his waist, and he pushed Light’s hips down and he grinded their hard-ons against one another. L’s only wish was that Light’s moan in response was not muffled by his lips against his chest. He could only imagine the sound unabashed was heavenly.

Light sat up, and towered over L, a dangerous look on his face. L chuckled, hooking his index finger in his mouth as he spoke, “It is no fun if you are the only one in control,”

Smirking, Light attached himself to L nipple again, but instead biting down as he pressed his hips against L’s. He gasped at the action, and he could feel Light’s smirk.

“ No, that’s not right ,” L thought. Kira doesn’t like easy. Kira like a challenge. He doesn’t care about the people bending to his will. He’s met all of L’s challenges head on, it would make sense that Kira would want a little resistance. Kira would never let it go too far, taking charge in the end, but if Kira was to dominate, he wouldn’t want a submissive partner to simply do what he says: Kira would want to earn it.

Light made his way to L’s sweats, and pulled them down with a quick tug, his hard cock straining against his boxers. He palmed L through the cloth, and swallowed his moans by shoving his tongue in L’s mouth.

L was writhing underneath Light, all his nerves were alight with feeling the man everywhere on top of him. He ran his blunt nails against Light’s back. Light breathed in harshly through his nose and a low moan came from the back of his throat.

“Rough,” L mentally added to the list. Kira was the type of man who was not gentle about anything. Though, neither was L. He imagined getting fucked by Kira had a lot of bruises and scratches. He imagined the scratches would be rough and deep, leaving scars from the claws sinking into your skin. Harsh bites to the lip would draw blood-- a thick and metallic flavor that would make him dizzy, though you can’t drip nectar over his tongue and expect L to not love the taste.

He stripped L of his boxers, and L shivered slightly at the cool air. Light paused for a moment, and looked up at L, “I, uh, I have never done this before,” Light stared at L with his too-brown eyes, all wide and innocent, asking for help. L had to swallow down the part of him that wishes that it was still all an act. He sat up, and ran a hand through Light’s hair, kissing him and telling him it was ok, and that he would tell him what to do.

“Praise,” He added. Kira was a man who wanted to be a God. All Gods want to be revered, and it should be no different for Kira. Here was a man who wanted so badly for the world to know of his existence that he is risking the electric chair in order to be seen. He bends his idea of justice just to keep his reign intact-- that is the kind of man who wants a partner to tell them that he is perfect. To let Kira know that he is so smart, so handsome, so good . Yes, Kira is a principled man who doesn’t see he is evil. He wanted to be told he is good.

L’s head fell on Light’s shoulder, writhing and moaning in his lap. Light’s hands twisted up and down L’s cock. Light used his thumb and focused on L’s head, smearing the precum around it before returning to his steady motions.

“Yeah, you got it,” L moaned in Light’s ear, “I didn’t have to give you much direction at all. You’re doing so well, Light,”

L could hear a faint whimper from Light, and he bit into the junction between his shoulder and neck, imagining that under all the collars and button ups that Kira-- Light--- they dreamed of hiding a love mark there.

In a quick flurry of motions and direction, L moved Light out of his pants and boxers, and began slowly stroking him as well. Light paused his motions and gasped, digging his nails into L’s hips. L reasoned that it would not take much to make him come at all.

“Fuck, Ryuzaki…” Light said, low but rushed.

L hummed, using more spit and applying more pressure to his grip, Light’s eyes rolling to the back of his head, the gasps and whimpers increasing in volume and frequency.

“You’re so responsive,” L observed, pressing feather light kisses to Light’s neck that made him whine, “So sensitive…”

“W-well yeah, that makes sense.” Light ran his nails across L’s thighs, his well manicured ones were sure to leave pretty red marks.

L tilted his head to the side, “I wonder what would happen…” He questioned, and before Light could respond, L pushed him down on the bed, and took his cock in his mouth. L deep throated his entire length before focusing his attention to the head, moving his hands around Light’s cock in tandem with his licks.

Light threw his head back, one step removed from screaming as he begged loud enough for the whole floor to hear (not that there was anyone around).

L took Light’s cock again fully in his mouth, and that was enough to have Light coming, tightly gripping his hair and L’s name on his lips. L pulled off of him after swallowing and kissed Light softly on the lips. It almost felt wrong.

“You didn’t come.”

“It’s ok, I’ll be fine.”

Light’s eyes were wide, “I want to make you come.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t think I could do what you just did though.”

“That’s ok,” L brushed the brown hair out of Light’s eyes. His all-too-brown eyes. “You can just use your hands if you want.”

Light was beautiful, and it was easy to love Light like this. Easy to love Light when he was taking care of L. Licking his hand to keep his cock slick, seeing him bite his lip with every drop of praise-- not that L minds calling Light a good boy, or telling him that he is doing great for his first time and that he is making L feel so good.

Light kissed him like he meant it, his tongue brushing against L’s, inexperienced and messy but still erotic and tender. He kissed L’s neck as he warned Light that he was close, because of course he already picked up that that was one of L’s most sensitive spots. L couldn’t even bring himself to be shocked, because Light is just that brillant.

“Light… Light …” L whimpered his name as he came, moaning and pulling his hair. Light wiped the come off of his hand and onto the sheets. L was still panting, coming down from his peak, and Light kissed him softly on the lips. L cupped his cheek and kissed him back, feeling as though this kiss was the greatest line crossed tonight.

L threaded his hands through Light’s all-too perfect hair, holding him as they both settled down, the adrenaline previously running through their veins beginning to seep out. Light traced patterns across L’s neck, and L kissed his temple.

He tilted Light’s chin up and looked into those wide innocent eyes. L prayed that Kira was behind them, but he only saw Light Yagami. Perfect Light Yagami, not the monster Kira. The type of monster that is the only one that could love L completely. L felt like Light is the real victim here.

And yet, he still pulled Light in for another tender kiss, his grapple with his own morality was overpowered by the desperation to feel his lips against Light’s once more. Just once more. And once more…

Each kiss with Light felt like a burn, and L knew that any of those could be their last, but he really would not have minded if he was fully consumed by the flames.

[kusagrasskusa]

Light X Detective! Reader - "I am Kira"

Summery- Y/N is a teenager given the honor of working for the task force and is with the few who agreed to work in the Kira case. Both while discussing L and on her way to go to the hotel to meet L, she bumps into Light. They get along and have a two minute conversation before she's pulled away by Aizawa. Her biggest flaw is her incapability to shut up, so she sorta explains how she (rather than Pember's fiance) believes Kira can in many ways...

Sorry for the "read more" being so high up lol. When I look through hashtags, I hate it when there's an entire story I already read to scroll past before I can see new ones :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I just don't understand," Y/N huffed as she pushed her hair behind her ear. She clinched the papers in her hand and furrowed her eyebrows together while rereading all the reports that were concluded to be caused by Kira. She sat in a cold room, in a chair that wouldn't warm up, with a bunch of officers who were equally as ignorant and annoyingly loud as the next. A lot of them distrust L as well, creating an unwanted tension that bothers everyone.

"Excuse me, sir," called a brunette boy to another brunette. Okay, maybe not everyone is annoying and ignorant; Matsuda and the Cheif were alright. Y/N smiled to herself as she looked at the two congregating. It's nice to see these two making the atmosphere brighter, she thought. There's been a lot of stress since no one can even began to image how Kira is even existing right now. Whether it's a single person or a group, how can they kill someone from anywhere? Alchemy isn't even real, so how?

And before she knew it, two hours of nothing went by. That is, until, three officers went up to the Cheif and set stuff down on the table. "Sir, we're resigning from the Kira investigation."

The cheif stood up, wide eyed, "why!"

"Because we value our lives! Kira has made it clear that he'll stop whoever gets in his way! We have a family at home and we aren't going to give it up!" One explained, taking deep breaths. The Cheif was silent for a moment before sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Take your badges. I completely understand your decision." The cheif stood up, looking around the room. "I want everyone who wants to leave the Kira investigation to stand up. You won't be fired but rather transfered to another case." And just like that, nearly every single person in the case stood up, looking around each other disappointly. Y/N looked around her, glaring at the men around her. Wow, she thought, and I was called weak for being a "little girl."

As people made their decisions on whether to leave, or stay, or whatever, Y/N simply stacked her papers and cleaned her desk. The one she shared her desk had left, so she had a lot more space to put her paperwork. To be honest she didn't really like him all that much; it's random but that man would make the most jokes about Y/N's age and gender. She was the only female and being surrounded by a bunch of guys called for many conversations focusing on how she would interact with people, as if her gender is a defining quality to ever conversation.

But thank God that's over with. As Y/N looked around the room, her eyes widened as her eyebrows furrowed. "What? Like everyone left!" She called out, counting the people left. Masuta chuckled from across the room and she received a disapproving glance from Aizawa. Well, thank God these two stayed. She would be so alone with someone to joke with and another to keep an eye on her.

Aizawa is almost like an older brother/father figure of sorts, which is hella comforting. Matsuda and Y/N have never met before their job, not even happened to lassby each other at any point in their life, yet as soon as they saw each other, they knew each other very well. Immediately they kicked it off and eventually he found a way to convince the cheif that she's worthy of being here with him. He may have even brought up Light to make the cheif feel more personalized. It worked somehow.

The few remaining in the office stood up to acknowledge each other better. And when L finally spoke up from the computerin the back of the room, it was time for the debate on whether we trust him or not. Y/N, the Cheif, Matsuda, and Ukita seem to trust L a lot. Aizawa and Ide seem distrustful, and Mogi is neutral. When L released them to go discuss their views on him, everyone was eager to go.

On the way outside, a smile hung on Y/N's features as she walked alongside Matsuda. He didn't exactly share her energy as he rather just stared at the ground with a look of questioning. "This is a good thing y'know? It finally means we have the chance of a lifetime: to meet L. He would know how to keep us safe so we would never end up like the FBI agents!" Y/N whispered to him, making a small look of relief cross his features. He smiled at her and nodded.

Just a little into the conversation, the group had already began to trust L at least a little bit more. A few minutes later, L was given them directions on how to find him. Like hell I will write this all out, so just know that this happened the same way it did in the anime :). Y/N smiled widely, gripping Matsuda's sleeve and giggling quietly to herself. "This is amazing! We get to finally meet the L!"

"Calm down, L/N-san," Aizawa scolded, sending her a disapproving look. Y/N giggled at his stern face, shaking her head. She leaned on Matsuda's shoulder.

"Come on, 'Zawa! You're not excited? Not everyone gets to do this, y'know," she replied. Chief Yagami sighed and rolled his eyes at her childish behavior.

~~~

Y/N walked the dark streets with Aizawa by her side. She's humming to herself before breaking into a light sing, "hirogaru yami no naka-"

"Do you ever be quiet?" Aizawa asked. Y/N shook her heard before continuing to sing. But this time, she spread her arms out and moved more, dancing to the rhythm of the song. "Stop it, you child! You're gonna draw attention to us!"

"No I won't~ After all, it's the middle of the night," she replied as she pointed around the empty streets with the exception of 3 pass-bys. "No one is gonna care about a stupid little schoolgirl with her "dad" walking around when their tired and want to go home." Oh, in order to keep up a lie that Y/N is related to Aizawa, they found it easier for her to dress in a schoolgirl outfit. After all,, it's a Wednesday so people would think she would have to go to school, meaning she was young enoigh to be his daughter. "It's not like I'm gonna run into someone, eit—" Pffb!

Y/N fell onto the ground and landed in on the pavement. She hit her head on a metal door when she was walking and somehow didn't see it; well, maybe that's because someone opened the door. "Sorry! I didn't see you there," called a soft, masculine voice. He extended his hand towards the girl who was rubbing the mark on her forehead. She looked up at him either an apologetic look as she took his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

"No, I apologize. I, um, wasn't looking," she responded. Her face was pink with embarrassment so she kept her head low. After all, how does one recover from embarrassing themselves in front of someone so damn attractive?

"Look what you did; I told you this would happen. I'm sorry, sir, for you— Light?" Aizawa asked with a questioning look on his features. The brunette boy smiled at Aizawa, waving.

"It's me, haha. Sorry, I'm not very good with faces. What's your name?" He kindly asked. Y/N looked up at him and admired his features. He looked so calm and collected that it was admiring to her.

"Aizawa," is all he said before Light nodded in remembrance.

"Nice to see you again, sir. Is this your daughter? She looks lovely," Light complimented as he turned towards the short girl, whose face remained as pink as before if not worse. She bit her bottom lip, looking up at him at waving.

"My name is Y/N, nice to meet to you Light," she responded with a bow of her head. Light bowed his head simultaneously with that calm smile never leaving his face. "Sorry again, haha. I'm sorta a clutz," she continued.

Light shook his head and scratched the back of his neck. "No need to be so worried, Miss Y/N. All's forgiven. Actually, I'm rather glad we did bump into each other like that. You're a sweet woman," he replied. Y/N chuckled nervously and felt his charisma hit her deep in the soul.

"I hate to break up you and your boyfriend," Aizawa stepped in. "But we have to get going. It was nice seeing you Light." Light nodded in understanding and YN posted her lip, though also understanding. She looked back at Light, smiling.

"Well, I hope to see you again, Light. Bye for now," she said her goodbyes as Light did the same to her before hey parted ways. "He's cute," she simply stated as Aizawa rolled his eyes.

"You teenagers and your weird romances..."

~~~

Y/N laid there; her books spread out on a table and her head in her arms, breathing softly as she stayed asleep. She was only allowed to work 4 days a week with the task force and this would be one of those days where she had to study hella hard since she wouldn't be able to every Monday and Tuesday. She's in a few advanced classes and they've been getting harder now that she can't focus all her attention on her classes. But damn, she was so tired today! But even so, a simple poke on the back woke her up.

"Excuse me ma'am, are you alright?" A soft voice asked. She stirred around before looking over at the owner of that voice, furrowing her eyebrows together. "Y/N?"

"Light?" Y/N asked, her face turning red in embaressment. "Oh! I'm sorry, were you going to sit here?" She asked eagerly as she gathered her things and put them in together as fast as possible.

"Oh no! I was just checking to see if you were okay, so please do whatever," Light responded. Y/N continued to blush as she mumbled an oh before setting her things back down.

"Sorry, haha... I sometimes get sorta caught up in my studies," she admitted, earning a chuckle from Light.

"No worries. I'd be glad to help if needed. What grade are you in?" Light asked as he set his coffee down on the table, sitting down besides her.

"Senior year. 18 and still can't grow up," she added a self depreciating comment as she rubbed her tired eyes and yawned. Light shook his head, brushing his hand in the air to singal "it's okay".

"No need to be so harsh on yourself. After all, everyone learns in a different way and perhaps the way you're teaching yourself isn't the right way. Instead of reading equations and writing down answers, let's try drawing out pictures of those equations and adding references." Light took the pencil from her side and and began to draw and write put several equations and problems. Needless to say, in about an hour, Y/N had understood every single thing she had worked on.

"You're doing great," Light complimented as he looked over Y/N's paper. Y/N giggled nervously, a Light blush coming to her cheeks.

"Thanks, with your help though," she replied. Light shook his head and handed back the paper.

"Not at all. I just showed you a new technique and told you what you got wrong. It was all you." Y/N thanked him once more before taking a sip of her coffee. It was maybe 9am by now and perhaps she should get going.

"It's getting a bit late. I need to go home soon," she spoke sadly. Light nodded, standing up from the table while Y/N collected her things. "Thanks again, by the way. Especially for staying with me for, like, an hour. That must be hard, heh heh."

Light chuckled, shaking his head. "You need to belive in yourself a little more, y'know. However, anyways, I suppose we should get going now. It was nice seeing you again, Y/N. I look forward to our next encounter." They walked each other out the door before finally saying their last goodbye and parting ways.

~~~

In no time, Light was part of the police task force as well. Side by side Y/N, who graduated with him, someone who he had got close to since their first visit in the cafe. Hell, this far into each other's company and how close they must be true to work, some may even say there's love. Light was that tall, sweet, intelligent, caring boy who never breaks in situations. Y/N was that kind, self-deprecating, cheerful but can be serious, smart, and thorough girl who looks as dumb as a rock. They're very similar in some places and different in others, which is the perfect mix.

"To be honest," Y/N sighed. "I'm really starting to doubt L. He focuses on you way too much, and we really don't have time for that. People are being killed everyday and nothing's being done to stop it." Light nodded, sighing as well. They sat on the top stairs of the roof of the headquarters. "And Kira's supporters give me mixed feelings as well. I understand that what Kira is doing seems righteous, I truly do. They say how these people were never the hero so why should they live? They should live because they shouldn't have to be heroes."

Y/N couldn't help but vent her feelings. After all, a tragic incident had happened to he recently so she couldn't help it. Light picked up on her way more serious attitude towards the investigation and asked what's pushing her so hard. After a little persuasion, he got her to talk about it in a private place. The whole time, she was trying her best to hold in tears when she spoke. "It's bothering me that these supporters think their morally right for thinking the way they do... My uncle, he was killed by Kira last week. And these supporters, they laugh and taunt him because hehe made a mistake when he was young," Y/N hissed, her tears threatening to fall.

"My uncle didn't mean to do it! He was friends with an officer who came over to his house for a party! They got drunk and my uncle wanted to scare awake his friend using a gun he thought was unloaded. He got to watch his best friend's head explode all over his fucking house, all because of a stupid mistake? I was 5 years old, going to the prison every week to him for the little amount of time I could. The officers who would search the visitors knew me; she knew me and who I was going to see, a kindergartener who was scared and hurt by the loss of her uncle. Due to the shooting being accidental, he had less time to serve. And that day, that day where he'd be free, Kira did it. It's fucking disgusting."

Light listened with a frown on his face, patting her back and she hugged her knees and began to cry. It's a shame, really. He sat out there with her for maybe two more minutes before she calmed down.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Y/N. I had no idea," Light spoke sadly, frowning. Y/N shook her head a smile forming on her face. It was clearly force and unhappy, but at least it made Y/N cry less.

"No, no, don't be. I kinda should've expected this. My uncle was a great, funny guy and I wish the world knew that. But anyway," Y/N wiped her tears as she stood up. She extended a hand for Light to take, which he did with a soft smile on his features, and pulled him up. A soft blush hit she cheeks when a

[sukifans]

PET • RI • CHOR

[n] a pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather

ZUKO X OC SERIES

SUMMARY: a captured waterbender and the fire prince may sound like an unlikely pair, but kena never much cared about others’ expectations and zuko, well… he was just along for the ride

A/N: uhhh so i guess i’m writing fic again for the first time since i was like 15 thanks to quarantine. here’s a snippet of a zuko x oc i’ve been writing to gauge interest ig. i used to write h*rry p*tter fic and post it to a fan account i had and it got pretty popular even though it was garbage so... let’s see. here is my hat, it is in the ring 🎩 also thanks @beifongsss for answering my anon ask and being my first (and maybe only) tag lmao 🥴

⏎ MASTERLIST // PROLOGUE i » PROLOGUE ii

“I like your hair loopies.” The voice made her jump and throw the water she had been trying to bend from the pond at its source behind her. “Hey!”

Kena turned and saw a young boy about her age in red silk pajamas now soaked in water. His long black hair hung limply around his face, dripping. “Tui’s gills, you scared me! You can’t just sneak up on people like that!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I splashed you.”

“It’s okay.” He shook his head, throwing water droplets everywhere. They both giggled.

“I can try to help, but I’m not very good yet. Here.” She waved her arms and hands in a waterbending stance, drawing water out of his clothes and hair. She pulled some out and discarded it back into the pond, but the poor boy was definitely still wet. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly, dropping her hands.

“That was so cool! I’ve always wanted to see waterbending in person.” His face lit up, golden eyes sparkling. She blushed and looked at her feet. “Sometimes I wish I was a waterbender. But what are you doing here?”

Her face was dark when she looked up at him again. “The Fire Nation invaded my village and took me and my mom as prisoners because we’re healers. She tells me we’re lucky to be alive since they’ve been wiping out waterbenders. I don’t know, though; I think I’d rather be dead than be a servant for some snooty royal.” She aimed a kick at a small pebble and launched it into the pond. “Now I’ll probably never see my dad, or my brothers, or my friends ever again.”

“Oh,” the boy said meekly, looking away. “I’m sorry that happened.” He didn’t know what to say to the girl.

“Yeah, me too,” she grumbled. There was silence for a moment before the boy smiled hesitantly again.

“I’ll be your friend here, if you’d like.”

The tension in her small body loosened when she slowly grinned at him. “Yeah, I think I’d like that. You seem alright, for a Fire Nation kid.”

“Thanks, I think,” he laughed. “What’s your name?”

“Kena. Well, that’s my real name. When they brought us here some weird guy told me my new name would be Ariye.”

“I like Kena better for you.”

“Me too. Ariye is a dumb name. I told him that but he got mad. What’s yours?”

“Oh, I’m-“ he started, flushing, then paused and looked behind him. “Someone’s coming. Go, hide!”

“What about you? Won’t you get in trouble?”

“No, no! It’s fine! Just go!” He shooed her away and she finally complied, diving into a patch of brush just as someone rounded the corner in the distance. She was about to make her escape when she paused to listen in.

“Prince Zuko,” a woman’s voice chided, “why are you out of bed so late?”

Wait, Prince Zuko? He’s a prince?

“I couldn’t sleep so I came out to see the turtleducks,” Zuko said. It wasn’t entirely a lie, after all — that had been his intention.

“Why are you all wet?”

“I... slipped, and fell in the water.”

The woman sighed. “Prince Zuko, you must be more careful. Come along, let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.” Kena slipped away as her voice got fainter and eventually disappeared from earshot. She felt incredibly stupid for going on and on about the invasion and how much she disliked being here to the prince of all people. She was surely in for it now. Her mother had always said her mouth would get her into trouble if she didn’t control it. A glimmer of hope rose in her chest, though, because Zuko had seemed really... well, nice. He didn’t rat her out or get upset when she spoke poorly of royals even though he apparently was one. Maybe not all the people of the Fire Nation were so bad... just most of them.

The next night, Zuko snuck back out to the turtleduck pond in the hopes of seeing the girl again. He was absolutely fascinated by her — she was probably the only person he knew who wasn’t, as she had said, “some snooty royal,” or someone who worked for one. That, and she was definitely the only waterbender he knew. He loitered in the grass for a long time before giving up and going back to bed. This cycle repeated for a week with no luck. Kena had said her and her mother were healers, so maybe he’d be able to find her in the infirmary. Now, just to come up with some sort of excuse to go there...

Kena nearly felt like dropping dead when a familiar boy walked into the infirmary, escorted by a servant. His eyes brimmed with tears and he was sniffling softly, holding one hand in the other delicately. Reluctantly and with her face burning, she bowed with her mother.

“Prince Zuko, what happened?” the older woman asked, leading him to sit on a cot in the corner of the room.

“Azula b-burned my hand,” Zuko whimpered, showing her his reddened skin. Kena’s mother tutted and waved her daughter over.

“Prince Zuko, this is my daughter, Ariye,” the woman said, smiling as she smoothed Kena’s hair. Kena bowed again, mostly to avoid looking directly at him.

“Nice to meet you.” Zuko beamed and she nodded stiffly, looking at a spot on the wall above his shoulder.

“You as well, Prince Zuko,” she responded quietly. “Do you need anything, Mom?”

“Yes. Can you get the burn salve while I heal what I can, my love?” Kena nodded again and scurried away as soon as she had the excuse. Zuko watched her as she searched cabinets at the other end of the room, snapping his eyes down to his hand when he felt the cool wetness of water against his skin. Kena’s mom was holding his hand with both her own, bending water around his seared flesh. His mouth dropped open a bit when the water started to glow. After a few moments, Kena’s mom pulled her hands back and bent the water away as the girl returned with a small tin in her grasp. He frowned when she still refused to look at him directly.

“Thank you, my dear,” her mother said. “Can you put some on the prince’s hand while I talk to Miss Sana?” She tilted her head to indicate the servant that had brought Zuko in who was standing on the other side of the bed he sat in.

“Yes, Mom.” Kena sat on the bed across from him as her mother stood and walked away with Sana. Zuko grinned again once he was certain the adults were out of immediate earshot.

“Hi, Kena,” he said, waving at her with his injured hand. It was no longer a blistering red, but the skin was still a bit stiff and dry. The salve would help with that, he assumed.

She furrowed her brow. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you again. I waited by the pond in the gardens for a few nights but you never came back.”

“You did this on purpose?”

“Yep!” he said, obviously proud of his cunning plan. When she rolled her eyes, though, he deflated.

“That was dumb,” she scoffed. Her bluntness shocked him. Nobody ever talked to him, the prince, like that. Well, except Azula. But she was mean to everyone.

“What do you mean?” He looked obviously distressed and even a bit irritated. “I let Azula burn me so I could talk to you again!”

“You should’ve just pretended you felt sick or something,” she said like it was the simplest thing in the world. And really, it was. Zuko felt a bit silly now for all his dramatics.

“Oh,” he said. His cheeks were bright pink. Kena finally gave him a small grin as she gently held his hand, slathering the salve onto his skin. “Your hands are cold.”

“And your hands are warm.”

“Because I’m a firebender.”

“Well, I’m a waterbender.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I guess that makes sense. It feels nice, though.” They were quiet for a few minutes while Kena delicately massaged in the weird paste. “Can we still be friends?” he asked suddenly. She looked up at him, startled.

“You still want to be friends with me?”

“Uh, yeah. You’re super cool!”

She blushed. “Even though I said that mean stuff about royals and all that?”

“I mean, you weren’t wrong. A lot of people around here are snooty.”

She thought it over for half a second. “Yeah, we can be friends. Like I said before, you’re not so bad, for a Fire Nation kid.” They smiled at each other, and it was settled.

A/N: i don’t know how to write dialogue for kids... anyways if this gets attention i might post more because i write when work is slow so! feel free to send me an ask/dm/reply/carrier pigeon. also sorry for the long post, mobile is ass and won’t let me do a read more cut ~~

[letitrainathousandflames]

ILL INDULGE!! Alpha-17 + escaped from Empire + being comforted from a nightmare?? I've got more once I finish some mother's day things!!

THANK YOU! Here goes:

-

Rating: Teens and Up

Tags: PTSD, Nightmares, Crying, Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Reader/Clone

-

Ever since the two of you had moved in together, Alpha-17 had been sleeping on your couch rather than your bed, despite your insistence for him to join you in the bedroom.

Don’t get it wrong, he would give you everything you could want and more as the loving boyfriend he was, and this was literally the only thing that bothered you about him.

(“I’m a noisy sleeper,” he would say every time, “I’ll end up keeping you up. Can’t do that to my cyare, now can I?”)

The two of you have been living together since... well, since he had to escape the Empire and you had met him, working as a bounty hunter so he wouldn’t starve and maybe be able to eventually pay for a one-way trip to the outer rim, as far from the capital as possible.

When he asked where he could find shelter for the night for fifty credits at the bar you were working, you looked at this man, his unshaven face and exhausted eyes and told him that not even the cheapest places would take such small pay... but he was free to crash at your couch for the night.

And so he did. Thank the stars, he accepted your offer to crash at your place whenever he needed or his job took him close to your planet again, and every time the two of you met - including the one occasion you had to help him fix some nasty work-related wounds - you grew closer. One night after a few sips of Corellian wine you ended up sharing a long, tender kiss and before you knew it, you were straddling him, grinding on his codpiece and-

Well, let’s just say that your friendship to the clone had some extra benefits after that.

The steamy nights of mindless sex led to long conversations afterwards, and lazy mornings with breakfast in bed, the whole process so organic you took a while to realize that you two were no longer two strangers sharing the same space and occasionally fucking each other senseless: you were dating.

-

Which brought you back to now.

“I’m your girlfriend, Alpha.” You cross your arms, rubbing at them with hurt clear in your voice “I wanna sleep together. Please, I swear I won’t mind some snoring.”

Alpha looks away from you, fixing up a pillow on the couch and the blue blanket you would always lend him for the night. His entire demeanor is awkward, his jaw set and his throat bobbing as he swallows down, gritting his teeth.

“It’s-” he hesitates to then lightly punch the pillow in place “it’s not snoring, I just- I like having my space.”

“Alpha...”

“Just let it go.” Alpha’s tone is harsh but it softens quickly “Please.”

You huff, shaking your head and turning your back on him to enter your bedroom. You can’t help feeling rejected and upset, huffing a breath.

“Fine. Goodnight.”

“Goodni-”

You click the door shut before he can finish, undressing and angrily throwing your clothes to the floor before shoving your head into your long sleeping shirt and climbing into your bed.

You just wanted to have him near you. It was cute having him out of your room before you two admitted to each other and yourselves that you were actually dating, but now it feels just stupid. You would understand him not staying if he had to leave for some early mission, but having him at your place for the night, sleeping on your couch when your room is about five steps from there is ridiculous.

You wanna snuggle to him just like you do after sex - although even then, he sneaks out of the room as soon as you are asleep. You wanna wake up looking at his handsome face and his beautiful brown eyes.

You shove your feet under the covers and press the remote on your nightstand, turning the lights off. The room becomes dark, and you are still thinking of what could possibly be the reason for Alpha not wanting to sleep with you when you hear two soft knocks on your bedroom door.

You sit up, turning your small nightlight on and piping out:

“Yes?...”

There is a long stretch of silence before alpha’s voice comes through, small and sheepish:

“It’s me. I...” he cracks the door open, and the dimmed light of the living room spills through the opening, “...can I still sleep with you?”

You straighten yourself up, all your anger vanishing in an instant while you toss the covers to the side, nodding repeatedly:

“Yes! Yes, you can! Please... come in.”

Alpha walks in, dragging his feet on the floor, his chin dipped down and his gaze low. He is carrying his pillow under his arm and wearing only his black sleeping pants.

“Hey there, handsome.” you say affectionately as he shuffles to your bed, placing his pillow next to yours

“Hey.” Alpha climbs on the bed, shimmying close to you and snaking his arm over your middle, nuzzling at the crook of your neck; he feels incredibly warm, making you melt at his touch “Moons, you smell so good.”

You giggle, throwing the covers over you both and snuggling up to his muscular chest as he lies half-sitting on your bed, your palm resting over his stomach. He’s one to say it, his warm body smelling of your soap and something distinctively… his. A scent that makes you feel safe and at home.

“So do you.” You press a kiss to his face, fixing your pillow so that you can lift your upper body as well, letting his arm drape over your shoulders as you sit up, pressing yourself to his side “What made you change your mind?”

Alpha stays quiet, his chest moving slowly with his breath. The more your eyes get used to the darkness, the better you can see him even with only the dim nightlight on. He brings a hand to your face, cupping your cheek.

“I love you. I don’t want you to think I don’t.”

You wince at the restlessness in his gaze, shaking your head:

“Alpha, I never said-”

“But” Alpha interrupts you, and you can distinctly notice the tension tinging his voice, taking over his features “I need you to know that this isn’t about me snoring, or moving around too much, it’s just that...”

There is a pause where he clicks his tongue and he turns his face away even though you can barely see it in the poorly-lit room.

“...I have nightmares. And sometimes I-” he pulls his arm back from over your shoulders, swallowing down as his breath hitches “sometimes I wake up in a frenzy, kicking and screaming. It’s not pretty. I don’t want you to see it. It’s why... it’s why I’ve been hiding away from you.”

Your mouth drops open, eyes going wide in shock. Of everything, you did not expect this to be the reason why he wouldn’t sleep with you. All this time, you had thought he just didn’t want to get attached to you, and…

You bring a hand to his face, cupping his jaw and watching as he reluctantly draws his gaze back to you, low and timid.

“What kind of nightmares?” you ask, trying to understand more and immediately regretting it as he purses his lips tightly, swallowing down in clear discomfort “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me.”

Alpha places his hand over yours – his fingers calloused from years of combat and firing blasters. His tone is hushed, a low murmur that matches his sheepish expression.

“I just… don’t wanna scare you if it happens.”

“Oh, love…” you lean closer to him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth to then lay your head on his shoulder, looking up to him “You won’t scare me, I promise. I’ll be here for you, and we’ll get through this together, okay?”

Alpha’s hands met your back, wrapping you in a tight hug. He exhales heavily with a hum, muscles losing tension as the air leaves him. One of his hands move up to your nape, fingers caressing your scalp.

“Stars, I can’t imagine what I’ve done to deserve someone like you.”

-

Alpha ends up spooning you, one leg draped over your waist and his arm clutching you flush to his body. You are surrounded by warmth, hearing the gentle sound of his breathing. This feels so… intimate, more so than the many nights of steamy sex you two had shared. Sleep weights your eyelids down, and your mouth parts open, every inch of you loosening into relaxation. The thoughts swirling in your mind lose form, dissolving into nothing, and you sink into sleep with a content hum.

You don’t know how much time has passed. You don’t know what time it is. All you know is that its definitely still night as you are jolted awake by a blood-curdling scream.

Panicking, you sit up in bed to another scream in a voice you know too well. Alpha. Alpha is screaming right next to you, and you scramble for the nightlight switch, turning it on and whipping your head back to look at the man lying next to you.

Alpha seems to have tossed the covers, lying on his side with his back facing you. His whole body is curled tightly in a ball, biceps jutting up as his hands clutch at his head, his fingers buried in the dark hair as they grip and tug at it. There is a sheen of sweat glistening over his skin, and his face is all red.

One of his legs give a sharp kick towards the end of the bed, and the other does the same, as if he’s fighting an invisible enemy. He screams again, loud and full of agony as if he is being stabbed.

“Al-” his next scream ends in a sob, and as he rolls over to lie on his back, you see his eyes wide open, tears running rivers over the bridge of his nose and down the curve of his cheek “Alpha, love, what’s wrong?!”

Alpha squeezes his eyes shut, his sobs making his whole body shake and his chest shudder as his head lolls side to side over the mattress. He covers his face with his hand, whimpering and crying nonstop, his words muffled by his palms and distorted by his hitching breaths.

You can manage “m’sorry, so sorry-”, “-all dead-”, “-forced me to-” as you sit on your haunches, placing a hand on his chest that is damp with cold sweat. Your free hand goes to pet his hair with light, soothing strokes.

“Love? You had a nightmare. Can you hear me? Y-you’re safe.”

Alpha’s breathing is ragged, and he drags his hands down his face; you can see his eyes, wild and lost, eyelashes wet with tears that spill down his face. His voice comes from between his fingers, small and terrified.

“-said we were betrayed, we had to follow orders, I never wanted to-”

You gently push his hands to the side, cupping his face instead and looking deep in the brown eyes that dart back and forth. As scared as you are, you manage to speak in a firm, mostly collected tone.

“Alpha, you’re safe. You’re with me. I got you. Hm? I got you.”

Alpha looks up to you, his teeth chattering and lower lip trembling. His entire face is wound in utter despair.

“…it was all my fault.” he breathes it out as if it’s a single word strung together, sucking in a harsh breath “their blood’s on my hands” more tears spill from his eyes as he squints in pain “I can still hear their screams…!”

You have questions, hundreds of them, but you know better than asking them now. Instead, you cup Alpha’s face more firmly, leaning closer so that he has no choice but to look at you and hopefully be brought back into reality.

“It wasn’t your fault. You did your best. It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, I didn’t, I should’ve been faster, I should-”

“Shh…” you press your forehead to Alpha’s “Breathe. Just breathe, Alpha.”

“They needed me, and I-”

“I know.” you say reassuringly “I know. Breathe.”

You don’t know. Not really. You had noticed the hint of blue lines that tinged his armor under the noticeably fresh coat of dark silver the day you two first met. The way it resembled a mandalorian’s, but the helmet was unmistakably a clone trooper’s, and the black shirt he wore under it actually had the republic’s crest on it.

It wasn’t that difficult to do the math and realize he was probably a clone trooper of the fallen Republic, which makes him a deserter and a traitor to the Empire.

Alpha is slowly becoming less frantic and agitated, his screaming ceasing and turning into a long wail that ends in more desperate sobs, his teeth grinding and his hands trembling over his chest.

“I never asked for any of that- I never-”

“Shh… I know…” you lean down over Alpha, covering his upper body with yours like a blanket, feeling the way his chest heaves for air over and over as you keep your forehead pressed to his “You’re safe now. It’s over.”

The two of you stay like this for a long time, and after what feels like an eternity, Alpha’s breathing starts slowing down, his back no longer tensed up in an attempt to arch off the bed sinking back down on your bed. He is still shivering, beads of sweat glistening on his face.

And then his hands reach up to the small of your back, hugging you tight enough to almost push all air out of your lungs. He shifts his head to the side, pressing his cheek to yours and sighing heavily.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbles quietly “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with this… I must’ve scared you to death…”

“No, no.” you whisper just as quietly “I’m glad I was here to help you through it.”

Alpha sighs again, hums to then gently roll the two of you on the side, keeping you close still. He looks exhausted, but at least he doesn’t seem to be panicking anymore. His eyes are weary, puffy and red, and his face is flushed, hair messily plastered to his forehead. Th sight of him makes your heart clench painfully in your chest.

“Do you always have those?” you ask in a hushed tone, tracing his jaw with your finger “Every night?”

Alpha purses his lips, swallowing down.

“Not every night, no. But with more… frequency than I’d like.”

“Do you wanna talk about-”

“No.” he cuts you off sharply to then soften his tone “Not now. M’sorry, I still need… time, I guess.”

“Hey, don’t apologize.” you brush his hair off his forehead, running your fingers through his hair “Is there anything I can do for you? Hmm? To help you with this?”

Alpha seems pensive for a moment, and he looks up, indicating your hand caressing his head.

“This is a good start.” he pulls you even closer, pressing you flush to his body “This, too.”

You chuckle, stifling a sob. Alpha’s relaxed expression shifts into a distressed one as he notices the tears in your eyes.

“Oh, no, no, don’t cry, cyare.” He kisses your cheek, reaching for your nape “What’s the matter?”

You sniffle, shaking your head.

“Nothing, nothing, I just…” you snuggle against the crook of his neck “Just wanna make you happy, Alpha.”

Alpha presses a kiss to the top of your head, his whole body loosening up with a long exhale of his.

“You already do. More than I ever thought I could deserve to be.”

[lloydskywalkers]

afsdgfdhgj!! thank you sm, i’m so happy to hear that :’D that is...something i do very much need to work on actually, i’ve been trying to kick the talking-self-down habit for a while now, it’s just!! it’s tough, guys.

on a lighter note, i know exactly what trope you’re talking about and i’m an unapologetic sucker for it afdsgfdh. unfortunately this probably isn’t exactly what you’re looking for, but i got bit by the idea and it wouldn’t let me go, so here’s a somewhat-short (somewhat) fic about it!

Sometimes, the ninja forget they’re technically, kind-of-sort-of, famous. Like, not all the time, because some people are creepy and won’t leave them well enough alone, and some people are just…really enthusiastic…but for the most part, it is easy to forget sometimes, because out of gi they look pretty normal.

(Until Lloyd’s eyes start shuffling through colors like a sporadic traffic light, of course, but that doesn’t happen as much now.)

The point is, sometimes it’s easy to forget that they’re famous.

Sometimes, though — when movie posters the size of the Bounty are plastered all over the city because some wise guy thought making a film about them would be a great idea — it’s harder to forget.

“This feels like an invasion of privacy,” Cole mutters, crossing his arms as he sinks deeper into the theater seat.

“Oh, yeah,” Nya says. “Because trading cards and entire news documentaries with our full names and intimate dating life details were one thing, but a loosely-based movie is where we draw the line.”

“Intimate dating life my foot,” Lloyd scowls, clearly far from getting over that one article that managed to snag a picture of him and Harumi before…everything.

“Well — yeah, fair, but like—” Cole sputters. “They hired actors to play us. They’re gonna be recreating our lives and it’s — it’s weird, okay?”

“I dunno, I think it’s pretty cool,” Kai says, already on his third mouthful of popcorn, and the trailers have’t even started yet. “I mean, it can’t be worse than that play they put on, right?”

“Don’t jinx it,” Zane mutters darkly, his eyes flashing at the reminder.

“I’m with Kai,” Jay says, bouncing in his seat as he reaches for the popcorn. “I think it’s cool that people care enough about us to make a movie, you know? Like, did you see the budget for this thing?”

“Was it as high as the repair cost for the tower we blew up last week?” Lloyd says.

“Uh…maybe. I didn’t compare, exactly. But look, you can’t put a price on lives. A little collateral damage is worth it.”

“A little?” Zane says, his eyebrows shooting up.

“Eh, we helped clean it up,” Nya shrugs. “That counts.”

Jay points at her. “Thank you.”

“Still say it wasn’t my fault,” Kai grumbles, crossing his arms. Lloyd pokes him in the ribs, and Kai yelps, flinching away from him. “Not cool, not cool!”

“We’re definitely not going to make it through this movie without getting thrown out,” Cole groans into his hands. They’re already getting looks from the movie-goers around them, and their patience doesn’t look like it’s going to last very long.

“C’mon, have a little optimism,” Jay placates. “This is gonna be fun— hey, that’s my popcorn!”

“No way, lightning brain, I bought it, I hold it.”

“But you bought it with Nya’s money.”

“Which she stole from Lloyd’s sock drawer this morning, so that doesn’t count.”

“Wait, you stole my sock money?”

“Um…call it payback for stealing the last of the cookies last week.”

“How is that a fair trade, I only took one!”

“Yeah, one dozen—”

“Guys, please—”

“You’re one to talk, you stole all the—”

“Would you all shut up, it’s starting, and — I said shut up!”

******************

It takes a few threats of murder, and one or two threats of open power-use to the face, but they quiet down in time for the opening credits.

The movie begins peacefully enough, with an older man telling some ‘punk little kid’ as Kai describes him, a whole lot of ‘stereotypical sensei mumbo jumbo’ as Lloyd describes it, about himself. Which, to be fair, is pretty accurate to their lives, so they’re able to quietly munch on popcorn for the first few minutes, at least.

But then the plot starts.

“What do they mean, ‘uh oh’, to Lloyd Garmadon?” Kai frowns. “The city loves you.”

Lloyd shrugs, tossing a mouthful of popcorn back. “I dunno,” he says. “I mean, it is tough to be that kid.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he’s the worst shortie ever, like four feet tall,” Nya whispers to him. Lloyd elbows her in the side. Zane shushes them, just in time for the actual movie Lloyd to show up on the screen, in bed and receiving a call from—

Lloyd doubles over, choking on his popcorn.

“Luh-Lloyd?” Kai says, in delight. “Luh-Lloyd?!”

“Pajamas,” Lloyd wheezes, as Nya thumps his back. “Look at his pajamas, I gotta buy my dad those—”

The others are left to giggle their way through the interpretation of one of their greatest enemies snacking on cereal in printed pajamas, telling Lloyd he ‘must’ve butt-dialed him’. It’s hysterical until Garmadon forgets Lloyd’s birthday, and the Lloyd onscreen gets the signature Sad Puppy Eyes Lloyd Look on his face — which, props to the actor, he nailed it — and everyone looks to Lloyd in sympathy.

“That’s rough, buddy,” Jay pats his shoulder. Lloyd rolls his eyes.

“It’s not me,” he says, shrugging again. Really, his dad forgetting his birthday is like, incredibly tame, compared to hurling him through a prison wall or six.

Now, forgetting he existed, that stings. But also, like, this isn’t his dad, so. Eh. He doesn’t really care.

“Is that supposed to be Misako?”

Never mind. He cares now.

“Are you—” Kai plasters a hand over his mouth, muffling this next part. “—kidding me?!”

“Oh, she’s, uh…really present, huh,” Cole winces, as ‘Koko’ encourages her son about being himself, and other really nice stuff Lloyd would have super appreciated hearing when he was younger.

He opens his mouth again, and Nya takes the opportunity to stuff more popcorn in it. Lloyd chomps down angrily, glaring at the screen and grumbling under his breath.

“At least you’ve shown up at all,” Jay comforts him. Lloyd is very much not comforted. He just wants to get through the rest of the movie in peace, and shift the focus off of him as quick as possible.

Oh boy, is he disappointed.

Like, he gets a few minutes of relief as the others are introduced, but that’s all, really. Even if it is hilarious.

“Hello, fellow teen.”

Cole makes a sound like a dying balloon, and Jay almost coughs popcorn out of his nose. Zane just presses his lips into a flat line, his expression unreadable. “I do not…know how to feel about this.”

Jay and Kai are doubled-over on each other by now, choking on laughter. Cole, bless him, is doing his absolute best not to burst into giggles, while Nya and Lloyd have given up and are full-out cackling.

“Well,” Zane says, eyeing them with a gleam in his eye. “Perhaps I should start updating my database with ‘teen lingo’ then—”

“No!” they all chorus in unison, waving frantically at Zane, earning several dirty looks from the people around them as they do.

“You’re perfect the way you are, buddy,” Jay says hastily.

Kai, at least, seems pretty steadily in character—

“Aw, look, I almost snapped your spine.”

“That’s a Kai hug, for sure.”

—and Nya’s thrilled about having a motorcycle. Jay’s a tad indignant at his character’s stuttering, but Cole reminds him he has zero room to talk, so Jay shuts up in time for Cole to shrug at his own portrayal.

“I like that shirt,” he remarks. “And those headphones are cool.”

Then the reality of the scene they’re watching sinks in.

“Wait, why are we in school?” Zane blinks, confused.

“Why are they being so mean to you?” Cole exclaims at Lloyd, taken aback.

Lloyd makes a face at the cheerleaders on screen, jerking his shoulder up as if to say ‘like I know’. Which is kind of a lie, because he does know, the movie told them, but he’s not gonna get into that. Kai is already fuming in his seat beside him, growing steadily angrier by the second. “Who do they think they are,” he hisses. “I’ll show them a number one hit.”

Lloyd rips his eyes from the screen, watching Kai in mild alarm. “Kai, you know that’s not actually me, right?”

“—tear those kids a new one—”

Lloyd cringes at the looks they’re getting from the people around them, patting Kai’s arm. “Chill out, Kai, seriously. This is like, basic Darkley’s stuff, don’t worry. And I walked away from that fine.”

Wrong thing to say. Kai swivels on him, his eyes flashing. “Wait. This happened to you at Darkley’s? For real?”

“Um…” Lloyd sweats briefly, the sounds of Boo Lloyd! coming from the screen really not helping at all. “I mean, I was a brat. I brought a lot of it on myself.”

Kai looks like he’s going to combust. “I swear—”

“Kai,” Lloyd interrupts, trying to quell the storm. “It’s fine. Seriously. I mean, there was this one time that four guys way bigger than me ganged up and hung me from a roof by my hoodie all night, but it wasn’t that bad. I’m fine.”

Kai’s face turns thunderous, matching the roar of Garmadon finally coming into view onscreen. “Wasn’t that bad?” he says, incredulous, gaining them several shh’s, mainly from Nya. Kai ignores them. “Point me to those punks, Lloyd, I’ll strangle ‘em—”

“Kai.”

“Wha — oh. Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That — that was different.”

“Uh-huh.”

“…you — you weren’t there all night.”

“I sure was.”

“Oh.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Um. Sor…rry?”

Fortunately, both are saved by Garmadon smashing his way on screen in a giant shark mech with a full-scale crustacean-themed army, to which the ninja kind of just…stare. That’s — that’s the best they can do with that one. That, and be thankful Garmadon himself isn’t here to see this.

“I mean, to be fair, I can see him appreciating a song entirely about himself,” Kai mutters, as the chorus continues to yell about Garmadon!. “And — wait, Lloyd, are you filming this?”

“Uh, yeah?” Lloyd says, re-adjusting the zoom feature on his phone. “Now hush, I wanna save this and make it my ringtone.”

******************

The mechs are, admittedly, cool. Their total lack of ability to do Spinjitzu, way less so.

“That’s so not how Spinjitzu works,” Nya scoffs, as Sensei Wu finally makes an appearance, just in time for Lloyd to request wind as an element, which brings on another bout of choking.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Lloyd sighs. He then blinks rapidly. “Wait, where are our powers?”

“Nonexistent, apparently,” Zane murmurs. “Along with our common sense.”

“To be fair, that’s never been a reliable thing in the first place,” Jay points out.

The lack of common sense continues to be a trend throughout the movie, and by the time the ‘Ultimate Weapon’ comes up, things start to go downhill rather fast.

“Which, to continue to be fair, is also pretty in-character. This whole fight kinda is.”

The other ninja grumble in agreement as Lloyd runs off to confront his father alone despite all warning, and Lloyd begins to sink lower into his seat. He has a bad feeling he knows exactly where this is going, and sadly, he isn’t disappointed.

Well, for the most part.

“A cat?” Lloyd yelps, his eyes bugging out. “A giant cat?! How is that fair? All I ever get to fight is creepy part-reptile people who want to suck the power out of me, where do I sign up for this?”

“This is surreal,” Zane remarks, as Meowthra tears her merry way across the screen. The whole scene is a disaster, slo-mo destruction and everything, but it’s pretty much the standard fare they’re used to, so they really don’t bat much of an eye as the cat totally wrecks them.

“Nice to know we can’t catch a break in any universe,” Jay sighs sadly, as his mech is torn apart on screen.

“This movie is really beating the ‘don’t-challenge-dad-solo’ message over the head, huh,” Lloyd mutters, chin in his hand, having recovered from his brief bout of extreme-cat-heart-eyes.

Kai gives him a stink-eye. “Yeah, I wonder why.”

Understandably, the Lloyd onscreen is considerably upset at the apparent destruction of all his friends. The ninja are all incredibly curious as to where the movie is going to go next, though, since this Garmadon celebrates his victory by throwing a pretty sick party instead of building a skyscraper-sized stone Colossi of destruction and wrecking half the city.

“Kind of unfair,” Jay scowls, as the henchman do the conga onscreen. Nya’s got a smart comment to make back, but then the Lloyd onscreen reveals himself —

“In typical dramatic-Lloyd fashion, they got that right.”

“Oh, shut up.”

— and then proceeds to snap at the Garmadon onscreen, “I wish you weren’t my father.”

The theater goes remarkably quiet, as do the ninja. Cautiously, they turn to look at Lloyd, who is staring at the screen with a look on his face similar to if you’d shaken up a soda bottle really hard and were about to take the top off. Then—

“Oh, heck yeah, how’s that for karma, you over-powered conceited jerk of a dad,” Lloyd hisses viciously at the screen, punching his fist in the air. “He’s got the right idea, it’s my turn to start disowning family members. Screw ‘you’re not my son’, I’m gonna pull this one out next time and disown him—!”

“Lloyd,” Nya says, a bit nervously. “You know he’s, uh, he’s crying on screen now, right?”

“Yeah,” Lloyd spits.

“You, uh. You know you are too, right?”

“N-no.”

“Therapy,” Cole whispers to Zane. “So much therapy.”

“I’ve already booked us,” Zane murmurs back, sliding his phone back in his pocket. “If the office can simply manage not get blown for one more week this time, we might actually make it."

******************

While they do, however, manage to stay quiet for most of that scene — and isn’t Cole wildly impressed with them for that — the next scene kind of shoots that victory right into tiny little pieces.

“Why are we being so mean to you now?” Cole exclaims, flabbergasted, as the poor Lloyd onscreen looks seconds from tears, the rest of the team staring down at him with firm glares.

“Shh, this is getting dramatic,” Lloyd hushes him.

Nya gets a look on her face that promises murder, and Kai refuses point-blank to be shushed.

“What a bunch of jerks. We’d never do something like that, I’m going to have words with some people—”

“Jamanakai,” Lloyd just says, wearily. “Rooftop. All night.”

Kai deflates, sinking into his seat. “S’not the same,” he mutters, fiercely. “We never said all those mean things to you.”

Lloyd gently pats his arm. “There, there,” he says. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I never said it! It’s — it’s that imposter on screen, that’s who!”

“Kai, I know—”

Lloyd is interrupted by an unfortunately-timed declaration from the onscreen Jay.

“Now, we hate you.”

Lloyd blinks, almost surprised at the slight flare of hurt that sparks in his chest at that. Which is stupid, because these directors don’t know them, and that’s not really Jay, but hey, why not play into his worst fears, movie—

Then “Jay!” is hissed in scandalized unison, and Lloyd stuffs said worst fears back into box and tries not to snicker at the look on his brother’s face.

“It’s not me!” Jay defends desperately, waving his hands wildly. “That’s not me!”

“Deleting all data related to treating Lloyd as a friend.”

Jay is saved as everyone turns on Zane, who just buries his face in his hands. “Let it end,” he moans.

******************

Apart from being shocked that Sensei Wu is actually going with his ninja on their quest for the Ultimately Ultimate Weapon—

“It’s ultimate ultimate, did you miss that trip-inducing scene they explained it with?”

—they aren’t as surprised by things anymore after that, having caught on to the movie’s flow. It’s a little more slapstick than they’re used to, all bright colors and quick action, but it’s enjoyable to watch Garmadon and Sensei Wu snipe at each other, at least.

“Ten bucks says he survives just fine,” Cole says blandly, as Sensei Wu goes plummeting toward the river.

Not one of them take him up on that wager.

“Geez, they’re really roasting us for being morons in this, huh,” Jay observes, as their onscreen counterparts take the clearly-a-trap route, as per Garmadon’s advice.

Lloyd, who is still stewing about having his voice made fun of, bites out, “I think it’s pretty valid, for some of us.”

“Oh, suck it up already, Lloyd. Your voice changed anyways, get over it.”

“Are you saying I sounded ridiculous before?”

“Uh, no-o…?”

“Oh, there we go, getting humiliated again,” Nya sighs, as the ninja are cornered by Garmadon’s ex-generals. “I wonder why they didn’t give us our powers. You’d think they’d have capitalized on that, it’d look pretty cool.”

“Who knows. I’m still trying to figure out if my character’s love for music is a clever reference to me and my dad’s singing background, or just a shallow attempt to give me character at all,” Cole muses. They turn back to the movie just in time to wince in unison as the ninja onscreen flee, leaving Lloyd and Garmadon to be captured.

Kai is less than pleased with this development.

“Oh, so we’re just leaving Lloyd behind now? Who wrote this movie, I wanna talk.”

******************

By the time Garmadon’s teaching Lloyd how to throw bricks from a roof to some sappy soundtrack, then relocating his dislocated shoulder in a wild tone change, they’re mostly lost for words.

Also kind of enjoying the movie, though no one will admit it. The expressions are funny, and there are some lines that hit home. Sure, Lloyd spends a good ten minutes alternating between sputtering and gaping when Garmadon describes their family history, and only proceeds to get worse when everyone else receives powers and he gets a cute little tree branch, but it is fun to watch their onscreen counterparts run around to “I’ve Got the Power” playing cheerfully in the background. Plus, no one tries to ostracize Lloyd again, and it’s oddly satisfying to watch Garmadon get eaten by a giant cat, so by the time Lloyd’s trying to hide suspicious sniffling into the empty popcorn tub while his onscreen counterpart is giving Garmadon his big sappy speech about forgiveness, they might actually give the movie a decent rating.

Cole’s just happy they haven’t been thrown out yet, because they’ve really been pushing it this whole time. But finally, it seems like everyone’s settled down and is keeping perfectly quiet—

“What do you mean, he gets to keep the cat?”

Cole’s hopes and dreams go up in sad, despairing smoke.

“Wait, that’s what’s bothering you?” Nya blinks. “Not the whole, ‘this Lloyd gets his entire family back happy’ part, but the cat part?”

“Well yeah, I’m upset about the cat part!” Lloyd exclaims indignantly. “He gets a giant cat! The size of a skyscraper! What kind of raw deal did my grandfather cut me here, I didn’t even get to keep my dragon! This is so dumb, and — and oh look, now my dad’s all happy and stuff—”

Nya and Zane glance around in alarm. The movie-goers around them seem to be losing the last, lingering shreds of their patience, and Cole wisely decides that this might be a nice time to make an exit. The movie looks like it’s about over, anyways, and—

“—and what, they just have happy family dinners together now?!”

Yeah, they’re leaving.

******************

“Well, that was…enlightening,” Zane says blankly, as they exit the theater. He still looks tragically annoyed at the way the producers decided to portray him, but he’s mostly recovered by now. Probably because he torched his little movie poster on the way out, but who are they to judge.

“I think you mean infuriating,” Kai mutters, glaring at the theater as they leave it behind.

“I don’t know, it wasn’t so bad,” Nya says. “Like, they obviously decided to go for Lloyd’s very sensitive personal life as a focus point, so at least the rest of us got off alright.”

“Giant cat,” Lloyd mourns, clearly still more hung-up on that than Ninjago’s apparent obsession with his family drama.

“I just wanna try that lightning thing later,” Jay says. “Know any doors I can practice busting open dramatically?”

“Yeah, the door to the producer’s office,” Kai grumbles.

“Enough, guys,” Cole sighs. “It was a lot better than it could’ve been. Let’s just be happy the city still likes us enough to make us the heroes.”

They all nod at that, placated for now, at least. They fall into silence, carefully navigating their way home, until Jay breaks the quiet.  

“Your heroes on the wa-a-ay,” Jay murmurs. He’s met with five looks of equal disappointment. “What?” he shrugs. “It’s catchy.”

Cole rolls his eyes, and Kai scoffs. They fall back into silence for a beat, their footsteps the only sound on the street, then—

“Something-something save the da-a-ay,” Lloyd hums.

Jay beams, and Kai moans. Nya just grins. “Gonna something-something pla-a-ace—”

“That takes us higher!”

They dissolve into snickers, their mix of off-key singing echoing across the Ninjago City streets. Cole spares a sigh of despair at their attempt, but he can’t help grinning too. It is a catchy song, and, to be fair, for trying to capture their general team spirit, it comes pretty close.

A lot closer than half that movie did, he frowns. Though he does still want that shirt his counterpart wore.

“Hey,” Jay speaks up. “Let’s learn that Garmadon song next. We can sing it to him in battle.”

“Oh, now you’re talking.”

[sunmoonandeddie]

a vision in white

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3,441

summary: Fucking Chad and fake champagne.

prompt: “And our love story? I know it may not feel like it right now, baby, but I promise you, it’s just getting started.” (This is Us)

warnings: swearing, angst with a fluffy ending

a/n: This is my first successful attempt to getting back into writing long form.  It’s also my entry for @softhairbarnes‘s challenge that was due, like September 18th.  I’m so sorry it took so long, and the prompt is bolded in the fic!

Bucky Barnes hated weddings.

Actually, no.  That’s not quite accurate because he loved Sam and Natasha’s wedding.  When Sam had asked him to be a groomsman, he’d actually cried.  In fact, he cried at least four times that day: watching Tony walk Natasha down the aisle, during the vows and the first dance, and then when he’d watched his girl catch the bouquet.

His girl.

No.

He needed to stop that.  You’re not his girl anymore.

It was that stupid bouquet toss that had caused him to panic.  It had sent him into a downward spiral as his anxiety reared its ugly head, telling him that he’d never have this with you.

It didn’t matter what the stupid tradition said.

Steve was standing near the front with Tony and Sam, mingling with your parents and having a grand old time.  He must’ve said something at least a little funny with the way that your mom had her head thrown back in a laugh.

That used to be him.  He used to be the one chatting with your family at events, his arm around your waist.  Your dad always called him ‘son’ and your mom fretted over whether he was eating enough while your older siblings gave him hell for keeping you away from them in New York City for too long.  He’d never thought he’d have a family in the twenty-first century, but yours had welcomed him with open arms.  Your brothers had become his brothers, your sister became his sister.

And then he’d fucked it all up.

And because of his fuck up, he was sitting in the back pew of a church, watching some asshole named Chad chat with one of his groomsmen while waiting for the ceremony to start.

The worst part was that it was all wrong.  This wasn’t the wedding you wanted.  He knew that for a fact.

First off, the church.  You never wanted a church wedding in the middle of August, damn it.  Everyone was sticky with sweat, even with the air conditioning on full blast, and more than a little miserable.

And there wasn’t…  There wasn’t enough flowers.  The only flowers present were two bunches of white tulips on either side of the altar.

Fucking tulips.  In white.  It was like you’d had zero hand in planning your own wedding.

Which, from the look of things, you probably didn’t.

There just wasn’t enough color.  It was all pristine white, as though trying to create some image of purity that he knew you didn’t have.  You weren’t some kind of innocent virgin like the whole church thing suggested.

The trip you two had taken to the Dominican Republic a few years ago had made sure of that.

You’d told him about the wedding you dreamed about in the middle of the night, between sleepy kisses and wandering hands.  The sheets had been kicked off at some point.  You’d tangled your legs with his, soft fingers brushing his hair back away from his face as you murmured into the crook of his neck, “I want a small wedding outside.  Just you and me and our family.”

“Yeah, baby?” He’d chuckled, drawing you even closer, if it were possible.  “Just us and our family?”

“Mmhm.  Don’t need anyone else.”

He’d hummed his agreement as he rolled the two of you over, leaning over you.  His forehead pressed against yours, your legs wrapped around his waist.  “What else?  Hm?”

“What do you mean, ‘What else?’” You had asked, his t-shirt riding up your torso.  You’d stolen it at some point, almost permanently becoming one of your so-called ‘sleep shirts.’

“Tell me about our wedding.”

Your bright eyes crinkled as you giggled, your fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.  “Our wedding, huh?”

His fingers attacked your sides in retaliation, sending you into a fit of laughter.

“Okay!  Okay!”  You had allowed him to lie on your chest, his head resting right above your racing heart.  His weight was a welcome one, grounding you and keeping you in the present.  Just as Bucky had his demons, you had yours, too.  Your voice was soft and sweet, barely audible, as you continued, “It’ll be outside… in June…  And there’ll be flowers.  We’ll have so many flowers that no one will know what our color scheme is supposed to be.”

A laugh from your fiancé, your soon-to-be husband, pulled him out of his memories.  God, the smug bastard.

Part of him wondered if he even knew about your past relationship.  Granted, he had to.  You were together for so long, it would be strange to not at least mention him to your new lover.  Your fiancé.

Right?

Without a second thought, he stood up from the cold, hard pew and went through the double doors that people were still filing in from.  He didn’t care that he received more than a few dirty looks after bumping shoulders with a few people.  He didn’t recognize more than half of them.  Some of them he can vaguely remember from one of your family reunions.

He had so many questions that he needed to ask you.  He needed answers.

His invitation was crumpled in his hand as he searched the church, looking for any hint that might lead him to where the bridal party was getting ready.  He knew that he’d find you wherever that was.  Wanda and Natasha, too.

“Bucky?”

The familiar voice stopped him in his tracks, and he turned to see your older sister standing standing behind him.  Josephine, or Jo, as she preferred, was your only sister, the second born of five.  He had no doubt in his mind that she’d bawled when you’d asked her to be your maid-of-honor.

“Hi,” he said with a bit of a wince.  He knew how he looked right now.  Crazed.  Desperate.

She had a glass of what appeared to be water in her hand, but he could smell the vodka from where he stood.

Some liquid courage for the bride?

“She doesn’t like vodka,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Jo rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and crinkling the silky gray material of her bridesmaid’s dress.  “Yeah, well, she used to not like guys named Chad either, but here we are.”

He wasn’t quite sure what to say or how to respond at all, and just stood there with his mouth hanging open like a codfish.

“Come on,” she said, nodding further down the hall.  The first few feet were completely silent, their footsteps muffled by the old carpet covering the floor.  There was no way this church had been renovated since the seventies.

“She misses you, you know.”  She kept her eyes forward, refusing to look at him as she admitted things she’d sworn secrecy to.  “She won’t admit it to anyone but me, but she does.  We all do.”

His blue eyes drifted down to the cardstock in his hand.  It was white, just like the rest of your wedding, with you and your fiancé’s names embossed on it.  It was worn from the amount of times he’d folded and unfolded it in his anxious state.  “I didn’t expect to get an invitation.”

“She didn’t send it.  I did.”

It was said so matter-of-fact that he didn’t even register her words at first.  But the second he did, he tripped and almost fell flat on his face.  “You what?!”

“Oh, come on, Bucky,” she said, stopping in front of him.  “This…  This whole thing isn’t right.  I know you feel it, too.”  She motioned back down the way they came.  “This isn’t her.  She’s settling for someone that isn’t right for her because she thinks you don’t want her.  And I…”  Her eyes, the same brilliant shade as yours, drifted to the ground.  “I knew that if you came, it would mean that you still love her.”

“I—”  He ran his hand over his face.  “Of course I do.  But she deserves more than me.”

If Jo’s eyes could’ve rolled to the back to her head, then they would’ve.  “You’re both absolute idiots.”  She grabbed his hand and set the glass of vodka in his hand before pushing him towards a closed door.  “This is your chance to fix it.”

He looked at her once more before turning back to the door, knocking once.

“Come in.”

God, just hearing your voice in person for the first time in three years sent waves of affection through him.

The first thing he saw when he opened the door was your back.  You were sitting at the vanity in the room, toying with one of the pins your hair.

“Jo, can you help me?  This just… isn’t right.”

But Bucky was frozen by the door.  His mouth was suddenly dry and he had to fight the urge to down the entire glass of vodka in his hand.

“Jo, really—”  You turned in your chair, freezing when you saw him standing there instead of your sister.  “Jamie?”

You looked so… so shocked.  Hesitant.  Maybe even a little scared?

“Uh…  Hey, sweetheart,” he said, swallowing down the lump in his throat.  “It’s, uh…  It’s been a while.”  When you just stared at him, he held out the glass.  “Jo gave me this to, uh, to give to you.”

But you didn’t take it.  Your fingers were white from how hard you were gripping the back of the chair.  “What are you doing here?”

His heart was beating so hard he was sure his ribs were going to break like glass.  “You…  You look beautiful.”

And he wasn’t lying.  You were truly a vision in white.  The veil covering your hair was trimmed in delicate lace, framing your features in a way that made you appear almost angelic.

Your fingernails were digging into the palms of your hands as you finally stood up.  “James, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Jo invited me.”

You cursed under your breath, your eyes drifting up towards the ceiling.  “Fucking Jo.”

He took a step forward, a little scared of how you’d react.  His hands were trembling.  “I…  I…”  He cleared his throat as he desperately tried to gather his thoughts.  Rolling his shoulders back, he willed himself to have some fucking courage, damn it.  After what must’ve been an eternity, he finally allowed himself to meet your gaze.  “Listen, I could say a lot of shit right now about how sorry I am, and it’d be true.  Because I am sorry.  I was stupid and dumb and, and a lot of other words that I can’t think of right now because fuck, you’re right here and I…  I miss you.  I miss you more than anything in the world, and if I could take it back, I would.”  When you didn’t retreat, he took a few more steps towards you.  “I love you.  I love you so god damn much, and I never should’ve pushed you away.”  The vodka was rippling, his hand was shaking so much.  “You’re the love of my life, and I’d be willing to bet anything—in fact, I’d bet Steve’s life—that I’m the love of yours.”

“James—”

“Tell me that you love him,” he said, now standing just mere inches from you.  He set the glass on the vanity without breaking eye contact.  You could feel his breath gently fanning across your face.  “Tell me you love him and I’ll leave.  I won’t ever bother you again.  But, sweetheart, there’s no way he can ever love you how much I love you.”  His hand, calloused and rough, tenderly cupped your cheek.  “I don’t have any right to you, I know.  But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t even try to make things right.  And our love story?  I know it may not feel like it right now, baby, but I promise you, it’s just getting started.”

Even though your eyes were watering, you didn’t step away from him.  Your cheeks had just gotten hotter and hotter the closer he’d gotten to you.  “What are you asking me, James?”

“Come with me,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours.  His voice sounded pained, his metal hand grasping yours.  “We can get out of here, go home.  Please.”

You took in a shaky breath, a million thoughts running through your mind.

“Say you’ll run away with me, sweetheart.”

“I…  I can’t.”

Bucky jerked away from you, feeling like a pot of boiling water had been tossed onto him.  “What do you mean?”

Nose scrunching as you sniffled, you reached out to him.  “Jamie, please…”

He backed towards the door, shaking his head.  “Don’t ‘Jamie’ me.”

Wiping at your eyes, you rushed to explain.  “I can’t just… just leave him at the altar, Jamie!  I can’t hurt him like that!”

“Why not?!”

You looked at him like he’d grown a second head.  “What the hell do you mean, ‘Why not?’  I’m engaged to him.  I promised to spend the rest of my life with him, and—”

“You don’t love him!”

The words died in your throat.  Your chest was heaving against the confines of your dress.  “I’m engaged to him.”

“That doesn’t mean shit,” he said bitingly.  His arms waved around dramatically as he spoke.  “You’re sitting here in a dress, about to give the rest of your life to an asshole—Which, by the way, really?  Chad?  You decided to marry an asshole named Chad of all things?—because you can’t hurt his feelings?”  He really wished he’d downed some of that vodka right about now, even though it wouldn’t really do much for him.  “Are you really going to throw your life away like that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to keep yourself from crying.  You were supposed to walk down the aisle in less than thirty minutes, and your makeup artist would kill you if you’d ruined her hard work.  “I…  I love him.”

Bucky stared at you for a long moment, hoping that you would realize what a mistake you were making.  But when it didn’t come, he let out a huff of air.  “You keep telling yourself that.”  He took one last look at you as he opened up the door, ready to leave.  “Have a happy life, sweetheart.  I’ll…  I’ll see you around.”

He allowed the door to shut behind him before the waterworks started, forcing himself to not go back in when he heard you crying.

Stupid super soldier hearing.

“Bucky?”

He looked up to see Jo standing there, the hopeful look in her eyes quickly diminishing.  “She, um…  She says she loves him.”

He knew that she could hear you crying even without a super soldier serum coursing through her veins.  Without even giving him a second look, she slipped into the room and out of his sight.  Your sobs seemed to get even louder when she entered.

Not able to withstand the torture that was being so close to you without being able to call you his, Bucky ran.

He left the church, grabbing a bottle of champagne that was sitting on the catering truck outside.

It would seem that your reception was to be in the basement of the church, of all places.

He didn’t even bother to tell anyone he was leaving.  After all, he’d ridden with the team to the church, and he didn’t want to have to beg one to drive him back to the Tower and miss the ceremony.  They’d actually been invited.

You wanted them there.  But not him.  Not after how badly he’d fucked up.

It wasn’t like any of them actually expected him to be able to make it through the vows, or even into the sanctuary.

He aggressively wiped at his eyes as he walked down the crowded streets of New York City.  “Don’t you have places to be?” He wondered aloud as yet another person bumped into him.

His feet knew where to take him before his mind did.

The 50 Street Station on Broadway.

The night you first met, you’d just finished a shift at Ellen’s Stardust Diner.  Your roller skates were sitting by your feet as you waited for the subway.  Bucky had just been wandering around the city and had somehow ended up across Manhattan.

He’d instantly been smitten with the girl working her way through university, and it had been history from there.

He sat on one of the benches, uncorking the bottle with little difficulty.

If anyone was curious as to why an Avenger was drinking in a subway station at noon on a Saturday, no one asked.

And in his nice suit, too.

“Oh, buddy, how the hell did you end up here?” He asked himself before taking a long swig from the bottle.  Some of the bubbling liquid dribbled down his chin and he wiped it on his jacket sleeve that definitely cost more than his childhood home back in the twenties.

He would kill for some of Thor’s Asgardian mead at the moment.

But he’d just have to settle for some second rate champagne that, honestly, probably wasn’t even real champagne.

“Probably made in America,” he muttered to himself as he inspected the bottle.

Sure enough, right there on the back under all the nutritional information, it said Made in California.

“Can’t even get real champagne for her,” he said to no one in particular.  No one in the station was paying him any mind, choosing to let him wallow in misery on his own.

Seven trains had passed by before he heard it.

“James?!  Jamie?!”

He imagined that right?  The wind from the trains was playing tricks on him.  Making him hear your voice.

An exquisite form of torture, really.

“Jamie!”

But it sounded so real.

Curiously, he lifted his head, the almost empty bottle dangling from his fingers.

And there you were.

Still a vision in white in your wedding dress.  Your veil was half torn off, your hair falling.  The hem of your skirts was dirty from the muck that covered the streets of New York City.  You held a suitcase in your hand, rolling your shoulder back to accommodate the weight and pressure of carrying it through the city.

“What are you doing here?” He asked as he got to his feet, the champagne forgotten.  He wiped at his eyes, desperately trying to appear more put together than he felt.  “You…  You are here right?  I’m not hallucinating or anything?”

“No, you’re not hallucinating,” you said as you set the suitcase down with a huff.

He blinked slowly at you, almost afraid that you’d disappear if he closed his eyes.  “I mean, you never know with fake champagne.”

“Shut up.”

He watched as you sat down on the bench he’d been occupying for a little over an hour and a half, crossing your arms over your chest.  “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing here?”

“You’re getting married to Chad.”

With an eye roll that reminded him a lot of Jo, you kept your eyes on the approaching subway.  “Clearly not.”

He snuck a peek at your left hand, heart pounding when he realized that you didn’t even have your engagement ring on.  “Oh.”

You two sat in silence for a few minutes, not speaking.  It was so peculiar to be in the exact spot that you two had met seven years before.  So much had changed but at the same time, so much was the same.

He was still crazy about you, for one, and it would appear that you felt the same.

“I hate that you’re right all the fucking time.”

His heart skipped a beat and he finally turned to look at you.  “What was that?”

And despite how much you fought it, a small smile was tugging at your lips.  “Shut up.  You know what I said.”

“I’m not right all the time,” he said slowly, inching his pinky closer and closer to yours.  “I wasn’t right to leave you.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“I should’ve just told you that my anxiety was getting the better of me like you told me to.”

“Yes, you should’ve.”

He inhaled sharply as his finger finally brushed yours, and you allowed his fingers to intertwine with yours.

“Better late than never, I suppose,” you whispered, your eyes meeting his.

The silence between you was loaded with tension.  And the both of you knew that you had a lot of things to discuss, things to figure out if you were going to work in the long run.

But you were here and he loved you and you loved him.

And that was enough.

[shadow--writer]

I Light up Like a Sparkler, Feel it Getting Warmer

title (this is one of my fav bands lol. they released the end of their newest album and it was all I could listen to for a week asdf)

Maeve x Lucas. Let’s try this one again (again). 3.9k

TW: none!

@dela-png

The Raven was boisterous when they entered, both making her gut sink and heart flutter a little. 

While she loved how loud it was, with people laughing so hard they bent over themselves. 

It meant more…

“Songbird!”

...of Eli. He was a regular patient at her clinic. And a total dumbass. A loving one, sure, but a dumbass.

“Ya gonna play for us tonight, hermosa dama?”

She rubbed her temples, cracking an eye open to look at him. She wasn’t very fluent in the language he spoke, but she’d heard it enough to guess what he was saying. 

“I need a few drinks before we go that far,” she replied, keeping her voice flat.

Eli laughed, raising his tankered at her. 

Lucas chuckled, kissing her cheek. “Well you’re popular.”

“Mmm. My dream.” 

She cracked an eye open to look around. Some of the people sitting by Eli paled they looked over at her. 

No...they weren’t looking at her. It was Lucas.

It was strange seeing it, like they had seen a ghost. Or something from the past. It wasn’t normal to pale like this. Sure Lucas was…well Lucas. She wouldn’t lie and say he was a small man.

Lucas shifted nervously, looking down at the ground. At their feet. Her legs. Anywhere but at the Raven falling quieter.

She frowned, turning away from the group. 

She’d ask him about it later. 

“We’ll just…get a place at the counter and wait for Amani, okay?” she said softly, shifting away to move to the counter.

She hated killing the mood by thinking, but something was just off. Or something was happening and he wasn’t telling her. Or it was both.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, rolling her eyes. He didn’t have to tell her anything he wasn’t comfortable with. Just as she kept things from him. 

But why did this feel bigger than whatever secrets she might’ve had?

She winced, thinking back on Nicolas as she sat on a stool. The fact she was thinking his name again was a good sign. 

After years of not. Was she healing?

…the nightmare she had pleaded the case of no. 

She let out a sigh, tangling her hands in her hair. Barth chuckled as he cleaned a glass, almost reading her mind. “We got a new shipment of gin.”

She peaked through her fingers. “I’m listening.”

Lucas sat next to her, hunching over a little as he pressed his shoulder against hers.

She reached over to pat his knee.

“And the usual for you?” Barth asked, throwing the rag over his shoulder and settling the glass down. 

She smiled a little, banishing all thoughts of Nicolas. Ugh she was never going to get over his name. Saying it, thinking it, it was all the same.

“Oh no. Mo stór will have a glass of water.” Oops she said that a little…loudly.

Lucas groaned, burying his face in his hands, the tips of his ears going red. 

There was a snort and a wheeze and Lucas looked like he wanted to melt further.

Ah. So it seemed Amani arrived.

She slowly gathered her wits up, mulling over what the fuck to say to her as Barth slid her a gin. And a water. 

“Thanks my love,” she said to him with a smile that was more of a grimace. Yeah. She was fucked. Nothing was quite like the wrath of Amani. She just hoped a peace offering would at least help a little. 

“Water huh?” Amani asked, walking over and throwing an arm around his shoulders, rubbing her knuckles into his hair. “Surprised you even knew it existed!”

Maeve hid her smile in her glass. Okay. Less fucked. “He lost a wager. No alcohol for a week.”

Amani perked up, plopping herself in Maeve’s lap. She let out a startled choke, giggling. 

“Ooh is that gin? Don’t mind if I do.” Amani plucked the glass from her hands, taking a swing. “Mm! That new, Barth?”

He nodded, chuckling to himself. 

Oh they were causing a scene.

Maeve smiled, resting one hand on Amani’s hip and the other on her knee. 

She liked it.

“Mmm this is really good!” Amani said, lighting up. She offered the glass to Lucas, her smile growing mischievous. “You should try it- oh wait!”

He pouted and Maeve pursed her lips to keep from laughing harder. 

“So. What’s this wager that my loving dumbass lost?”

“Amani,” he whined.

“Well,” Maeve said, smiling and letting out a breath. “He took me out on a date.”

“Oh fuck! Really?!” 

“Why are you surprised,” Lucas asked, pressing his cheek against the counter, sulking at the water.

“Well didn’t she fuckin dump ya? And your ass was pissed!”

“Mmm. Yeah. And you still owe me a lot of repairs.”

“Psh repairs reshamers.”

“…my broken stools would like to say otherwise.”

“Eh, what's a little property damage between friends!”

She liked that Amani considered them friends in that one sentence. But yeah she didn’t deserve it.

“I um…don’t think I’m worthy of being called a friend,” she murmured, her arms going slack. She fucked up pretty badly. Maybe not for the long term.

But she did hurt him.

Amani looked over her shoulder with a withering glare. “You’d better shut your bitchass mouth before I do.”

“Amani please don’t kiss my partner.”

“Hey wasn’t talkin bout kissin but she does have a nice mouth when she doesn’t run it on bullshit.”

Lucas’ lips quirked up in a tiny smile.

She wilted.

Oh no they were ganging up on her.

“It is a nice mouth.”

“And here I thought we were teasing you,” she replied, her tone miffed. She took her glass back from Amani and looked away from them as she bitterly took a swing. 

He chuckled, and she knew he saw the tips of her ears burning red.

“But eh, fuck it. Ya seem to draw this ass outta his shell a little more and make him happy and all that. Just don’t dump him without a good reason and we’re good.”

“But I-”

Amani pressed a finger to her lips with a grin. “Please, inviting me out here was a peace offering. I can see right through ya.”

“…well, yeah.”

“‘Preciate it. But I’m just glad I talked sense into ya. Also Lucas shared a smidgen of the blame. Sure, dumping him was harsh.” Amani’s eyes shone with understanding, she wasn’t going to mention why Maeve did it.

And she appreciated it, relaxing a little. 

“But hey. Guy’s gotta go through the stages of pining and hurt at lighting speed somehow.”

“…comforting.”

“Now tell me about this date ya went on.”

“He lost a wager we made. And got me bit by an eel.”

His head shot up. “I did not! You fell in all on your own!”

“Yeah! After you startled me!”

“It was an accident!”

Amani snorted. “Isn’t this the second person you’ve gotten bit?”

“I know right! The eels must flock to him thinking he’ll lay out their next meal!”

Lucas turned away from them, messing with his glass as they giggled.

“So. Wager?”

“We did a bit of sparring.”

“…always a good choice on a first date.”

“He called me shortie, and if he wouldn’t defend my honour I had to.”

“I said it because it’s true,” he mumbled.

“Well compared to you I might be, but I still kicked your ass so don’t you forget it.”

“You won’t let me.”

“Oh right, no alcoholic drinks for a week. What’s my poor darling supposed to do? Drink literally anything else? The horror.”

“So you banned him from drinking?”

“Oh great,” Lucas moaned.

Amani chuckled, throwing her head back and nearly making them topple off of the stool they shared. “Oh you are evil! I like it!”

She took a swing of her gin, finishing it off as Amani ordered her own drink. 

“He made his bed now he must lie in it.”

“You sparred for this?”

“Mmhmm.”

Amani squinted, looking at her. She tilted her head, the gold paint around her eyes shimmering a little. Maeve looked over at Lucas for help, and he was, of course, none. 

“W-What?”

“You...sparred with him?”

“Is it that hard to believe?”

“And won?”

She smiled a little, giggling. “What, like it’s hard?”

Lucas looked over at them and smiled at her. “It was awesome.”

“What’d she do?”

“She kicked my nose.”

“And your ass. Literally.”

He snorted, taking her hand off Amani’s knee and holding it gently. “Flipping me over your shoulder is nothing to sniff at.”

“Holy shit she flipped ya? That is fuckin awesome!” Amani said, looking back at Maeve. “You’ve gotta show me how to do that.”

“Now?”

“...good point.”

“Destroy my bar and that’s even more on your tab,” Barth added, making Amani laugh.

“You know I wouldn’t.” He raised an eyebrow and she wilted a little. “...wouldn’t much.”

Maeve snorted, squeezing Lucas’ hand. “I’ll teach you later,” she told the woman who was still on her lap. Barth slid an amber liquid over to them and another gin. 

“Then what did you do?”

“Well everyone has pressure points tucked in our biceps. Press them hard enough and your arms will go numb. Hurts like a bitch but it’s good at taking down someone who is…” she smiled a little, looking at Lucas. “Bigger.”

Amani snorted. “With you two? That’s an understatement.”

Maeve giggled and Lucas blushed a little. “He wounded my pride so I had to stand up for myself.” She tweaked his nose. “And got his ass banned from alcohol. Tired of water?”

His eyes turned pleading. Reminded her of a puppy. “Yeah.”

She leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose. “They might have cider. I could order you some.”

His face fell and he made a face at her. “I’m not a kid. I can order my own cider.”

She sipped on her gin, hiding her smile in her glass. “Ah, of course. I hear the cider is very good though.”

“Better than water.”

She gasped in mock offense, holding a hand to her chest. “Slander water and I will throw you over the counter.”

He snorted, fighting back his smile. “Yes because you would risk that.”

She fluttered her lashes. “I can claim I was just simply...drunk and you said a comment that landed poorly. I must defend my honour after all, and I have quite the reputation.” Two gins in? Hardly enough to get her buzzed. 

She was quite proud of her alcohol tolerance. She could best even the largest of people in a game. It made betting fun. 

“Reputation? For what?”

She winked, letting out a tiny hum. “While I might be a lady I can cause a nuisance if I so pleased.”

“Oh? And how do you do that?” Amani chimed in, tease alight in her tone. 

“I’m not known as ‘Songbird’ for nothing, my sweet lady.”

Lucas snorted. “Lady.” Amani glared at him and stuck out her tongue. Maeve giggled, pressing her lips together to stifle the sound. 

“She does put on a good show if it pleases her,” Barth said with a smile. “She’s almost as bad as Julian.”

Maeve blew a raspberry. “Oh please I only sing.”

“Either way it draws people in,” he said with a shrug. “Plus you look like you have fun.”

Her cheeks reddened. She did have fun when she sang on top of the tables. It was energetic and she liked being the life of the party for once. 

But she hadn’t done anything...like that in front of Lucas. He might not like her doing it, or he’d see her much differently after the fact. She might’ve been vulgar and open (most of the time) but this was almost embarrassing. 

Nicolas didn’t like it because she made a fool of him when she did it. 

She bit her lip. Damn why did she keep thinking of him? He wasn’t here anymore. If she could go back to ignoring all that happened she could get on with her life. 

She nervously looked over at Lucas. He looked interested. 

“Do you play any instruments?” Amani asked. 

“I um...no.” She wouldn’t meet Amani’s eyes. “I...don’t have any to play if I wanted to.” She did have a fiddle of her own. Well, she used to have a fiddle. It had been a gift from her Seanathair, but she…

Her face fell. 

She left it with Nicolas. 

“And no one would want to hear me play! Besides, I don’t have a fiddle to play!”

“You can borrow mine, hermosa dama!” Eli offered from where he sat, waving his bow around.

Amani cocked an eyebrow with a smirk.

She wilted. 

Fuck.

“It’s just one little song, wouldn’t it be fun?” Amani said sweetly, batting her eyes. “Playing music again after so long!”

“...you’re good at this.”

“I’m an expert guilt tripper, that's true.”

“But I don’t think…” she looked at Lucas again and bit her lower lip. He wasn’t Nicolas but he might not like it either. She didn’t know, and after her major fuck up? One she still agreed with but regretted? Yeah. She didn’t want to risk it. Him liking her was already a miracle in itself. She was a disaster in heels. “No one wants to see me play. I sing, I dance, and I arm wrestle over confident people.”

“That I’d like to see. But.” Amani hopped out of her lap, dragging her to her feet. “I wanna see Miss-Prissy-Lady-Pants get rowdy.”

Nerves fluttered in her gut as Amani tugged her over to Eli. Lucas had sat up, intrigued. 

Amani caught her gaze and laughed softly, handing her the borrowed fiddle. “He loves this stuff, don’t worry. He may have the musical talent of a rock, but he likes music. Besides, he likes you.”

She held the fiddle gently, staring at the polished wood. “But I’m out of practice!”

“Let’s see what you remember!”

She sighed, holding it up to her neck and testing a note with the bow. It was tuned and the note came out clean. 

She really wasn’t getting out of this. 

“Besides,” Amani whispered. “Who doesn’t like to get rowdy once in a while?” She shoved Maeve forward, making her stumble over herself. Her heels clicked on the floor and the Raven quieted. 

Fan-fucking-tastic.

She shot a glare at Amani, who had settled back onto the stool with her rum in hand.

Lucas mouthed ‘you got this’ with a dorky smile and she sighed again. 

Ugh peer pressure. 

She stood on a chair and stepped onto the table Eli sat at. He was grinning wildly. Breathing in once, she closed her eyes. She knew this tune. It had been burned into her memory from playing it so many times. 

It was different each time. 

Allowing herself to smile, she tapped her foot and played the first note.

The jig was quick, picking up from the first little note as she skipped around the table. Around the glasses and people laughing at her antics. Normally she would sing, picking up her skirts and allowing her voice to raise to the roof and lifting her higher. 

Now she was playing a familiar tune on an unfamiliar instrument. 

Her heels clicked as she spun, giggling a little to herself as she opened her eyes. 

People clapped, keeping the beat and keeping her on track. As she turned, she met Lucas’ eyes. 

He was grinning at her, clapping and cheering a little. His cheeks were rosy and he looked so...perfectly happy. 

She winked at him, bending down as the tune’s pace quickened. She flubbed a few notes, ignoring them. No one seemed to notice. 

No one knew the jig like she did. 

She grinned up at the ceiling, feeling lighter than air as she played the last note. It rang through the Raven for a heartbeat before Eli started wildly (and frankly, drunkenly) laughing. 

She laughed with him, bending over herself and shaking as she laughed. She was shaking and nervous. Sweaty but laughing so hard she was snorting. 

Lucas got to his feet, moving closer to her while holding out his hand, getting to her feet and tucking the fiddle under her arm, she kissed him softly. He was grinning like a loon as he helped her hop down from the table. She landed with a click, handing the fiddle back to Eli. 

Walking back to Amani, her legs shook. She collapsed on Lucas’ stool, him muttering about how he had to move down one. 

She buried her face in her arms, trying to stifle her nervous laughter. Lucas set a hand on her lower back, gently patting her back. 

“See! That wasn’t so bad!”

“I h-h-hate you,” she stuttered through her giggles. “N-N-Never gonna d-do that a-again.”

She could see Lucas’ brows creasing in worry. She never really stuttered. Last time she stuttered it was after…

She stopped giggling. That dream. 

She looked at Amani. “Happy now?”

Amani only smiled back. “Well, kind of. Now that I know you can play~”

“Yeah. Play with what?”

Her smile grew wicked. “I know a couple places to get something for you.”

“Let me guess...you’re going to steal it? Oh! Borrow without returning?”

Amani gasped, holding the back of her hand to her forehead. “You wound me! I would never steal anything! Stealing is a crime and I am a simple law abiding citizen!”

Lucas snorted, shoulders shaking as he laughed. “Name one law.”

“...don’t kill people?”

Maeve snorted. “You set the bar a bit low there, darling.”

“...that I did.”

“Ooh I see we’re at pet names now,” Amani teased. 

“We’ve always been at pet names,” she replied. 

“The question is if they’re nice or not,” Lucas said, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer. The stool rocked and she let out a tiny squeak. He ruffled her hair, kissing the top of her head. 

“T-They’re always nice!” she said, trying to push his face away. He only nuzzled her fingers, making her chide him softly. “You’ve just never gotten your head outta your ass long enough to understand that. They could be sickening sweet for all you know.” And they were. It’s why she liked them.

“Ugh you two are sickening sweet,” Amani groaned, making a face. 

“You know Firefly, I think Amani is jealous,” Lucas said, Maeve squishing his cheeks to make his lips pucker a little. 

She giggled. “Oh? A nickname for me? You really think of me as a bug?”

He glared at her, it was hard to take him seriously when he looked like a fish. She kissed him lightly, still smiling. “It’s because you glow,” he whined. “And even if you were a bug you’d be a cute bug.”

She snorted. “Wow you really know how to woo a girl.”

“Well you’re lucky he’s going with ‘firefly’ instead of ‘hairy spider’,” Amani said, making Lucas snort. 

She giggled, smoothing out the creases around his eyes. 

“Would you rather I call you my lightning bug?”

“Annnd you’re back to being disgustingly sweet.”

They ignored Amani’s whining with soft laughter. 

“Well, it’s not so bad,” she finally admitted. “It’ll grow on me.”

“At least you know what it means.”

She giggled, smiling a little smugly. “If you learn my language you’d understand it!” she sang

“Or you could just tell me,” he sang back. 

Err well, tried to.

She burst out laughing, letting go of his face and wrapping her arms around his neck as she laughed. “You’re terrible.”

He kissed her cheek. “I could say the same about you, Songbird.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down.”

“You were lovely when you played. Why don’t you do it more often?”

“I can’t afford to. I’d play all the instruments I grew up with if I could…afford to have them.” Nicolas probably destroyed her fiddle anyways. 

She missed playing. 

“I did offer to steal some!”

She turned to look at Amani. “Ah! So you admit to it!”

Amani stuck her tongue out and they giggled.

Her lips twisted and she smiled. “Let me think about it.”

Amani winked. “Take all the time you need, it’ll be fun!”

Lucas sighed, resting his chin on Maeve’s shoulder. “Just don’t get caught.”

“Me? Get caught? That hurts even more than you thinking I was a criminal!”

Maeve stage whispered to her. “If it makes you feel any better I’m a wanted criminal.”

Amani gasped. “Miss Prissy Pants? No way!”

She giggled, pressing her hands to her mouth as she nodded. Maybe Malory having the guards chase her every time she went to the market was good for one or two things. 

“Ya gotta tell me this story.”

“Well part of it has something to do with Lucas thinking I hated him with a nickname for a specific story.”

His eyes lit up. “You were a spitfire!”

“And I’ll be one again if you push me,” she said with a smile, but her tone was dead serious. “You haven’t pissed me off just yet.”

“Yet?!”

She kissed his temple, smiling and launching into her story.

~~

The Raven slowly quieted as the candles burned low, Amani yawning through her tale about stealing from some demon. Again. 

While it was entertaining, Amani was dead on her feet. And quite frankly, maybe even a little drunk. 

“You should get her home,” she said softly, leaning against Lucas’ shoulder. 

“She lives in the Flooded District.”

“Mmm that is a bit far. Can you take her to your home?”

“Yeah. She’s going to have quite the headache when she wakes up.”

Maeve chuckled. “Nothing a good cup of coffee won’t fix. Want me to help carry her?”

“You also have to get home. You live a ways away from me. In the opposite direction.”

She hummed. That was true. “We’ll just walk until we need to split up then?”

“Yeah. I can’t visit you tomorrow since I have to pick up another shift.”

She smiled, getting to her feet. “I don’t mind a day without you. Make it up to me later?”

He chuckled, kissing her forehead and getting to his feet. “Or I could visit you,” she said with a smile. “Won’t make lunch but I might bring a present.”

He smiled, gently waking Amani and lifting her up on his back. She grumbled incoherently and fell back asleep. 

“You don’t have to.”

“Ah! But I must.”

He sighed but his smile didn’t falter. It fell into a comfortable silence as they walked down the street. It was dark and kind of gloomy, but she had a happy buzz making her body warm.

They soon came to where they needed to part ways. She jumped a little to kiss his cheek.

“Goodnight,” she whispered, tapping his nose once before moving to walk away.

“Thumbelina, wait.”

She turned and was quickly swept into a kiss. He couldn’t do much with Amani on his back, and she let out a tiny ‘mmph!’. It was a different kind of kiss. Sweetness replaced with desperation. It was needy and all encompassing, leaving her skin burning hot. 

He wouldn’t meet her eyes when he pulled away, cheeks red with embarrassment. 

She stood shocked for a moment, touching her lower lip. She started to giggle, biting her lower lip. His eyes quickly snapped up to meet hers as she laughed. 

“S-Sorry it’s just.” She pursed her lips with a smile, standing on her tiptoes and tangling her hands in his hair. “I um. Didn’t expect that.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “You kiss goodbye like it’s going to be your last.”

His ears were red as she rubbed her nose against his, still giggling. “Goodnight Giant. Get home safe.”

“Y-You too.”