#personally i would not let any of that deception and standing up slide

[sodiumreactstowater]

really too lazy to paste in a picture but watching Puss in Boots again in almost 10 years after watching the sequel in cinemas is filling me with so much serotonin.  and the fact that kitty has been through so much my girllll (i would rub santa coloma in his face too homegirl already had trust issues and is self-deprecating and he stood her up on their wedding day nuh uh) puss too poor guy i almost did not believe humpty  that's all good night i have class tmr rip

[nelithic]

having stood watching, taut as the rope she held, for a tense moment already, she had been all too ready to answer the shout as soon as it came. not a breath after the last syllable leaves bunet's mouth, the straining horse is caught in the bite of a four-pronged vice, abruptly halting its movement. —though not its terror. the terrible screaming it raises, no doubt fearing in earnest now for its life, is enough to frighten off whatever wildlife remains in the area; nel exhales reluctantly through her nose and loosens her grip just enough, she hopes, to avoid doing it harm while still keeping it secure. the fell dragon's tail is deceptively strong for its slender appearance, and she has no issue pulling the animal easily from the bog, muck-caked legs kicking wildly as soon as they're freed.

it is a frightful display, all its tossing and biting, though ultimately in vain. the horse stands to hurt itself sooner than it would her — and it's this thought that has her sliding her gaze from it to bunet, much smaller now off to the side. forked tongue flickers out as if in thought, taking in his signature as well as the animal's. "it is now freed, though i am unsure how best to proceed from here. being seen by the village in this form is more likely to do harm than good." she could release the creature and hope that it would run back to its home, though it also seemed equally as liable to bolt in any direction, potentially trapping itself a second time.

she should at least set it down.

lowering the animal gingerly to solid nearby ground at the bog's perimeter, nel watches as its hooves scramble madly for purchase, sending clods of grass and mud flying. she does not let it go yet for the sake of its and bunet's safety, but perhaps with it so restrained, he may have it easier trying to calm it again — so long as he stood beyond its reach.

though first, he would likewise need to return to safer ground. with another flicker of tongue, slitted draconic pupils study first the stranded bunet, then the quicksand, then the length of inter-woven garments now lying usefully half-sunk in the muck where it had dropped when she had transformed. a pang of remorse softens crimson, lending them a momentarily humane hue — "i apologize for your clothes" — before she next eyes the lance he had expertly used to make his way across initially. "are you able to ' jump ' your way back as well? ... if not, i... suppose i could pick you up in my jaws." but a drop in tone conveys her reluctance even as she suggests it. picking someone up as though they were a piece of meat aside, there is not a single person who would feel safe gripped in the mouth of a dragon, no matter how benign the intention.

a misfortune that her tail is already occupied, and she lacks the forelimbs of a divine dragon in this moment.

𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬.

[aetheternity]

My wifey, my best friend

Synopsis: Draken knew two things in his life for sure. One, that his best friend was a virgin and two, that he had a thing for his best girl. So he decides to kill two birds with one stone. 

Disclaimer: Fem reader, Unprotected sex, kinda not really a threesome, Oral sex (m recieving), and voyeurism are all present in this. (Minors dni) 

It wasn’t hard to see. Draken’s girl had always been a sight for every man’s eyes. Even before they’d gotten together. She got attention for the way she presented herself, her face, her body and overall just how chill of a person she was. Because while she looked mean (and honestly she could be at times). She was always ready to defend anyone in her squad. 

And very often that meant Mikey. Which Draken had always been thankful for seeing as once he had the help he didn’t know how he’d done it by himself for so long. But he didn’t miss how much quicker his girlfriend got violent when it came to Mikey and vise versa. Didn't miss the prolonged smiling between them or the way they were somehow always touching.

Didn’t matter how much she’d deny it when he’d call her out. Her eye roll adorable despite the clear deception behind her words. The flush of her cheeks, dilated pupils and nervous laughter all giving her away. She wasn’t just into Draken.

She was into Mikey too. She just didn’t seem to see what he saw.  

At first it had been a bit of a sore subject filling his brain. His girl and his friend had the same feelings for each other? Well he knew you wouldn’t cheat on him, you’d always been such a sappy romantic. Crying over love stories you’d read online and forcing him to watch movies that were far too long for just a stupid kiss at the end. 

And he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Mikey wasn’t a concern. But every time he saw you two together it seemed as though you’d gotten even closer than the last time. Which eventually became the basis for a plan. 

“Hey.” Draken’s braid hung down the back of your couch as he called to you where you stood in the kitchen filling a big bowl with an assortment of chips and popcorn. 

“Hey.” You mimic his deep voice with a giggle coming over and setting the bowl in his lap. 

“Did you have fun with Mikey today?” He asked pressing a light kiss to your forehead. 

“Yup. Me, Mikey, and Emma had a lovely day out today.” You tossed a kernel of popcorn into your mouth with a snicker. 

“Don’t be like that. You know I’m not asking because I'm jealous.” His hair tickled the side of your face as he leaned in closer brushing stray strands of hair back from your cheeks. 

“No no, I know Ken Ken.” 

His breath flushed over your cheeks and nose when you met his eyes. You brushed your fingertips up the side of his head to trace his tattoo. His hands meeting your waist, fingers threading over the small of your back while he kissed you. And you returned the affection with every bit of eagerness that flooded your body. 

“What do you have going on Saturday?” He asked as he pulled away 

Your smile was warm, eyes practically twinkling as you said, “I don’t know whatever you’re doing I guess.” 

“You, me, Mikey, Mario Kart.” He suggests 

“That sounds so fun.” You place a kernel of popcorn on his tongue before turning to flip on the movie pulled up on the DVD player. 

“What is this?” Draken grumbled over the snack in his mouth. His demeanor quickly shifting. 

“I told you I was finally gonna show you The Notebook tonight.” You replied and Draken resisted his urge to groan as you cuddled up to his side fishing a couple chips out of the bowl still in his lap.

~~~~

Saturday morning Draken had arrived at your house at eleven am. He’d set everything up. You thought Mikey was coming at one but Draken had told him eleven knowing that he probably wouldn’t actually get there till twelve.

He’d helped you carry the bulky consoles and teased you all morning just so he could get you here. Right now at 11:45 am, your ass pressed between his bare thighs, socked feet tickling his bare knees, with your panties hanging off one foot as you worked your body up and down his length. The steady claps of your skin meeting creating a beautiful noise that bounced off the drab paint job in your living room. 

His name left your lips with a chorus of pleas. Pleas for his attention to your clit. Pleas for his thrusts to be harder. All greedy and messy while you gripped his shoulders tight for some form of stability. 

“Come on Darling, you can do it.” He replies thickly, the fingers he has sinking into the smooth flesh of your back hurt but the tighter it gets the more he’s enjoying it. “You’re doing so well.” He groans 

He slips a hand under your tee shirt looking for a better angle. His thighs spread and just for a couple seconds he indulges his good girl a little more. Feeds into your anxious cries as you whine about needing your orgasm so bad. Cock brushing against your cervix while you greedily weep for more.  

“Take it then.” He tells you breathily, head tilted back to show off the bob of his adam’s apple. His groans a little deeper as you work him up so close. Cunt squeezing so perfectly around him. Strands of his hair stuck to his forehead from the accumulation of sweat. “I want you to make yourself cum, Darling.” 

Your fingers twist into his shirt at every slam of his hips. Wandering hands drifting up to cup your breasts through your bra before coming back down to your hips.

You clearly can’t hear it. Too lost in bliss but the subtle click of the door opening and closing isn’t lost on Draken at all. He never stops feeding you his cock though. Not as the taps of footsteps get louder, not as the pounding in his chest gets a little harder and not even when Mikey is standing right in front of the two of you. 

“Name, Ken ch-” 

Mikey freezes and your eyes fly open thrashing around to grab the blanket at the end of the couch to cover your lower half. “Oh my god Mikey!” Mikey stays quiet though his eyes grow dark, lips parted as he stares at the two of you. “Mikey, I thought you weren’t coming till one..” You huff, hand over your forehead and eyelids as you clutch the blanket a little tighter with one hand. 

“Are you saying you’re upset that he’s here early?” Two sets of eyes fall on Draken. He has yet to let go of your hips as you sit in his lap still fully seated on his dick with his best friend standing only a couple feet away. 

“Not this again Ken..” Your words drift away as the palm of his thumb slips beneath the blanket to slide smoothly over your swollen clit. Surprisingly Mikey doesn’t make a move to leave. Feet seemingly stuck in their current position. 

He leans toward your ear though it's still loud enough for Mikey to hear. “Are you trying to tell me you didn’t squeeze my cock when Mikey walked in? Are you saying you don't like his eyes on you while I make you a mess?” 

“Wha.. Ke-” A breathy gasp leaves your lips. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mikey finally finds his voice though it lacks the malice he usual manages to possess. 

"You might as well stay while we finish. She's almost done."

Draken spreads your thighs with one arm pulling one of your ankles up till it’s resting partially against his shoulder and partially against the back of the couch. Slowly but surely the blanket begins to slip off your lower half exposing you slightly to Mikey. With your other leg resting against his; he thrust into you so deep that it creates a noticeable bulge in your stomach for just a split second.

A couple whimpers flutter off your lips and you try to slightly steady yourself as Draken guides his length into you without even the slightest hesitation. The couch shudders with loud creaks as if it's protesting the rough pace Draken has set never taking his eyes off a still shocked Mikey.

"Have you ever thought of fucking her like this?" Draken asks his voice husky and thick over your moans.

You're almost unabashed in the way you look over to Mikey with tears welling against the corners of your eyes. Thigh tensing with every rough pound of Draken's hips.

"K-ken.." You try only to gasp. It makes Mikey's hand fly to his tee shirt trying his best to cover what was so obviously growing right before you and Draken's eyes.

"I want to watch as Mikey fucks you." Draken finally admits. "Would you want that darling? Want Mikey to pound your pretty pussy like I always do?"

"Mm close.." You cry, lips trembling and wet as you throw your head back. Your fingers twist in Draken's shirt, leg twitching awkwardly by his head.

Mikey's lips hang open. His breathing raspy as your whole body tremors. You lean forward in Draken's grasp pushing him even deeper inside you as you cry over and over, "M' cumming K-ken.."

Draken lets his head fall back against the couch as you milk him while you're trapped in your own euphoria. His dick twitching through the intense groans you pull from his chest. When he's finished he places a gentle hand on your stomach.

"Will you take care of Mikey now?" He lifts your body off of him, placing you next to him.

"You want me to fuck your girlfriend? Have you lost it?" Mikey asks, cheeks stained a bright pink.

"Yeah, I'm giving you permission to show, Name a good time while I watch."

Mikey looks over to you. Slowly but surely you extend your hand to him looking at Draken for any bit of hesitation on his part. He hesitants and then his sandals are clicking against the hardwood as Draken motions for him to get between your legs. Mikey's eyes wide with attention as he stares down at you, hands stiff at his sides.

You look to Draken again who's pulled off his shirt by this point; laying back against the couch to rub his softened cock back to life. "Kiss him." Draken nods to Mikey who's basically stone at this point.

"C-can I?" You sit up pressing your hands to his cheeks immediately delighted by the strands of hair delicately brushing against the knuckles of your fingers.

When you lean into him, he presses forward. Hands reaching for the back of the couch for support. His lips are cold. Not at all what you'd thought they'd be. Hesitant, a little shaky and over all cute.

You couldn't help but trace the shape with your tongue. They were smaller than Draken's that part was obvious and more gentle too as though he was scared he could hurt you from just a small kiss. When you pushed him a little further coaxing his lips apart he conceded for you. With a heavy breath he slid one hand down to your face, Adam's apple bobbing where you could see it through your peripherals.

When your tongue slid into his mouth he took a deep breath cautious as you prodded forward with your tongue. And just as soon you were pulling away.

Draken added pressure to his tip with his thumb before sliding his hand back down his shaft in a smooth motion. "Take her shirt off." He instructed

Not only were Mikey's lips cold but his fingertips were also slightly cold as they slipped under your shirt with shaky hands. When you reached for Mikey's shirt Draken tsked,

"Be careful with him. He's still a virgin."

Mikey gritted his teeth in Draken's direction but ultimately said nothing. Weirdly enough that information broke the tension still present in your shoulders.

"Aw Mikey that's ok." He raised his arms as you slipped his dark blue shirt over his elbows, allowing it to join your already discarded clothes in the growing pile.

Though a part of you was slightly curious about whether or not it was by his own choice. With a bit more confidence now you slid your back up the couch a bit pulling Mikey in by the hem of his shorts. Without a second thought you reached behind your back to discard your bra bringing Mikey's free hands up to massage your breasts.

The little gasp he let out was so endearing, eyes clouded with tenderness and lust. Draken snickered at his end of the couch, "How's it feel to touch boobs for the first time?"

"Shut up." Mikey grunted

With your guidance he gingerly twisted and pulled at your taut nipples earning a sweet gasp as a reward. Meanwhile your hands curved up and down his physique, enamored by the touch his abs had just beneath your finger tips. So rough yet smooth and soft as they expanded and contracted for each of his breaths.

Not wanting to waste a second more you gestured to the band of Mikey's shorts, "Is this ok?" And once he nodded you pulled the string loose letting them fall to the ground with his boxers soon following.

Unsurprisingly he was smaller than Draken but he was thicker than you'd imagined. Pretty in both size and color with a much more rounded tip than Draken.

You looked up to Mikey's face. His attention elsewhere as you wrapped a warm hand around the base of his cock. "It's so pretty." You mumbled with a giggle when that gorgeous pink took full color against his cheeks. "I want to put it in my mouth. Can I?"

The bob of Mikey's Adam's apple didn't go unnoticed by you. The way sweat was already starting to appear on his forehead making you smile as he silently moved his hips closer to your mouth.

The hiss that slipped past his lips when you pressed your tongue to his tip and circled it gathering the precum sliding down was precious. And it dawned on you as if you hadn't remembered before that this was Mikey's first blow job.

The famous Mikey was getting his first right here and now. It pushed you further, you left wet open mouthed kisses all over his shaft before letting every sweet inch of him into your mouth. Delicately and steadily over his shaft till you were kissing his pelvic bone.

Never in all the years you had known Mikey had you ever seen him be so cute. His mouth was open for every panting breath he could muster trying and failing to catch his breath. His cheeks an even deeper pink than before and his eyes shut impossibly tight.

He reached out for the back of the sofa as you slowly pulled your mouth back before edging him all the way down your throat again.

"Oh God.." He choked out

Draken's laugh was boisterous the hand that was on his cock now slapped over his mouth as he tried to contain himself. "Darling you can't see from this angle but his face is perfect." He grins

You know it's bad when the only response Mikey gives to this is a loud gasp. His nails digging into the cushions behind you with a heavy grunt.

Draken leaned forward twisting his fingers into your hair gently to guide your head back and forth a little faster. "You look gorgeous, keep going."

Mikey's whimpers fill your ears and spit trickles over your lips. Your tongue swirling over the prominent veins at the base of his cock as you work him up with just your mouth. Curses flying off his lips at an exponentially higher rate.

"Doesn't she have such an amazing mouth?" Draken groaned hand resuming its earlier work.

Mikey could only hum lost in bliss with each thrust of his hips. He managed to angle himself deeper down your throat, reaching out to card strands of your hair back as well as he pushes his cock as far as it could go.

"Shit.. sh-it I think I'm gonna.."

Draken pulled your lips off surprisingly harshly. Fingers still deep in your hair as he guided your thighs open for Mikey. Cum from Draken's earlier orgasm still stained your thighs as Draken pushed Mikey forward by the small of his back.

The angle was kind of weird, especially for a first time but it did help Mikey align better and slowly but surely he was pushing inside. The fill of his cock pressing inside of you left you feeling a bit dazed and your eyes fluttered close. Nails finding purchase on his shoulder blades.

His forehead soon met yours, hitched breaths from his lips flush against your face. "Shit.." He heaved almost breathless.

"Yeah she'll do that to you." Draken grinned. You couldn't tell if it was your heartbeat or his pounding in your ear but you soon regained enough consciousness to wrap your legs around his waist.

"You ok?" He asked, eyelids fluttering open.

"Yeah. Feels good." You reply with a concentrated breath.

Mikey's hand slammed down against the couch cushion as he slowly began to move sucked in by your warm cunt. Every inch of his dick snug inside you. In a way that was so different from the earlier feeling of your mouth.

"Mikey.." You huffed trying not to lose it completely whenever he bottomed out. He wasn't long enough to touch your cervix but every inch of him was so obviously present inside you. Grazing your walls like they were built just for his cock.

"Angle your hips to the right a little." You could hear Draken's voice. All deep and husky like it always got when he was in the mood.

Mikey did as he was told, adjusting his hips till his dick perfectly pressed into your g-spot. You couldn't help it now your head falling back and your thighs shaking when he thrusted right into that spot.

"God.. f-uck.." Mikey grunted

"You're doing so well.." You mewled brushing his blond hair back where it was starting to stick to his face. "It feels.. s'good.."

Your thighs tensed as he started to speed up a tremble setting in his shoulders. You already knew what that meant. Bringing a hand under his chin to pull his lips into yours. The sounds of both Mikey and Draken settling in your ears as you felt the beginnings of the coil tightening in your stomach.

"Mm gonna cum.." Mikey moaned

The feeling of his cock twitching inside of you had you gripping him like a lifeline and he did the same. His arms wrapped around your waist as he emptied himself inside your fluttering walls.

"Oh God.." You sighed

His body continued to tremble, eyes far gone as you held his face to look at him. "You ok?" You giggled, still attempting to catch your breath.

"Draken was right about your pussy." Mikey grins

"Oh my God you told the guys?!" You pick up a pillow next to you chucking it at your boyfriend.

"I only told Mikey that part." Draken replies catching the flying projectile. "Hurry up and finish. This shits getting painful."

"Finish?" You're cut off by Mikey slowly pressing all the way back inside you. "You didn't get to cum." He whispers into your ear. His knee slides onto the couch next to you, guiding your hips against his cock.

Your head banging against the cushions behind you with each of his rough thrusts. Breaths short where they're falling off your lips. You don't miss the way Mikey's eyes clench shut, the way his teeth ungrit trying and failing to keep his noises quiet.

Your once messy and now unruly and missmanaged hair slips from the tie you'd once used to hold it. Strands falling over your face and into your eyes and collecting with the sweat present on every inch of your face.

Draken's groan came from the pits of his throat as he squeezed the tip of his cock in his fist. "I'm gonna cum." He warned, warmth spread through your stomach as you watched the tensing of his body soon followed by his thick cum shooting up only to return to earth. Coating his fists in liquid.

His dark eyes shut as he breathed through his orgasm with a deep sigh.

You cursed under your breath issuing your own word of warning as your thighs clenched around Mikey's waist. "Don't stop.." You pleaded, hands heavy on Mikey's shoulders as you pulled his body closer.

"I won't."

The coil in your stomach soon settled as your release coated Mikey's pelvic region slicking his cock as you cried out. A sense of familiarity soon falling over you as you watched the same build of intensity forming in Mikey.

The roll of Mikey's eyes utterly intoxicating as his hips stuttered forward with a breathy moan for the first bit of his orgasm. Sweat trickled down his forehead, his own hair a complete mess as he released deep inside of you completely losing control of his hips.

"Fuck Mikey.."

Mikey finally pulled out leaving his cum to ooze out of your used pussy as Draken stood from the end of the couch, heading for the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" You asked

"We need chips right? For Mario kart?" Draken called

"Yay we're still playing!" Mikey bounces like he's not still completely naked and didn't just finish fucking you.

"Of course we're still playing. That was the whole point of today." Draken replies

"You don't want to shower first?" You gesture to his cum covered chest and thighs.

"Like all together?" Mikey asks

"Nevermind let's just play."

[aerynwrites]

What You Deserve

Jayce Talis x Reader

A/N: heard this song on my walk the other day and it gave me “running through a castle out into the rain in a ball gown” vibes so…here it is 😂 hope you guys enjoy!

Word Count: 964

Warnings: assumed infidelity (there is none), miscommunication, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, kissing in the rain.

Your heels click noisily in the marble lined halls of the Academy, but the obnoxious sound doesn’t even bother you through the sound of your harsh breathing and hot tears running down your cheeks.

You should have known. You should have known this would happen.

Why wouldn’t it?

The exit approaches faster than anticipated, and you just barely manage to get your hands up in time to shove the heavy doors open.

Bursting out into the open air, your steps never falter, not even at the rain that pours from the sky. It soaks you to the bone almost instantly, drenching your evening gown and plastering it to your skin.

The weight of the drowned fabric does start to slow your steps despite your efforts to move faster as faint calls of your name sound from behind you.

His voice.

Glimpses of what you saw flash before your eyes and it makes the tears come harder. Not that anyone would notice as they mixed with the rain droplets cascading down your face.

It plays over and over again.

Mel touching him, sliding perfect hands up his arms. Jayce leaning against the wall as her lips meet his own. Jayce's hands falling to her hips…

Another sob rips itself from your chest and your throat hurts from the force of it.

Why?

It’s the only question you keep asking yourself despite knowing the answer.

Because he deserves better than you.

Another call of your name - closer now than before, makes you move faster, desperate to put as much distance between yourself and the hurt you feel.

The delicate fabric of your dress catches on the cobblestone street below you, finally pulling you to a halt. Rain drums deafeningly all around you and the torrential downpour keeps you from seeing your peruser until he is practically on top of you.

Your name leaves his lips in a breathless whisper as he reaches out to you, hand scalding hot against your chilled skin.

“Don’t touch me!” You pull away from him, furiously tugging at your dress.

Jayce stands before you, just as soaked through as you are, hair disheveled and falling over his forehead.

Despite him being the last person you want to see, you can’t take your eyes off of him. Captured once again by the beauty that drew you in from the beginning.

“Please, let me explain.” He takes another tentative step towards you, and you have to will yourself to stand your ground.

“There’s nothing to explain!” You say, having to raise your voice to be heard over the pouring rainfall. “I understand, Jayce.”

The way your voice breaks is inevitable.

He looks at you in a way that reminds you of a wounded animal. Confusion and hurt contorting his features. You continue before he can speak.

“You two deserve each other.” The words are forced from your chest you swallow past the lump in your throat.

“I’m not…I'm not her. I can never be her. And she’s what you deserve to have, someone…worthy of being by your side.”

You reach up to instinctively wipe at your tears, the action doing nothing to clear the water from your cheeks.

Warm hands wrap gently around your wrists, something you don’t fight this time. Instead, you stay still as they travel up your arms to rest at your elbows.

“You’re the only person I want by my side.” Jayce tells you, no hint of deception in his eyes as he looks down at you.

Your lips part to argue but he stops you in your tracks, hands squeezing you imploringly.

“Mel came onto me. I would never…” he trails off, blinking away the water that clings to his lashes.

“I love you. And only you. If anyone is unworthy, it’s me.”

Eyes flick over his face, searching for any sign that he’s lying. But if you know anything about Jayce Talis, it’s that he has never lied to you.

Not once.

And if he truly was interred in Mel, you highly doubt he would have chased you out into this storm. You don’t have any words for him, feeling foolish for even thinking he would betray you.

Instead, you lean forward pressing your lips against his. His response is immediate and his lips are warm as he pulls you into him. Strong arms wrap around your waist, his fingers pressing into yiru side through the soaked fabric of your dress. As if he’s afraid of losing you.

He almost did because of your own assumptions.

Rain still falls and you can taste it on your tongue as Jayce continues to kiss you. The only thing that pulls you from him is the need for air and the violent shiver that shudders through you.

He gazes down at you when you separate from one another, his arms resting on your hips. Leaning your forehead against his, you speak just loud enough for him to hear.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed…I just saw-“

Jayce stops you with a quick peck to the corner of your lips. “You thought what anyone would have, if they saw what you did.” He reasons, eyes dancing over your face.

“Why don’t we go home?” He suggests, eyes warm before he leans down to gather the skirt of your dress in his hands. “I can explain everything then.”

You nod, giving him a small smile. “I'd like that.” You say, following him towards the carriage that you all took to the Academy earlier in the evening. “But you don’t have to explain anything.”

You turn to him just before he opens the door to the carriage, pressing one last kiss to his lips before pulling back.

“I love you. I trust you.”

He smiles, following you into the carriage to head home.

[sunder-soul]

is it possible if you do some Tom fluff/soft!smut where y/n stops touching him (like hand holding, hugging etc) because he doesn’t show any interest in it (always has a serious face & looks bored of her etc, when in reality he’s melting inside with butterflies and stuff). so he asks her why and she explains it and it leads to some smut, (only if you’re comfy if you’re not, some making out is fine). <33

Oh my god the second I got this I was like I HAVE to answer this immediately. Thanks for this awesome prompt!!! 💖 

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Tactile

Summary: Affectionate Reader stops touching Tom because he never reacts to it, and when he asks why they stopped things get very, very heated (content warning: smut). Word count: 2.3k Content warning: explicit sex.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Tom had shown you the room about a week after you’d started dating. It was on the seventh-floor of the Castle far away from the regular foot-traffic, a smooth stone wall until you walked past it with a specific need in mind – then the door would appear, carved from the rock before your very eyes to reveal a room that gave you exactly what you wanted.

For him, it was always the same room; a small library so packed with books that the shelves curved overhead to form impossible arches, warm glowing lanterns that illuminated the space inside, and a broad fireplace in front of which sat elegant black couches with reading lamps and tables laden with yet more books. He’s yet to tell you exactly what he thinks of to make the library appear, but every time you go there with him, there it is again.

“Are you alright?” he asks suddenly one evening.

The two of you are on the couches before the crackling fireplace. Tom has an elbow resting on the armrest of the couch and a book in his lap, one long leg crossed over the other, looking at you where you’re sat opposite him. You’re curled up around an assignment with your feet tucked up underneath you and your inkwell balanced somewhat precariously on the cushion beside you.

“I’m fine,” you frown, rather taken aback. “Why?”

Tom is silent as he assesses you, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. You arch a brow and lower your quill, attention fully grabbed. “Tom?”

“You’ve been acting differently,” he says smoothly.

“I have?”

“Yes,” he says succinctly, looking back down at his book. “More reserved.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say slowly.

“You used to be very… tactile,” he says delicately, his long fingers sliding under his page and turning it very nonchalantly. “I’ve noticed that you’ve stopped.”

“Stopped touching you?” you say carefully, feeling more and more surprised.

He nods.

“Well it felt weird to keep doing it since you didn’t like it,” you frown, confused at why he’d even brought it up.

Tom’s eyes snap up to yours. “What do you mean?” he asks curtly.

You raise your brows at his reaction. “Where’s the point of confusion for you?” you ask dryly.

“Why did you think I didn’t like it?” he demands.

“Are you joking?” you deadpan, half-amused. “Tom, you’d just ignore me. I’d go to hug you, or hold your hand, and you’d just look so… bored. It didn’t take a genius to realise that you weren’t interested.”

Tom stares at you. Suddenly you feel a little awkward.

“I don’t mind that you’re not an affectionate person,” you say quickly, “I really don’t. I just felt sort of strange acting like that since it obviously wasn’t what you wanted.”

His jaw goes tight and there’s something almost agitated in the way he looks back down at his book.

“Are… are you alright?” you ask hesitantly, gaze lingering on his fingers that – despite his apparently casual posture – were now gripping the cover of his book so tightly that his knuckles were going white.

“Fine,” he says in a clipped tone.

“Well I’m convinced,” you drawl.

Tom doesn’t rise to your teasing. You frown and put your assignment aside. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I am perfectly well,” he says tersely.

“Is that why you’re about to rip that book in two?” you ask ironically, arching a brow.

Tom shuts the book loudly and tosses it onto the couch beside him. “What would you have me say?” he says in agitation.

“You’re rather obviously upset, Tom,” you say frankly.

“Yes and your observations are always so accurate,” he snaps caustically.

You frown again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tom looks furious for a second and then glowers at the fireplace. Your thoughts whir. The only observation you’d made about him recently had been…

“Is this about me touching you?” you ask slowly, watching him carefully.

Tom looks at you again, tense and frenetic. He doesn’t say anything. Your stomach does a little flip, and you force your nerves down to speak again.

“…Do you want me to start doing it again?”

Tom’s lips press together, his eyes flicking between yours. After a long, silent moment, he nods.

You smother a smile and stand. Tom’s eyes follow you, looking ever so slightly alarmed at your movement – but the expression melts away as you approach him and very languidly rest your hands onto his shoulders, slowly leaning forward and straddling him on the couch. “Then why didn’t you say you liked it?” you say softly, sitting down on his lap and lifting a hand to push your fingers through his hair.

Tom’s gaze is unmoved from your face as his hands slide up your hips and come to a rest on your waist, his touch very reserved. “I thought you knew,” he says quietly.

“Not all of us are mind-readers, Tom,” you tease playfully, your fingers trailing down the elegant curve of his cheek. “Some of us have to rely on menial body language and verbal queues to understand each other.”

“My apologies,” Tom says softly as he leans closer. Your heart stutters despite yourself.

You meet his lips softly, just as warm and full as they looked, his mouth moving on yours deceptively gentle but with the dizzying promise of more to come. Sure enough, you feel his hands slide from your waist up around you as he pulls you closer to him, holding you tightly against him. Adrenaline is spreading like fire through your chest and – wondering exactly how much you can get away with – you slowly roll your hips against his. You hear him take a slightly harder breath and you pull back from the kiss to look at him.

Your stomach twists at what you see. Tom stares at you with something like hunger on his face, his eyes dark and intense. You can’t resist rocking your hips again just to see his reaction. Tom’s jaw goes tight and he leans in hard, his lips crashing into yours and moving ravenously, his hand curling into a fist of your hair and pulling you deeper into the kiss. Heat spreads through your body and grows hotter and hotter as it goes on and on, your fingers carding into the waves of his dark hair as you kiss him back as hard as you can, as you spiral from control and you’re barely able to think anymore.

Tom is pushing your robes off of your shoulders and you distractedly shrug them off as you lean into the kiss, your heart racing as his fingers slip under the bottom of your jumper and pull it up. You’re forced to break the kiss to let him lift it over your shoulders but he captures your lips the second it’s out of the way, his long fingers already on the buttons of your blouse. You can’t stop touching him, your hands in his hair, against his jaw, down his neck, and then he’s sliding his hands against your skin and your blouse falls to the ground behind you. Tom pulls you forward hard to bring your body flush against his chest, his tongue tracing your top lip and making you feel like you’re falling.

You can feel him hard against your core.

Body aflame with desire, your hands drop to his belt between your legs but Tom catches your wrists in one hand.

“Wait,” he says silkily, smirking.

Something aches in you so hard your vision reels for a second and you stare at him, unable to look away. He slowly lets go of your hands and his fingers are brushing against your thigh, slipping up and under your skirt. Your eyes close and your head falls onto his shoulder as his fingers trace the outside of your underwear, his touch burning and unbearably light. Tom gently presses his lips to your neck and shivers spread across your skin.

“God, Tom,” you breathe as his lips trail down your neck and his fingers stroke you teasingly.

Tom just breathes a laugh and the next second your underwear are gone, Vanished effortlessly. You only barely contain a moan as his fingers slide with ease and aching heat washes across your skin. “You want this so much, don’t you?” he murmurs against your neck.

But you can’t reply, blind at the pleasure of his touch. His fingers are slow and relentless, easing back and forth like he’s beckoning you further into desire, listening to you moan in his ear. His other hand curls around the back of your neck as he presses his lips up under your jaw, his teeth brushing your skin and making you gasp. “Does it feel good?” he murmurs, his soft words making tingles erupt down your neck.

“Yes,” you breathe, arms tightening around his neck

The pressure of his fingers increasing slightly and your breath hitches. “Are you going to lose control for me?” he asks softly.

“Yes,” you barely manage to say again.

Tom’s other hand cups your face and guides your face around to look at him, his lips hovering right against yours as his fingers stroke burning heat into you, agonisingly gentle, torturously persistent. “You’re going to come for me,” he whispers, “and I want to watch.”

You feel it bloom in you core as if by his command, and Tom’s lips curl into a smirk.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, pulling your forehead against his. “Just like that.”

“Tom,” you gasp as it starts to overcome you.

“Give me what I want,” he says softly, right against your mouth.

It hits you hard and you can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t even think as your heart races, as heat consumes you. Your head is spinning when it finally passes, your breathing ragged when you can bear to crack your eyes open.

Tom is right there, eyes black with desire as they roam your face with hungry scrutiny.

This time when your hands go to his belt, he doesn’t stop you, his hands dropping to your hips again. It only takes a second to pull the buckle apart and unbutton his trousers, and Tom’s hands immediately pull your hips forward, jerking you up onto your knees.

You tangle your fingers in his hair and lean down to his lips, kissing him deeply as Tom’s fingers tighten on your hips and slowly, firmly guide you down on top of him, your knees spreading out on the couch on either side of him as his tongue coaxes your lips apart. Your stomach twists at the feeling of him against you, as he slides into you easily without stopping, guiding your hips down more and more until you’re flush against him again and in one smooth movement his whole length is inside of you.

You cheeks are hot and your heart is going a thousand beats a minute as his hands grip you hard, as he rocks your hips against him, his tongue against yours making you dizzy all over again. He rocks you again, and again, hitting something inside of you that makes you break the kiss to gasp at the electric feeling spreading through you.

Tom stills at once, a crease appearing between his brows.

“Don’t stop, Tom,” you moan at once, leaning your forehead on his again and grinding your hips against him hard.

His eyes flicker and his hands tighten painfully on your hips as he resumes, making you grind against him over and over again until you can’t help the moans he’s drawing from you.

“You feel good,” he murmurs up against your lips, his voice turned low and husky.

“So do you,” you say breathlessly, rocking hard along with his hands and twisting your hips in the smallest circle.

Tom’s eyes fall shut and his head cants forward an inch as he breathes hard. Entranced, you chase the reaction at once, repeating the motion again, and again. Tom’s hands slowly loosen on your hips as you take over, grinding against him with desire aflame on your skin and in your core alike.

“Will you give me what I want?” you whisper, desire turning you reckless.

Tom looks up at you like he’s in pain, his hands resting gently on your waist as he watches you grind against him.

“Will you lose control for me, Tom?” you say quietly, leaning into his lips.

Tom’s hand is behind you neck in a flash, brows furrowing as he pulls you down against his lips aggressively, his grip painfully tight as you feel heat erupt inside of you, as you kiss him back and listen to his hard breathing.

He pulls away after a long, heated moment and cups your face in his hand, staring at you.

Slowly, you lift a hand and gently brush his hair off his forehead, watching his eyes flicker slightly at the touch.

“Can I ask you something?” you say quietly.

He nods silently, his gaze fixed on you.

“What do you think of? When you summon this room?”

Tom’s brows raise like the question surprises him. “That’s what you want to know?” he asks dryly, his lips curving into a smirk.

You nod, letting your fingers trail absently down his face.

Tom pauses for a moment, the smirk fading away as your hands rest against his jaw and your thumbs brush his cheeks softly. “I think about having a place where I can be myself,” he says quietly.

A warmth of a very different kind spreads through your chest, and you’re certain that he can feel your smile against his lips when you lean in and kiss him.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

To request sequels/being tagged in follow-ups, leave a reply in the notes! 💖

[tripmywire95]

Casual Match - Chapter 1

Playlist

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x female reader

Summary: having a side income might’ve been a great idea until you realize that you're too seemingly affected by a certain Sokovian.

Rating: explicit 18+ only (for future chapters)

Warnings: anxiety, sugaring arrangement, is Natasha being a big sister a warning??? Not beta read.

Word Count: 600+

Notes: fic inspired by this post. I decided to come off anon and write the whole thing. I have no set schedule for each chapter so I will be updating this as I go.

“Over my dead body will I sign up for Tinder,” you warn as you sit next to Natasha, offering her a glass of wine. “I just don’t see this working at all.” Particularly setting the age range to 40+. You grab the stem of your glass, welcoming the dry taste of the drink. “If you do change your mind” she says as she gives you a plate of pirozhki, “I know what we can add in your profile to stand out.” Natasha nudges your arm after she sees you roll your eyes.

Later that night with your third glass now empty, you finish up your profile. 72 hours until approval.

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Natasha sees your text. If I don’t reply in the next forty minutes call 911. Just when you’re about to grab the doorknob you feel Nat approach you, that dead set look in her eyes, unblinking. You think you hear some words in Russian. Shit. Pulling out your phone you click on the app, handing the device to her. She finally blinks, but you remain still, any attempt to read her face is useless and it feels like the minutes drag.

“I guess you didn’t need any help weeding out profiles. After all, I did suggest the wrong site.” Her smugness would infuriate you if Natasha wasn’t on full overprotective mode. “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait for you?” You shake your head. “Just text me once you’re done. Alright?” The reassuring squeeze of her hand on your shoulder quelling your nerves for a moment.

Until you meet him.

You’re aware how deceptive photographs can be, you’ve studied it, worked with it, played with it, seen how hard is it to get that good shot underneath the harsh lighting and the motion of the subject. But this? It can’t be replicated by a composition of pixels. He gets up from his chair when he sees you, a small smile playing on his lips, eyes not quite matching his expression.

“Hi,” you say, smile beaming, hands cold. You’re fucked.

He greets you back and grabs your hand gently, placing a kiss to your knuckles. You try to take a deep breath as you both sit. Calm down, he will not see through you.

“This is your first time.”

The hammering of your heart picks up again. You’re about to say some excuse about your supposed excitement when he continues…

“It is mine as well.”

“Oh thank God” you blurt out in relief. “It seemed like you’ve done this before.” Helmut’s eyes soften. “I fear I am not that well-versed with online dating.” You chuckle. “Trust me, you were not missing out. You’re lucky if you have an actual person reply and show up. Let alone if they match with their profile.” He leans closer, the scent of vetiver and cedarwood drawing you in. “My good fortune struck today then. I’m more than pleased to have you here.” There it is, that glint in his eyes. “I would say the same about you as well” you assure him. As the conversation continues you’re able to take your time to notice the things you missed before in your anxious state. To get yourself acquainted with the sound of his voice, that measured tone when he speaks, his accent adding a slight roughness to it. To think of what else that voice can do.

“Is my offer still good?” his fingers hover on the leather bound book. You mouth a yes as he slides the book to you, an envelope peeking from the pages. As your digits count each bill he retrieves the book, adding more “for the inconvenience of startling you.”

This time your smile is relaxed and his finally catches up with his eyes.

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Your fingers are too fast for the glitching keyboard of your phone. Nat, I'm getting you a bottle of Beluga...

[hanibalistic]

#3D341A | LEE JENO.

genre | fluff and angst, demon au

word count | 2117

warning | mention of insecurities, suggestive themes

note | lapslock on a 2k blurb? yes.

the first time you shed your glamor in front of jeno, it had been an accident.

you were always so careful with the way you looked, courtesy to the unsolicited criticism of others and the unwanted woes that came with them, and you were always so meticulous in your preparations to maintain the glamorized form of yourself.

with bottles and bottles of sparkly potions hidden behind the secret wall which entrance was blocked by a wooden shelf of grimoires and magic guide books, all made with great strength and patience, drinking a full bottle in the morning each day would help you maintain the idealized appearance you wanted others to see—bigger eyes, fuller lips, thinner bones, smaller nose, smoother skin, and silkier hair.

you have never missed a day with the potions, and you have never made any wrong calculations in regards to the making process of the potion; everything was taken into account, including the time needed for the herb gathering, the magic channeling, and the brewing of the potion itself. you would never run out of them, and you would never forget to take them.

you have always kept your glamor up without fault. but, unfortunately, jeno has learned no manners at all in all his years of being the insolent, bashful, infuriating demon that he was. barging into your room after you had sent him away and was not expecting his surprise return became your demise, as you had already shed your glamor for the day and were preparing to begin your night routine.

he saw you naked that night. standing by your desk, your perfect skin melting off and your face shifting off its mask, your glamor shed before him, and he saw you naked that night.

he saw you ugly.

you refused to meet him days after the accident, even though it was written in the contract of your pact that you two were to meet each other at least once every week until your deed to research hell magic, as well as your quest to retrieve your best friend's soul from that place was done.

jeno understood your decision. truth be told, he was in shock himself as well. who would have thought that the person he has made a pact with, the person he has been running stupid errands for in hell, the person he has been all over to consume and take the energy from, didn't look the way he always knew they did?

he has been too unassuming of you despite knowing your ability as a powerful sorcerer. little of those would risk their peaceful life meddling with creatures with him, taking one step further to study hell magic instead of being satisfied with earthly and heavenly magic. you had your reason, of course; that missing best friend of yours had you stepping through the shadowy gates with no regard for your own life. 

yet, still, jeno was unassuming of you, and he could hardly blame himself for it, really. 

the binding contract you two shared stated that in return for the resources you asked for, you would give jeno the soul energy needed not to maintain his form, but only to strengthen the power he already has. it was a simple transaction with non-simple repercussions; he gives you deadly herbs, ripped pages of spell books, information from great but dead magicians, and a great big headache for having to deal with his cockiness. you give him parts of your soul through energy transfer, which works through skin-on-skin contact.

normally, demons take soul energy through the act of a mere touch, something like a hand to the back of the shoulder, or a firm handshake if they managed to seal a mutual deal. the process is quick and straightforward, or at least it should be. jeno, however, liked to stall. more importantly, he liked you flustered and raspy in his hands.

there was never anything straightforward with him. there was only tension—tight, hot, budding tension. to jeno, the correct way and the only way to take your soul energy was through the act of roaming and touchy hands. there was only pinning you against your bed or setting you down on his lap, slipping his hands up your shirt or pulling its collar past one shoulder, sliding the tip of his nose down your jaw or leaving gentle marks on your neck.

the only way to take your energy was to leave you weak and putty in his hands, and it has never been easier for him to make your sexual innocence shine through by just pulling you closer to meet his abdomen. 

now, imagine his disappointment when he found out that the person he has been beaming up to, the person he has touched almost thoroughly, the person he has broken out of his comfort zone and shown any form of kindness for turns out to be more than meets the eye? that he has been putting his hands and lips and heart all over a superficial fantasy?

immediately after he had overcome the disbelief and confusion, he found himself struck with annoyance and, somewhat, rage at the pure idea that you wore a glamor with you whenever you met with him. that was, however, in no way an indication that jeno disliked your real form. 

he realized a little after you began seeing him again with the same glamorized form of yourself, and each time he felt a sudden surge of displeasure whenever he had to look at, talk to, and touch that dolled up face of yours, so much that he would rather miss his weekly dose of soul energy than take them from a willing you, that appearances has nothing to do with his raging emotions.

jeno just did not like that you felt the need to lie to him, and that you lied to him at all.

has he taught you shame? has he taught you to be shameful before him?

“take off your glamor.”

“and if i don’t?”

jeno looked to you in silence. you were being dismissive by tinkering with the herbs he just brought you from hell, placing them in jars and organizing them slowly so you could stall time. your glamor was back up, if not stronger than usual as he could sense it, and it was becoming an eyesore for him now that he has caught a glimpse of your true form.

he has been trying to get you to reveal yourself to him. admittedly, his determination and desperation to do so were mainly for his own good—he simply could not handle you, of all people, deceiving him, especially when the deception was nothing but a self-inflicted tragedy of being ashamed of one’s own appearance. to get you to shed your glamor was a favor to both himself and you; him so he could see you fully, and you to face yourself.

he has had no success in doing so, though. even though there were moments when he thought your eyes wavered at the sound of his irritation or the sight of him leaving without letting you fill your end of the bargain, ultimately, you never let up. you kept your glamor up, you kept the beautified features of yours up as long as you could.

“nothing happens,” jeno replied lowly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. he sent you a pointed glare, his gaze hallow and unseeing when he looked at you, making a point that he wanted nothing to do with your glamorized form. “i’m going to leave now. i’ll see you when i’ve gathered everything you need again.”

you almost slammed the jar against the table when he turned around. his painstaking attitude was understandable but intolerable. 

did he think you liked the glamor? did he think you wanted to reform yourself entirely just for people to like you? did he think you liked spending the effort on those potions? who else were you doing this for if not for people like him who pushes their beauty standards unsolicitedly onto people who just wanted to live to their heart’s content? why else would you be doing this if people didn’t teach you to be embarrassed for yourself?

nobody likes to be lied to, that bit you understood. but nobody ever talked about the superficial world created in which lies and cover-ups strengthen your stance. why wouldn’t you do it if it gives you an advantage? why wouldn’t you do it if it gets people off your back?

“you’re just going to ignore me because i don’t want to shed myself for you to see? that’s really mature of you, jeno,” you retorted, the anger in your voice a croaked mess as you battled the urge to cry.

“don’t blame this on me, [name],” he shrugged, “you do want to take off the glamor, you just don’t dare to.”

“and why the hell is that?” you asked with accusations in your tone.

“i don’t know!” he exclaimed with a breathy hiss, taking a sudden step toward you as his eyes flared a shade of demon red that made you stumble back against your table. 

when jeno calmed, the redness in his eyes faded with his anger, and everything in his bones was slowly replaced with softness and regret for having scared you. or perhaps you were upset that he had been mean and insensitive to your insecurities, which would explain the brimming tears behind your eyes. 

he had not meant to. it was in his hellish nature to snap, to be carried away with doing whatever serves him the best. if what he wanted was for you to give him the truth, he’d do whatever means to get it. bullying, snapping, threatening, neglecting—it would be hard to control himself in the heat of something he was passionate about. 

come to think of it, that part of him deserved a glamor much more than your looks that you disliked so much. at least his demonic nature served as a real threat to people he loved.

tentatively stepping toward you, he caged you to your desk with one hand clutching the edge of the table and the other reached up to the side of your face. he peered down at you with a chilling and shadowy gaze, one that held swirls of intimate longing, and he asked quietly, “have i taught you shame, my love? have i taught you to hate yourself, my love?”

you sniffed back a sob. 

the answer was no. jeno has never taught you any of those things. you were the one who taught yourself those things.

with the shivering of your body against his warm one, the glamor on yourself also began to shake itself off. it came off like melting ice, like lava, like the slope of a quicksand pit; your glamor shed and shed to reveal yourself to him. 

patches of rough skin you gained from practicing violent magic, dark scars that dotted your face from what should have been healed through your teenage years, a button nose flat and protruding as a gift from your lovely father, thin eyes that came from your kind mother, hair that no longer reflects the sun like a mirror, added weight to your torso and thighs—unflattering things. 

the fact that you unraveled yourself under jeno’s hand seemed to make you feel even more self-conscious, so much that you began sobbing.

“i’m sorry,” you told him. “why do you want me ugly, jeno?”

when he touched you this time, finally after so long, he didn’t do it to take your energy. he touched you for the sake of touching you, he touched you for the sake of having skin-to-skin contact with you, he touched you for the sake of keeping you both alive. it was what you both needed—affection through skin contact, an indication of unconditional love from another, the willingness to submit.

he kissed you carefully. his lips sliding from one place to another around your face, and his hands roamed your body to find spots he would grip and hold. you stood there trembling beneath his touch, turning weak and putty in his hands as you always did. the shivers in your breaths pounded against his chest that pressed tightly up against your own. they only began to slowly disappear the more jeno calmed you by latching his lips to yours, kissing you slowly and warmly, seemingly taking your doubts right out of your head.

“i don’t want you ugly, my love,” he mumbled between kisses.

jeno didn’t want you ugly. he wanted you real, you wanted you scarred and bruised, he wanted you open and vulnerable.

he wanted you his.

[thedragonnerd]

Ficlet: Betrayal

(Inspired by this lovely anon)

Namaari has never seen Raya so still.

She’s used to Raya being full of energy and tightly coiled reactions, running around finding things to do, people to spar with, or adventures to get lost within. Even at dinner, Raya cannot be motionless, instead jostling her leg or bumping shoulders with Namaari, and Council meetings are a lost cause when it comes to hoping Raya will sit quietly through the entire meeting without finding some reason to escape early.

But now she lies still, her eyes closed and her lips pale and drained of blood. Namaari keeps her eyes fixated on Raya’s breathing, where the slight up-and-down of her chest is the only thing that proves Raya is still alive.

The doctor has said that if she can survive the night, she will be much more likely to make a full recovery. Yet when Namaari places her palm on Raya’s cheek, the skin is cold to touch. Her other hand clutches onto Raya’s fingers, and she tries to share her strength through sheer determination, attempting to manifest Raya’s recovery into existence with her willpower.

-

‘Maari, are you almost dooone?’ Raya asks with a whine, her lips pouting dramatically as she flops down into the chair opposite Namaari’s desk. ‘I’ve been waiting for ages already.’

Namaari lowers her paperwork for a moment, peering across at Raya with a small smile on her face. Raya hates to sit and wait in her office, and the fact that she has been quietly reading for so long already shows her willingness to let Namaari work for the afternoon.

‘I’m sorry, dep la,’ she says with a sigh, wishing she could escape and spend time sparring with Raya instead, as she had promised. Duty always seems to call, however. ‘I have to finish signing off on these policies, and I’m only half-way finished.’

Raya groans, her head lowering to the desk until her forehead is resting on the table.

‘Why don’t you go and find something to do?’ Namaari suggests, recognising Raya will only get more and more restless from here on. Raya turns her head slightly, so she can peek at Namaari’s face through her hair.

‘Are you sure?’ she asks. ‘I don’t want to leave you alone with this tedious work.’

‘Absolutely,’ Namaari reassures her with a smile. ‘Go and have fun, and I’ll join you later.’

‘Great, I’ll go find someone to spar with for a while,’ Raya jumps up enthusiastically. ‘And if you haven’t reappeared in two hours from now, I’m going to come back and drag you outside. You need a break yourself too.’

She rounds the desk, grabbing Namaari’s face with both her hands, and kisses her deeply for a moment. Then she flees out the door with a backwards wave, Namaari watching her retreating figure with a smile.

Namaari throws herself into the paperwork with more vigour, determined to get it done so she can join Raya. She doesn’t even notice the two hours passing, so wrapped up in reading policy articles on fishing.

Raya never shows.

-

Virana comes to sit with her when the hour is nearing midnight, her arm resting around Namaari’s shoulders as they wait in silence.

‘I sent word to Chief Benja,’ she says softly after a while. Namaari nods, but says nothing else. Benja has trusted them – trusted her – to keep Raya safe during her visits to Fang. And yet here they are, Namaari without a scratch on her, whilst Raya fights for her life in the darkness. Would he ever be able to forgive them, if Raya dies? Would it cause a war between their lands?

Would Namaari ever be able to forgive herself?

‘I wasn’t even there to protect her, Ma,’ she chokes, unable to keep the tears from leaking out. The guilt is suffocating.

-

‘Raya?’ she calls, walking briskly through the palace. Dusk is beginning to move in; she feels bad for working so long without realising where the time went. Clearly, Raya also got distracted by her activities. Often when one (or better, both) of them are sparring, it draws a crowd of eager onlookers, so perhaps tonight Raya has decided to teach a lesson to anyone who wants to challenge her fighting abilities.

However, it’s been long enough that she’s also slightly concerned, especially when she sees most of the usual sparring partner culprits back in the palace, doing their guard duties or otherwise.

Still, her best assumption is that Raya will still be at the training grounds, so she hurries outside and makes her way over to the large open area.

‘Raya?’ she calls again, not seeing anyone moving in the evening light. It seems quiet…too quiet.

And then she sees a shape on the ground.

‘Raya, what-?’ she cries, racing forwards and dropping to her knees. Raya is lying still and pale on the ground, and it takes a moment for Namaari to realize the earth surrounding her is stained dark red from blood.

‘Raya…Raya, wake up,’ she pleads, one shaking hand sliding under Raya’s shoulders and cradling her close to her body, the other pressing down hard on the stab wound in her abdomen. The blood seeps through her fingers, trickling down her wrist as she desperately tries to stop it.

‘Somebody help!’ she screams into the night.

-

Ma leaves her at some point in the early hours of the morning, kissing her forehead before heading off to sleep. She doesn’t even try to ask Namaari to get some rest, knows that she won’t. Not tonight.

Not long after, there is a soft knock at the door, and General Atitaya peers into the room.

‘Princess Namaari?’ she asks quietly. ‘I can relieve you of your post if you wish to retire for the night. Keep watch over her, for you?’

It’s a wasted offer, and Namaari is already shaking her head before the other woman finishes speaking.

‘No thank you,’ she says, her eyes never leaving Raya’s face. ‘Her attacker is still out there, and I’m not going to leave her until they are apprehended.’

Besides Raya’s injuries, that is the worst part of this attack – that it must have been carried out by a Fang citizen, who has now willingly betrayed both their land and, on a more personal level, Namaari herself. She has dedicated her life to protecting her people, and the realization that one of her own could have done this leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, and anger in her veins.

Namaari doesn’t even notice Atitaya leave. Her two swords sit close, ready to reach in an instant if someone dares to try and attack Raya again, and she leans forwards, tension running through her muscles as she continues her vigil.

The rest of the night is quiet, with no-one else disturbing them besides the doctor, who checks on Raya sporadically.

And then, just as the warm rays of the sun begin to filter through the window, Namaari hears a sound.

‘Raya?’ she calls, up on her feet instantly and leaning over the bed.

Raya shifts her head slightly, emitting a slight groan, and then her eyes flutter open.

-

‘Maari, come back to bed,’ Raya grumbles, her voice filled with the scratchy tone Namaari only hears in the morning. She laughs softly at the sight before her: Raya’s disgruntled face peering out from beneath the covers, her hair in a massively tangled mess around her face, and her mouth turned down slightly in the corners as she sees Namaari already up and dressed.

‘I have a lot of work to do today,’ Namaari says apologetically, although she does take a moment to bend down and give Raya a proper kiss good morning. ‘Hours of paperwork that you’ll just find boring.’

Raya wrinkles her nose at this, and burrows deeper into the bed, dragging Namaari down with her, a tight grasp on her wrist.

‘Tell you what,’ Namaari continues, attempting not to faceplant into the bedcovers thanks to Raya’s pulling. ‘If you let me go now, I’ll try to get the work done as quickly as possible, and then we can go spar together this afternoon.’

‘Fiiine,’ comes Raya’s voice from the depths of the bed. ‘Go do your boring work. I’ll bring food and my own amazing company later. And after, you owe me a fight.’

-

She finds her in the barn, tying a heavily-laden bag to her serlot.

‘Atitaya,’ she calls, and the General spins around quickly, hand moving towards her weapon before she sees who it is and deliberately relaxes her stance.

‘Princess,’ she greets, head bowing in the appropriate manner.

‘You’ll be pleased to hear that Raya has woken up,’ Namaari continues, her voice deceptively light in comparison to the blood roaring through her veins. ‘Interestingly, she’s also able to identify her attacker.’

They stare at each other for a moment, neither willing to be the first one to flinch. Then Atitaya drops her gaze to the ground, and although Namaari had believe Raya instantly when she said the name, the confirmation still hits her like a stab to the heart.

‘Ati…Ati, why?’ she whispers, and this time she can’t help her voice shaking as she tries to hold back the horror and the tears. ‘We grew up together. I trusted you with my life – with HER life. How could you betray me like this?’

Atitaya’s expression darkens at this, and Namaari sees her mouth twist into an ugly grimace.

‘Because you betrayed us first, Namaari,’ she snaps, fists clenching. ‘You bring the Princess of our enemy into our land, into our palace. You trust her with all of Fang, share all our secrets. She is your greatest vulnerability, a threat to our people, and if I did nothing, I thought she would bring death to our doorstep.’

‘Raya isn’t a threat to us,’ Namaari counters. ‘She isn’t a spy; Heart isn’t our enemy. We aren’t at war any more, Atitaya. We haven’t been for a long time. The only person who risked changing that was you.’

Atitaya raises her chin in defiance.

‘I did what I thought was right for our people, no matter the sacrifice. Just like you used to be willing to do.’

Namaari always thought her anger ran hot, a passionate burst of emotion that drove her in fights. But in reality, her rage runs through her body like a chill, and her mind feels separate from her body as a deadly calm settles over her.

‘I should kill you where you stand,’ she says softly. ‘If Raya had died, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.’

For the first time, apprehension flutters across Atitaya’s face.

‘You’re lucky that Raya is more forgiving than I am,’ Namaari finishes, and then whistles loudly. At once, the barn is filled with soldiers, all training their weapons on their former General.

Namaari turns and walks away, refusing to look over her shoulder as voices ordering Atitaya to surrender filter up around her.

She doesn’t want to waste another minute here – she has Raya waiting for her, and she’s promised to entertain her through her mandatory bed rest, duties be damned. After all, Raya doesn’t like to be still for too long.

[mochegato]

Mine Protector

Continuation of Enemy Mine

She gripped her jacket tighter around her as she made her way down the sidewalk.  One of the good things about Gotham, she supposed, was nobody gave you a second glance.  In Paris, she would have been stopped every few feet by most of the people she came across. It would have been nearly impossible to make her way in peace.  But here, nobody even noticed her.  Nobody noticed the cuts.  Nobody noticed the blood.  Nobody noticed the glancing over her shoulder every few steps to make sure she wasn’t being followed.

On the downside, most likely, nobody would react if the men came back for her either.  Nobody would intercede if they grabbed her.  Nobody would care unless it affected them.  Which meant she was on her own.  It was up to her to get somewhere safe so she could report what she found… tomorrow.  Today she just wanted to take a shower to wash off the blood and grime and curl up in bed and try to forget the feeling of getting questioned and beaten.

She looked back over her shoulder again and narrowed her eyes at the men who just turned onto the sidewalk, trying to remember if she had seen their faces at the club.  She was so distracted, she didn’t notice the form in front of her until it had grabbed her and dragged her into the alley next to them.  She tried to scream.  Maybe if she made enough noise, someone would do something, if just to stop the annoying noise.  But she couldn’t scream.  A hand over her mouth muted her screams.

Once they stopped moving, Marinette kicked behind her, trying to hit either the upper thigh or crotch.  Either should be enough to take the man down for a few seconds, long enough for her to get away.  But the man blocked her kick with his shin.  Marinette growled internally but felt at least a tiny bit better knowing it was going to be a hell of a bruise that he’d be feeling for days. She twisted to elbow him in the neck, but her reactions after her earlier encounter were just a few seconds slower than usual, enough to give him the opportunity to grab her arms and hold them against her body.

“Marinette stop...” Red Hood cried, his voice knocking her out of her tunnel vision and finally noticing who it was that grabbed her.

“What are you doing here?” she cut him off harshly.  Even with her bangs and hair obscuring her face after the slight struggle, her glare still came through.

“Patrol.  What are you doing here?” he countered in the same tone.

“Going home,” she growled.  “Are we done now?”  She leaned away from him and crossed her arms with a pout.  He continued to stare at her wordlessly waiting for her to elaborate.  If she was upset, especially upset enough to snap at him when they weren’t fighting, then she almost always would continue to talk, working through the problem and the anger as she did.  Instead, she looked down and pulled her jacket closer around her, refusing to look at him.

Jason arched an eyebrow at her reaction.  That was not normal.  “Marinette?” he prodded.

“What?” she hissed to the ground.

Jason stared at her for a few more seconds before finally taking a step closer and reaching to hook his finger under her chin. She moved to take a step away from him but she was already backed up against the alley wall.  Jason’s hand faltered.  Marinette had never reacted like this.  If anything, she would slap someone’s hand away if they tried to touch her.  For him, she would defiantly stand unmoving, refusing to give him any kind of reaction.  Occasionally, she would even lean into the touch.  But shying away?  Something was definitely wrong.

He removed his helmet to see her better and to make it less intimidating.  They were… well, whatever they were, they weren’t enemy enemies, especially not as Jason and Marinette.  He examined her a lot closer.  She had blood on her jacket and he was sure if she wasn’t holding it so close to her body, he’d see more on her shirt as well.  Her hair was sticking to an area on her neck and the angle she was holding her head carefully concealed her face.  He debated taking off his domino mask to get an even closer view of her injuries, but they were too exposed.  No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t afford to do it.

He slowly took another step forward, waiting to see how she reacted to him.  When she didn’t shy away further, he hooked his finger under her chin again.  This time she let him and when he gently nudged her face up to look at him, she yielded.  His whole body went rigid.  “Who did this to you?”  His voice was low and deceptively calm, but she could hear the rage simmering under the surface.

She tried to break free from his hold to look away again, but he wouldn't let her.  “Who. Did. This. To. You,” he repeated, not bothering to hide the harshness in his tone this time.

“It doesn’t matter,” she grumbled looking anywhere but his eyes even as he moved her face around to see the damage.

“Jesus, Marinette!” he exclaimed, finally sweeping her hair away from her neck to expose the multiple cuts along her neck down to where her neck met her shoulder.  His jaw set harshly as he took in the bruise already forming around her eye and the cut in her brow.  A matching one on her forehead was still oozing blood down her face almost obscuring the deep bruise on her jaw.  He wouldn’t be surprised if it hadn’t been dislocated.  It would certainly explain why she wasn’t talking.  “How bad was the fight if you ended up like this even outside of your suit?”

She looked away refusing to meet his eyes. “You were wearing your suit, right?” he asked carefully.  Marinette set her lips defiantly, refusing to answer his questions.  Jason huffed out a frustrated growl.  “Why weren’t you in your suit?  And if you weren’t in your suit, why didn’t you transform?  Fuck, even if you weren’t in a suit you can protect yourself, how many of them were there if they were able to do this?”

Marinette stared at the ground for a few seconds trying to decide how much she was willing to expose.  “I was undercover,” she started.  Jason opened his mouth to object but she continued before he could chastise her for not transforming anyway.  “And there was no place for me to transform.  So unless I wanted everyone to know my identity, I had to deal with it as civilian me, who isn’t supposed to be able to fight.”

Jason tugged lightly at her coat to see the damage to her body.  “You should never have been in there alone.  I can’t believe B let you go in without backup.”

“I can take care of myself, J… Hood,” she growled as she pulled her jacket tighter around herself again, blocking him from seeing the bruises and cuts forming along her ribs and back.

“This is not taking care of yourself!” Jason yelled at her.

“If it would have gotten too bad, I would have stopped it,” she whisper yelled back.

Jason glared at her and considered again taking off the domino mask so she could feel the full impact of it.  “I asked who did this to you.”  His voice was softer but still laced with danger.

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “I'm not about to give you another person to kill, another body to add to the pile.”  Jason pursed his lips but didn’t interrupt her.  “This isn't about you.  This is about me.  And that won't make me feel better.”

He studied her furrowed brow and downturned lips, the look in her eyes and felt his own eyes softening.  He brushed the hair from her face and caressed the cheek that wasn’t hurt.  “What will?” he whispered softly.

“Being with someone who isn't a crime boss,” she whispered back.

He nodded and took a half step closer.  “You certainly deserve that,” he said breathlessly. He leaned down so his forehead ghosted hers, too afraid of causing more pain if he touched one of her wounds.  His breath fanned across her lips as he spoke.  “White picket fence, two kids, dog and a cat…”

“Loving partner,” she finished softly.

He nodded, his lips just missing hers by a hair’s breadth as he did.  “I could be that for you.”  He looked from her lips to her eyes, asking for permission to move closer.  Her eyes searched his for a moment before darkening and becoming hooded.  Jason leaned closer, but just before he made contact they heard footprints and loud talking at the end of the alley.  They looked over to see what was causing the ruckus and Marinette immediately went still, her entire body becoming rigid.

Jason felt the change without even having to look at her.  “These the guys that caught you earlier?” he asked without looking away from the threat. She nodded.  He nodded in response.  “Close your eyes,” he said calmly.

“Really?”  She stared at him incredulously.

“Yeah… if you let yourself get beaten up, hence,” he motioned toward her face, “then Marinette probably isn’t supposed to be a good fighter, so Marinette probably wouldn’t like watching violence either.”

“Marinette doesn’t like watching violence,” she reminded him pointedly.

“I hear you guys like beating up women,” Jason called loudly.  The men looked between themselves as if to confirm she was worth messing with Red Hood over, but continued forward anyway.  “You know how I feel about people who take advantage of women and kids.”  Their steps faltered slightly, but they must have thought their numbers would give them enough of an advantage.

Jason tensed for the fight, watching the men, calculating weaknesses and potential ins for him to exploit.  He only looked away when Marinette laid her hand on his arm. He looked at her questioningly.  “I don’t want anyone dead or hurt because of me,” she started quietly.

“Pixie,” he sighed.

“That includes you,” she continued, looking up at him through her eyelashes.  “So be careful, yeah?”

Jason stared at her for a second before his chest puffed up.  “They won’t lay a finger on me.” He smirked at her.  She nodded and closed her eyes, taking a step back to give him space to fight. She flinched occasionally at the sounds of hits landing and bodies smacking into alley walls before sliding down to the ground and not making any more noise.  After just a few minutes, there was no more noise except the soft sound of footsteps approaching.  She relaxed at the sound, recognizing Jason’s footsteps.

Jason’s fingers brushed gently along the edges of her face, waiting for her to open her eyes.  She slowly opened them with a weak smile.  “All good?”

Jason nodded back at her.  “Everyone’s alive and hopefully think my only interest was because a woman got beaten up, not who got hurt.  So your cover isn’t blown.”  He leaned in close to her with a smirk.  “And they never laid a finger on me.”

Marinette’s smile, though still weak, became stronger. “Glad to hear it.  And thank you.”

Jason continued staring in her eyes for a few moments before pulling away and reaching for her hand.  “Can I give you a ride home?  My bike’s just a block away.”

Marinette took his hand and squeezed it with a nod. He kicked one of the men as they walked past for extra measure.  

His delivery service included walking her all the way to her door.  She tried to tell him he could just drop her off at the sidewalk, but he insisted on making sure nobody was waiting for her.  Marinette unlocked her door and turned to him.  “Satisfied?”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to check inside too? Or just… you know, keep you company?” Jason asked.  He leaned against the doorframe.

Marinette chuckled.  “I’ll be fine.  Good Night, Hood.”  She knocked his helmet gently before closing the door.  She took a deep breath as she looked around her apartment, dark and empty and alone.  She let the breath out sharply.  She turned around and yanked the door open, prepared to run after Jason.  He couldn’t have gotten too far, right?

Instead she braced for him to fall on her when she found him blocking the doorway, apparently as startled by the door opening as she was to open it.  Luckily, his arms were braced on either side of the door, or he would have fallen.  His head snapped up quickly from where it looked like he had been leaning it against the door.  “Marinette?”  His eyes immediately scanned the room behind her looking for any threats.

Marinette fumbled for what to say.  She hadn’t thought this far ahead.  “I… would … um, company tonight would be good… because…” She looked down, searching for what to say when her eyes caught on some blood.  “Cuts!  I have cuts. And help… uh bandaging… them would be good.”

Jason’s eyes softened and he smiled slightly.  He moved closer but kept a bit of distance between them.  “I have a lot of experience with that.”

Marinette moved to let him in.  He waited until she had closed and locked the door before he took his helmet off.  “Where’s your first aid kit?  I can grab it while you take your coat off and take a shower.”

“Bathroom under the sink.”  

He nodded and walked with her into the bathroom. He grabbed the kit while she removed her coat.  She tried unsuccessfully to contain her pained groan as she took off her coat, letting it drop to the ground, likely getting blood she’d have to clean later on the floors.  Jason eyed her warily.  “You sure you don’t need my help in the shower?  You don’t look too steady on your feet.”

Marinette waved him off.  “I’ll be okay.  Might be the world’s shortest shower, but I’ll manage.”

Jason didn’t look convinced but nodded anyway. “I’ll just wait outside the door then. Call for me if you need help.”

“Maybe wait for me in the kitchen instead,” Marinette suggested.  “I’m going to have to get to my room to change clothes.”

Jason nodded again.  “If it will make you more comfortable.”  He gave her one last concerned look before getting the supplies he anticipated using ready for them.

True to her word, Marinette’s shower was incredibly quick.  He heard her padding into another room, which he assumed was hers before coming back out to meet him in the kitchen.  He smiled at the adorable pajamas before grimacing once he noticed all the bruises and cuts that were now exposed.  

Marinette crawled up onto the island and fought just collapsing and falling asleep.  She closed her eyes and started to lean back, finally giving in.  “Op, don’t do that, Pixie.  It’ll help if you’re awake.  Otherwise I’m going to have to strip you to make sure I got all the cuts.”  He waggled his eyebrows at her.  Marinette rolled her eyes but huffed out a laugh in spite of herself.  

Jason smiled back for a moment before looking more serious.  “But judging by the blood, you will have to at least take off your shirt.”  Marinette groaned.  “Yeah, not the way I wanted it to happen either, but I can see blood starting to seep through your shirt already so, it looks like there’s a few cuts that will need to be bandaged.  We’ll save those for last though so you can keep your shirt on longer.”

Marinette watched him as he started carefully cleaning and bandaging her cuts.  His fingers were significantly gentler than she would have expected.  His face was the picture of concentration except for the mask still on his face.  He looked at her questioningly when she giggled.  “You going to keep that on all night?” Marinette asked tapping his domino mask.

Jason paused and slowly pulled the mask off, keeping eye contact with Marinette the entire time.  “Better?”  His voice was deep and husky and bordering on illegal.

Marinette froze for a second, putting all of her effort into not letting her breath hitch, she was suddenly very awake.  “Much,” she nodded absently.

Jason kept his eye contact for a few more seconds before continuing to the cuts on her neck, arms, and back.  Marinette let out a relieved breath when he finished with the last cut.  She would finally be able to put a shirt back on.  Sitting half naked in front of Jason, with her shirt bunched in front of her chest to protect her modesty, was killing her.  Each touch of his fingers against her bare skin was sending tiny shocks to her heart.  She didn’t know how much more of it she could take.  But then again, now that he was done, she didn’t know what he was going to do. She didn’t want him to leave, but she needed him too.  At the end of the day, and they were, in fact, at the end of this day, he was a crime boss and she was a hero.  This couldn’t continue.

She opened her mouth to thank him and ask him to leave when she felt a gentle pressure against her newly bandaged cut. Her body overflowed with electricity, warming her whole body.  Before she could even process it, he’d moved to the next bandage, laying a gentle kiss on it too.  He moved up to her neck and she couldn’t stop the whimper that forced its way out of her mouth.  He paused for a second and she could feel the smirk that spread across his lips.

He met her eyes and cupped her uninjured cheek before he leaned in to kiss her forehead.  He let his lips linger for a few seconds on that bandage before he moved onto her eyebrow.  He pulled away just enough to speak, his lips centimeters from hers.  “You know, some of these cuts… they’ll need to have the bandages changed.  You’ll need someone who knows what they’re doing to change them.”

Marinette nodded breathlessly.  “Know anyone?”

Jason smiled.  “I might have a recommendation.”  He looked down to her lips and back up to her eyes.  He took a deep breath and pulled away.  “You need to get some sleep.  Your body needs rest.”  Marinette stared at him in shock.  “Do you need help getting your shirt back on?” he offered quietly.

Marinette shook her head and he turned around while she struggled to get it back on.  Jason almost turned back around a few times at the groans and whimpers she was trying very hard to contain.  When the noises finally stopped he turned around tentatively.  He noted the exhausted look in her eyes and decided he had definitely made the right choice not to pursue anything tonight.

“Come on,” he picked her up in a bridal hold and carried her to the couch.  He sat down and placed her gently on his lap before wrapping his arms around her and leaning back against the couch arm.  

Marinette pulled away and looked down at him.  She blinked at him a few times trying to process what was going on.  Her lips quirked down sadly.  No matter how good his arms felt, no matter how magical his kisses felt, it all came back to one basic truth, she couldn’t be with him.  She couldn’t support his decisions.  She couldn’t stomach his methods.  And he had no interest in changing them.  “Jason…” she started.

A sad, understanding smile tugged at his lips.  “Yeah, I know.  Just for tonight.  I’ll keep you safe while you sleep.  Nobody will hurt you while I’m around.”

She gave him a bittersweet smile and laid back down on his chest.  “Okay. Thank you.”  She let his warmth and heartbeat relax her.  After a minute she spoke up again.  “No horror movies though.”

Jason laughed.  “I would never,” he promised and held her closer, carefully avoiding her bruises.  “I heard Marinette doesn’t like watching violence.”  Marinette chuckled and nuzzled into his chest.  She watched as Jason searched through the options, her eyes getting heavier with each passing second, the day, the beating, and Jason’s smell and warmth lulling her to sleep.  She was asleep before he even selected the BBC Pride & Prejudice miniseries.

Bonus:

Marinette blinked awake and looked around.  She didn’t remember getting to bed last night. She yawned and wrinkled her nose at the smell that assaulted her senses when she did.  She jumped out of bed and immediately cursed quietly at how badly that hurt.  She threw on a robe and made her way to the kitchen.  She froze and smiled when she got there.

“Morning, Pixie,” Jason smiled at her.  “How are you feeling this morning?”

She raised an eyebrow and leaned against the counter next to him.  “I’m confused.  I have a mob boss in my kitchen… burning breakfast for me.”

Jason scoffed.  “I’m not… oh shit!  It’s burning.”  He frantically pushed the pans off the stove, glaring half-heartedly at Marinette’s laughter. “See if I make breakfast for you ever again,” he grumbled through a poorly concealed smile.

Marinette’s laughs lessened to chuckles.  “Please don’t.  I don’t have fire insurance.”

Continued in You’re Mine

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver @aespades @jayjayspixiepop

[oliviayamaoka]

Heartfelt Deception (Joey / The Legion x F!Reader)

 Y/N is a rather new and young survivor, taking a while to become accustomed to the brutal trials set out by the god-like figure known as the Entity. 

Feeling alone and in despair, you meet somebody who begins to slowly change the way you perceive yourself and your current situation.

Y/N wasn’t sure what this place was called, it was a cold place. You shivered as you hugged yourself, walking through the snowy winds trying to find a generator. A part of you felt crazy for thinking your clothes were thin but it was just the piercing cold weather. Y/N looked up before noticing the killer shack, you quickly ran towards it. You hoped there was a generator there to warm up your hands slightly. 

As you entered the shack, you stumbled across four lockers, a generator, and a firey totem at the corner. You shut your eyes in relief, stumbling somewhat. You felt as though your legs were about to freeze off at any moment. A part of you regretted not asking any other survivors about this realm. You were relatively new to the realms and hadn’t fought many killers yet, not that you wanted to.

“Oh, god.” You mumbled as you kneeled downwards, immediately getting to work on the generator. Your lips curved into a smile upon feeling the warmth of the machine and the sparks of the wires. 

Your eyes averted towards the totem with the fire. For a second, you wanted to use that to warm up but you wanted to finish this generator as fast as you could. There was a strong sense of focus and determination within you at that moment.

“You got this.” You mumble. You weren’t exactly hyping yourself up, it was just you reacting to your circumstances by mumbling.

It felt lonely and pathetic, doing a generator by yourself, You felt a small sense of pity towards the others for not accompanying you. A sigh escaped your mouth for even thinking about that. Five generators, four survivors. Of course you all should split up for the sake of survival. Stop being so selfish, you thought to yourself. In fact. you didn’t even see which other survivors were here. Your train of thought was interrupted as somebody entered the shack.

Your hands trembled as you observed the figure that walked in. Within those seconds, you just assumed it wasn’t the killer. It was a guy in darker clothing. There was a streak of black paint spread across his eyes. His expression remained unchanged and rather welcoming. Another survivor.

“Um, hey.” You say awkwardly to him as you turned your head back to the generator. There were two wires that needed connecting.

“Hey, hey.” He replied, nodding his head as he watched you. 

“Wanna help? If you want, of course. There’s also a totem there. The Entity told me that the firey ones could help us.” You said. He smirked slightly as he began to work on the generator, kneeling down beside you. The guy seemed lean.

“Let’s finish this up first. I don’t think I caught your name, by the way.” He said to you. His presence felt relaxing, he was about eighteen or nineteen. it was peaceful to have somebody else young here.

“Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Y/N, what’s yours?” You asked him with a smile. 

“Name’s Joey.” He responded to you as you nodded.

“It’s nice to meet you, Joey.” Y/N said as she looked around the shack again to make sure there wasn’t anything out of place. 

“I haven’t seen you around much. Well, I have, I guess. We just never got to talk and whatever.” He shrugged.

“I wish it were under better circumstances.” You replied as you stood up, walking towards the firey totem in the corner. His eyes shot up as you did so.

“Woah, woah, woah. No need for that right now.” Joey reassured you, quickly standing in front of you with his hands up to his chest to slightly push you away from it. Your eyebrows raised up in surprise for a second.

“Oh, I thought breaking them would help us.” Y/N said as he scratched the back of his neck with a small smile.

“Eh, not really. You ought to avoid these ones entirely. The Entity will say anything to have you--or us suffer. Trust me.” Joey explained as you nodded your head, being rather naive about what he said.

“Makes sense. What is this place, anyways?” You asked him as he peered out through the killer shack window. The winds calmed down.

“It’s called Mount Ormond.” He said in a rather reminiscent yet relaxed tone. 

You nodded a bit, This must’ve been the realm he was plucked out of based on his reaction to it. Maybe his family resort? You weren’t sure at all but you enjoyed making assumptions and theories about the people here. Hell, you met somebody that claimed to be from the 70′s. Either way, at least you found a friend in Joey and somebody to hang out with at the camp.

“Are you from here?” You asked him.

“Huh? Oh, well... It’s complicated. I do really like this place though. I’ve never felt more free before this whole shitshow happened.” Joey replied. 

“Sorry to hear... sounded fun.” You say to him.

“It was... best few moments of my life until Frank... nevermind. Is your generator almost done?” He asked.

“Almost, I think.” You responded as the generator lit up. 

Your face immediately lit up as you bounced back up, proud of your accomplishment. Joey smiled and lifted his hand up to high-five you. You smacked your hands against his. He chuckled at your excitement, he seemed to quickly grow fond of you. Y/N looked around before looking back at him.

“You should come with me.” You say to him.

“I... wish I could.” He said with a small hint of guilt and sadness in his voice. He quickly noticed how depressing he sounded and stood up straight.

“I wish I could! I mean, we already wasted enough time on one generator. And you’re a fast learner so I’m sure you can pop these motherfuckers really fast.” Joey said to you, confident in your abilities. You nodded with a small smile.

“Thanks, Joey.” You said to him, rubbing your hands together at the door. Joey noticed you must’ve been freezing. He stared for a moment before building up the confidence

“Here, you must be freezing.” He said, sliding off his gloves and giving them to you. You felt your cheeks burn up as you reluctantly took his gloves, he seemed to push them towards your chest. Joey was very insistent on you taking them.

“I, um... thank you. I mean it.” You stammered as he nodded, clasping his hands together and taking a few steps back in a very confident manner.

“Like, I know I don’t sound genuine or anything but thank you. Thanks for helping me and um, being my friend. I’m sorry if I sound stupid but like, this place is just so fucked up, y’know?” You say to him as you sat down in front of the generator, sliding his gloves on. Joey felt his heart tingle slightly.

“Nah, you don’t sound weird at all. It’s probably shitty to...I mean, it is shitty fighting killers and whatnot. I get you.” He said, sitting down next to you. It felt strange yet intoxicating for him to be in such a close proximity to you.

“Yeah... how do you do it, Joey? Having to live an eternity getting fucking hooked... and tortured by these fuckers.” You asked him as your voice began to crack and tremble. Tears welled up in your eyes as he stared in shock.

“Just--don’t worry about that right now. The killer hasn’t hurt you this time and he won’t, I promise he won’t. Believe me.” He said as you wiped your eyes with your sleeve.

“I just wanna go back... I don’t get it.” You mumbled, looking upwards as you tried to relax yourself. 

Joey hesitated but wrapped one arm around you. You welcomed the gesture and rested your head against his chest slightly. Any form of comfort right now felt nice to have. Your eyes shut as Joey rubbed your shoulder a bit. He felt very scared and vulnerable in that moment but he did his best to comfort you. Joey never would’ve imagined his first encounter with you would be so... nice?

“It’s fucked up, I know but... don’t let these things destroy who you are. You seem like a tough person. I never let what happened to me destroy who I was. And now, well... I’m free. I can do what I want, when I want.” He said to you.

Joey felt guilty. He saw a part of himself he never wanted to acknowledge within you. A part that needed consoling, a part of him that only felt regret and pain. For what he would do to you one day and for what he did to that janitor. Why did he have to be so stupid sometimes? Joey found you in the purgatory he was meant to be punished in, to kill for god knows how long.

“That does sound nice... sorry for being a suck.” You said as you got up and hurried towards the door. Joey seemed to be in a bit of a rush too since he needed to please the Entity some sort of way.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Thanks for being my fourth friend... I meant what I said, though. Just don’t think of me as.. bad.” He said as he slid out the door.

You stared in slight confusion before bracing yourself for the coldness. You began to make your way to the next generator.

One all generators were complete, you made your way to the exit gate. You noticed three girls. Y/N stopped in confusion as she stared at them. Feng Min, Kate Denson, and Claudette Morel. Claudette was wrapping up her own wounds as Feng began to open the door. Four survivors... four survivors.

“Hey there, stranger. You okay?” Kate asked as she playfully nudged you.

“Where is Joey?” You asked her as she stared blankly at you.

“Joey?” She questioned as you finally put two and two together.

You spoke with the killer? He didn’t kill you. Wait, you let a killer embrace you. No, not a killer, it was Joey. No, Joey was a killer. Your mind raced as you spaced out, ignoring the blaring noise of the door opening. Kate nudged you softly again.

“Did you get caught in his frenzy? That shakes a lot of folks up.” She said.

“Oh, yeah... I guess...” You replied as the gates opened.

“Alright, ladies, Let’s roll.” Feng said jokingly as you walked with them outside of the place. You were both confused and horrified at what just happened. It was weird because you felt so at peace and even inspired from him. Joey made you feel confident. You inhaled sharply from the coldness as you made your escape.

Joey watched from a distance at the lodge with his mask on, he leaned against the doorframe. He felt disappointed that you’d figure it out sooner or later. He sighed deeply, feeling frustrated and angry. Now, he felt like listening to his mixtape and returning to being the edgy troublemaker he was until he got to talk to you again.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Thank you for reading! This was kinda based off of the HC’s I made of the Legion where Joey always had a crush on you. Might do a part two since I enjoyed writing this but stay tuned if I do :)

[edgeofn1ght]

Let Him Not Hate Me

Post-‘Deception’ arc gen obikin • 4.8k words • Read on ao3 instead

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On the evening of his full return to the Temple, Obi-Wan deposited his belongings in his apartment, and changed quickly, eager to get out of the garb of a bounty hunter and back into the familiar, comfy robes of a Jedi. He looked around and sighed, grateful to be home. Nearly everything was just as he had left it, right down to the tea cup and kettle next to the cooker where they always were, ready to be used—just as if he had never ‘died.’

Both he and the Council had planned on his return, after all.

There was, however, one exception: his bed wasn’t made quite the same way he knew he had left it, and his top blanket was missing. There was only one person it could have been...

Anakin.

He was also the one person Obi-Wan had been looking for since his return, but he was nowhere to be found, and their bond was shut tight. Which wasn’t at all promising. He desperately wanted to see him, hear him, speak to him...touch him. He could only assume he did not want the same, otherwise he would have found him immediately. But Anakin had been quite incensed the last time they spoke.

In a last ditch attempt at locating the man, he visited the refectory during dinner, scanning the room carefully from the periphery, trying to avoid curious eyes. There, he had finally seen him from a distance—he seemed to be in some deep conversation with his own padawan. Sensing his presence, Anakin turned and they locked eyes briefly, but he barely acknowledged him and continued his conversation with Ahsoka, eventually turning his back towards Obi-Wan. That was clear enough.

So Obi-Wan had gone to the transformation chamber alone to get back his old face—or, as close to it as he could get—then made his way back to his apartment and waited, hoping that Anakin would stop by. He never did.

Then the next morning, he had gotten word the knight had left early for a mission in the Outer Rim. And had done so without saying goodbye.

It had been twenty eight days since Obi-Wan had returned to the Temple. Twenty seven since he had last seen Anakin.

#

After the transformation, Obi-Wan avoided his own reflection for nearly a day. After staring at Rako Hardeen for so long, he didn’t want to look in the mirror and still see him. But he was just as wary of the ‘new old’ face he'd find staring back at him. It had been years and years since he had been completely clean-shaven or had short hair—he really didn't know if he could handle looking like a padawan once more. He knew, logically, he wouldn't look the same, but in his less self-assured moments, he still felt the same—even going so far as to wish he still could ask for some of his old master’s guidance, as harebrained as it could be sometimes.

He recoiled slightly when he finally saw his face—gone, thankfully, were the harsh red facial tattoos and the too-angular jawline, but his completely bald head and beardless face remained. Mace was right, he had been rather ugly. He chuckled to himself as he stroked his jaw and chin, missing the sensation of his beard against his own fingertips, then tilted his head back and forth, up and down, taking it all in. This was actually worse than being a padawan.

It would all grow back—of course it would—but he'd need some patience until then.

He found himself suddenly wondering what Anakin would think. Would he like it at all? Or would it remind him of when they first met—of all they went through on Naboo and after…? Or instead, would it be a constant reminder of the Hardeen mission and what had transpired between them?

Not that it mattered much when he had no idea when he'd see him again. Perhaps all his hair would be grown out by then.

Then there was the matter of if Anakin would even want to talk to him. And if he didn’t want to even talk to him, then he’d certainly not want a gentle touch, a kiss, or anything more than that.

Obi-Wan rubbed his hand back and forth across his bald dome and frowned. He leaned in closer and narrowed his eyes, taking in the lines around his eyes and his mouth. How long had they been there? Were they always so prominent? Like the moles and scars on his face that were also more visible without any hair to detract from their presence.

He never thought of himself as particularly vain (he’d call it more fastidious), but as he stared at his reflection, he found himself briefly unhappy. He could probably stand never having a beard again, but he needed hair—Mace could pull it off, he could not.

He backed away from the mirror, straightening his tabards and suddenly realized it wasn't his lack of hair that made him unhappy—it was just hair, you’re being ridiculous. No, it was Anakin and the way he had snubbed and completely avoided him, then left.

But time and the war went on.

He had his own missions, tasks, and meetings, and his hair grew until his head was covered in a short, soft fuzz, the sandy-blond color that he was told glinted red in the sunlight. It was a bit shorter now than when he had met Anakin, and his beard a scratchy stubble.

He stroked his chin as he made his tea one afternoon, wistfully thinking about how Anakin would probably complain about kissing him now, about how rough and scratchy his face would be. He found himself wishing to even have a chance to hear him refuse.

He eventually managed to talk to him twice in the near-month he had been away, but it was very brief and clinical, necessary conversations about the mission and the war. There was no time for any kind of explanation, and there certainly were no kind or soft words—even as friends. Their conversations were stiff but thankfully civil.

Obi-Wan found himself aching with the void.

#

On the twenty-ninth rotation since he had bade Hardeen farewell, he finally felt a tug on their bond. So light and quick it was, he almost missed it. He looked up from his datapad and out the window to the bustling Coruscant skies. Before he could stop himself, he hesitantly sent back a wave of comfort, I am here. Wherever Anakin was, Obi-Wan would always be there, always ready to meet or talk. He wasn't sure if Anakin would outright reject it, but he had to try.

He jumped up from his couch when he finally felt the younger man’s presence close by, and turned just in time to see the door slide open. Anakin stood in the doorway fully dressed in his usual dark Jedi robes, his long dark cloak wrapped around him. His hair was a bit longer and slightly wilder than it had been the last time Obi-Wan had seen him, no doubt he was due for a trim. The most concerning were the darker circles under his eyes, and Obi-Wan wondered if he had slept at all since he had been gone. But none of these things were as out of the ordinary as the facial hair he was sporting.

Obi-Wan had seen him attempt to grow a beard a few times, but Anakin had always given up fairly quickly and shaved, complaining that it itched too much as it grew. The stubble he wore now made him look older than his 22 years, and it added a certain rakish charm. In that moment, it amused Obi-Wan to think that perhaps he would be confused for the padawan out of the pair of them.

"Obi-Wan," Anakin breathed out, not moving from his spot in the doorway. Just saying his name felt like an impossible thing.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan replied softly, unsure of what else to say.

They kept their eyes locked on each other as he took a single step in, finally clearing the door so it would shut. As he stood there, he clasped his hands in front of his stomach, and Obi-Wan knew he was fiddling with his fingers under the voluminous sleeves.

"You're home." Home. That's what Anakin had always felt like to him, and the Temple had felt emptier lately without him there. But did he feel the same way? Or had their relationship been irreparably harmed?

"Yes," came the curt reply. Anakin's eyes shifted around the room, as if taking it in for the first time despite it being something of a second home to him for well over a decade. He shifted from foot to foot.

"I'm glad," Obi-Wan smiled tenderly but remained in place. He was afraid of moving and spooking the younger man.

Without any sort of acknowledgement, Anakin slipped off his cloak and hung it up on the hooks by the door. Right next to Obi-Wan’s. Right next to the cloak Anakin had given him one Life Day—a fine cloak woven from the best material Tatooine could provide. He shouldn't really have a favorite possession, but it was his favorite cloak.

"How long are you--"

"I don't know, " Anakin said, brusquely, cutting off Obi-Wan’s innocent question.

We need to talk, he wanted to say. I missed you, I love you, he wanted to say more than anything. Instead: "You have a beard."

"You don't."

Obi-Wan huffed, rubbing at the short stubble one again. "Well it isn't for lack of trying, I assure you."

"I thought you were dead." Anakin said, going straight for the bantha in the room as he took several more steps in. Obi-Wan remained firmly in place. Then more softly, barely above a whisper, "I buried you, Obi-Wan."

"Anakin…" He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. He grabbed the hem of his tunic between thumb and forefinger, then curled his socked toes into the rug as an anchor. He exhaled. Anakin didn't give him a chance to finish it.

He swayed backwards, barely holding ground, as his former padawan launched himself bodily at him, circling his arms around his shoulders and burying his face in his neck—even though he was several inches taller. Obi-Wan held his arms up, hesitant to even touch until he heard the sob, then he wrapped them around Anakin's back, pulling him into a warm embrace. This was home.

He reached up and stroked Anakin's wild curls with one hand and breathed out, "I've missed you." He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the side of Anakin's head, inhaling his scent. He must have come straight off the cruiser without taking time to clean up—he smelled like dirt, sweat, and stale recycled air, but underneath, unmistakably his Anakin.

He ran his hand soothingly up and down Anakin's back as he cried. He wasn't noisy, but Obi-Wan felt every shake and dramatic intake of breath.

When the crying subsided a bit, Obi-Wan pulled away, and Anakin kept his head bowed as he wiped at his eyes and nose. As he bent his head to look at him, he put a finger under his chin to tilt it up. "Why don't you go get cleaned up and I'll make us some tea?" Anakin nodded slowly, still not lifting his eyes to look at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan reached up and cupped his jaw and rubbed his thumb across his bearded cheek—it was a strange sensation on his Anakin. He smiled to himself when he noticed it was patchy in places. Anakin finally looked up at him, red-rimmed blue eyes made glassy and bright with tears.

"I'm not sure about the beard," he said with a grin hoping it would bring Anakin a little smile, too. But he just stared at him, eyes roaming across his face then to his hair. Obi-Wan could feel the scrutiny and braced himself for the comments.

Anakin wordlessly reached up and gently ran his hand through Obi-Wan’s hair. His eyes fluttered shut. Anakin ran his hand back and forth a few times, enjoying the feeling of the soft, short spikes under his palm, then finally dropped his hand, unconcerned about the beard. "I'm not sure about the hair."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. "Well, I assure you, I'm working on that, too." That finally earned him a slight smile from his dear friend, even though they were still tiptoeing around each other and the issue at large.

Anakin sniffled once more then walked over to the couch and sat to pull off his boots. He let them fall where they may then stood again and made his way to Obi-Wan’s fresher, discarding items of clothing as he went. Obi-Wan sighed as he bent to pick up the boots and moved them underneath his cloak. He didn’t know where they would go from here, but this was a start.

#

Anakin had left the door to the fresher open which usually would have been an invitation, but Obi-Wan saw it now, at the very least, as Anakin not completely shutting him out. For that he was grateful. Forgoing the tea for the moment, he pulled off his own boots, and laid down on his bed, listening to the gentle noises of the shower.

While Anakin was gone, Obi-Wan had had ample time to think and meditate on what he wanted to say, but now that he was back, he was finding it difficult to know where to start.

At first, he found himself frustrated that Anakin just took off before they had a chance to talk. And hurt. Especially that he took off without a simple goodbye. Anything could have happened to either of them. But he didn’t want to begin with an accusation.

He couldn't promise not to take any more clandestine missions, and he wouldn’t apologize for taking this one—his duty had demanded it and they had saved the Chancellor. He knew Anakin would have done the same, especially as the Chancellor was his friend, even if he couldn’t admit it. But he was sorry that he had to fake his death to do it.

He and Ahsoka had had a good, long talk about it, and in the end he had felt closer to her than ever. Even though she was Anakin's padawan, he always felt so keenly that he, too, was personally responsible for her and cared for her as such. He had been proud of her accomplishments and achievements as she grew right before their eyes.

He had also taken time with Commander Cody, who understood better than anyone what Obi-Wan had to do for the mission. Obi-Wan had been sorry to learn that Cody and the 212th had been sent off on another mission before Obi-Wan’s ‘funeral,’ but Cody had never truly believed it anyway, and thus went about his own duties, positive that he'd see his friend and general again. That had made Obi-Wan feel somewhat better.

Obi-Wan was drawn from his reverie when Anakin coughed lightly from where he stood leaning in the doorway to the fresher. He was clad in black sleep pants and nothing else, arms crossed across his muscular chest. His hair looked darker than usual as it hung limp and damp around his face. Obi-Wan glanced at him from where he lay relaxing, one arm tucked behind his head. He could have waited in the living room, but he had preferred to stay close by. Still, the distance between them felt chasmic.

"Feeling better?"

Anakin hesitated then shrugged one shoulder, “A bit.” Then he rubbed at his jaw. "I think I want to shave though."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows, surprised he hadn't just done it while he was showering. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Well if you'd still like some tea, I can go--"

"I want you to shave me." Obi-Wan didn't know why the request startled him, but it did. He looked up and considered the younger man, who just stood there and stared at him.

"Oh?" Was the only reply he could manage.

Anakin turned slightly to head back in the fresher then beckoned Obi-Wan over with a tilt of his head. "C'mon, old man, make yourself useful." Obi-Wan smiled at the endearment and made his way towards Anakin.

#

Obi-Wan was alive. He was here and real and whole. For a little over a month, he had dreamt of Obi-Wan being killed in a myriad of ways with Anakin always left holding him in his arms, feeling his life and light leaving him. Even in his dreams, their bond severing was a painful thing. So he had kept it shut tight in order to not feel a thing—good or bad.

He hadn’t felt his master’s warmth since he had ‘died,’ and he missed it. It was more accurate to say he felt bereft. He hadn’t realized how much he had relied on it being a part of him until he no longer had it.

He had not handled Obi-Wan’s death well, not at all, but how could he? Nor had he handled it well when he found out Obi-Wan was alive. Or when he had explained the mission.

Then he saw him in the refectory at dinner and knew immediately he still needed time. Seeing that bastard’s face in Obi-Wan’s clothes was too much to handle, so he ran away to the Outer Rim. He knew it was Obi-Wan then, but he wondered if that face would forever haunt his dreams.

He had spent time talking to Captain Rex and his own padawan while he was away, but he was still far from forgiveness. He tried to meditate, but he had never been very good at that in general. He was always better at it when Obi-Wan was within reach anyway, when Obi-Wan could envelop him in his own warm Force signature. He struggled to control his emotions and feelings no matter what he did, and found his thoughts always returning to his old master even though he wanted to forget and move on.

In his worst moments, he vacillated between never wanting to see him again and never wanting to let him out of his sight.

And now, with Obi-Wan sitting right in front of him, he wanted to gather him into his arms. But he couldn’t imagine touching him again. He wanted to kiss him until he had covered every inch of skin and his own lips were chapped red. He wanted to yell at him until he could no longer use his voice. He wanted to sit down on his couch with him and suffer politely through a holodrama and a cup of tea. He wanted to spar and fight, get Obi-Wan on his knees, begging for his mercy—and his forgiveness.

He didn't know what to do or say. He felt frozen with indecision.

So instead, he merely stood between Obi-Wan’s spread legs as he sat on the counter of his fresher, slowly applying a worked lather to his jaw with his calloused fingertips. Anakin fought to keep his eyes open under Obi-Wan’s touch. He had missed it, dreamt about it, craved it; he had been a man wandering the desert for the last month, and Obi-Wan was his oasis.

His arms hung uselessly at his sides, unsure what to do with them. Normally his hands would have been all over Obi-Wan, touching him anywhere he would allow, but now he was uncertain. He carefully watched the older man's face as he tilted Anakin’s chin to the right, then slowly dragged the razor across his jaw, scraping away the layer of shaving cream there.

Obi-Wan was concentrating so hard on not cutting Anakin that he felt he had more of an opportunity to stare openly at his master's beloved—even now he was still his most beloved—face. Even as different as it was.

He was just grateful it was his face.

He looked so unlike the fastidious Jedi Master, Councilor and High General he'd become in the last couple of years. It was throwing Anakin off that he actually looked so much like the padawan Anakin had met aboard the Nabooian cruiser as they hurriedly lifted off Tatooine 13 years ago. The same soft blue eyes, the same length hair, the same dimpled cheeks and chin no longer hidden behind a beard, the same mole on his forehead, except… Now his eyes were lined, the corners crinkling when he smiled; his temples—though the hair was still shorn so short—were noticeably grey. There were also some new dark circles under his eyes, and when he pressed his lips thin in concentration, there were lines at the downturned corners of his mouth.

When had his master gotten old?

Perhaps that wasn't fair—he was only 37, nearly 38, but the war was aging him. These sorts of missions were aging him. The war was aging all of them. None of it was fair.

Whereas he could barely look at him before, he now found himself unable to look away from his still mostly beard-less face. He was so very handsome, he always had been, but his beard did hide his lovely visage. Obi-Wan was deep in concentration trying not to cut him, but he very selfishly wanted those blue eyes on him.

Anakin lifted his hands and set them gently on the tops of Obi-Wan’s thighs and squeezed lightly, waiting for the reaction. Obi-Wan startled and nicked the cheek he was shaving which caused Anakin to hiss.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan put the razor down quickly and grabbed the towel next to his leg. Anakin didn't remove either hand, despite his bleeding cheek. He liked too much the feel of muscle flexing under his hands as Obi-Wan shifted around. Obi-Wan curled his left hand around Anakin's neck then pressed the towel to his cheek with his right. "I'm so sorry, my dear. You startled me."

"S’ok," Anakin replied, careful not to move his mouth much because of the shaving cream. He was not the least bit concerned about a tiny nick when they all came home with new scars after every battle.

But Obi-Wan’s eyes were finally on him just like he wanted. Anakin held his gaze for what felt like an eternity until Obi-Wan looked away again to check the cut.

Anakin slowly slid his hands up Obi-Wan’s thighs until they came to rest on his hips. He stroked his sides with his thumbs, realizing how much he actually missed his touch. Look at me, he sent across their bond. Obi-Wan's eyes locked with his again, and if he hadn't been paying attention, he would have missed the way Obi-Wan tensed.

Not too long ago, he was sure this was lost to him forever. He'd never see, touch, or kiss his face again. Never hold him. Never hear his own name on those lips, whether it followed a scold or a whispered 'I love you.' And now here he was, sitting in front of him, as real as anything else—solid under his fingertips—but he was afraid he was a mirage or a ghost.

Obi-Wan finally removed the towel and looked down to rinse the razor in the sink. He hesitated briefly before bringing the razor back to his face and continuing. He continued to take in Obi-Wan’s face as he concentrated—every line, freckle, thread of grey in his barely-there beard and hair. When Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes, Anakin wanted to press kisses to the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"I take it there's something on my face?" Obi-Wan broke the silence as he rinsed the razor once more. He looked back at Anakin and huffed a laugh at his half-shaved face. He slowly and carefully dragged the razor around Anakin's mouth, down his upper lip then his chin. With the shaving cream finally cleared from around his mouth, Anakin felt it was safe to talk.

"No, nothing so awful as that." He reached up and gently stroked the corner of Obi-Wan’s left eye with feather-light fingertips. "Just wondering when you got these."

Obi-Wan hummed, his smile fading. "I surely couldn't tell you, it feels like one day I just woke up and they were there."

When Obi-Wan moved to rinse again, Anakin leaned forward quickly and pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s cheek right below his eye. Obi-Wan watched him while he used his thumb to wipe off the shaving cream he left behind.

"Sorry, I-- I just wanted to do that." He looked down, sheepish, feeling ridiculous. Obi-Wan felt like a stranger. And he hated it.

"There's no need to apologize," Obi-Wan said as he lifted his chin and finished shaving the last few patches. He cleared his throat, "Actually… I assumed you wouldn't want to anymore." He finally took the towel and wiped down Anakin's face to clean off the last bit of shaving cream. "There."

Anakin frowned as their eyes met once again. Obi-Wan's were warm but sad, and Anakin didn't know what to say. They both needed to say things, but not even the famed ‘Negotiator’ had the right words to say.

Anakin leaned to the side to look in the small mirror, his hands moving to wrap around the tops of Obi-Wan’s thighs once more, not ready to let go. He tilted his face side to side to check Obi-Wan’s handiwork. "Not bad." Obi-Wan huffed and Anakin fixed a warm gaze on him again. He moved around Obi-Wan and turned on the water to clean his face. Obi-Wan stayed in place until he reached out and tucked some wayward curls behind his ear, gently pinching his earlobe before removing his hand completely.

"Your hair is getting quite long, too—do you want me to trim it?"

Anakin finished rinsing his face and stood, grabbing the hand towel to dry it. He pulled it down his face roughly, then looked down at Obi-Wan who was staring up at him, a tender but inscrutable expression on his face. "No, I don't want you to trim it, you don’t like it?”

"No, no, I like it," Obi-Wan shifted as if he was about to get down but Anakin placed a hand on his shoulder—he wasn't through with him yet.

He pushed Obi-Wan’s knees apart and repositioned himself between them. He cupped his jaw with one flesh hand, one metal hand, gold-tipped fingers lightly grazing his ginger beard. They watched each other for what felt like an eternity, then he leaned forward and pressed his newly-shaved cheek against his master’s. Obi-Wan remained still—Anakin's cool skin was like a balm against his own warm skin. He rubbed his face gently against Obi-Wan’s then switched sides to do the other cheek. He finally felt the muscles in Obi-Wan's face pull into a smile.

"And what are you doing, my dear?" He asked, fondness creeping into his voice. He always loved playful Anakin—whenever he got a chance to be that way.

"I'm letting you feel your handiwork. Don't you think it's nice?"

Obi-Wan hummed again, "I suppose it's alright." Anakin pulled away quickly in mock offense. Obi-wan chuckled as he reached out and toyed with the drawstring on Anakin's sleep pants, his smile fading once more. Anakin's fingers twitched against Obi-Wan’s cheek. "Anakin, we have to…" Obi-Wan started but was cut off by the press of cool lips against his own. No fire or want, just soft but hesitant tenderness.

Despite the hesitancy, the familiarity and nearness of Anakin was what he had missed the most. Anakin pressed gentle kisses to his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his greying temples… But Obi-Wan wanted him still closer, needed him even closer. He placed his hands on the warm skin of his hips and pulled, which encouraged Anakin to wrap his arms around Obi-Wan’s back. They pulled at each other until their chests were pressed together. Obi-Wan sighed at the feel of that enveloping, solid warmth.

Anakin finally pulled away and straightened to his full height which allowed Obi-Wan to lean forward and tuck his head under his chin. It felt so nice to hold and be held once again.

“I missed you, I missed this,” Anakin said quietly. More than you can ever know, went unsaid.

“As did I,” Obi-Wan mumbled into his chest. “Please don’t leave again without saying goodbye.” He felt Anakin nod rather than say anything.

Anakin wanted to say the same, but the words were stuck in his throat. Their conversation could wait a little while longer. The tea could also wait. Right now, Obi-Wan was alive and in his arms, and he would never let him go again.

[prose-for-hire]

Choices

Pairing: Faith x reader

Request: i am so beyond thrilled requests are open again! when you have the time can you please do a faith x reader oneshot where the reader is a scooby and usually pretty ethical and trustworthy but they secretly date faith after she goes evil, preferably including angst with the other scoobys when they find out❤

Requested by: Anon

You liked to stick by the rules. You walked in the light. You weren’t a complete saint, of course. But you did pride yourself on being trustworthy. Your friends, the Scoobies, always came to you for advice.

You and Faith, in theory, appeared to be opposites. She was always so much more outgoing and cooler than most in the room. You were a lot more bookish and stereotypically ‘good’ than her. But you did compliment each other. You were both very caring people. You shared values and your humour complimented each other’s.

You found yourselves becoming closer and closer. Until the day she admitted she liked you. Kissed you. Ever since, you had lifted her up. Supported her when she thought you may turn from her.

You had both fallen so deeply. She had never felt this way before. It was everything. She couldn’t dare think about losing you. Much less because of her own actions. She would hate herself for it.

Faith had never had a relationship so good. You liked to communicate your feelings and always encouraged her to do the same. She had never been able to trust anyone in the way that she trusted you.

However, then you found out. About how she had hurt that man. About her working with the Mayor. When you found out what had happened with Faith, it hit you in the gut. Worried you.

Not for the reasons most may expect though. You worried for her safety. For what she was getting involved in. You wanted to wrap your arms around her, try to ground her the way she had for you so many times.

You saw her again but she hid behind that mask she usually used with the others. You hadn’t missed the way she hid those emotions. Your horror at what had happened had read to her as disgust. As if you no longer wanted to be with her. As if you hated her where there had only been love there before.

She was walking away from you, storming to her new apartment courtesy of the Mayor. Her eyes watering. Her heart in pieces. The only person she had ever trusted with her heart and now she had to face being alone again.

“Faith!” You shouted, rushing up behind her before she disappeared. She turned instantly, she always would for you.

“You’re here to end it, huh?” She said, looking at the floor, “Evil doesn’t really match the goody-schtick you have going on, right?”

“I can’t lose you Faith…” You admitted, your eyes welling with tears.

“Yeah, well, everyone leaves. Turns away. Gotta get used to it sometime right?”

“No! Please, don’t do this! I-I don’t want it to be like this…”

“Well, there’s no way you’re gonna turn from any of them – they were always your friends not mine”

“I won’t be able to stop being their friends, but I wanna be with you still… maybe we could… still?” “Uh, but… in secret?” You offered, cringing slightly. Hoping she wouldn’t laugh in your face. But she clung to it, near desperately. Her eyes brightened. Face appeared brightened by this hope.

She never thought you would say that. She adored you but she knew you well. Had expected you to be unable to see that things were grey not just black and white. Because of the way you always tried to be so good. Make the correct choices.

“You really mean it?”

You nodded vigorously to further your point. Eyes streaming with tears at even the idea of losing her. You wiped your eyes on your sleeve, facing her again.

“I can’t stand being without you”

“Even though I’m working with the Mayor, you can live with that, huh?”

You wrapped her in your arms, looking into her eyes the way you always did. Your love hadn’t changed. You had meant it when you said you would never leave her side. That nothing she could ever do would cease your love.

She wasn’t used to love in such an unconditional way. For someone to risk everything to be with her. Your friends, your morals, all of that was on the line. But you loved her. You needed her. Of course you would choose her. To stand by her.

You cupped her cheeks. Palms stroking either side of her face. You leaned in, pressing your lips to hers. It was slow and so gentle. Caressing her with such meaning. Full of your unending love. Your lips moved against hers in such doting display of affection. This kiss told her you would never leave. Never turn from her just because of her mistakes. Choices.

She wasn’t used to such tenderness. She was so overcome with emotion. You meant everything to her.

You would still help your friends and act as you always did. You wouldn’t help the Mayor although you had met him several times now. Under Faith’s protection. You would just be by her side. You loved her, how could you not?

You sat in the library, mostly silent now. You were still your usual friendly self but it you were just a lot quieter. They had been discussing Faith. Again. And you hadn’t really been listening until Buffy’s voice could be heard louder than the rest.

“Yeah, well, now she’s gone total psycho-gal there’s nothing we can do” Buffy said and the force of her words made you wince. You had audibly gasped without realising and everyone looked at you awkwardly. Realising what they had said. How fresh this must be for you.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, we’re here if you need to talk” They mistook your discomfort for heartbreak. And you let them. Just nodding in reply.

Truth was, you were counting down the minutes. Until you saw her again. You couldn’t help it. No matter how your choices now conflicted, she meant everything to you.

You had been daydreaming again. Of the way she enjoyed to slide a hand around your shoulder so that she could lean in closer and press a kiss to the side of your face. How she could whisper things in your ear. Sometimes teasing and too dirty to ever repeat, sometimes unbelievably soft things that could make you blush just as big.

Finally, it was the best part of the day. The bell went and you rushed out of the exit as soon as you could. Straight to her. You heart would beat faster the closer you got to her.

You smiled at her, entering her new place. It was plush and although you knew how she got it, you couldn’t help but enjoy it with her.

She kissed you on the lips, that smirk on her face that she did with the side of her mouth when she had you alone. She was exited to see you, had been alone most of the day. She lead you to her bed, pressing a few kisses to your mouth between the run-down of her day.

You lay in bed together as she showed you the large plasma tv that hung on the wall opposite. You loved it when she was excited this way. You didn’t get to see it often. Her showing you the items she had never owned before. You loved how fun she could be. You settled against her. Just cuddling and sharing your thoughts on the day until you decided to turn to watch the tv.

Your hand rubbing slowly against her upper arm. She enjoyed the sensation. Enjoyed the way nothing had changed for you. You really did still love her. You scooped her into your arms, holding her into you further.

You only wanted to spend time with her. Wanted to make her feel so very loved. She felt herself physically relax. Her jaw loosening, shoulders relaxed.

She grinned at the way you cuddled up to her. She began pressing slow kisses against your neck. Your hand slid to weave between her hair. The way you always did when she got this way. She really loved you. Wanted to show you at any opportunity.

Her body heat and yours, skin against skin. It was pure bliss when it was just the two of you. There was no good or evil. No right or wrong. Just this deep, all-encompassing connection.

She used to use people for sex and then move on so quickly. Before she had found happiness. Before she had found you.

Having you didn’t change her choices or that she had changed sides. But it did change how she felt about herself. She still had your love, your affection. You couldn’t leave her side despite the fact she knew you didn’t agree with her choices.

She moved, your embrace loosening as she pressed herself into you further, one hand now guiding your jaw to face her properly. So that she could kiss your lips fully. You grasped at the strands of hair weaved between your fingers, pulling her closer still.

It was bliss.

That was, until an uninvited visitor arrived. Buffy had kicked the door in as Faith had rolled over so that she was above you in bed.

You both looked over to the door, eyes widened. You had been caught out. Nobody had known about your continued relationship, you had kept it well hidden.

Both of your eyes widened from your compromising position. There was no way you could just explain this away.

“Oh my God, what is happening?!”

“Yeah, guys, could the Hellmouth finally be giving us opposite day?”

“Well, that would make me the good Slayer and you the-”

“You’re not bad” You hissed in her ear as she slid from the position she had been in to sit on the edge of her bed. Staring at the intruders. She felt so vulnerable. So scared they were going to take you from her.

“No way! No way would they give you the time of day now that you’re bad-”

“Please, don’t wig, we’re just… I couldn’t just leave her! She’s not a bad person!”

“Oh, right, she convince you of that between the soulless gropy-ness?”

“Didn’t realise there was a big book of big, bad deception now that we don’t know about. She lend you a copy?” Buffy said, her tone harder than she had ever directed at you before.

“It does kinda seem like she’s clouded your brain with… smooches” Willow added, looking at the floor. She didn’t like confrontation.

“She’s been there for me when nobody else-”

“We’re your friends! All she’s ever done is wrecked your life!”

“Yeah, Y/n, didn’t know you could even consider moving over to the dark side” Xander said, trying to aim for light hearted but it quickly rounded into sounding accusatory. As if they were all so disappointed in you.

That it had been expected of Faith, that she was a ticking time-bomb. But they drew the line at you being ‘dragged down’ to her level.

“Hey, it didn’t mean anything, okay? I just, it was just to end it. Get it outta our system, y’know? Right, y/n/n?” Faith offered. The group still didn’t like this and would likely not let you off for a month, but it meant you would at least get them back as friends eventually.

She didn’t ever want to be the reason you lost your friends. Not over her, she didn’t feel like she was worth it at all. You gave her a look and she nodded once, showing that it was okay. That she understood.

Her eyes were glassy and you had never seen her cry before. She was always so strong. Never wanted you to see her emotional, to admit it. But you could tell that over this – over you, her eyes were welling up.

“No” You said suddenly. Everyone’s faces a picture of shock. They couldn’t believe that you, of all people could be so firm about this despite everything you knew about Faith and what she had done.

You moved to stand by her side, your hand slid into hers. You squeezed slightly, showing her you meant this. That you would always be here, no matter what. That you loved her because of who she was no matter what choices she had made.

“I love Faith. I don’t care anymore, I choose her. I’ll always choose her.” You insisted, “A-and if this isn’t the ‘right’ choice then… then I don’t want to be good anymore”

There was a stony silence where you felt the tension rising uncomfortably. The room that had been glowing with love was now heating with anger. Disapproval. Near-hatred for your words.

They were angry with you. Their faces at different levels of seething. You, doing this, was a worse betrayal to them than to Faith switching sides. You suddenly felt unsafe with them where you never had before with your friends. You stepped back, unconsciously. Trying to shield yourself from them with Faith.

How could friends of yours change their mind of you so easily?

“Then you choose to be beaten. I can’t promise I won’t fight you if it means doing what’s right - and I mean properly right” Buffy warned. But for today, with this devastating blow – of losing you as a friend in their eyes. They just left.

Left you with Faith, which would never be a penance to you. You adored her. She instantly moved to your side, she had left a little space in case your proximity would have created a worse argument.

She never wanted you hurt. She comforted you, enveloping you in her arms. Walking you back to the bed. Your safety. Just you and her. The idea of losing your friends had devastated you. You felt pushed out, hated. You couldn’t help how deeply you felt for Faith. You knew you would do the exact same thing over again.

You had meant it. You had made your choice. You chose Faith. Always.

[buckybabybaby]

café d'amour

A/n: my entry to @firefly-in-darkness 's challenge. Thank you for letting me enter! I left it to the last minute once again, but! This time it's not late so... fingers crossed next time I'm early xxx

Proof read with a text-speech device.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 3537

Warnings: none! :]

Plot: Maybe covering a friends shift in a city park coffee kiosk won't be too bad if it means running into a certain super soldier.

coffee-shop sort of au, fluff and more fluff.

Masterlist

*****

The machine humming quietly in the corner of the tiny hut seems to be mocking you, a constant reminder of just how out of your depth you are. People who think working in a coffee shop, or in your case, a take-out kiosk, is easy, should try it for a day and see if their opinion changes. This is so far away from your usual job, safe and warm re-shelving books in the colleges library, but a promise is a promise, so you've just got to suck it up for the next few weeks and hope you don't mess anyone’s orders up too badly.

Peter is going to owe you big time after this.

When he'd asked you to cover for him in his small business, you had agreed without properly thinking about what time of year it is, and how cold the wind can be when you're stood still in it for hours on end. Two days in and your hands have aged about ten years from the combination of frequent washing and the icy air, and the layers of thermals you've got on under your uniform fleece and matching joggers are making you look a little rounder than you actually are, you couldn't care less though as long as you are warm. The water heater provides a little warmth, leaking through to your skin if you press up against it, but you've found the best way to escape the freezing gusts is to crouch down below the counter when the queues have diminished.

That's where you are now, half heartedly straightening the packets of treats, getting distracted by the many different types of cookies and brownies, and not keeping an eye out for potential customers.

“Hello? Is this self-serve or what?”

The voice startles you, so close without warning, almost like they crept up on you. Hopping up quickly, you hover your hands under the sanitiser and rub them together as you collect yourself and prepare your speech.

“Hello! Sorry! Hello,” You start again, marginally calmer, “Welcome to-”

That's as far as you get, not even able to ask what they 'fancy today?' before the customer interrupts.

“Just a coffee. Black. No fancy milks or syrups or anything, no cakes or anything extra. Just coffee, okay?”

Finally looking up from your now dry hands, you take in the man who has placed such a blunt order. He's attractive enough, the little you can see underneath his hat, something about him familiar to you, his tone definitely one you've got used to over the past day or so, though he's not anywhere close to the rudest person you've served.

You smile pleasantly, in the disarming way you've learnt. “Okay, just coffee, got it. And a name for the cup?”

He looks around at the lack of other customers. “Is that necessary?”

Laughing self-consciously, you say, “Probably. If it gets busy I'd hate for it to get mixed up. I'm new.”

“Ah.” He tuts. “James.”

“James, cool. That'll be a few minutes.”

As you grab a pen to write his name on the sleeve of a cup, he shuffles off to the side, adjusting his hat as he does, and when his coat slips a bit down his left arm your mind goes blank. He's not paying attention to you so your staring goes unnoticed as you realise why you thought he was familiar earlier, wondering how it didn't click when he said his name, but then again wrapped up in his scarf and gloves it's not surprising. You're guessing he doesn't want to be recognised right now, hence the use of his real, less known name, so before he can catch your mild freak-out you look away and messily scribble on the side of his cup.

Even a simple order can be a struggle for you, and now, slightly flustered from serving the Winter Soldier, you make sure to double check the measurements before you start, concentrating hard to make the greatest cup of coffee he's ever had. There's a reason this kiosk has a reputation for the best hot drinks in the park and you aren't about to ruin it by messing up the order of Captain America's best friend.

Breathing a sigh of relief as you place the lid on top of the perfectly brewed coffee, you tap it against the table to get his attention. “Here you go. The machines ready.”

Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he swipes his card to pay then grabs the cup off the counter, murmurs something that could have been a 'thanks' and takes off along the dim path leading him deeper into the park.

“Well.” Huffing as you lean against the glass front of the booth, you watch his retreating form with a small frown. He wasn't anything like you thought he might. The media has built him up to be some sort of tragic figure, one to be feared and pitied in equal measure, but all you saw was yet another city dweller on a quest for caffeine.

At least now you have a story to tell from your time working in the coffee kiosk, aside from the ones about frozen fingers and half-spilt drinks.

*****

The next day he's back, around the same time in the afternoon, as the daylight is dying and the street lights are flickering into life, about an hour before closing. You're finishing up a complicated order for a group of friends when you notice him standing away from the small crowd, waiting for them to leave before he approaches.

“I want a coffee like yesterday,” He says, adding as though an after thought, “Please.”

“One black coffee?” You confirm.

He nods, watching closely as you locate the pen to write on his cup. Before you can even open the cap, he's butting in. “Why don't you have a name tag?”

You freeze, confused. Meeting his eye, you flush under the intense way he's staring you down. “Why don't I-?”

“You see, I have a very good memory, despite my age. I distinctly remember telling you my name is James, so imagine my surprise seeing my nickname written on my cup when I looked properly.”

His expression is not giving away any clues on how he feels about this invasion of privacy. Heart racing, you search for the right words to apologise, and convince him you're not some crazy stalker.

There's no chance to speak as he's continuing. “So I thought I'd come back today and find out your name, then we'd be even. But you don't have a badge on. Why not?”

“I'm so sorry,” You breathe, unsure what more you can say. “I swear I'm not a weirdo, I just recognised you yesterday and I must have written the wrong name by accident.” A beat of silence, then you propose a way to make it right, “How about free coffee for life?”

He laughs, a glorious sound in the crisp air, and your shoulders relax at the genuinely happy noise. “Aren't you new? Are you allowed to make promises like that?”

Wincing, you admit, “Probably not. But when I explain it to Peter I'm sure he'll understand.”

“Peter?”

You start working on his drink as you talk. “He owns this place. And normally works this shift, I'm only covering whilst he's away.”

“Oh.” The hissing of steam drowns out his next sentence, you only catch the last half, “-here how long?”

“Couple of weeks, maybe? Not too long hopefully. You'll have a professional barista back soon, don't worry.”

“I think you're doing fine.”

The words are spoken so softly, such a contrast from how you thought this conversation would end, and the shock has you fumbling with the finished cup of coffee, nearly spilling the scolding liquid all over your fingers.

“Careful.”

Taking the cup from you, his hand lingers against yours for a moment too long and you force yourself to stand up straighter and away from his touch. The last thing you want is to become a horrible cliché, falling for a customer after a few sweet lines.

He grabs a few napkins to wipe the cup dry, then looks expectantly at the card machine.

“I meant it, free for life,” You say, determined.

Shaking his head, he roots around in his pockets, pulling out a couple of notes and sliding them across the counter towards you. “Old fashioned money it is then. I didn't mean to come across as angry earlier, or yesterday, thinking about it. Sorry about the whole,” He waves his hand around vaguely, “Murderous vibe I give off, or whatever Sam calls it.”

He rolls his eyes fondly when talking about his team mate, and you giggle as you reassure him. “You didn't look murderous, just a bit like you might sue me.”

��Ugh.” He wrinkles his nose. “Not really my style.”

Your bank balance is thankful. “And to answer your question, I'm Y/N.”

Blowing on to the top of his drink, he takes several steps back, all whilst keeping eye contact. “Well then Y/N, I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

“I'll be here.”

With that, Bucky waves goodbye with a wide smile, disappearing into the dusk as you wonder just how much trouble he's going to be.

*****

The kind of trouble you don't mind, you find out when you run in to him again the next day, a lot earlier than you imagined. In an attempt to keep yourself warm for the long hours stood in the open, with only a waist high counter between you and the frozen air, you've taken to walking around the park before you are due to start, so the heat generated by the exercise keeps you warm for at least a proportion of your shift.

The sunshine is deceptive this afternoon, doing nothing to raise the temperature as you wander around the edge of the lake. Lost in thought, a sudden shout from behind makes you jump.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait up.”

Turning around, you struggle to place the voice as you scan the few people also on this side of the park. None of them are even looking in your direction, let alone trying to draw your attention, and you're about to continue on your way thinking you must have misheard when a body nearly crashes into yours. This is not an image you ever thought you would see; the Winter Soldier panting to catch his breath after jogging up to you, all because you're on first name terms and not because you've suddenly turned to a life of crime.

“Bucky?”

At your bemused tone, his face drops. “Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. If you want to be alone, I can go, I just thought-”

“No! No, it's okay. I don't mind a bit of company.”

You share a smile, and he lets you take the lead back along the small track, winding its way between the trees and the water.

He breaks the silence a few meters along. “So, what do you normally do?”

“Me? Err,” You pause, trying to think of how to make yourself sound interesting to someone who spends his life side by side with superheroes and literal gods. Sighing in defeat as you conclude you're always going to be boring in comparison, you mumble, “I work in the library where I'm also a student.”

Bucky doesn't appear to think you're dull. “That's cool!” He says, like he means it. “I miss being in school.”

“So did I, so when I got the chance I went back. I'm a bit older than most of the students-”

He snorts. “I know how that feels.”

“But I'm determined to get my degree this time.”

“I'm sure you will.” He grins at you and you're inexplicably filled with hope that he's right. “And after? Do you know what you want to do once you've graduated?”

You shake your head. “Right now all I'm focused on is passing exams and submitting essays on time. I'll think about the future when it's closer.”

“That's fair. Nothing wrong with waiting to figure things out.” More reassurance from this relative stranger. You didn't know how much you needed it until just now.

“Most people say I need a ten year plan or something.”

“Most people are wrong. But,” He pauses, and you hold your breath as you anticipate his words. “Can I suggest if you go into business, maybe don't start off by offering life time free supplies at the drop of a hat?”

Two minutes in to this 'friendship' and he's already teasing you? What is going on? Turning your face away so he can't see your stupid grin at this turn of events, you really would believe this is some sort of perfect daydream if it wasn't for the all too real frozen mist clinging to your coat and the ends of your hair.

“I'll try to remember that, thanks.”

Dodging a puddle in the middle of the path, you're trying to come up with a witty retort to impress him when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

“If you need to get that-”

“Oh, no. It's only my alarm to remind me not to wander too far from work before I need to start.”

“Soon?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll walk you back, then.”

Not wanting to leave his side quite yet, you let him accompany you back through the trees, but you refuse his offer to carry you across a muddy part of the path where the stream has burst it's banks. Flushing as he laughs at your careful steps, you manage to get across without completely ruining your shoes, informing him you've learnt the hard way that these trails aren't exactly 'white trainer friendly' as the kiosk looms into view.

Relieving the worker from the morning shift, you rearrange the counter back to the way you like it before any customers turn up, watching Bucky hovering nearby until you give him a questioning look.

He clears his throat. “If I came this way the same time tomorrow, would I bump into you then?”

The hopeful look he gives you would be enough for you that, even if this walk wasn't part of your daily routine already, you would have made it so in order to see his again.

“Uh huh. Are you planning too?”

“Whenever I come with Sam, we always end up getting recognised with the way he can't keep his voice down. It's nice not having that sort of attention. So if you don't mind?”

“I don't mind.” A patron approaches and reluctantly you turn away, sending a quiet promise to your new friend. “See you tomorrow, Bucky.”

*****

The days past so fast now they're full of work, both at the kiosk and in the library, trying to study, and, most importantly, walking with Bucky every afternoon. Some days the two of you talk the whole way, conversation flowing so easily you're amazed at how honest you are, like you've never been with anyone before, and other days you walk together in relative quiet, completely comfortable in each others presence.

Falling for him is the quickest and easiest thing you've ever done. Dealing with your feelings, however, might be somewhat harder.

With the lighter evenings comes the message that Peter is finally on his way home and soon you'll be free of your second job. It feels like a bolt from the blue, to be reminded that this is only temporary and in not too long you will no longer have an excuse to see Bucky.

You mention it to him a week before your last shift.

“Isn't that good?”

“I guess.” Your reply is short and unenthusiastic, changing the subject quickly to hide how heartbroken you are.

Time moves too fast, and before you know it you're greeting him on that last day, taken aback as he presents you with a small cardboard box, which when you take it, is much heavier than it looks. “Natasha gave it to me for you. Apparently it's really good for your hands. I thought you could try it? Now you won't have to wash them constantly?”

Scanning the sides reveals that it contains a moisturiser, from some luxury brand you've never even thought to try, too far out of your price range. “Oh, this is too much, I can't take-”

“Yes you can.”

“Let me give you something-”

Gently tugging your hand back out of your bag, he stops you from grabbing your purse by enclosing his gloved fingers around yours. When he doesn't let go, instead pulling you along and down towards your now usual route, you let him, gaping at the back of his head before coming to your senses and squeezing his hand in a kind of thanks.

“This is a very kind present.”

He shrugs it off. “It's nothing. When it's your birthday or something, then I'll get you a proper present. Presents, plural,” He emphasises as your eyes widen at the thought. “Nah, this is just one of the hundreds of products Natasha gets sent in the vain hope she'll provide the companies with some free advertising. Better you have it than it go to waste.”

It still feels like a gift to you. “Well then, thank you for thinking of me.”

“Always.” The implication of that one word would have been entirely missed if it wasn't for the panicked look on Bucky's face as he corrects himself. “I... I mean, of course.”

Stopping in the middle of the path, your joined hands cause him to halt too and the atmosphere grows tense as you stare at each other, unsure where to start. The minutes haven't stopped ticking down until you're due on your last shift, and with the implication that comes with hanging over you like a dark cloud, now seems just as good a time as any to bring it up.

You hesitantly begin. “Bucky, can I say something?”

Mutely, he gestures for you to proceed.

“Right, so you know today's my last day at the kiosk, at least until Peter goes away again, so, that means I won't have a reason to walk around here any more. Or I won't, unless...”

“Unless?”

“Unless I do. Unless you still want to come around the park with me, even if it's for no more reason than simply going for a walk?”

“I'd love that.”

The relief that flows though you as he agrees is almost physical, gripping onto his hand in yours just a little tighter.

Feeling brave, you dare to push your luck. “And if it was more than just a walk?”

It takes a moment, but then you see the realisation dawning on his face, a slow smirk appearing as he takes a step into your space. “More?”

You know he knows what you mean, that he's playing with you. That doesn't soothe your doubts though, hoping beyond hope that you're not misinterpreting his teasing.

“Yeah. More.”

Letting go of your hand in order to bring one arm around your waist and pull you closer, your own come to rest against his lapels as he dips his head down.

“I think I'd like more,” He whispers.

You swallow as his gaze slips to your mouth, sinking in his embrace as his lips brush against yours, so soft and brief it barely registers,

Moving back to put a bit of room between the two of you, his thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth as you pout sadly.

“You can have another one once you've finished tonight. Maybe. Or maybe you'll have to wait until after our date tomorrow.”

You frown. “Tomorrow?”

“Yep. If you're free?”

“Always.” Repeating his earlier phrase with a sly smile, you turn around to continue along the track, leaving him speechless for a second before he rushes to fall into step.

His arm slides through yours. “So, is it okay to wait for you tonight?”

“You've just kissed me and you're still asking that?”

“I'm just checking.” When you don't answer he presses, “Is it? I don't want to impose.”

'Too late for my heart', you think but don't say, not wanting to scare him off, instead nodding in reply and leaning into his side as you wind your way through the woodland path. The fear you had felt this morning at potentially having to say goodbye to Bucky feels like a distant memory, and as you watch the sunlight dance across his hair you realise you could never have let today be the last. You started this job reluctantly and now, instead of Peter owing you for the favour, it seems you owe him.

Peter doesn't needs to know just yet, you decide.

That usually particularly muddy part of the path has become even muddier after the overnight rain, and this time you allow him to pick you up in his arms and carry you across, feeling its finally appropriate now your relationship has changed. Setting you down on the other side, he presses a kiss to your forehead almost absent-mindedly, and your tummy does a flip as you take a second or two to admire his profile.

You sigh happily. So much for not becoming a cliché.

*****

Thank you for reading!! Masterlist

[blrush]

If Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding was a serious drama with hour long episodes, Part 3: The Honeymoon Is Over.

Ki Wan drew back his hand. Why had he reached out to Ho Seon like that? What was he hoping to achieve? It must be the exhaustion getting the better of him – yes that was it, he was just tired. In the warm room, under the candle light, Ho Seon had looked so handsome, like a painting of a prince and Ki Wan had felt the urge to touch the painting, and check if it was real. But Ho Seon was a man of flesh and bone, who reacted, and it scared Ki Wan out of his reverie and back to reality – a reality in which he could not afford to make such careless mistakes, or let down his guard.

He stepped back and mumbled under his breath;

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay”, Ho Seon replied, as he brought himself to his feet. They stood apart, an awkward silence between them.

“Ah!” Ho Seon realised, “You spoke!” Ki Wan brought his hand to his mouth, he hadn’t even registered that he’d opened it!

“I’m glad.” Ho Seon smiled, “I thought you never would. I was almost wondering if you could!” He joked, relaxing them both.

Was this the right moment? Should he tell Ho Seon the truth now? The opportunity was presenting itself, he could easily use this conversation as a starting point…

“Come,” Ho Seon spoke before Ki Wan could make up his mind. “Let’s go to bed, you must be tired.”

Ki Wan looked at the bed, then back to Ho Seon.

“Not “to bed”, in that way, I mean to sleep.” Ho Seon assured him.

They were both already down to their under garments, and Ki Wan was tired enough to fall asleep as he was, even though the layers of bandage-like fabric were tight and constricting on his chest and he would rather sleep naked or in a light open robe, he thought that exposing himself was probably not the best way for Ho Seon to find out the truth.

He had never slept in the same bed as another person, and he thought it might prove uncomfortable, but he found the sound of Ho Seon’s deep breathing soothing, and drifted off peacefully, carefully curled up on his own side of the bed.

In the morning, he woke feeling properly well rested for the first time in years. He had never minded his room at home, and was always happy in his own company. But his room had been bigger, and colder, the only sound was the wind outside, whistling through the archways and halls of their empty home. He had no idea the comfort that a warm body beside you could afford. During the night, he awoke briefly, but simply watched the shape of Ho Seon’s shoulders slowly moving up and down and he was quickly lulled back to sleep.

Ho Seon was such a welcome presence, he emanated warmth and comfort. And whilst Ki Wan was still fearful of him discovering the truth, he felt a level of safety and trust already with Ho Seon. He began to truly believe, rather than simply hope, that Ho Seon would be able to accept the truth and Ki Wan’s reasons for his deception. He no longer feared any kind of violent outburst from his new husband, now - he just feared the look of disappointment that would inevitably colour Ho Seon’s normally happy face.

Apparently, even sober, Ho Seon was not easy to rise. He took an age to wake up, twisting and turning under the covers, grumbling and murmuring. Ki Wan found it exceedingly amusing, and lay happily under the warm covers for longer than he should – watching Ho Seon. Ho Seon eventually turned to face him, at first seemingly a little taken aback by another person in his bed, but then registered it was his wife and smiled – toothlessly, his eyes closing.

“Goooggmrrning” He mumbled. Then he opened his eyes, sparkling with mischief, and added in an overly formal tone “My wife.”

“Mmm morning” Ki Wan responded, muffling his voice beneath the covers.

Ho Seon smiled and gave a prompting nod. Ki Wan rolled his eyes.

“Husband” he added quietly. This seemed to please Ho Seon to no end and he smiled ear to ear, giving an enormous yawn and stretch before beginning to get up.

~ ~ ~

The next few weeks of married life passed like a blissful dream. Ho Seon spent most of his days studying, or tending to administrative work, whilst Ki Wan kept his mother-in-law company, doing housework or tending to the garden. Some days, Ho Seon would come out to the courtyard and set up his desk outside on the balcony. Ki Wan suspected he didn’t like to feel excluded from any possible fun they may be having.

Ki Wan found himself settling into a routine of family life, and he and Ho Seon would bid each other goodnight and good morning as spouses, but it felt more like they were children playing house. They both avoided touching one another, and Ki Wan still avoided speaking as much as possible without seeming rude. Though he began to relax, particularly around his mother in-law, who had insisted he call her ‘mother’, which at first Ki Wan found difficult as it made him sad to think of his own loss, but he eventually complied and it only added to the happy-family delusion. She didn’t seem to notice or mind his voice. In fact, she complimented him on it once, and requested that Ki Wan should read to her sometimes – a request that Ki Wan happily complied with, as he missed reading and studying, things which he used to enjoy so much in his old student life before his mother passed away.

One evening Ho Seon passed comment as they were getting ready for bed. Ho Seon was sitting on the bed, cross legged, expectantly, like a child would.

“How come you read to my mother, but you never read to me?” He pouted.

“You can read.” Ki Wan responded.

“Pleeasssse,” Ho Seon whined, “Won’t you read me a bedtime story? Pleeeaase? Wife?”

Ki Wan stifled his laughter, and threw a pillow at Ho Seon in lieu of a proper response.

Their comfortable pantomime as a married couple became second-nature, and Ki Wan almost forgot about the graveness of his circumstances. He knew deep-down this illusion couldn’t last forever, but he couldn’t bring himself to be the one to shatter it.  Their bubble was burst before long, not by either of them, but in the form of an unexpected visitor.

~ ~ ~

Ki Wan often bathed at the house, where they had a big warm tub which the maid would fill for him, and that Ho Seon would use after him. But his fear that the maid may walk back in at any moment, or that Ho Seon himself might barge in unknowingly meant that bath-time became more stressful than relaxing, and he could never really clean his body properly as the tub was too small and he spent most of the time trying to hide his naked body under the water. Walking one day near the river, his mother in-law pointed out a gorge where she said there was a natural spring that people could bathe in.

“I used to take Ho Seon down here when he was little.” She reminisced, “He used to love splashing around – he was so chubby as a baby! Aiiguuu, you will have such cute babies!”

The topic of children did seem to come up an awful lot with his mother-in-law, though Ki Wan normally brushed it off by acting coy and shy about the topic of baby-making. She never pushed him about it or asked intrusive questions about the physical side of their marriage, but she did always manage to slide babies into the conversation.

One morning, Ho Seon announced that he had to go into town on some business, and would take a few hours – whilst his mother-in-law felt poorly and said she would be staying in bed to rest. After helping her into bed, and reading to her until she fell sleep, Ki Wan felt a sudden rush of freedom and relief – he was alone! He immediately rushed back to the bridal house, collected clean undergarments, and headed out for the spring. He left a note beside his mother-in-law’s bedside, lest she wake and panic – or worse, come to find him.

Amongst the rocks and foliage, the spring looked tranquil and inviting. He carefully made his way amongst the trees, down the steep incline. He removed his clothing, and waded in. The water was cold but refreshing, and he dunked his head right under. Relief and calm enveloped him under the surface. He floated around happily, washing himself and swimming, revelling in the peace and quiet.

He knew he should get out soon, as his fingertips were beginning to wrinkle, and his mother-in-law was sure to wake eventually, but he was so relaxed he didn’t want to leave.

Giving his hair a final rinse, he dragged his fingers through a knot at the end and turned to where he had left his clothes on the rocks. He yelped with fright, a man was standing above the rocks looking down at him. He lowered himself further under the water, covering his chest completely.

He could only make out a silhouette, a tall frame, an adorned hat – a government official.

He dared not move, he could barely breathe. He had let his guard down for the first time in over a month, and this is what had come of it! The man began to move, and at first Ki Wan thought he was going to come further down the rocks to the pool, but instead – thankfully – the man turned and made his way back up to toward the road. There was no way of knowing how long he had been standing there. Had he been watching? How much could he see from up there? Had he simply wanted to use the spring, seen a young man bathing, and left? Or had he seen a woman in a state of immodesty? Either way, Ki Wan told himself that the man was a stranger so what should it matter to him?

But what should he do? Grab his clothes and head the opposite direction? But he didn’t know his way around the woods outside the property that well, he really only knew the way back to the Ryu house along the road. No, he would have to stay in the pool longer and hope the man left. But there was no way of knowing how long that would be. He sat in indecision until he could bare the cold no longer. Shivering he clambered out of the spring and put on his dress. Struggling and rushing, his clothes were now damp and he felt uncomfortable. But the afternoon sun had moved beyond trees and he was beginning to freeze in the woods. He would have to head home and hope the man had left the road. He tied back his wet hair and set off.

Upon arriving home, Ki Wan went directly to visit his mother-in-law, who was sitting up in bed, sipping some tea.

“Ahhh, my daughter, come sit beside me.”

“Eomeoni, how are you feeling?”

“Fine, I’m fine. I hate wasting away the day in bed. It makes me feel like an old lady!”

Ki Wan cracked a smile. “Oh? But you don’t look a day over twenty-five!”

“YA!” She half shouted, half laughed. “Rude girl! I was a real beauty in my day you know!”

Just then the maid knocked on the door and entered.

“Ma’am, there is an officer here to see the young master. He has been waiting a little while near the stables. I didn’t want to disturb you, and I wasn’t sure where the young madam was. I told him that Ho Seon was away in town, but he said he could wait. Shall I put him in the guest room, or offer him some tea?”

“Ughhh” she harrumphed, “I’m not in the mood to see some stuffy old court official today. He can just wait for Ho Seon, he should be back soon.”

“With all due respect Ma’am, he does seem very high-ranking. And he is not so stuffy or old… he’s actually quite handsome.” She giggled and looked toward Ki Wan for some sisterly affirmation.

“Very well. Hwa Jin, since you are now the lady of the house, why don’t you go and tend to him. Just serve him some tea and make a bit of small talk until Ho Seon gets back. Oh, and then let me know how handsome he is” she winked.

Ki Wan tried to force a smile as he rose, but his heart was sinking. What if it was the man from the spring? It had to be, what other official would be out on that road coincidentally? He began following the maid toward the stables to collect the gentleman.

Perhaps he had not seen Ki Wan’s face? Who was to say he would make the connection that the person he had seen in the pool was Ki Wan? He had to calm himself down!

As they approached the stables, where the official was tending to his horse, Ki Wan was sure it was the same man. The same broad stature, the same high-ranking hat. He turned when he noticed them, he was – as the maid had claimed – young and very handsome. The maid introduced Ki Wan formally.

“Sir, may I introduce the Lady Ryu Hwa Jin, wife of Ryu Ho Seon. She will see to you whilst you await Master Ryu’s return.”

“Pleasure to meet you. My name is Kim Tae Hyung, Head of the Department of Justice.”

The maid gave a bow, and shuffled away, leaving Ki Wan quaking with fear.

Ki Wan gave a polite bow, then turned for Tae Hyung to follow him through the courtyard. Ki Wan kept his head low and turned away from the man, silently praying for Ho Seon’s speedy return.

Ki wan showed Tae Hyung to the guest room, a simple room with a large reception area and a small alcove for bedding to the side. They rarely used it, but it was the most appropriate space for the man to be received, and for him to meet with Ho Seon if it were for business. Tae Hyung sat down at the table, and Ki Wan waited silently at the door for the maid to bring tea. Ki Wan was on edge, waiting for the man to speak. But he sat quietly, and Ki Wan continued to stare at his own feet.

Finally, the maid arrived with a tray of tea, which she placed on the table before leaving again. Ki Wan took a deep breath to steady himself, then went about serving the tea. He focused on his hands, looking down at the table, he poured two cups and handed one politely to the gentleman. As he did so, their hand touched, and Ki Wan wondered if it had been intentional on Tae Hyung’s part – as if he was trying to incite some sort of a reaction from Ki Wan – the kind of small gesture that might fluster a particularly prudish, gentle, or chaste young lady. Ki Wan made no reaction, and sipped his own tea. Then he sat back on his heels, placed his hands in his lap and waited. All the while, repeating the same mantra in his mind; ‘Ho Seon come back. Ho Seon come back. Ho Seon come back…’

“Unseasonably cold today wouldn’t you agree Lady Ryu?”

Ki Wan nodded.

“A bit cold for a swim, wouldn’t you agree?”

He knew.

Ki Wan was petrified, unmoving. What had he seen? There was something sinister behind his light tone. Ki Wan was sure he knew.

Tae Hyung placed his cup down on the table and leant forward. He brought his hand up to Ki Wan’s face, grabbed his chin and forced Ki Wan to look up at him.

Ki Wan could feel himself losing control of his fear, his neck and ears felt flushed, he was gritting his teeth so hard it was nearly audible, and he could feel tears beginning to well in his eyes. This was it, he was finished. This was not his kind husband finding out the truth, this was a powerful military man who probably had deeply strict Confucius values.

He examined Ki Wan’s face carefully, and looked almost pleased with himself.

“Hmmm… utterly convincing. But how odd. What’s a pretty young boy like you doing parading around as a noble woman?” He sounded amused, like this was all a fun game. Ki Wan was gripping his skirt tightly, and felt bile rising up in his throat.

Just then, Ki Wan heard the sound of approaching footsteps in the courtyard, and Tae Hyung calmly pulled his hand away – like he wasn’t at all bothered by the thought of being caught touching another man’s wife. Ki wan had never met someone so self-assured in their own sense of power.

Ki Wan heard Ho Seon enter the room from behind him.

“Ah! Kim Tae Hyung! I wasn’t expecting you. Sorry I had business in town. How have you been?” He sat himself down beside Ki Wan, and began to pour himself some tea.

“I’m well, thank you. I’ve been travelling the country on some royal errands. I heard you were getting married, I was so sorry I couldn’t attend.”

“Ahh, not to worry!” Ho Seon responded brightly, “It was a small wedding, just family really.”

Ho Seon’s exuberance and cheerful voice, which Ki Wan usually found so comforting, was like the sound of grinding metal in its contrast to Ki Wan’s mood and the tension of the room. Ki Wan was still fraught with anxiety and fear and felt like he was suffocating.

“I never pegged you as the marrying type” Tae Hyung began, “What changed?”

“My mother’s getting older, I guess she wanted a daughter to keep her company, and she was determined to see me settle down and have a family.”

“Oh?” Tae Hyung looked amused over his cup of tea, “Any luck so far?”

“Tae Hyung!” Ho Seon chastised half-heartedly. It was clear to Ki Wan that they were old friends, perhaps from school, Ho Seon’s easy manner and informal speech made that obvious. But Tae Hyung was fishing for information, trying to figure out if Ho Seon knew his wife’s secret – but his subtle jibes at Ki Wan were going completely unnoticed by Ho Seon.

“Tell me, where did you find such a beauty? I’ve never met another woman like her.” He looked directly at Ki Wan, with a smirk that, to Ho Seon, must have seemed like flirting – but to Ki Wan felt more like a threat.

Ho Seon followed Tae Hyung’s gaze, and for the first time since entering the room, finally looked at his wife. His smile quickly faded.

“Hwa Jin! Are you okay?” He sat up to attention. He reached across her skirts, and put his hands over Ki Wan’s. “You’re freezing!” He held Ki Wan’s hands tighter and gave them a squeeze.

“I believe your wife went for a dip in the nearby spring whilst you were out.”

Ho Seon lifted a hand to the back of Ki Wan’s neck, checking the temperature of his skin, he touched Ki Wan’s hair.

“You’re soaking wet!” He sounded genuinely concerned. But Ki Wan had barely noticed the damp seeping through his clothes. He was shivering from nerves not the cold.

“Hwa Jin, why don’t you go and get changed and get warm. I will get the maid to bring you some dinner.” He gave Ki Wan’s hands another squeeze, and prompted her to get up.

Ki Wan wandering aimlessly back to their bridal house as night began to fall around him. Should he have left Ho Seon alone with Tae Hyung, what if he told him the truth? What were Tae Hyung’s intentions? What was Ki Wan’s plan? He needed a plan. But he couldn’t think. He was still reeling from the shock of his encounter with Tae Hyung and as the night fell and the temperature dropped, he did begin to deeply feel the cold of his damp clothes.

He arrived back at their room, where he quickly tended to the fire under the house. Inside he lit a candle and began undressing. He hung up his wet dress and put on new under-dress. He was still freezing. He began to put on all the jackets and outwear he could find, then got under the covers of the bed.

Maybe he should leave? Run away into the night. What if Tae Hyung had him arrested, as a fraud or a pervert? What if he turned Ho Seon against him? But where would he go? Run away into the woods to starve or freeze to death? Before he could think of a plan, his eyes became heavy and he submitted to sleep.

He was awoken by Ho Seon gently shaking his shoulder.

“Hwa Jin. Hwa Jin. Wake up, have something to eat.”

At first Ki Wan thought it was morning, but the room was still dark and Ho Seon was still dressed.

“There’s some dinner here for you, you should eat something.”

Ki Wan begrudgingly sat up, his neck felt stiff and he was sweating under too many layers of clothing.

“Why are you wearing all my clothes?” Ho Seon laughed.

“I was cold.” Ki Wan drowsily answered.

“Mmhm”. Ho Seon nodded. He seemed himself. Not angry or scared. Tae Hyung must not have told him. Somehow, that make Ki Wan more unsettled. If he was keeping Ki Wan’s secret, was he planning on using it against him? A high-up military man, he could easily be the type of person to collect people’s secrets and use them to his advantage. This was Ki Wan’s crossroads, the illusion he had created for himself was finally shattered and he would have to make a decision. He would have to tell Ho Seon the truth.

Ki Wan starting shaking off the layers of jackets he was wearing, leaving a trial of clothes behind him on the floor as he went to join Ho Seon at the table.

“Wait.” Ho Seon stood up. Ki Wan froze. Ho Seon began approaching him.

“Your hair is still wet.” He said. Ki Wan sighed in relief.

“Oh.” He was still so drowsy, his limps felt heavy. He felt back to his wet bun – no wonder he had been so cold. He took out the pin and untied the ribbons. He rummaged around the dresser for a brush.

“Come here” Ho Seon plied, “You really need to eat something, you’re already so skinny – how can you go all day without eating. Mother said you were out half the day.”

Ki Wan sat down in front of the table and let Ho Seon take the brush from him. He slowly started picking at the food, but could barely stomach anything.

Ho Seon sat behind him, and began slowly brushing out his hair. It was a nice feeling. And Ki Wan almost began to fall asleep again.

“Tae Hyung spoke to me.” Ho Seon began softly. Ki Wan snapped back to attention, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Mmm?”

“He has a position for me in his department. He wants me to take it, and move to the capital.”

Ki Wan tried not to react. Ho Seon attentively kept brushing his hair, in long careful strokes down his back.

“Oh?”

“I told him I couldn’t take it. That my mother is too sick, and that you are just getting used to life here. But he said it was “of national importance”. I think things in the court are bad. He says he needs “allies”, whatever that means. I don’t want to go. I hate all the politics of court and I am perfectly happy living here. But he can be…. well, he is a difficult man to refuse – he’s powerful and … he said that it was really more of an order than a request.” He sighed.

“He said you would come with me of course, that we would be given housing at court. I am just sorry that you will have to move again. You just got settled here, and I don’t know what my mother will do without us – but she can’t make that journey she’s far too frail…”

He was rambling now, caught up in the rhythmic task of brushing Ki Wan’s hair, he was letting his own anxieties come tumbling out in a string of thoughts and apologies. Ki Wan had not seen him this anxious since their wedding night. He lifted a hand to stop the brush in Ho Seon’s hand, and turned to face him, their knees touching slightly.

Ki Wan had grown to love this space, their evenings together. In this candlelit cave that was theirs, where it was quiet and just the two of them. He knew he was about to ruin that forever.

Ki Wan took a deep breath.

“Ho Seon. I have something to tell you.”

TBC (Other parts here)

Authors Notes:

Yeah, sorry, trigger warning I guess? I made Tae Hyung a creep for added drama, cause every good Joseon drama has to have an evil antagonist.

And I hope you enjoyed my blatant references; to a certain natural spring in cloud recess and a little hair brushing reference to the gayest scene to ever pass chinese censorship. 

Hope you enjoyed!

[sleepylixie]

1.3k words, Purge! AU, Enemies to (Possibly) Lovers, Beware of swearing

Mastermind! Hyunjin X Fem! Reader​

Music: Ponzona by Purple Kiss, Boca by Dreamcatcher, Double Knot by Stray Kids, Criminal by TAEMIN.

A/N: PART-2 IS HERE WOOP WOOP!! I’m so excited to write more of this, it inspires me so much! ANYWAYS- ONTO THE FIC!

New Dawn Miniseries || Part-1 ||

The Annual Purge: A 24- hour period in which all crimes are legal and emergency services are suspended for the entire period. Government officials designated as “level 10” are fully protected from harm.

March 16th 2021 ( 5 days to the Annual Purge, 2.45 p.m)

The second time you were marched into Hwang Hyunjin’s office, the primary emotion swirling through your mind was not fear or apprehension, but a searing-hot rage. You weren’t dressed in the garb of tattered royalty either- a sleek pencil skirt and blouse adorned your curves, hair pinned in a way befitting of the governor’s daughter. Your teeth were gritted, hands fisted against your sides as you walked the same opulently designed hallways you had focused on not too long ago.

So much for being the future face of the city- it seemed that cavorting with the enemy had now become your only ( rather unfortunate) pastime.

He was dressed exactly the way you remembered 2 nights ago, his suit jacket immaculately pressed and perfectly fitted against the planes of his body. Blonde hair swung gently as he raised his head from work to watch you walk in, his lips once again curling in a frown as his eyes met yours.

The guards who had walked you to the study made their way out of the room, clicking the door shut on their way out. You walked into the study, closer to the table, eyes still narrowed as you matched Hyunjin stare for stare- it was him who looked away, clearing his throat in annoyance.

“Why is it that you insist on barging into places you are not welcome?” He sighed, his annoyed tone only serving to incense you further. It was rare that you were ever this angry, but something about Hwang Hyunjin’s elegant yet brutally infuriating dismissal was all too good at making your blood boil in your veins.

Sliding into the chair opposite his table and crossing your legs, you raised an eyebrow in irreverent challenge, your lips only just concealing the venom you were dying to spit- no, you would sound casual, unassuming instead.

“Are you telling me you have no idea why I’m here, Hwang?”

At that, Hyunjin smiled- a wide, thoughtless grin that would’ve convinced anybody else of his innocence, but not you. It looked like a threatening snarl to you, like he knew exactly why you were here and was, in fact, counting on it-

“Are you telling me I wanted to see you any more than I absolutely have to?” He chuckled and your hands curled into fists against the fabric of your skirt yet again. Oh, this aggravating bastard-

“Are you telling me you had one of your lackeys tail me everywhere for a reason other than that you were curious about me?” You responded, your voice barely, deceptively light, and yes- you finally spotted it. A crack in Hyunjin’s impertinent armour, the same flicker of surprise that had danced across his eyes when you revealed how you got into his stronghold that first time.

“So you caught him after all.” 

“Han Jisung, right?” You picked at your nails, looking for all the world like a woman uncaring. “He told me he was tailing me because you didn’t have enough information to actually kill my father.” 

Hyunjin’s lip curled in derision, expression darkening at your words.

“And here I was, thinking you were here for the sheer pleasure of antagonizing me.”

“I might look like a rich brat, Hwang, but I think I’ve proven to you that I’m more than just that.” 

Hyunjin leaned back, his arms resting on the sides of his chair as he exhaled through his teeth, head cocked to the side as he watched you.

“All you’ve proven to me is that your loyalties are about as solid as your week’s opinions.” He responded evenly, not letting you get a word in edgewise before continuing.

“You sold your father out to us almost too easily. What’s to say you didn’t agree with the way the Faceless handles things and decide to sell us out? Can’t have that now, can we? I value my power in the Faceless much more than I value this...whatever this is with you. I’m sure you understand.”

You swallowed, a chill settling in your veins as he spoke- as much as you were loath to admit it, he did make sense.

“I don’t care what your intentions were, Hwang. I trusted you to handle it yourself, but clearly, you’re missing important information. If you want details, just ask. You do not send people to stalk me.”

“You’re not exactly instilling any sense of confidence or trust in your motives, ma’am.”

“Fucks sake, Hyunjin,” You threw your arms up in exasperation. “I came here that night ready to hand my dad over to you on a silver fucking platter. It was the most difficult decision I’ve ever had to take but this city won’t survive a year without the Purge and the Faceless. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make sure my father’s plans fall through. No matter what.” You stressed, looking the blonde man in the eye with your last words. 

A stagnant silence passed between the both of you before Hyunjin stood up and you straightened up in your chair, following his movements. He looked down at you, the sunlight from the windows behind him staining his hair burnished gold.

“I think I’d like to set those words in stone, just to be on the safer side.” 

Ten minutes later, you were standing behind Hyunjin, watching as he ushered another young man into the study- one with an aura of intimidation and irreverence identical to Hyunjin’s. It permeated through the whole room almost effortlessly, despite his short stature and unassuming dark hair. 

He grinned at Hyunjin, eyes crinkling as he shook hands with the blond man before he turned to you- it was like the temperature in the room had gone down a couple of degrees despite the late afternoon heat. There was something intensely icy about the way he stared you down like he was scanning your very existence with just his gaze. 

“This is Chris. He’s the...ah, the counsellor. Lawyer, advisor, strategist-”

“Also the previous leader.”

And it all clicked. This Chris character had clearly trained Hyunjin to be his reflection in all ways possible - identical aura, manner of speaking, standing, down to the icy, insolent scrutiny. You held his gaze, nodding in acknowledgement. Steeling your nerves, you willed yourself to think, say something, anything in response-

“Why would you give up your power if you’re clearly still capable of leading?”

Chris’ eyebrows raised, the shadow of a smirk twisting his lips as he turned away from you, leading the way to the table.

“Who said I gave up any power, princess?”

Maybe it was the dark threat the words were laced with, or maybe the words themselves, but something about Chris made your hackles rise, body unconsciously tensing for a fight. It was a struggle to keep your expression neutral as it always was, to keep your body language closed off to a person who seemingly thrived off unconscious conversation cues. 

Chris was dangerous. Maybe even more so than Hyunjin.

As quickly as the moment came, it was gone- Chris cleared his throat, smoothing out his already immaculate suit.

“Hyunjin told me you had details that would help the Governor’s assassination?”

Thoughts raced and eddied in your mind as you looked between Hyunjin and Chris, weighing your options. If this was Hyunjin’s mentor, you were sure he would scent the slightest apprehension from miles away- no point in hesitation now, was there?

“More details than you’ll know what to do with.”

And the identically wicked smiles that graced both men’s faces was a sight to see, a savage look of celebration and sinful glory. Chris pulled a phone out of his pocket, possibly to record your words-

“You have no idea what we can do with details, princess.”

HUUUUUU A ROGUE VILLAINISH BANG CHAN I SCREAM - okay I'm good ( i think) plOT THICKENs!!!!

Taglist: @aliceu​ @decembermoonskz​ @cuokka​ @lavenderbexlatte @straykidsownmysoul @stellarmonsterr @soya-zz @fylithia @bythesunnotbythemoon @luminois @moonlight-hyunjae @melodie-mingi @cotccotc @popisdead @kisskissbanggang @sungieshines @blueprint-han @danyxthirstae01 @leximb1222 @ohmysparkle

Network Tag: @inkidz @angstyskzclub @kpopscape

Thank you ror reading! Do let me know what you think! - Elliana

[the-slasher-files]

Can I request billy & Stu (together) and Jason Voorhees meeting their long term partner’s parents. The parents are 100% supportive of the relationship (even if they find out about the murder) kinda like the Addams Family. If you want to add more characters that would be cool. Hope you have a nice day!!!

Yeah of course!! Funny story I believe wholeheartedly that my family wouldn’t give a fuck if I dated a murderer, my mom would honestly love it lol.. Let's give big stabby men happy supportive families!!!! enjoy 🔪💕

SLASHERS MEETING S/O SUPPORTIVE PARENTS

INCLUDES JASON, MICHAEL, BO, BILLY and STU

JASON VOORHEES

Getting him to leave his beloved woods his going to be a struggle so it is probably better just to have a nice dinner at the cabin

Jason is NERVOUS... no one has ever accepted him except you and his momma so it is a shock when your family really wants to meet him

If he knows they are coming a week before Jason is going to clean up the cabin and woodland surrounding, no twig out of place or no leaks in the roof, the firewood pile has never looked so neat

The morning of, he is a wreck but tries to play it cool, riffling through the closet for his best flannel. You are going to have to help Jason relax and reassure him everything will be fine; lots of kisses and a good walk before your family arrives

Once they arrive he will stand on the porch with you, gripping your hand to try and calm his nerves... if they have any bags he will immediately grab them like the gentlemen he is

When your parents go to hug him he will be as stiff as a board and breathing heavily as you just giggle

If your parents compliment him and his land inside his heart is going melt and under the mask Jason is blushing so hard

Oh yeah on that note mask stays on... that's his one request and if you love and respect him you will let him keep it on

Jason is just so confused why they love him and his more than rustic cabin but he tried to keep his stoic energy

Man will stay extremely close to you.. your scent will calm him and your soft touches put him at ease

When your parents start to talk about his "work" he is just going to stare at you with owl eyes... why the hell did you tell them about the killings? And why the fuck are they fine with it???!!

It will take a long while to be comfortable with the fact that they accept him for who he is

The only time he is going to truly feel himself or at ease is when you take your family on a walk around the woods

Jason is very prideful of his forest and the camp so that is where he will feel most comfortable

Being social is not his thing except with you so when your parents leave it will feel like a huge weight has been lifted

The family idea is nice and a comforting thought but in reality he just wants you

MICHAEL MYERS

He won't show up... end of story... sorry but he literally could not care less

BO SINCLAIR

Lord knows he can charm and he is going to have your family wrapped around his finger in no time

Looking perfect with his slicked-back hair and best clothes Bo will bring a bottle of wine and maybe some flowers for your mom

Bo is always a gentleman and will help with setting the table, or pulling out chairs for the ladies and washing the dishes with your mom after dinner, all while he is running his fingers too high on your thighs or grabbing your ass when no one is looking

If someone in your family likes cars boom he is immediately attached to that person and Bo will be hanging around the garage looking at their car

Once he knows that your family doesn’t really care about he can finally relax a little and let his charm slide just a tiny bit

When that happens just be careful, curse words are gonna fly casually and at the end of dinner beer is gonna be drank lol

If Bo grows pretty comfortable with your family watch out for the stories this man has about murdering or drunken fights or sexual things he’s done  

To your surprise, he might invite the family to Ambrose after a while showing it off and taking great pride in the fact that he has kept the town running for so long  

But at the end of the day, Bo just likes the little family he has with you and his brothers, keeping his circle small and controlled

BILLY AND STU

There may be some resistance from Billy but Stu couldn’t be more excited

They are a deadly combo of charm, humour, wits and deception so this will be easy

Billy will be a top-notch gentleman while Stu will try his best but he uses his humour more to relax himself and the people around him

Like Bo, Billy will help with dishes and pulling out chairs for the ladies, and Stu will help with dinner or play with the dogs or kids

The opening line at the dinner table will be “so does anyone like horror movies??”

Stu will be the one to get more comfortable first, he is more of a trusting person than Billy could ever be... So don’t be surprised if he casually just throws in a story about killing someone at dinner

Billy is more reserved and it will take a long time for him to warm up to your family, he has the more strong silent approach, people don’t need to know about what he does and that’s fine  

Once they are comfortable with your family all bets are off, dark humour is going to be thrown around a lot and stories about terrible pranks they’ve done

They are actually pretty cool with having your family around after a while, and they like the idea of a fucked up supportive family... especially Stu