#that shit still has me flying on cloud nine like damn I LOOK LIKE THAT

[thisismenoww]

And to the girl who told her coworker that she needed me to stab her repeatedly while I was in line at the theater today-

Thank you pretty. Wanna see my pocket knife?

[inkandpen22]

Dazed and Confused ( S1: 3/?)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

Warnings: mild language and violence 

Word Count: 3.1k

Part Summary: At Tina’s party, Y/N wants to forget all of her problems. Things take a turn when Billy makes a move on her, angering Steve

Masterlist

Arriving at Tina’s after dropping Dustin at Mike’s, I am in much need of some good old spiked punch. I yank down my gray oversized sweatshirt some more so that it hangs low off my shoulder. As I cross the threshold into the house, the heat of the crowded living room slaps me in the face. Directly to my left, the kitchen AKA the alcohol hub. I slip between bodies and end up at the counter covered with semi-empty bottles and old plastic cups. Most importantly, a bowl of maroon punch sits in the corner. I grab a cup and make my way over. A boy stands in front of it but I reach around him and scoop up some of the mystery substance.

“What’s in this?” I hear a voice holler behind me.

I turn around to answer but freeze when I realize it’s Nancy. She stares at me equally stunned. My face falls, this is awkward. Seriously universe? I couldn’t have at least one drink before bumping into her?

Steve appears behind her looking slick as ever in his black sunglasses and matching blazer.

“Everclear is my guess,” I answer, acting civil.

She nods timidly, “thanks…”

I step out of her way so she can get some of her own. Steve’s head travels up and down slowly with a blank expression. I can’t see his eyes but I assume he’s studying my costume. A gray oversized sweatshirt that hangs off the shoulder, red heels, matching earrings, and some shorts, though they’re unnoticeable. I can feel him starring me down through those stupid Ray-Bans. Silently, I beg for him to not bring up our encounter in the parking lot. All I wish for tonight is to drown out reality and try to forget. He’s a human ticking time bomb. The tension between us could be cut with a knife.

“Are you finally going to tell me what you are?” Nancy jumps in, forcing me to break my staring contest with her boyfriend.

I open my mouth to answer but Steve beats him to it.

“Flashdance,” he answers for me. “It’s one of her favorites.”

He acts distant, unattached, distracted by the party but I see right through it. There’s something he’s not saying. He says things like this as if it’s common knowledge. A random person wouldn’t describe my eyes as Y/E/C but gray depending on the lighting. One minute, he calls my eyes beautiful and the next he’s starring me down like a disapproving parent. The hell Harrington?!

Nancy gushes, apparently she and I are okay all of a sudden, despite early today with the whole Barb thing. Plus, I think she’s already been drinking for awhile so buzzed Nancy is fun Nancy.

“That’s so cute! You look hot!” She pulls me into a hug.

Over her shoulder, I glimpse up at Steve as he lifts his glasses to rest of his head. His brown eyes threaten to expose my upset from earlier. I get that he’s pissed about my neglect for my feelings. He wants to talk about what was wrong but right now we’re at a party and parties aren’t meant for depressing conversations.

“Let’s go dance!” Nancy suggests, already tugging me into the living room.

Steve calls after her but she ignores him. He follows behind us through the crowd with a groan. In the center of the living room, Nancy stops and turns to me with a bright grin. She cheers as she tosses her head back.

“Woohoo!” She laughs.

This is what I wanted, normalcy. We’re surrounded by our friends, drinking, dancing, being stupid! We did this before everything so why can’t we do it now? Perhaps after tonight, everything will fall back into place.

_______________________________________

On my third game of flip-cup, I’m beyond buzzed. In fact, when I walk I float. I’m on cloud nine. Here, this carefree and lively state is exactly where I wanted to be. Naturally, I’m competitive and amazing at drinking games so I finish my third game with yet another win. I cheer as Tommy from algebra hands me a cup of who knows what as my reward.

“Hey there beautiful,” a husky voice greets from behind me.

I spin around and kind of become dizzy from the action but catch myself.

It’s Billy.

“Hey hottie,” I smirk.

He snickers and closes the space between us to whisper in my ear. “How about you and I go somewhere a little more private?”

That’s a nice thought. He is cute. His ass could have its own zip code. Plus, he has no shirt on under that leather jacket, hello washboard like abs. His California tanned skin glistens under a thin layer of sweat. Damn, he’s a human Ken doll.

He’s no Steve though. Wait… what? I don’t think of Steve like that. Why would I think that? Um, yeah, that’s a no! Then again, Steve is always there for me. Sometimes it can be annoying how he’s always there. It means he cares but I don’t want to dump all of my drama on him. Then, he gets upset when I don’t open up. I hate it when I hurt him. I love him so much that when he’s in pain so am I.

“Okay,” I blurt out without truly thinking.

“Cool,” I hear him whisper as he takes my hand and starts pulling me toward the stairs across the room.

Wait, what? What am I doing? This isn’t me. I don’t like Billy. He treats Steve like shit. If anything I should kick his pretty ass. Though if I tried he’d probably murder me.

I glance down at his hand engulfing mine. It’s all rough and twice the size of my own. If we make it upstairs, it’ll be just him and I. I’ll be defenseless. I may be drunk but I’m not oblivious. My intuition is still working and it’s screaming for me to pull my shit together.

“Hey Billy? I don’t think…” I press my heels into the floor, slowing him down just as we reach the bottom of the stairs.

Aggressively, he whips around and purposefully towers over me to act intimidating. “What? Now, you’re saying no? Are you messing me? Playing with me!” He accuses.

I shake my head dramatically, “no! No, that’s not what-”

“Oh, so you still want to do this,” he presses.

Too impatient for an answer, he continues up the stairs. The grip he has on me has shifted up to my wrist. I attempt to tug myself free but fear dislocating it, his strength is too great. I stumble up the stairs behind me and I startle to feel dizzy. I think it’s safe to say I’ve had too much.

“No,” I whine, “I don’t want to! Stop! Please! I don’t want to! No!”

“Hey!” A booming voice echoes from the bottom of the stairs.

Rapid footsteps approach from behind me and a rush of relief consumes me when Steve appears beside me. He places a protective hand on my back.

“What the hell is going here?” He directs at Billy, taking note of his fist wrapped around my wrist.

“Nothing that concerns you, Harrington. Y/N and I were just heading upstairs.�� He jolts his hand forward, causing me to traveling with it.

Steve instantly pries Billy’s hand from my body. Then, shoves him in the back, flying him forward to land with his ass on the stairs. “Don’t you ever touch her again! You hear me?!” He sneers. His face turns this deep red as he pants angrily.

The two start bickering but I can’t keep up. I see three Steves and a couple Billys shouting in each other’s faces. I lean against the railing unsteadily and slide down to sit on the steps. My eyes suddenly feel very heavy.

“I’m going to go to bed now,” I announce to no one in particular.

I decide to get some rest and shut my eyes. It’s okay, Steve’s here. He’ll protect me.

I’m not sure how much time has past when I hear Tommy and some of the other basketball boys come to break up the fight.

“Come on Y/N,” I hear Steve whisper to me, “let’s get you home.”

Feeling as light as a feather, I’m picked up like a sleepy child off the ground. For a moment, I fall asleep again. I rest my head on his chest and ponder the rare opportunity to sleep without being afraid of being eaten by a monster.

“Y/N?” I hear someone repeatedly call my name. “Y/N, wake up!”

I ease open my eyes and at first my vision is blurry but then they eventually adjust. Steve glances down at me as he we cross the threshold hold to the front yard.

“You smell like sunshine and all things exquisite,” I mumble to myself, adjusting myself in his arms to curl closer to his warmth.

“Even when hammered you still manage to be a walking thesaurus,” he teases.

Opps, he heard me. Oh well, I wasn’t lying. He smells like vanilla, the ocean, sugar, spice, and everything nice.

Goosebumps course over my skin as a brisk October breeze hits me. I shiver slightly and Steve holds me closer.

“We’re almost to my car. I’ll turn on the heat high. You’re okay,” he promises calmly.

Playing the hero, Steve places me into the passenger seat gently and straps me in. I toss my head to the side and rest my eyes again. He shuts the door for me before jogging to the driver’s side. The car drowns out the sound of chaos coming from the party and creates a sense of security. Steve slides behind the wheel and for some reason I choose now to act reasonable.

“Have you been drinking? If so, you shouldn’t drive,” I state like a health textbook.

He chuckles, popping in the keys. “I’m sober. Promise.”

“That’s nice. Good to know,” I yawn.

The last thing I can remember of the ride home is Steve turning on the car.

______________________________________

I wake up silently as Steve pulls up in front of my house. He’s unaware of my stare as he finishes parking and turning off the car.

“Hazel,” I tell him, announcing my woken state.

He looks to me with scrunched eyebrows, all confused. It’s cute when he does that. He’s cute. Geez, what the heck am I saying? He’s dating my best friend! Steve is Steve and Katherine, we don’t mix, at least that way.

“What?” He questions, turning to face me.

“Your eyes… they’re hazel…” I repeat softly with a yawn. “But, it really depends on the lighting.”

He snickers, and astonished expression blesses his features. The subtle blush forming on his cheeks makes me smile to see him all bashful because of my comment. He has no idea how gorgeous we truly is, inside and out. He glances down at his lap, at his hands fidgeting with a button on his jacket, then back up at me with hooded eyes.

“See, right now!” I point out, “they’re a dark brown like a burnt caramel, basically black. When you’re really focused on a task or upset about something, they go dark. Then, when you’re really happy or excited, they turn to a light hazel… like seaglass. It’s how I can tell if something’s bothering you. You don’t even have to tell me half the time. All I have to do is look into your eyes and I know,” I state a matter-of-factly with a light snicker.

I shift you see him directly and tuck a few strands of my hair away from my face. He watches my every move patiently, eagerly, for me to say something more, anything. I can’t speak for him but my heart won’t stop racing. Is it possible to have stage fright in a conversation? I feel like a mannequin, on display. Nervously, I twirl my hair at the ends and find myself unable to meet his gaze anymore.

“Your pupils are rarely small,” I add quietly. “They’re usually really big and take up most of your eye giving off the illusion they’re black. One thing that never changes is…”  I make a circle with my finger in front of my eye to demonstrate, “is the gold rim around each of them.” I lower my hand into my lap and play with the end of my sweatshirt. “That’s my favorite part… ” I confess timidly.

I wouldn’t be saying these things if I were sober. I wish he would say something, anything. He must think I’m crazy. He finds me with Billy heading up stairs. I can only imagine what he must think of me now. Embarrassed beyond belief and sobering up, I excuse myself.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say as I unbuckle myself. “See you Monday!”

Swiftly, I climb out of the car. As I walk toward my front door, I curse myself for acting so stupid! Geez, what was I thinking? ‘The gold rim around each of them, that’s my favorite part!’ What kind of mushy, guhsy, marshmallow fluff is that? Ew! If he never spoke to me again I would judge that as completely reasonable! He has a girlfriend! He’s taken! Completely off limits! Why did I spew out this creepy nonsense to him like a total idiot? I’m not some lovesick teenage girl! I’m going to go to my room, put in some Guns N’ Roses, and just scream into my pillow all weekend! It sounds like an excellent plan to me because I just ruined my friendship with Steve forever! Add Nancy to that list because once he fills her in on what I said I’ll lose both of them!

“Y/N!” He calls after me.

I ignore it as I march faster toward the door. He’s only going to call me crazy because I was acting crazy!

“Y/N, wait!” He repeats as I hear him shut the car door and run toward me.

“Goodnight, Steve!” I urge him away without turning around.

His footsteps speed up until they come to a halt directly behind me. I reach for the door handle, my freedom. Desperately, he grips my forearm and steps in front of me, blocking the front door.

“Look, could you just slow down for a sec?” He yells at me as he pants to catch his breath.

“No! I can’t slow down! I just want to go inside, get in my pajamas, and forget tonight ever happened! Alright? Now, excuse me,” I gesture for him to get out of the way.

Reluctantly, paired with an overly dramatic eye roll, he steps aside. Despite wanting his to leave, I thank him quietly for cracking open the front door slowly, making sure not to wake anyone.

“Nance and I broke up…” Steve drops on me.

My heart leaps and I stop dead in my tracks. Unsure of what to do or say, I remain still in the doorway and wait for him to say more.

“She never loved me,” he explains with a heartbroken tone. “At least… I don’t think she did…”

Shit. Please don’t tell me that, Harrington. It only makes me want you more. He’s always so close but too far out of reach. I care about him more than anything but he’ll never mine. I’m just the friend.

I spin on my heels and offer him a sympathetic smile, “would you like to come in?”

He nods, clearly miserable. I step aside, allowing him in. After shutting the door behind us, I warn him to be quiet so we don’t wake my parents. He nods slowly and slips his hand into mine. Never breaking eye contact with me, he leads the way through the moonlit house toward my room. His platonic touch is so blissful, I can only imagine what it feels like otherwise.

_________________________________

Steve and I sit on my bed in our usual positions with my record player going quietly. He lounges like a patient in therapy and me, acting as his therapist, criss-cross beside him. He explains everything. He describes how drunk Nancy got and how he followed her to the bathroom. It was there they got into a fight. She admitted feeling guilty for the loss of Barb. Then, she called all of it bullshit. Us acting like carefree teenagers, never telling Barb’s parents the truth, her love for Steve, all of it is bullshit. He asked Jonathan to take her home and that’s when he stumbled upon me and Billy.

Watching Steve relive it all and hearing the pain in his voice breaks my heart. How could Nance do this to him? I get that she’s going through something, we all are. I’m by no means normal. I’m hiding everything for Pete’s sake! I haven’t been myself for over a year. Steve was just now becoming truly happy again! He was putting on a brave face for Nancy for so long! Now, she crushed it. She crushed him.

I reach and place my hand over his as they rest intertwined on his stomach. “I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”

“I really loved her. At least, I think I did. I don’t know anymore. I thought she loved me too.”

“I did too,” I tell him honestly.

He glances away from the ceiling down to me, “what can I do?”

I wish I knew the answer. I wish there was a way I could take away his pain. Yet, I have nothing. I shrug, “I’m not entirely sure. I think you should at least talk to her.

Tomorrow, of course, when she’s sobered up. Perhaps, she was just drunk and didn’t mean what she said. She wasn’t in the proper mindset.”

“So I shouldn’t take what she said to heart?”

“Well, there’s also the argument that drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“Does the same go for you?” He snickers.

I laugh, “sometimes.”

“So you don’t like the gold in my eyes? I thought it was your favorite part?” He smirks, turning to lay on his side and face me. My hand would’ve fallen off his hadn’t he flipped his over to catch it.

Ugh, he’s such a sneaky jerk! His cheeky smirk only grows with my silence. Warmth rushes to my cheeks as I bashfully hide my face.

“Yeah… about that…” I laugh nervously, “let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“Should I forget that you also said I smell like sunshine and everything exquisite?” He adds to the torment.

I groan, tossing my head back. This must count as torture. “Preferably, yes,” I request shortly.

We share a laugh at my annoyed reaction. He’s impossible! Even he should be mopping he still manages to tease me!

A comfortable silence fills the air and I stare down at the pillow in my lap as I play with the lettering on it.

________________________________

Masterlist

[babbushka]

Zannah! I’m not asking for breeding kink, but I would love some hot Flip wanting to keep you stuffed full of his cum and wanting to knock you the fuck up. Please and thank you 😍

Anonymous said: Can you please do something with Flip wanting to have a baby with you but make it hot 💘Thanks Mrs Z!

2k, it's a lot fluffier than it was supposed to be lol; NSFW (birthday sex, PIV, lil bit of body worship, mentions of pregnancy/trying for pregnancy)

Sneaking upstairs with a cup of coffee in hand, you throw open the curtains of your bedroom window, letting the sunlight come pouring in. The birds are chirping, the butterflies are fluttering, there’s not a single cloud in the sky – it’s a perfect day for your husband’s special celebration.

Blinking awake, startled, Flip looks around, confused. He checks the clock and makes a move to bolt because shit it’s so much later in the morning than he normally wakes up, but you put a hand on his shoulder and sit on the edge of the bed next to him, and he sighs.

“Happy birthday handsome.” Practically beaming at him, you hand him the fresh hot mug of coffee, which he takes gratefully, still not entirely sure what’s happening.

“Don’t fuckin�� remind me.” Your man groans as he sips down the scalding black coffee, perfectly bitter.

Flip turned a whole thirty-nine this year, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with it, not one bit. He always had a rough time with birthdays, but something about being just a hop-skip away from forty has him feeling extra sour. One look at you though, and he can’t help but feel some of your happiness soaking into his own skin, your joy contagious.

“Aw c’mon,” You pull the mug away after he’s had another sip, and place it on the night-stand before crawling in on his side of the bed, shoving yourself as close to him as possible even though your side is wide open. “Another year around the sun is another year you get to spend with me.”

“Alright it’s not so bad when you say it like that.” Flip concedes, because really, you were nothing if not the light of his life.

“Of course it isn’t. I’m always right.” You wink, and all Flip can do is kiss you.

“Yes dear.” He rolls his eyes sarcastically, and you scoff out a laugh, tugging on his earlobe playfully.

A moment of comfortable silence ticks by, before you’re walking your fingers up his bare chest, walking them up up up his sternum to toy with the golden chai that rests in the pit of his throat. It glints in the sunshine from the window, and you twirl it around your finger.

“You don’t have to go into the office today you know…” You trail away, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t?”

“Nope, called in a favor with Harry.” You explain, biting at your lip, settling to straddle his waist, “And, I’ve asked Jimmy to babysit. So we’re home alone, all day today.”

At once, his hands are smoothing up your thighs. The parting of your robe opens up, and you give your shoulders a little shimmy, letting it slip off your arms, revealing your naked body on top of him.

“Oh really.” Flip smirks at that, licks his lips.

“Really really.” You grin, grabbing his hands and guiding them up to your breasts, letting him get a handful of your body. He squeezes at you, and you bite your lip again in the way that you know he likes, “Anything you’d care to do to take advantage of that…Mr. Zimmerman?”

Flip looks at you for a long while, a heated gaze. He feels old as shit sometimes, but when he’s with you, he never feels younger. Something about that true love bullshit really was true, wasn’t it? He’s got something on his mind, has had it there for a while. He figured there wasn’t a better time to ask for it than now, so he clears his throat and squeezes at your tits again, rubs his thumbs over your nipples.

“I think I’d like to get you knocked up again.” He murmurs, and it’s clear in the way that your posture straightens up a little more, that whatever you had been expecting, certainly wasn’t that.

“Wait really?” Blinking at him, you feel your heart beat just a little bit faster, your hopes getting up, and you have to double check that you even heard him right, that it wasn’t just some auditory hallucination.

“Really really.” Flip chews on the inside of his cheek, runs a hand through his hair in the way that he does when he’s nervous, “I think it might be a good time, to start trying for another one, if that’s something you’d want.”

“I want it.” You rush to say, because you do, you’ve been thinking about it for months now, thinkin’ about how the kids are getting old enough to be a little more independent, how you miss having babies around the house.

“Yeah?” Now it’s Flip’s turn to get hopeful, his big brown eyes growing wide as he stares into your soul, crossing his fingers that this beautiful morning isn’t a dream.

He’s been anxious about it, lately. About the thought that he was starting to get too old to have more kids, anxious that when they go to school the other students might think he’s a zayde instead of a pop. He’s not even forty, but it’s something that’s been resting real heavy on his shoulders and it feels good to know you want a bigger family.

“I have dreams about it, about our big family.” You shuffle a little closer to him, and he takes the hint, wraps his strong muscled arms around your waist and tugs you all the way into his lap, immediately kissing at your throat while your arms hug his shoulders, your fingers in his hair, “The kids running around in the backyard, playing together. In my head they all have your dimples.”

“I’m gonna fuck you so full of my come that there’s no way it won’t happen.” He groans, pushing you backwards making you give a startled little yelp, not stopping the onslaught of kisses that wet your neck, groaning into your skin, “Let me? Let me make you feel good.”

You’re already wet, and your legs fall open when his weight settles on top of you. He tugs the sash of your robe away and you’re naked before him, and he groans, drops his head into the cleavage that’s on display just for him, groans again.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Flip bites at you, small nips of his teeth that have you giggling because they’re on your ribs and you’re ticklish there, but the sound of your laugh only makes Flip harder, because he loves you too much for anything else, “Look at you, look at beautiful you are. Couldn’t ask for a better woman to be my wife, I swear I won the fuckin’ lotto.”

It’s only a moment or two later that he’s yanking your hips down to better meet his cock, and then he’s pushing right in. You had anticipated that, had jerked off a little bit in the shower earlier in the morning so you’d be nice and stretched for him. It’s his birthday, you don’t want him to have to do too much of the work after all.

He sets right to work, thrusting straight into you, filling you up completely. A rush of adrenaline makes you sweat, makes your hand shake, because you’re at the perfect spot on your calendar for conceiving -- if it’s going to take, today’s the day, and the fact that Flip knows it only makes you moan that much louder.

“Flip!” You whine his name, because you know how much he loves to hear it when you cry for him, crying out in pleasure that has your eyes rolling back into your head already, even though you’ve just started, “You’re – oh, oh do that again.”

Mouth dropping open, he fucks up hard against your gspot, your toes curling around his waist where he’s pulled your legs up for a deeper penetration, and goddamn does he get deep.

“Damn,” Flip grunts as the slick sound of skin slapping against skin fills the otherwise quiet room, your mouths panting into one another, breathing heavy, chest heaving, “Dammit you’re so hot, I’m so fucking lucky. How’d I get so lucky? This cunt’s so tight.”

Your body bounce bounce bounces on the mattress underneath him as he fucks you hard, and you feel the warmth of pleasure start to build up in your bones, body aching for release. You didn’t let yourself come in the shower, wanting to save that for Flip to see, because he loves looking at you, but it makes you more and more desperate.

“Faster! Please – oh yes! Yes right there!” Your tug on his hair, fingers tangling and winding through his sleep-mussed locks, mouth dropped open as your back begins to arch, “I’m close!”

“Go ahead and come baby, I’m gonna get as many of them out of you as I can today.” He says right away, and you laugh at that a little bit, because you know that means he’s got a marathon of sex in mind for the day. You’re not angry about that at all.

He doesn’t let up on thrusting in and out, ramming over your gspot again and again until your head throws back and you’re babbling, his mouth hot on your jaw where he sucks and licks because bent like this he can’t reach your tits, only egging you on more.

“Fuck, Flip – Phil!” You gasp and writhe underneath him as the pleasure coils hotter and hotter in your stomach, “I’m – ”

“You’re okay, I’ve got you, you feel so good – do you feel good?” Flip drops his hand to your clit for the first time today, giving attention to the poor neglected thing, and your eyes fly open, overwhelmed with the feeling.

“Yes!” You shout, answering his question and praising him and pleased that he’s fucking you all in one, “Yes god -- fuck -- fuck Philly, you’re so good please knock me up, please please please!”

That’s all it takes for him to blow his load, the way that your pussy clenches and flutters around his cock, squeezing him tight tight tight. When he comes, maybe you’re just imagining things, but it feels heavier, feels bigger than normal, hot and thick as it shoots up into you.

Flip pants, groans, and you sigh, the two of you breathing in tandem, eyes closed. Flip pulls out so that he can shuffle down your body and press his cheek against your heartbeat in the way that he always does, his hand drifting down to your cunt to push his come back inside your cunt where it starts to leak out.

Kissing your sweaty chest, he nuzzles his nose against your breast, teasing at your stiff nipple and sighs happily. You’ve only barely just weaned your daughter off, and something in him gets selfishly glad that you won’t be dried up for a while still, as he smacks a kiss to your sternum.

“Knees up ketsl.” Flip announces, even though he’s out of breath still as he does it, one helluva wakeup call.

“Mmhmm.” You nod, sleepy already, the post-orgasm bliss coursing through your veins.

Flip pulls off of you, and manhandles you a little bit because you’re so boneless, shoving a pillow underneath your hips to keep you propped up. He’s not superstitious, but he’s a little ‘stitious, and this worked the past two times you wanted to get pregnant, so he’s not going to break tradition now.

Only when you’ve got your legs bent at the knee and your knees tucked to your stomach, arms wrapped around them to keep them there, looking very silly from the way the pillow cants your hips up, does Flip settle down next to you and light a cigarette, kissing your cheek.

“I love you so fucking much, you know that?” He whispers, like it’s some special secret just for the two of you, “And if it doesn’t take today, then we’ll just have to try again tomorrow.”

“And the next day?” You turn to look at him with glassy eyes, smiling.

“And the day after that…” He attacks your face with kisses once more, thinking that maybe, just maybe, this birthday wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tagging some Flip loving friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #9: Elevator Pitch: Hawks

In which you and Hawks spend some quality time together, and you’ve spilled coffee on your shirt.

Characters: Takami Keigo (Hawks) / f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), vaginal sex, up-against-the-wall-sex, partially-dressed, semi-public, uncaffienated sex, stranded/stalled elevator, hawks is a smarmy piece of shit

Notes: Okay, enough feelings! Only porn. What better way to jump back on the thirsty bandwagon than with everyone’s favourite smug bastard? Today’s prompt was ‘In Public,’ and while this isn’t the most public of public places to have sex, it’s definitely one that I’ve been thinking about... a little too often.

Kinktober Masterlist

“What was that?”

The elevator gives a sickening clash and lurches to a stop. You look up so fast you can feel the strain in your throat, glancing suddenly back to the control panel to see if it can possibly offer you any more information.

The lights die over your head, plunging the elevator into darkness. You give a little scream.

“That’s not good.”

The voice next to you is familiar but grating. Of all the people to be stuck in an elevator with, it has to be Hawks.

He runs the agency two floors above your office. But your companies share many of the same amenities- these elevators, to name one- and you’re unfortunately all too familiar with the self-serving hero.

As if things aren’t bad enough already.

Your manic Monday is already off to an excellent start, proven by the coffee stain on the front of your blouse. Apparently, the morning train was just a little too crowded to be careless with your latte-the half that didn’t get sloshed all over your front ended up on the floor- so here you are, trapped in the dark with the dull edges of a caffeine headache already beginning.

“Hang on-“ It’s Hawks again, and before he finishes his thought the emergency lights flicker to life. He seems entirely too relaxed given the situation. It’s pissing you off. He’s leaning against the opposite corner of the elevator with his wings tucked neatly behind him, arms folded across his chest.

He looks you up and down.

“Damn, you musta put on a few pounds if you’re heavy enough to short out the elevator.”

“Don’t even start,” you hiss. Your headache is getting worse. Spending nine floors with Takami Keigo was supposed to be bad enough already. You don’t have time for this.

“If anyone was going to be too heavy for the elevator, it’s you,” you snap back. You brush past him to the control panel and he starts a little as you push yourself between it and him. His wings give an alarmed little flutter and he steps aside, opening the space between you again.

You’re jamming your thumb against the ‘call’ button, but nothing seems to be happening. You’re not altogether sure how this is supposed to work- you’ve never been stuck in an elevator before. But Hawks looks as though it’s happened to him on a weekly basis. You suppose he sees worse on the daily, given his line of work.

“I don’t think anyone’s comin’ for us, kid.”

You glare over your shoulder at him, hearing the smirk in his voice. He raises a gloved palm to his mouth and yawns. Then he stretches, and his wings follow suit. He can’t extend them fully in here, but you’ve still forgotten how big they really are.

“Might as well get cozy,” he sighs. He slides down the wall, stretching a leg out and hooking his elbow over the other knee, bent.

“No thanks, I’ll stand.” You toy idly with the front of your skirt, brushing an invisible coat of dust from it. It’s when you notice him watching you that you stop and furrow your brow. He’s staring right at your chest. Not even trying to hide it.

You’re just about to say something when his eyes flick up to yours and his smirk, if possible, gets even lazier.

“Rough morning?”

You fold your arms over your chest, hyperaware of the coffee stain that you had conveniently forgotten about seconds before. That doesn’t change the fact that you’re permanently ticked off at him, though.

You decide that he’s not worth answering and avert your gaze. Sullen silence settles over the two of you for a moment. Finally, he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Let me ask you something,” he prompts.

“No thank you,” you answer.

“No, no, that’s exactly it. You don’t like me. I’m not an idiot, kid. But the thing is, I’ve been wrackin’ my brain, and I can’t think of one thing I ever did to deserve it.”

You swallow. Hard. Your cheeks are going hot. The truth is, you’re not entirely sure why you don’t like him.

You’d like to say it’s because he’s self-serving and arrogant. Because he saves people for the clout and not because he cares about their safety. He’s only ever been snarky and sarcastic to you, and you’re sure he treats his staff like garbage. He soaks up the celebrity status like a goddamned sponge.

You’d also like to say that you’ve followed his career so closely for the same reasons. You scour the Internet for stories about him and save newspaper clippings from your coworkers’ subscriptions, looking for evidence that your claims are true. You need to hear somebody else talk about his arrogance because it pisses you off to no end how obsessed with him you’ve become.

“I don’t… I like you,” you scoff. If you could press your back even further into the elevator wall, you could.

He laughs. Throws his head back and laughs and you want to disappear.

“You treat all your friends like that, kid? No wonder you look so sour all the time.”

That does it. You’ve had enough of Hawks, enough of this elevator and this damned headache. You’ve had enough of today.

“Alright, fine. You wanna know why I don’t like you?” Your eyes narrow. Your arms tighten across your chest. Hawks gets to his feet. He’s not all that much taller than you, but he seems to tower over you in the narrow space.

His tawny eyes narrow as he tilts his head, serious but inquisitive.

“Enlighten me.”

“You are the most egotistical, self-centered person I’ve ever known,” you hiss. “You treat women like they’re disposable, you-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he stops you, holding up his palms. “Like they’re disposable? What in the hell gave you that idea?”

“You’ve got a different girl on your arm every week,” you retort. Later you will sink into your desk and expire as you remember saying these things to him, but he asked for it. And you’re starting to get claustrophobic.

“So what?” He shoots back.

“So what? So what? So what makes you think you can go around breaking hearts like that? You’re gonna make some enemies, y’know.”

“Sweetheart, those girls don’t want anything to do with me, either. No false pretenses there. I think you just don’t like seeing me with other women.”

Your stomach lurches, rejecting the idea. But you know that it’s true.

“Don’t be ridicu-“

“No, it’s my turn to speak now,” Hawks growls. He steps closer, caging you against the elevator wall. Your cheeks and ears are burning. One step closer and the coffee on your blouse will start to boil all over again.

“If you’re jealous,” he hints, bending down to whisper in your ear, “I’d be happy to treat you like those other girls, kid. All you gotta do is ask.”

“Hawks-“ you choke. He’s so close now that there’s no way you can pretend you don’t want this. You can feel the heat of his body radiating against yours, the soft, spicy Monday morning scent of him filling your senses.

He grins, and his lips brush the crook of your neck.

“That’s what I thought.”

In the next second his mouth crashes down on yours and you’re kissing him back. You from ten minutes ago would be disgusted at the sight of this, but you can’t even deny wanting this. Not when he’s giving it to you. Not when you didn’t even need to ask for it.

You’re not shy about combing your fingers into his disheveled hair, tugging him closer to you. Already he’s tugging the hem of your blouse out of the top of your skirt. He rips off his gloves and pops open a few of the buttons without even breaking his mouth from yours. It’s only as he digs his fingers into the fabric and pulls the folds open around your chest that he pulls back to have a look.

“Look at you,” he growls. “So fuckin’ gorgeous. I wanted you from the second I met you, y’know that?”

You consider pinching yourself. But you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead, you hook a palm around the back of his neck and pull him harshly down to you again.

“Shut up,” you hiss, dragging his mouth back to yours. Your hands wander, pulling the strap of his belt out of its loop and giving it a harsh tug. It pulls tight and he grunts, then you let go and let the buckle fall open. You reach in further, going for his fly. He lets you. As you dig your hand into the opening of his pants you realize that he’s already hard- already rock hard.

Maybe he really meant what he said.

You shove his pants down around his knees and he grabs you by the backs of yours, hiking your thighs over his hips. His hands crawl up your thighs and under your skirt. He finds the strap of your thong and you nuzzle into his shoulder to keep yourself quiet as he swipes a thumb up your clothed slit.

“Fuck,” he groans in your ear. “Soaked for me already, sweetness. God, lemme have you.”

He shifts his hips forward and presses the head of his cock against your entrance, easing forward until he’s sure he’s lined up correctly. Then he rams into you without warning and you nearly wind yourself on his shoulder as all the air from your body rushes out at once.

“That’s what I thought, baby,” he growls, starting into a brutal rhythm. “You’ve wanted this too, haven’t you? Fuck, why didn’t you say something? I coulda been fucking you this whole time.”

You’re in the clouds at this point. The words he’s growling into your ear are blurring together, clouded by the immense pleasure that he’s sending through your gut with every thrust. He fits you perfectly, it seems, and you’re already drawing embarrassingly close to the edge.

“Hawks,” you practically sob, your head lolling against the wall as he fucks you into it. “Can’t hold on- gonna… g-gonna..”

“You’re gonna cum for me, sweetness? That’s it. That’s it. Cum for me, sweetheart, aw, hell, I’m there, baby.”

His voice is growing shaky now, his thrusts erratic, and as the elastic band draws tight in the pit of your stomach you realize he’s not far off, either.

He gives you one, two, three good thrusts and you’re falling, coming so hard around him that your vision whites out for an honest minute. Currents of tension rush from your head to your toes as you clutch at his back and whine and pant through your climax.

He follows close behind you, driving his hips into your sensitive pussy before drawing abruptly out of you and coming in long spurts against the inside of your thigh.

For a dozen heartbeats, the two of you are still, catching your breath. Settling into what you’ve just done.

The emergency light flickers as the regular lighting returns. The elevator gives a telltale beep and a shudder and starts heading downward. Your brain short-circuits.

“Get off,” you hiss, shoving him off you. You tug your skirt harshly down around your thighs, hiding the mess as he hurries to tuck himself back into his pants and zip up. You’re two floors from the lobby when he turns back to you and starts.

“Your shirt.”

“Oh, shit.” Your fingers race to the buttons on your blouse and you fumble to get them fastened again. He reaches over to help but you bat his hands away as the elevator draws to a stop. You’re just finishing the last button when the doors slide open, revealing the surprised faces of a coverall-sporting technician and your boss.

“There you are,” she gasps, relief flooding her features. “The power went out and they told me people were still stuck in the elevator, I- good morning, Keigo,” she greets, giving a little nod of acknowledgement to Hawks, who’s taking his time strolling out of the elevator with his hands in his pockets.

“Mornin’,” he greets idly. Then he calls your name, and you look past your boss’s shoulder. He’s smirking, his eyes lit with the memory of what you’ve just shared.

“See you around,” he calls. Then he’s gone, and your boss is asking you some sort of question, but it flies straight in one ear and out the other. Your teeth sink into your lower lip. Every time you close your eyes you remember him, groaning in your ear and forcing himself into you.

You are so fucked.

[earthfire-75]

You Send Me Flying

Chapter Two:

Author’s notes: co-written with @nature-and-music, beta’d by @lady-jane-revisited. Based on The Dirt movie as I still don’t have the book ☹️ not smut…yet.

Vince came back after a few minutes and found us still in the kitchen. “Hey, guys, listen, she wants to go home-“

“What? No way! We still have to practice!” Nikki spoke up.

“Jesus H. Christ. If I wasn’t fed up with her shit before, I am now. That woman fucks with my nerves and doesn’t bother with a courtesy reach-around. She can take a cab, for fuck’s sake, or call her daddy.”

Nikki points over at me. “I like her, she can stay. Your girlfriend on the other hand…”

Vince sighs. “I’ll see what I can do.” He leaves to go talk to her again and we can hear her yelling through the door. It takes longer, but Vince does eventually come back in. “Ok guys, she’s gone.”

Everyone gave a sigh of relief at that announcement. For the remainder of the day, the boys continued with playing more songs until the sun began to set. We were all feeling a little peckish and so we decided to call in a phone order for Chinese food. After the food arrived, we sat round the coffee table to eat, Nikki passing out notebooks and pens to Tommy, Vince and Mick.

“Ok, so here’s my theory,” Nikki begins, “if we wanna knock people on their asses, then we gotta give ‘em a show. The Punks, they’re doing the minimalistics, so let’s take it in the exact opposite direction. I’m…I’m talking like stadium shows in the clubs, man. Like costumes and lights-“

“And pyro! With flames and explosions and shit!” Tommy interrupts, turning his can of hairspray and lighter into a makeshift torch.

“Exactly, exactly! Look, it’s a fuckin’ war out there, and the only way we win is by showing these kids something they’ve never seen before.”

“So what do we call this thing?” Vince asks.

“Here…” Nikki picks up his notebook and starts flipping through the pages. “It’s all about being larger than life!” He finally holds up his notebook for us to see a pentagram with X Mass under it.

“X Mass?” Vince asks.

“Yeah…”

“On a scale of one to ten…I give it a one point nine.” Mick intones, making the other three laugh.

I shook my head in feigned anguish, “That’s harsh. Accurate, but harsh!”

Mick just shrugs.

“It’s a play on Christmas! You know, you can use all the Christ imagery and shit! It’ll piss people off and make people think, you know?”

Tommy makes a face and I could tell Mick still wasn’t convinced.

“It’s got shock value…”

Vince shook his head.

“Yeah, I’m shocked by how much it blows.”

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Mick has some wicked wit. Which, by the way, does nothing to cool down my attraction to him as we sat around the table.

Nikki tossed the notebook down, “Alright, assholes, you give it a shot. But make it big!”

Everyone picks up their notebooks and a pen or marker. Vince looks like he can’t come up with anything, and I find myself entranced by Mick’s look of concentration, but Tommy is quickly scribbling in his. When he’s done, he turns it around. I couldn’t believe what I saw. Tommy’s childish giggle was enough to confirm I wasn’t seeing things. Vince laughed and Nikki scoffed while Mick rolled his eyes.

“Still have the mind of a twelve year old, I see. As well as the body.”

“Ouch…and she says I’m the harsh one.”

“The Foreskins? Really? Tommy?”

“Yeah! Cause we’re gonna fuck the audience in the face every night, dude!”

“Yeah, but…but can you see that shit on the marquee above the Forum?!”

“Yeah, ok, you’re right. I’m out.”

Vince holds up his hands, indicating he’s not even gonna try. But Mick starts to write something down thoughtfully. The guys seem impressed when he turns the notebook in his hands. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this day.”

“Alright,” Nikki says, taking the notebook from Mick and adding to it, the dots over the O and changing crew to Crue with the dots over the U. Mick smiles with satisfaction. It’s the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen and damn if I wouldn’t fall head over heels if I stuck around. And yet…

“Hey, you were talking about costumes before. Does that include makeup?” I asked Nikki before I could stop myself.

“Yeah! Yeah! All that shit!” Nikki enthuses. “Why, you know someone who can do that?”

I just smile and point at myself.

“No shit?”

“Yeah,” Vince pipes up, “she’s getting her makeup artist license. She’s perfect for the job!”

I smile, “Well I do need a job, and based on what I’m hearing, I am getting a few ideas in mind as to how you could all dress. I mean, if you’re interested in what i have to say.” I grabbed the notebook and pen to create a quick sketch of possible outfits or makeup. The guys were interested, some even suggesting to add their own ideas as to what they could wear too. Talks of leather, tight pants, belts, and a bit of heavy make up were tossed around, “Nikki you said that you guys want to go all out? This is how you do it.”

Mick rested his chin on his palm as he looked over the drawings, “That’s pretty wicked actually.”

I felt my cheeks becoming warm after hearing his compliment, and who else but Tommy proceeded to tease me with a schoolboy-ish tone, “Oooooh!”

“Fuck off Tommy!” I shouted, hitting him with the notebook, although that hardly affected his immature outburst when he made a puckered up kissing face. “You’re such an asshole!” I stood up and headed towards the balcony to cool off. Once I was out there, I took out my lighter and pack of cigarettes. The stupid thing wouldn’t light up, it had to be low on butane. I chucked the lousy device into the street and rested my elbows onto the steel bars, letting out a frustrated huff.

The night was warm, typical of most any night in the City of Angels. The street lights were already glowing bright, except for one near the end of the street that’s blinking. The light’s trying its very best to burn bright this evening. The sound of approaching footsteps are of no concern to me, instead I kept my eyes on the concrete ground below me. A clicking noise caused me to turn around, there’s Mick with a lighter in hand, the flame burning bright. He brought it close to my cigarette and, after inhaling the harsh, familiar taste of tobacco in my mouth, I thanked him.

“You alright?” Mick wondered, standing by my side.

I simply shrugged my shoulders, “It’s whatever, Tommy’s always been like that for as long as I’ve known him. I don’t really care anymore.”

“You sure about that?” he asked nonchalantly.

I scowled at him and spat back, “Why do you care?” I took another drag and puffed out a cloud of smoke to him.

He raised an eyebrow and then headed back inside. A part of me was kicking myself for responding back at him like that, yet I was reminding myself that I had more important matters to focus on. Quite frankly, he shouldn’t have been one of them.

@nature-and-music @lady-jane-revisited @mickmarstookmyheart @gothicfuneralsblog @sophiazeppelinchick

[deejadabbles]

SPELLS OF DEFIANCE (ATEM X READER X YUGI) CHAPTER 8

EIGHT: BLOOD

One //// Two //// Three //// Four //// Five //// Six //// Seven //// Eight //// [Nine coming soon]

Summary: The Circle of Magicians protects the world from rogue, murderous fey. The police who keep bloodsuckers and flesh-eaters in check. You’ve hunted vampires for years, earning a reputation as one of the best magicians in that field; but what happens when an encounter with a particular vampire makes your already fragile loyalties split? Supernatural/Demon Hunter AU. Vampire!Atem x Reader x Incubus!Yugi (yes, a polyamorous relationship). Warnings for cursing, vulgar language, violence, and some sexual themes.

A.N: Sorry this took so long to get out, personal upheavals and writer's block has been kicking my butt lately. Anywho, I hope you guys like this update, but I do want to warn all of you that there are depictions of violence and an incident involving self-harm in this chapter. Please be cautious of reading this chapter if those are themes you're sensitive to. As always comments are greatly appreciated and help keep me motivated to continue writing, thank you for reading.  Oh, also, I made mood boards/edits for this series, in case any of your are interested in that <3

A crack so thunderous that it shook the walls around you sounded. Ears rang, blood spilled, and someone laughed. A sound cold and cruel bellowed as you were thrown back, senses reeling and vision blackening as skin made painful contact with the cement floor.

“Keith!” Duke’s eyes were wide as he watched you fly back, his own ears stinging even when he looked back to his fellow magician with a glare. “They said to take her alive, you idiot!” His fists clenched, eyes darting to the man’s arm. It still surged and flashed with lightning, flickers of electricity darting across his skin from his overpowered spell. His palm remained trained on you, and the seal on his palm still glowed from the magic.

Keith had the gall to chuckle again, “Relax, pretty boy. Even I know that wouldn’t kill her.”

Duke’s eyes widened again, and he looked back in your direction, finding you had managed to land on your knees, head bowed and arm holding you up as your shoulders shook with every labored breath.

“At least the attack broke down her defenses. Bitch always was good at keeping her armor up,” Keith added, sick grin glowering down at you.

You raised your head, vision finally coming back into focus after the attack. Your nose had broken from the impact, trailing red down your mouth and chin. However, to Keith’s obvious annoyance, the only other sign of harm were the glass-like cracks coating your face, your personal shield deteriorating under the force of his spell. He was right, you had always had a talent in armor spells, casting a constant barrier around your body, coating you in protection like a second skin. Your ability to redirect that shield to take the brunt of his attack was the only reason you weren’t a gory mess on the floor. It came at a cost though, and Keith knew it, you wouldn’t have the power to recast your armor spell for awhile.

You were vulnerable.

“Should have known they’d send their favorite dog after me,” you said, trying to make your form as steady as possible when you rose to your feet. Your jeans were rent, knees bloody and torn from the concrete.

Still, you stood tall.

Keith laughed again, “Well, not like they were gonna send pretty boy after you alone.” He shifted then, body moving into a combative pose, ready to fight. “Damn, I’m going to enjoy this.”

You actually smirked back at him, adrenaline kinking up your energy. Your eyes wandered past Keith’s shoulder, noting the wide cracks and barely stable wall just behind him.

Yes, that would do nicely.

A quick fluid motion and you reached out with your magic, grabbing hold of the crumbling stone, and pulled. The concrete followed in a thunderous cloud, and Keith barely had time to turn before the debris crashed down on him with a shout.

It wouldn’t be enough, you knew, but it bought time. You turned to Duke, grabbing a particularly large piece of rubble with your magic, just as your old friend’s face fell.

“Ah shit,” Duke muttered, then flung himself out of the way as you threw the debris.

Dust and curses were flung into the air, giving you the perfect cover as you jumped through a broken window of the nearest building, taking refuge behind the rotting walls. Let them chase you, they wouldn’t even realize the roles of hunter and prey were switched before it was too late.

You began your ascent to the top of the five-story building, climbing through holes in the floorboards and pouncing off rickety steps. Just as you cleared the third floor you heard a rumble and knew that Keith must have blasted his way out of the rubble. That was confirmed a moment later when you heard him scream at Duke, demanding to know where you went. Another yell at Duke’s answer, then Keith’s angry voice was ordering them to slip up, him taking one building, and Duke the other.

You grinned to yourself at the foolhardy decision- though you instantly regretted it when blood seeped past your lips at the act. You were definitely in for a lot of pain when this was over.

You were on the top floor now and heard the sounds of someone moving about below. He must have assumed you would go for higher ground, because the movements got closer a split second later; a teleportation spell. You looked up, finding the gutted state of this floor to your advantage despite the wide-open space. The ceilings were high, and the half-exposed rafters in those ceilings were dark, a perfect perch.

The footsteps grew closer as you jumped, climbing into the rafters with almost cat-like grace, and waited for whichever man had chosen this building. Unfortunately, you almost gave sigh when a whisper of a voice called out your name. Of course it had to be Duke.

He was within sight now, rising from the less than stable staircase on the other side of the room. His approach was cautious, eyes scanning the area with care as he called out to you again.

“I know you’re up here, so I’m going to ask you this now, come out and neither of us has to get hurt. I...I know this looks bad, but- damn it, you know I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to hunt you like- like some fey monster. Just come back with me, come back home and I promise I’ll help you convince the Council it was a big, messy mistake. I’m not the only one on your side, either. Mahad, Mana, Ryou- we’re all worried about you.”

Despite your taut state, his words actually did send something sharp through your chest. Memories of a younger Duke winking and flipping his hair at you played in your head, alongside other memories of him curled up beside your hospital bed and his hand gripped in yours as you pulled each other to safety. Friends weren’t actually touted as something valuable in the Circle, but Duke was one of the few you considered to be exactly that.

He cursed, then said your name a third time, sounding particularly desperate now, “I don’t want Keith to find you first,” he said to the room, his eyes continuing to scan the area. “You know what he’s like, and I think...I think his plan is to kill you, and tell the Council he had no other choice. I don’t want that to happen...”

Your hands gripped the wood of the rafters as Duke walked right below your hiding spot. Then, with an exhale of breath, you jumped down. Before he even had time to turn you cast your quick spell and pushed. It was barely enough force to make him tumble, but it put enough distance between you two as he swung around and narrowed his eyes.

“I’m sorry Duke,” you said, and took your battle stance, “but I can’t go back. I won’t.”

Something genuine filled his eyes, something hurt or desperate, but his expression was steel as he said, “Alright.”

Then his hands were moving, tracing a symbol in the air and it glowed with his magic. There was no use trying to dodge it, when his casting was finished an invisible force like a black hole began pulling you in, sucking in every loose object in the room. Your feet left the ground and you were practically flying towards the void his magic created- but you were ready.

Just as you were within range you flung an arch of fire, one that passed his black hole and slashed across his chest. With his concentration broken, the spell faltered, glowing sigil fading like a burnt bulb- though the power of its pull still sent you flying into the wall. Your bones ached in protest as you fell to the ground, but you didn’t- couldn’t miss a beat before springing back to your feet. Just in time too, because Duke was already on you. Your arms blocked his kick, before answering with an uppercut, and the moment he stumbled you shot another burst of fire that sent him falling.

Duke was an agile thing, though, and recovered before you could even fire another shot. A dance began, bursts of your flames soaring through the air one after another after another, and Duke using his own magic to cast them aside with graceful hands.

A full-on fire wasn’t what you were aiming for though, and you saw the pain twinge across his face when your strikes grazed his jacket. And finally, it was enough. Duke shouted in pain as the flames caught and spread across his coat. Much like you and Keith, magicians like Duke had their own armor, he just imbued the magic in a literal coat. Now, as Duke scrambled to pull the flaming garment off, his defenses were down, just like yours.

You didn’t let up, as much as you wanted to, and closed in on Duke as he threw his leather armor aside. A hard kick and he was sent to the ground, but his boot made painful contact with your sternum, shoving you away as he sprang back to his feet. Another flame, another shout of pain and you moved in for the proverbial kill.

He was fast, and threw his hand up, summoning a portal a mere step in front of you. You couldn’t stop your advance and fell through the portal with a shout. Suddenly falling through open air, you barely had time to register a pile of sharp somethings just below you, and cast flames to turn it to ash a moment before crashing into it.

Your senses reeled, coughing as ash flew down your throat and plumed about you, your body screaming in protest. You shook your head, opening your eyes to see that he had teleported you to the floor below. You had landed on a busted table or some other furniture that the old studio apartment was full of.

Just as you were standing up you heard a familiar sound, another portal- but a blow struck your ribs before you could react. You stumbled, knocking into another table as Duke closed in and tried for a second, but you jumped, landing on top of the table which his fist struck instead. You spun, landing the heel of your foot across his face with a resounding crack . The force was enough to slam him down hard on the table and later you would wince at the crimson that spat across the surface. Still he recovered, enough to knock into your knee and make it buckle, but it was a desperate move; one that allowed you to grab a fist full of his hair and slam him back into the table with even more force.

He went slack in an instant, sliding to the ground like a rag doll as you stepped back. A groan, and then stillness. You watched for a moment until you confirmed the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“I’m- sorry, Duke,” you panted. He would hurt when he woke, and hot guilt prickled across your skin, especially at the sigh of his bloodied mouth. Still, you had to remind yourself that all in all, he would be fine, especially after the Sanctuary's healers saw to him. Besides, no matter how brutal the attacks seemed, it was far from the worst you’d dealt in a battle. And you did take a second to appreciate how much Duke’s combat skills had improved, he had grown a lot from the boy you used to sweep-kick into submission every time you two sparred.

You hopped off the table and knelt by his unconscious form, tugging at his belt until the spellbook that hung from it was pulled out from underneath him. You unlatched it and flipped through the pages until you found the right one. If you wanted to get past that barrier, you have to break the seal Duke used to cast it. You thought you had found the right one when you turned to the first glowing page, but to your surprise, that sigil was not for a barrier, but for a mute spell, used when you wanted no one outside a certain area to hear you. Well, you wondered why your fight hadn’t drawn Keith’s attention, apparently Duke had wanted privacy when trying to persuade you to surrender yourself.

You moved past the thought, not having time to dwell, and continued to turn pages until you found yet another glowing source. This time it was the right spell, and you hastily tore the page from the book, disrupting the magic that caged you here. You glanced out the nearest window-

But nothing happened. The glowing barrier didn’t budge.

A curse that was practically a scream ripped through your throat. Duke was smart, he must have made two parts, two seals, to his barrier. You had to destroy the other seal before you could escape.

And who else would have that second seal besides-

“Quit hiding, you bitch!”

You sighed as Keith’s taunt echoed, a quick peer over a window sill confirming that he was storming out of the other building and marching straight towards yours. You wouldn’t be able to escape without facing him. Time to take out the trash, as they say.

Only when you started rising to your feet did you finally take more notice of your injuries and you had to steady your breathing to calm the surges of pain. You suspected a fractured rib was dangerously close to becoming a broken one and the pain was sure to worsen by the minute. You had to end this quickly.

Before you moved to the other side of the room, you took a second to snatch something else off of Duke’s belt and tuck it in your own pocket. Keith was quickly bounding up the floors below you now. With a sudden plan blinking into your head, you slipped your jacket from your shoulders and using a chair for height, propped it up on a collection of loose ceiling beams. Judging by the way he was charging up the rotting staircase, it would be the first thing he would see when he got here, and you quickly slipped to the other end of the room.

Not a minute later that thundering crack sounded, an arc of lightning cutting through the air and striking the coat tucked between the rafters. And just as Keith stepped up from the stairwell a second later, you charged.

He hadn’t even managed to turn enough to cover his flank as your foot made contact with his knee- but it was like hitting steel, his barrier still protecting him even as he stumbled. With a spin your leg came up, knocking him hard in the chest and he let out a shout as he went tumbling back down the stairs. You couldn’t press the advantage though, he let off another shot of lightning, making you duck away from the stairwell in retreat.

How a lumbering muscle like him moved so fast was beyond you, but you didn’t get time to gain much distance before he was back up the steps and you were scrambling to avoid another cracking bolt- heat grazing past you even as you did. You crashed to the ground in the messy dodge, and had to roll to avoid his boot from coming down on your head as he closed in! You managed to spring back to your feet and even block one fist with your own- but his second made painful contact with your jaw.

He pressed his advantage, your ribs screaming as he wrapped his arms around your middle and threw you hard against the wall. Vision reeled as fingers gripped your hair, scalp burning as he pulled you back. Another painful wrack through your body as he slammed you again, back first, into the wall before clamping his hands around your throat.

The instinct to take in a gasp as he squeezed your windpipe was strong, but your eyes locked on his even as he chuckled.

“Told you I was going to enjoy this,” he hissed, his fingers tightening all the more.

You bared your teeth against his sick grin and focused, concentrating on channeling your magic to the palm that once bore your magician’s seal. It would take more effort than before, the magic that helped focus your attack gone, but your power was more than what the Circle had given you.

So wrapped up in his sadistic enjoyment, Keith didn’t notice your palm growing hotter- until you reached out and clamped your hand on his face. He screeched as the heat burned through the layers of his personal shield but even as his fingers recoiled to claw at your hand you held firm. A burst of glorious air filled your lungs, steeling your resolve as you rammed your knee into his groin. His knees buckled, only strengthening your advantage as your palm continued to burn against his face.

But before you could knock him further to the ground, Keith struck, a quick jab of his fist right to your injured ribs. Stars burst behind your eyes and you couldn’t keep your hold as he twisted your wrist back- though you did manage to catch his fist as he aimed to strike again. Fist and wrist caught in each other's hold, a moment-long stalemate ensued as you both struggled to get the upper hand on each other. His skin was an angry red as he growled at you, some fastly forming blisters making the faint imprint of your hand across his face.

The stalemate was broken when you slammed your forehead into his nose, something of his cracking even as your own broken bridge throbbed in pain at the motion. The moment he reared back you pushed out with your magic, the force sending him across the room. Much like you had with Duke, you kept pressing, flinging flames in a relentless onslaught that he had to dodge second by second.

He probably thought he was doing well, not a lick of flame doing more than grazing him, but then again, you weren’t trying to graze him. Each move to dodge brought him closer to your target and the moment he was lined up, you grabbed Duke's weapon from your belt. He must have expected more fire because he didn’t have time to change tactics as the end of a rope dart soared towards him instead of flames. The blade swung, wrapping the rope around Keith’s throat as his eyes widened but even as he made to tug at it, you were faster. WIth all the force you could conjure, you aimed your spell at him, sending him stumbling even further back. He didn’t stand a chance as you closed the distance at a run- and slammed your foot into his chest.

All that power sent him sailing through the window behind him with a shattering crash!

You had just enough time to hold your end of the rope firm before it was pulled taught by Keith’s falling body. You did stumble from the force of his stop, but you held tight and quickly managed to anchor the rope. Not a second later were you hopping through the window yourself and landing, with some effort, to the concrete ground below.

After getting your bearings, you stood tall and looked up, eyes landing on a struggling Keith as he squirmed against the rope wrapped around his neck. He was a good three feet off the ground, and you had to admit, you did take a bit of satisfaction watching him struggle. But, what now? Keith was as bad as they came when dealing with violent and untrustworthy magicians. But did you really intend to let the rope hang him?

Just as you stepped forward, Keith took the decision out of your hands, reaching to the back of his belt even as his veins started to pop across his neck and face. He produced a knife, and you couldn’t help but sighed as he reached up to saw at the rope.

It was quick work, and you once again readied yourself as he fell to the ground, coughing. This was, admittedly, bad, you could feel your stores of magic depealting, and the pain of your injuries was getting harder to ignore.

He recovered quickly enough to snap his head up and glare at you quite vehemently, “Bitch!”

“You really need to think of a better insult,” you sighed as he scrambled to charge at you.

You lunged to the side when he made to grab you around the middle again, but he was quick on the turn and something flashed in the sunlight as your hand came up to block him. He dropped the blade into his free hand and made to stab again- only to be thrown over your shoulder as you turned into his grip. Though he hit the ground hard, sprawling out with a grunt, he was quick with a kick and landed a hard blow on your shoulder. He took your grip on his hand to his advantage too, and hoisted himself back up while throwing you off balance.

Then a scream ripped through your throat! Hot pain sliced across your stomach, and you barely stepped back in time to avoid another slash of his knife.

You clambered further from him, hand reflexively covering your belly and assessing the damage. The cut was shallow, even as it burned and bled crimson, but it was a large gash. This had to end, now!

Red-faced, boil-covered, and blood-stained, Keith still managed to grin at you as he brandished his blade in a taunting threat. You were vaguely aware of more red wetting your shirt, but you had to push it to the back of your thoughts as Keith made to strike again.

A block, a lunge back, a jab in retaliation, but he didn’t let up on his attacks. You found that you were being corralled closer to the building, not good. A duck as he swung his blade and you managed to swing behind him. Still crouched, you landed another hit on his knee and it was enough to make him buckle. You sprang up to land another blow but he was quicker. Another scream as his fist made contact with your ribs and you were sent tumbling back.

You crashed to the ground as the world spun, waves of pain washing through you. Yup, definitely a broken rib.

Another sick chuckle had your vision clearing enough to see Keith stalking towards you, smile widening as he tossed his blade aside. “I’ll just tell the Council I had to fry you, not like they’ll care anyway,” he held his fist up at the claim, “A close quarter impact, yeah, they’ll buy my story if they think I acted on instinct.” A second later electricity was sparking around his knuckles. “And I’ll make sure to hunt down your boyfriends too,” he continued in a hiss, and the arcs started to spread, coiling down his arm as he charged his attack, “I figure I can make them suffer a lot more than you. Yeah, I’ll enjoy that too.”

Your teeth were bared again, and a growl rumbled in your chest even as you silently prepared your own counter. Keith was always his sloppiest when he thought he had the upper hand.

A threat about staying away from Yugi and Atem was hot on your tongue, but before you could spit it out Keith was lunging, ready for the kill! Your hand shot up, catching his fist in mid-strike that might have broken your arm if not for the magic coursing through you. His lightning arched and flashed- flickering as its tendrils slowly crept down your own arm.

He had meant to send the electricity through you like an overpowered thunderbolt, but your own spell was absorbing it! You growled as the effort to redirect the energy back at him took its toll through your already battered body. He was fighting you, cursing you as he tried to tear past your magic and finish his killing blow.

A fierce cry rattled your throat as you pushed on with all your might-

Thunder so loud it might have cracked the very sky sounded. Something tore- something broke between the flesh and blood of your arm as the power between you two reached its peak! Through the bright flash, you thought you saw Keith being thrown back, but the force pushing you into the hard concrete wracked your senses, almost as much as the searing pain pulsating in your arm!

Your ears were ringing, the world had lost any real sense of balance as the sky above reeled and rolled. You were vaguely aware of clutching your arm to your chest as you bit down on your tongue, trying and failing to stop the cry of agony from leaving your throat.

A few shuttering intakes of breath and the world slowly started to right itself. Your ears were still ringing, but you managed to roll to your side (the side not screaming in pain) and find Keith, slumped motionless against the cracked building. You almost chuckled in relief. You were battered, a little bloody, and much worse for wear, but you were still standing- so to speak.

After another moment of gathering your wits, you clambered to your knees and started to rise, only then taking stock of your arm. It wasn’t as bad as if felt, though some nasty purple was already forming under the skin. The sheer amount of power between you two had been too much, and the recoil of it releasing had probably fractured a bone or two in your arm. Still, you were the one who remained conscious. You would take a bit more gratification in that once your body felt a little less like a crash-test dummy.

You made your way over to Keith’s body, taking note that he was still breathing despite looking like death warmed over. After fishing around in his jacket pocket, you found the spell paper that had the other half of the barrier seal scribbled on it. With one arm basically useless, you had to grip the corner of the paper between your teeth, and a sigh that hurt a little too much left your chest as the shimmering dome around you started to dissolve the moment you tore the parchment.

You had just enough energy left to teleport back home, and the thought of Yugi and Atem’s reactions to your state was already playing in your head as you took another step-

And fell to the ground.

A hiss of pain as you hit the concrete, and it was only then that you finally noticed the cold, seeping, numbness.

Your mind raced, but you tried to keep your breathing steady as you rolled onto your back and pulled your shirt up, realizing the lack of feeling was spreading from your stomach. Sprouting from the shallow but wide cut across your belly, there were nasty, vein-like lines crawling their way over your skin. Your eyes flashed to the dagger Keith had discarded as the answer dawned on you: poison.

You were already losing feeling in your legs, and your pitiful drops of remaining magic with it. Breaths were coming in ragged now as you tried to grip the last threads of your energy, even as you felt it slipping.

This…

This was not good.

***

“Aibou,” Atem’s tone was firm as he cut through his boyfriend’s rambling on the other end of the phone. It was only when Yugi froze in the middle of the phrase ‘what if she’s allergic-’ that Atem could finally get more than a word in. “I’m sure what you ordered is fine. We have plenty of options she can choose from, besides, if she doesn’t like what you order her, I know you’ll be willing to share your meal.”

He heard Yugi give a little sigh on the other end, “Yeah, I know, I just wish I had thought to wait until she got home before ordering.”

Atem found himself shaking his head despite the fact that Yugi couldn’t see him. Yugi was acting like he was a creature of impulse, and that ordering their takeout dinner before asking what you wanted was a recurring crime and not a simple misstep from a usually over-considerate man. “I’m sure she’ll love whatever you ordered for her, Aibou, you worry too much.”

“I know….” After the pouting pause, Atem heard a familiar bell tinkle on the other end of the line. “I have to go, be up in a bit.”

Atem said his quick “love you” before hanging up, again shaking his head at Yugi’s cute concern.

It was nearing the time for the shop to close, and Yugi had thought it a good idea to order-in dinner early, so you would have a fresh hot meal upon returning, and so the three of you would have plenty of time to follow up on any lead Bonz gave you after dinner. It was a good plan...until Yugi realized he still didn’t know all your food preferences until he was on the phone ordering said dinner.

“Too sweet sometimes,” Atem chuckled to himself, before setting the phone aside and returning to cleaning the dishes from his own mug-contained meal. Still, being reminded of the time, his mind once again traveled back to you. It was getting late. You had said it wouldn’t take long, but, exactly how long was that? He turned the knob to faucet off with a little too much force, something gory flashing in his mind as he watched the red remnants of his meal sliding down the sink into the drain.

He forced a sigh out through his nose and closed his eyes. It was hard not to worry, or, rather, to avoid that worry from stepping over the line into ‘overprotective’, as he was so known to do. Yes, it was late, but you likely had to walk, as you had mentioned you hated teleporting when it could be avoided. Maybe you had to make a stop on the way home, Yugi had mentioned some shops nearby where you could pick up essentials when needed, after all.

Atem scolded himself as he wandered out of the kitchen, unsure what to do with himself until you and Yugi came home. He had already spent a decent amount of time pulling out the video games he knew Yugi would want to show you, as well as ones he thought you might like, in the hopes that the three of you could have some bonding time later that night. Maybe he could-

Crash

In a glorious burst of glass and thick curtains splitting into ribbons, something sailed through the closed doors of the balcony. Atem’s hackles were up in an instant, even as he leapt back to avoid the sudden rays of setting sun pouring in through the remnants of the glass doors. The metallic and sweet smell of blood assaulted his senses, making his fangs elongate as he heard something heavy collide with the floor.

Then his blood turned to ice when he saw what was curled up in the wreckage. Your hand reached out feebly for just a moment before it fell, your body going still among the glass and splintered wood.

In an instant he was rushing towards you- only to hiss in pain and rear back as the sun blazed across his skin like hot talons. He felt his fangs cut into his lip as he swore loudly, you were laying right in the middle of the sunlight! He wheeled around the room, mind racing for a plan even as his mouth watered at the smell of blood permeating the air. By the gods, how badly were you hurt for the room to smell so intense in just a matter of seconds?!

Atem ran to the hallway closet, nearly tearing the door off the hinges as he threw it open. He grabbed a heavy blanket from the top shelf and started pulling it over his head and shoulders as he ran back to the living room. He barely took note of if his body was concealed in the blanket enough as he again ran to your side. Sharp shards split his skin as he tried to slide his hands under your form, and something was burning his legs as he worked. Finally though, he managed to get a hold of you good enough to pull you out of the sun and off of the debris. The moment he was out of the rays of fire, he wasted no time in gathering you in his arms and setting you on the couch as gently as he could, taking thankful note that your breathing was slow and shallow, but present.

A growl of anger and whine of concern caught in his throat when he saw the blood soaking your clothes. Colorful bruises were taking form across your skin and there were rips in your clothes sporting bloody abrasions. One was worse than the others though, and Atem found himself tearing the shirt in half so he could better see the cause of all the staining.

Another growl bubbled up as he saw the injury: a long cut right across your stomach. His hands were covering it in an instant, trying to stem the flow of red. The cut wasn’t deep and he might have wondered why there was so much blood if it wasn’t for the sickly markings crawling across your skin from the wound. What could cause this? Magic?

His mind raced for a course of action, even as it cursed his lack of knowledge in healing. What could he possibly do to counter whatever magic this-

The memory of purging the circle’s magic from your hand came flashing into his mind. You had said the curative coating his fangs must have some ability in negating magic. Could it possibly help here? He growled again as crimson continued to seep over the fingers clamped on your wound. Healing the magic or poison or whatever was afflicting you could wait, right now he just needed to make sure you didn’t bleed out!

Atem felt sick with the way his throat ached with need at the smell and sight of so much red. He knew the best way to seal the cut, but fear gave him pause. No matter how many centuries passed, no matter how long he honed his self-control, the memories of finding humans- innocent people, dead in his arms still haunted him.

Then his eyes darted up to your face. You were barely hanging on, breathing seeming to slow before his very eyes.

With all the self-control he could gather, he steeled himself against the thirst parching his throat, and pressed his mouth to the wound. He had but to graze his fangs across the torn skin so the curative on them took hold and started mending the flesh. He was painfully aware to be careful though, gentle as he moved his canines along the wound and not to worsen the cut.

As expected something like a shudder of relief (euphoria, even) shivered down his body as some of your blood seeped into his mouth. He ignored it, countered it with the self-loathing that writhed in his stomach, knowing that the thing he was could ever take any enjoyment in this.

His fingers gently followed his progress, making sure the skin was healing after the touch of his fangs. It was, and he nearly collapsed with relief when he pulled back and saw that only an angry-looking scar remained of the gash- well, of the gash itself, his brows furrowed when he saw that the vein-line markings around it were as sickly and deadly looking as before.

His mind was frantic again, searching for an answer before the sound of a door caused it to snap back to the world besides your injured form. His eyes darted up to land on Yugi, who had stepped inside only to have his smile vanish a moment later, his gaze landing on the living room.

“Help me!” Atem’s voice was raw in his throat and all but a yell, but Yugi snapped into action before he could blink.

The brown take-out bags in his hands spilled to the floor as Yugi ran to your side, “What happened!?”

“I don’t know, I think she barely managed to teleport home. I just sealed the cut that- that caused all this-” he waved his hands to indicate all the red- “but I think she’s been poisoned. Do you have anything in the shop that could heal her?”

Yugi didn’t answer, he was already fishing his phone out of his jean’s pocket as he looked over your form. One hand slid over the skin of your chest while the other frantically tapped at his phone screen, and it was only then that Atem realized the markings were still spreading.

“She’s burning up,” Yugi choked under his breath, even as the phone pressed to his ear started to ring. A moment later he was spewing a string of words into the receiver, “What could cause black marks under the skin? It might be magic, it might be poison, we don’t know which!”

After a stunned pause, Atem heard Anzu’s voice answer on the other end, hurriedly telling Yugi to send her a picture. Yugi did, snapping it as fast as he could and growling at his phone for taking too long to send it. Several long, agonizing moments ticked by as they waited for Anzu to answer, and when she did Yugi was scrambling to his feet and bolting back down the stairs to the shop. Atem almost ran after him, but the need to stay by your side anchored him, pulled him to stay right there. He looked back at you, chest clenching at the sight. Your skin was clammy, face taking on a bit of a hollow look as your chest barely lifted with each breath that had long pauses between them.

Atem found his hands reaching out to cup your face, the red staining them smearing across your cheeks as he tried to hold you. “Please- please just hold on,” he whispered.

A too-long moment later Yugi was bounding up the stairs and through the door again. Atem saw something flash in his hand as he fell to his knees beside the couch. A blade.

“You’re sure this will work?” Yugi panted as he tapped the speaker button on his phone and set it on the floor.

“It’s the best option you have,” Anzu’s voice snapped from the phone’s speaker, “but you have to put it on the same spot the poison entered.”

Though the remaining scar made that spot obvious, Atem pointed the wound out to Yugi, who looked pale as he hovered the dagger over your stomach.

“You’re going to need to hold her down,” came a shaky warning from the phone, just before Yugi pressed the flat of the blade to the scar.

An ear-splitting scream ripped through your throat and Atem flung himself to the other side of the couch, shaking hands gripping your shoulders as your body began to writhe. As gently as he could he pinned your shoulders to the couch, heart aching at the cries of pain spilling through your clenched teeth. Yugi, still holding the blade flat to your stomach, had to throw his body across your legs to keep them from thrashing and Atem thought he heard a distressed noise from the phone, but it was worth it as he saw the edges on the markings slowly begin to recede.

***

Yugi was fighting back tears. Now that the adrenaline was gone, stress and worry drug and tore at his senses, making it harder not to sob as he wiped the blood from your skin. The poison was purged from your body, thank god, but, if you had not already been passed out from the blood loss, the act of drawing the drug out of your body certainly would have knocked you out cold. Yugi was thankful, not for the first time, that his grandpa’s old collection of magic artifacts was full of unique pieces, including one blessed by patrons of healing from several religions.

For about the fiftieth time, Yugi dipped the washcloth into the bowl of hot water, wringing out the stomach-churning red. The apartment smelled like a crime scene and Yugi knew he’d have to shower for an hour to feel clean again, but at least you were alive. You looked sick, and Yugi watched you like a hawk to make sure your breathing didn’t stop, even though Anzu had warned that you’d probably look worse before you got better.

Once the washcloth was rinsed of blood he gently swiped it across your body again. He was trying to find a good balance between taking care of you, and not doing anything that might make you uneasy. He wanted to get the gore-soaked clothes off of you, put you in something clean, something comfortable so you didn’t have to wake in your own blood. He had even gathered a pair of his extra stretchy, soft sweatpants and oversized flannels to put you in, but the actual act of changing you felt too… Violating, too perverse despite the fact that no ill-acts were at work. As it was, he felt guilty that your shirt was nothing but a torn rag, leaving your chest bare as he tried to clean the red from your skin. Maybe you didn’t care, maybe you were used to this, being a warrior of sorts, but Yugi felt sick at the idea of crossing a line with you. In the end, he figured Anzu could change you, she was on her way there with a healer’s hut worth of herbs and spells to get you patched up, after all.

Another sniff that threatened to turn into a sob later and Yugi was finally done wiping your chest and stomach clean. You were still covered in marks from your battle, but at least this was better. He grabbed a blanket that was discarded on the ground (had Atem used it to shield himself from the sun?), made sure it was clean enough for you with a quick look over, then tucked it over your body for privacy and warmth.

Next, he moved on to your face, which was not nearly as messy, but some ash dirtied your skin under thin smears of blood. The vague memory of coming back to find Atem desperately holding your face with red-stained hands floated through Yugi’s mind as he dabbed the cloth over your cheeks with care.

That cleaning didn’t take long, and when he was done, Yugi suddenly found himself at a loss. What else could he do? Should he get you a glass of water for when you woke? Run a hot bath so you could slip into it at a moment’s notice? Tuck another blanket around you so you felt safe and protected while you healed? Hold you so you didn’t have to wake alone and pained and-

Yugi dug the heels of his hands into his eyes with a tired, defeated groan. He hated feeling useless, feeling like he could do nothing while the people he loved suffered. Again he had to swallow the sour taste of tears, knowing it wouldn’t do him any good now.

Then, before he could even think, he found his hands reaching out to gather yours. Your right arm was badly damaged, swollen and bruised, but your left seemed fine, and Yugi leaned in, lay your palm on his cheek as he silently thanked you for having the strength to come home to them, for surviving long enough for them to take care of you. An odd thing to think, perhaps, but Yugi allowed himself the moment of thanks, even moving his lips to press against your palm in gentle affection.

He lingered there for a few moments, comforted by the feel of your no longer fevered skin against his and watching your breaths get stronger and more even with every moment. Soon enough though, he forced himself to tuck your hand back under the blanket and get back to making himself useful. The living room floor was still a mess of broken glass and splintered wood, but first he took the bucket of blood-tinted water to the kitchen, and it was only when the red was streaking down the slope of the sink that he remembered someone else in distress.

Atem had taken off not long after they purged the poison from your body, his face looking sickly and pale. Yugi knew Atem might need space, and besides that his mind was preoccupied with taking care of you first, something Atem would understand. Now however, now that you were sleeping as soundly as you could, it was time to tend to his vampire.

It didn’t take long to find him, Yugi heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom and padded over to the open doorway. Atem stood over the sink, steam pluming up from the hot water to fog up the mirror and porcelain and-

And Yugi froze when he saw scarlet coating the sink.

Atem was scrubbing his hands under the scalding water, nails digging in so much that the skin was tearing and healing rapidly before Yugi’s eyes. Not fast enough to stop the bleeding, though, and the ferocity of which Atem was scrubbing his hands and arms was causing red to pour like a waterfall.

“Atem!” Yugi rushed forward, “Stop- STOP!”

He tried to pry the vampire’s hands away, so desperate he almost dug his own claws into his lover’s skin. Atem only jerked out of his hold, eyes wild and panicked as he shied away from the incubus.

“What...what are you doing?” Yugi’s words were panted, trying to stay calm and only half succeeding as he approached Atem like a scared, injured creature.

Atem’s eyes were locked on his own hands, reproachful almost, but mostly enraged. “I can’t- I can’t get it off!” he raised them a little, still raw and bloody from the abuse, “No matter how much I try it won’t go away! I can still smell her blood on my hands, Yugi!”

He snatched a towel from beside the sink and started scrubbing at his hands again, but Yugi rushed forward and gripped them with as much gentle force as he could manage.

“Enough,” he said in a whisper, “that’s enough, Atem, please, please don’t hurt yourself.” With a tug, he pulled Atem close, held his vampire’s healing hands to his chest as he peppered reassuring kisses over Atem’s face. “It’s okay, everything’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not, Yugi!” a sob marred the words, and Yugi felt his heart break. “I can’t stand it, it makes me sick, just like the others.”

Yugi knew what ‘the others’ meant, remembered calming Atem down from nightmares, holding a sobbing vampire who was still haunted by the memories of killing when he wasn’t in control of his blood lust. It didn’t matter that it had been over a century since the last time he woke with a dead human in his arms, Atem still remembered them, still told himself he was a killer with blood on his hands that could never be washed clean.

Just like on the nights filled with those memories, Yugi held Atem close, whispered assurances in his ear, told him it wasn’t his fault, ignored the stabs to his heart when Atem told him it was.

“We almost lost her, Yugi.”

“But we didn’t.”

“I had her blood on my hands, in my mouth-”

“You saved her, Atem.”

Silence followed that, and for a long, long while they just stood there, clinging on to each other like a life line. Yugi tried to put forth some more gentle words, but Atem said nothing more, only pressed his face into Yugi’s chest with a sob so tired that Yugi had the urge to tuck Atem into bed too. He even suggested it, said that Atem could rest in the living room with you while he tended to you both, but the vampire just shook his head and held Yugi closer. That is until he finally pulled away with a sniffle.

Atem tucked his hands closer to himself, self-conscious, unsure. “You should get back into the living room, I think Anzu is here and she’ll want your help healing her wounds.”

He was right, not even a second later they heard the front door open and Anzu's worried voice calling out to them before she spotted you on the couch with a gasp. Still, Yugi stood there, eyeing his boyfriend’s hands with concern.

“Atem-”

“I’m okay, Yugi,” he assured, then sighed and gestured at the sink, “I won’t try that again, I promise. I just...I just need a minute to collect myself, that’s all.”

Yugi had learned to tell when Atem was lying long ago, but he knew Atem was being truthful now, so, he just stepped forward, cupped his hands to Atem’s face, and said, “You know we’re here for you, right?”

Atem actually managed a slight, tired, smile, “I know, Aibou, I know.” He leaned in and pecked Yugi’s lips, “Now go, help her.”

Finally somewhat assured, Yugi nodded and stepped out of the bathroom, back to the side of someone else who needed him. Still, Yugi was only fully assured when Atem joined them a few minutes later and started helping him and Anzu dress your wounds with poultices and spells.

[jonah-aesthetic]

Jingle Bells I Daniel Seavey

Daniel X Reader 

Plot:  Your best friend since childhood takes you on a sleigh ride. one you’ve only mentioned once to him. With the entire Christmas vibe he brings to life it’s hard for you to keep your feelings at bay for him.

Word count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: unedited I feel like this piece flopped for me. I didn’t want it too long, but it also dragged on a little. Yet I didn’t think I put enough detail in this one. 

Rating: 16+ (I’m 20 so I’d like my readers to be some what around there.)

MoodBoard

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Your vision was blocked by a folded bandanna tied around your head with a secured knot or two. Hand tightly locked with Daniel’s, feeling his thumb rub a top yours for comfort. Snow crunched under your Dr. Martens with ease, slightly soft from the snow fall a few days prior. Slow steps as He guided you keeping your location a surprise.

 Your senses felt heightened with your eyes looking into the dark oblivion. The vague bitter smell of horse manure and the rather oddly pleasant hay scent Reached your nose. You wouldn’t have noticed it before, almost feeling like a damn blood hound. Yet it gave a hint on where he was taking you. 

Two hours previous he woke you up, you’re nothing close to a morning person. So you cussed his ass out of your apartment so you could enjoy the fantasy dreams about him. Ones you could never endure in reality, Daniel’s your best friend who you were insufferably in love with. 

Yet he came again, using the spare you forgot you gave him. But this time he came bearing an Eggnog Latte and gingerbread cookie. Slaying the ferocious dragon into silence, the way he always knew how.  The caffeine and baked good keeping you at bay as he told you he at the day planned for the both of you. Although it was a surprise, all he said was dress appropriate for the chilly winter weather and grab a blanket. 

Analyzing everything in your head for a quick second. You realized he was bringing you on that sleigh ride you mentioned once before. Thinking it’d be fun to do during the winter months, you didn’t think he’d actually book an entire day for it. Making it a big thing, you wish he didn’t. Cause it only made butterflies flutter, tempting you to wreck your friendship. 

“Watch your step..” Daniel’s voice is more projected against the snow over ground. Heart slamming upon your rib cage and you swear you can hear it.

“Actually just bend your knees, It’s a stairwell and I’d rather not risk you eating shit. Or breaking a nose in the winter.” At his words you probably figured they were slippery or he didn’t trust you not to slip, you were no doubt clumsy as Bambi, and the man knew it. 

Bending your knees a little, which you curious on why he asked you in the first place. Yet you trusted him with your life, there’s no going back on years of friendship now Seavey. his arms scooped you under your legs and against your back. Bringing you closer to his chest, the motion fast and unexpected as you let of a small whimper. Daniel groaned as he hopped getting a more sturdy hold on you. 

“God you’re heavy.” He breathes, the air from his lungs hitting your cheeks. 

“Then put me down Asshole.” You scold him, slapping his chest, feeling a deep chuckle rumble within. 

“I was joking, you’re not heavy, you’re fine. It was a bad joke anyways. Now hold on I might drop you.” 

“Daniel That’ll be the last thing you’ll do before you end up in hell.” You threaten playfully. You instantly wrapped your arms around his neck after feeling him climb up the stairs. It was a small rocking motion almost like you were on a ride especially with the blindfold on. 

“Was that a death threat?” 

“If you drop me, yes, yes it is.” 

Gasping you felt Daniel fake drop you, it was a slower motion that you thought it would be to actually drop you. Nonetheless it still scared you, clawing on tighter to him. Whitening your knuckles as angry wasps scattered in your stomach. 

“I hate you, I hate you, I have you Seavey.” You yelled still preparing for the fall the would never come. 

Again you could feel the glorious deep chuckle of his erupt from his chest. Vibrating against you, turning angry wasps into love-sick butterflies. “We’re hear anyways.” 

“Than you can put me down and take this damn blindfold off.” You speak trying to reach for it. Daniel’s hand caught your wrist like a reflex. “Not yet, just a few more minutes.”

Opening a door and being engulfed my warmed, you shivered from the drastic temperature change. Bells rang above warning the receptionist that customers have arrived. It was around an hour, or what felt like an hour to you later. Of going over everything for the surprise, from the time to the pricing. Which you weren’t to happy about, yet after all of it nobody confirmed your theory. You knew what it was, but you wanted it to be heard. Though nothing about it was said. 

Nada. Zilp. Zitch. Nothing. Not even a damn crumb. 

Going from warm to cold wasn't as drastic of a change. Daniel still held you bridal style, scared you eat shit. Which you most likely would have, if he let you climb down the steps. You felt very natural in his arms anyways, like to pieces of a puzzle. 

Daniel began to lower you softly letting you go before your feet were on the ground again. Silently thanking him for being on your two feet again. His presence coming behind you, raising his fingers to the knots and began to pick at them. 

“Are you ready?” 

Yes I’ve been waiting all damn day for this. Take it off Seavey.” Hearing him chuckle behind a smile spread across your face. Feeling the bandanna drop, hands flying to your mouth as you gasped. You knew it, yet you were still shocked by the sight of it. 

In front of you was bright red sleigh with gold detailing all around it. Had a massive resemblance to the famous Santa Klaus one. instead of nine reindeer, a beautiful black Clydesdale stood in their place.  On of the bands resting upon his butt had a line of huge bells. Ringing every time he moved, bringing the whole Christmas vibe alive. 

whirling around gazing at him a gentle smile rested on his lips. His blonde hair half tucked under a black beaning. Light stubble dancing along his jaw, making him look older. His icy blue eyes watching you, fighting the urge to tell him you wanted him. Maybe he knew it already, that’s why he took you here, and maybe he didn’t.

“You didn’t have to.” You said shaking your head, 

“I know, I wanted to, I had the money for it.” He shrugged stuffing his hands into his pockets. Why couldn’t Daniel be less attractive! it wasn’t fair. perfect silence emerged over both of you, genuine smiles with adoration for one another hidden behind your eyes. 

“If you Two love birds are ready, I love to show you what this gorgeous winter has to offer.” The Driver spoke, sitting upon the front seat that was two or three feet higher then the main seats in the center of the sleigh. 

With giddy giggles Daniel escorted you towards it, his hand resting on the smallest part of your back. Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, but you swear you could’ve felt his hand reach and squeeze your hip. 

Sitting down it was a tight and cozy fit, the bench and the back rest was cushioned with a black leather material. Smooth to the touch and soft as ever, with a clicker of the chauffeur’s tongue, the sleigh bolted to life, cause you and Daniel to fall back into each other. Soon enough the jingle bells rhythm came into ear shot. Making this whole experience feel like you woke up in a fucking Christmas. Unbelievable real.

“Are you okay?” Daniel’s laugh fans your cheeks as he helps you to sit up right. 

“Never better.” You say with an undying happiness you possessed inside. Not feeling the way the cold nipped at your nose making you look like and off brand Rudolph. 

“Here.” He speaks as you watch him unfold a black blanket, a little dumbfound, the thing was massive and surprised you hadn't noticed it before. Handing you one of the corners of the blanket, and instantly wrapped it around you as Daniel did the same. Pulling you two closer together, trying to engulf your body in it as much as you. 

“Thanks” you whisper under your breathe, watching it form into an icy cloud. Glancing at the gold letters embroidered into the corner of the blanket tight. it was a gift from Daniel’s mother giving to you on the day you both graduated. Remembering the words she said to you like it was yesterday. 

“You know I wasn't to ecstatic about new neighbors moving in. But as soon as I saw this sweet little girl playing with my boy. I was glad that your parents’ pick the that house. I Watched you two laughing and giggling in the yards, I just knew you two would be in separable. It’s a shame that boy of mind doesn't see the love that you have for him...”

It shocked you to know that she knew that you were in love with him. You covered your tracks pretty well back then. Controlling yourself around him was child’s play compared to now. She never interfered with the way you felt about him, You were grateful at the time. Now not so much, but it could’ve wrecked the friendship you had-

“Y/N look.” Daniel’s voice cut your thoughts short, His attention of the right. You follow his gaze, spotting nine caribou in scattered in the woods. Or rather nine reindeer, you guessed they weren’t replaced after all. You could feel the sleigh come to a gentle stop, the jingle bells’ song vanished into the air. 

“Oh shit! Reindeer.” No filter with pure shock, 

Curiously watching them from a far, you admired each and every one. Noticing a chunky bell lacing around their necks, like they were Santa's famous reindeer's’ out of the movies. 

“And watch this.” He speaks glancing up at the driver, as if on cue he places his fingers in mouth and releases a high pitch whistle. “Keep an eye out for him,” 

“Keep an out of who?-” 

A  reindeer further into the forest walks towards us, elegant and gentle. Stalking through the snow as if he held pride, significantly larger than all the other reindeer, he must of been the alpha, the leader. 

Amazed at the whole thing you couldn't think of words to say and if you manged something. It’d definitely come out as word vomit. Reaching closer and closer to the sleigh you could her the bell jingle against his chest. Black scribble appeared on the red ribbon clasped around his neck. Soon being able to read the name ‘Rudolph’  on both side on his throat. 

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Daniel asks looking back at you expecting you to say words you couldn’t fathom at the moment. You gulped and nodded your head vigorously. He was more then beautiful he was stunningly gorgeous and massive. You’ve never seen a wild animal in person not to mention this close to one. 

Daniel held a chuckle at your reaction to this entire encounter with Rudolph. Finding your dumbfound shock, adorably cute. In moments like these he dreaded the knowledge of being your best friend and not your boyfriend. Where he could just grab the back of your neck and smash his lips hungrily to yours. 

The adrenaline high was retreating in your veins, causing your mind to process again. The cage of anxiety breaking open as the glance of Daniel’s ocean eyes calmed you down.  

He’s fucking perfect. Look at those dopy eyes, various shades of blues swirled inside them. causing your heart to melt into the bottom of your stomach. All thoughts of common sense started to leave, glancing at his lips. looking pink and soft as ever, god they must taste like heaven, or at least the closest thing to it. 

Best friend. Best friend. Best friend. 

Looking forward you could’ve swore you breathed the same air as Rudolph. Still he was more beautiful up close. White creamy chest that reached to his legs, chocolate brown body. adorable nose that had the softest resemblance to a cow. Antlers sprouting from a top his head, developing towards the sky. A small white box was tethered to his left antler by a black ribbon. Throwing your best friend a suspicious glance, he nodded letting you reach for it.

Clasping the velvet box in your hand, feeling your heart pound repeatedly. Breath caught, anxious of what’s in the box. Feeling your gut tell you this was it and whatever this box contained was going to change everything. Distracting yourself you focused on Rudolph, seeing the way he looked at you. As if he knew what it was somehow. 

taking your glove off with your teeth you reached for him, pausing three inches before his nose. If you learned anything from Draco’s encounter with Buckbeck, was to be patient and let the animal come to you. Although at the end of the day it was just a fucking movie. 

Warmth exploded from your palm to your elbow, smiling you trailed your hand to rest under his chin. His fur softer than you were expecting it to be, yet you didn’t know what you were expecting. “Thank you Rudolph.” You whisper to him soon retracting your hand. Backing away he retreated to his herd, quite as if the encounter with him never happened.

Taking up your spot next to Daniel you glance up at him, “What is this?” You asked breathlessly. 

“Open it.” He says, voice a tremble and couldn’t help but think that he knows. Was this what a best friend break up was like? Staring at it you forced the top open, but you let it go. Snapping shut without a glimpse. You shake your head, gulping feeling the bile rise. “I can’t Daniel” 

His hand comes into view, twice the size of yours. Veins scattered along his knuckles, red from the cold. Taking the box from you grip you stared at your fingers, missing the feeling of his hands on yours. 

“I’m in love with you.” He blurts in out like it was nothing new to you. Your head whipped so fast you got dizzy. His eyes were genuine, you always knew he was lying. The way he would glance up and down then to side. Tongue poking out with a fiddling of handing, but he didn’t show any signs. He was a good actor though. 

“She told you.” You accuses like a defensive mechanism. You guessed Keri thought you moved on with your feelings for Daniel. There was no other reason you could think  of. 

“She did.’ He confirms, Nodding his head. Was this was this a joke to him? Cause it wasn’t fucking funny. You shook your head feeling the fire burning in your blood. 

‘I can’t do this.” You speak, removing yourself from the seat and jumping out of the sleigh. Starting to head back in the direction you think the farm was located. The cold weather bite at your body, but you hugged yourself too furious to care. 

“Y/N!” 

“Leave me alone Daniel.” You could here him chase after you, with the ay he was breathing. 

“Mom told me you wouldn’t believe me.” His voice getting louder. 

“Maybe you should’ve kept it to yourself Seavey, better yet you should’ve let me sleep in.” You were hurt, and you didn’t know how to comprehend any of this. 

“I love when you talk about things you’re passionate about. Like the colors on your paint palette, how you mixed blue and purple for the perfect shade of magenta.” 

That was two months ago and you remembered the excitement you felt. After hours of mixing you finally made the exact shade you wanted. Daniel was the first one you came to, as he was at your apartment. 

“Daniel stop.” using his name the way you were was like a sting each time. 

“Or the time you hit that sparrow, you pulled over as so soon as you felt the bird hit the grill. You dug him a grave with a used spoon in the truck of my car. Gave him a funeral and forced me to speak at it like it was lost friend. It was the day I finally realized I love you with every fiber of my being.” You could hear the strain in his voice. 

That happened two fucking years ago. 

“It’s not fair.” You speak stopping in your tracks, a good distance away from the sleigh. Feeling his presence behind you, you let him reach out for you. His hand turning you to face him yet you faced the ground feeling like you lost a damn war, defeated and drained. 

“I know it’s not and I’m so incredibly sorry.” He sounded like he was begging for you. 

“Okay.”  you didn't know exactly what it was for, but you felt like it was needed. 

His hand came to rest on your cheek wiping a tear you didn’t know slip. His touch delicate against your face, tilting your head up he caught your lips against his. His lips were soft as you fell into sync. Tasting like cinnamon and peppermint. Pulling him closer you lost yourself within him, the feel, the smell, and the touch of him. 

Kissing him was like finally finding the last piece of your puzzle, the way both of you fit perfectly together amazed you. He tasted like heaven and heaven tasted like home. 

---------------------------------------------

Felt like I could’ve added more, but its already long.

I hope you enjoyed this piece.

Also if ya made it to the end comment which Why Don’t We guy I should do next. 

[mysteriouslyhopefulstranger]

The Final Test

((My Secret Santa FanFic gift for @solitaria-fantasma. You asked for Lewis to undergo a sacrifice test in a forest, so I placed the crew into the universe of the horror indie game, “The Cursed Forest.”))   @msa-secretsanta-2020

“How are you holding up, Lew?” Arthur asked.

“Much better now that the deadbeats offered a few hands.” Lewis straightened his posture as he carried as much as the sacred stones he could. Not that they were heavy for him; it was just that his arms could only wrap around so much.

“I just hope that this stone doesn’t grate my prosthetic too much.” Arthur looked down at the stone he was holding and huffed. “But better the stone than the skeleton.” He cringed as he looked over at the deadbeats carrying parts of the child’s skeleton. “Son of a bitch. It was supposed to be a simple investigation! An exorcism is one thing, but a fetch quest?! And while avoiding her ‘impulses!’“

“Again, it’s not her fault.” Mystery reminded him. “Corrupted souls barely have control over themselves.”

“Anyway, we’re almost done, right?” Vivi piped up, also holding a stone.

“Yep.” Mystery nodded. “Now we just wait-”

The ground rumbled as the trees cracked and groaned. Vivi and Arthur nearly lost their balances as roots and vines burst from the ground to block the path in front of them. The trees around them shifted and moved to form a new path.

“Ah, there we go.” Vivi smiled. “Onward!”

With Mystery leading the way to keep an eye out for traps, the team headed down the newly formed path.

It only took them about five minutes to find the stone altar. It seemed as though it was made rather shoddily. Normally, altars were hand made; this one was just a giant flat boulder with imprints, possibly for the sacred stones. Vivi came closer to get a good look. “Oh! They have numbers etched into the slots! This should be easy!” She carefully placed her stone down to check the bottom. “Ok, mine’s #3, sooo...” She searched the slots for her assigned number.

Arthur checked his. “Seven.” He scanned the altar and saw that his stone was to be placed at the top center. He set it down. “Phew! OK, LeWAAUUGH!!!” He screamed as he fell back. Arthur had looked up to see a black cloud of a skirt and feet, leading up to more black and a pair of glowing white eyes. The little girl showed up again; the very child whose soul was corrupted by a ritual gone wrong; the very child who called them over by crashing the van; the very child who trapped them; the very child who ordered them to perform this exorcism;

The very child who had also tried to kill them while they searched for the pieces they needed to do so.

Vivi and Mystery backed away from the altar and got close to Arthur, ready to defend each other. Lewis looked stern.   

“You’ve got everything?” A white streak appeared below the eyes of the cloud, and moved about as the girl’s voice echoed out of it.

“Yes.” Vivi said. “Now we just read what’s written in the paper, right?” 

“Yeeesssss,” The ghost girl lilted with a smile. “but there’s one more thing that needs to be done.”

“Oh God!” Arthur groaned, looking like he was going to cry. “ Don’t tell me we missed something!”

“Nope!” The corrupted ghost’s smile got bigger. “This is just a liiiittle test!”

Mystery sighed, “Let me guess: we have to figure out which object is truly needed, or something like that. And if we pick wrong, we die. Yeah, already did this shit.”

“Nnnnnope! ~ Nothing like that!”

Arthur opens his mouth to ask, only to feel his next words being choked in his throat. Along with any air that was trapped along with it. In fact, when did the skin on his neck feel this...constricted?! He put his real hand up to his neck; there was a vine wrapped around it.

Mystery heard his restricted protest and turned to look at him. “Arthur, what-?”

CRMBLE CRMBLE SHK SHKKKKKKKK!!!  

It happened so fast. Vines shot out of the ground, hoisting Vivi, Arthur, and Mystery off of the ground. They grabbed at their limbs, pulling them away from their bodies as if to rip them off of their sockets. Vines wrapped around their torsos, right where the ribs were. Mystery didn’t even have time to react and snap at the vines, for one had wrapped his muzzle tightly shut.

“NO!!” Lewis screamed, dropping the stones he was holding. In a flash of anger, his hands burst into flames. The deadbeats dropped their loads and prepared to attack. The corrupted ghost teleported in front of him, her finger wagging in front of his nose. “Ah, ah, ahhh! ~ You try anything, and I’ll kill them instantly.” She giggled and looked up at Mystery. “And if YOU try anything, I’ll rip your tails off!” Cue more vines shooting up from the ground and snagging each white tail. Mystery whined in pain.

Lewis shot his hand at the girl. She teleported out of range and cackled, “You must really want them to die! Well then, here goes!~”

Arthur let out a strangled cry as the vine around his neck tightened. Vivi screamed out as she felt the vine constrict her ribs and limbs, threatening to break bones. Mystery still could only whine as every limb he had was slowly being pulled apart.

“Stop, STOP!!! PLEASE!!!” Lewis begged. Their cries subsided as the vines slackened.

“Good boy!” The girl chirped. “Now, for the final test...you must choose which member of the team shall die!”

“Are you serious?!” Lewis roared, his hair glowing and whisping.

“Since when was this part of the ritual?!” Vivi grunted.

“Shut it, you!!” The ghost snarled, tightening the roots. Vivi squealed in pain.

“VIVI!!!” Lewis cried.

“Now pick!! Or I’ll kill them all! Ten, nine....” The roots slowly tightened again. Lewis panicked. Even the deadbeats were just flying around, screaming.

“...eight, seven, SIX....”

He can’t burn the roots without risking burning his loved ones, or without the risk of the spirit killing them by other means....

“...five, four, three....” Arthur’s face was turning purple, and Vivi and Mystery were tearing up as they continued to cry out.

....Wait. “a member of the team.” huh?

“TWO....”

“Myself!!” Lewis yelled.

The ghost stopped counting, looking surprised. “....What?”

“I choose myself!”

“Nnngggh, Lew...” Arthur gargled.

“Hey! I said..” The ghost started.

“That I should pick which member of the team should die. I’m a member! And in case you haven’t figured it out...” In a flash of fire, Lewis dropped his human façade, revealing his skeletal form, suit and all. “I’d like to see you try kill me, since I’m already dead!”

The ghost paused before smiling again. “I can just destroy your anchor!” She grew more roots, aiming at him.

Lewis flinched for a moment. But only for moment. “That would just make me disappear. You said that one of us had to die, not disappear.” 

“B-but you...That doesn’t...!” The girl sputtered. 

Lewis laughed, “Aren’t loopholes just fun?” 

The corrupted ghost looked like she was about to explode. With an angry grunt, she slammed the rest of the team down onto the ground, releasing them from the roots. “Alright, alright! I’ll call it a pass!” She faded away. “You’re no fun!” Her voice echoed as she pouted.

Lewis and the deadbeats rushed over to the team. “Are you all ok?! Anything broken?!”

Arthur was too busy coughing and gasping to answer. Vivi on the other hand, “Owwww.” She moaned, rubbing her ribs and limbs. “I’m gonna have bruises for months!”

Mystery curled up and rubbed his muzzle with his paw. “This was humiliating.” He growled. “This exorcism better be super painful. Let’s get this over with before something else happens.”

Arthur finally caught his breath. “God dammit! If I get bruises too, Uncle’s gonna have a stroke and a hernia before I do!”

Lewis lit a flame near Arthur to investigate his throat. “Yeeeah, a bruise it already forming. But other than that, nothing broken?” He put his free hand on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur slowly stood up and moved his limbs around. Vivi and Mystery did the same.

“We can still move,” Vivi responded. “but it hurts a little.”

Lewis sighed, “Either way, the deadbeats and I will do the arrangement. You guys rest.”

“Fine, but I’m still reciting the words.” Vivi crossed her arms...and then winced since her arms rested on her ribcage.

“By the way,” Mystery laid back down, “that was some incredible quick thinking back there for someone of your attention span.”

“Ha.” Lewis rolled his eye sockets as he picked up the ritual stones one by one. “If there’s anything that I picked up from every horror movie I watched with Vivi involving deals with the devil, is that there is always a loophole in the contract based on certain word choices or in the fine print.”

“See?” Vivi turned to Mystery, smugly. “There ARE some accuracies in these stories!”

“But, what if she didn’t mix up the words or didn’t care about word choice. Would you have stood by your decision?” Arthur asked.

Lewis put down a stone in the assigned imprint. “...Yes.”

“But why would you-?!” Arthur started. Lewis turned around and glared at him. “Let me guess, you would’ve wanted me to pick you, right? Because you ‘deserve it.’ I’ve accepted that it wasn’t you back at the cave! Why can’t you?!”

Arthur lowered his head. “It...preyed on weakened feelings, right? So...if I had said something...”

“This was completely out of your control.” Mystery interrupted, sternly. “Hell, it took over me, remember? And I’m equivalent to that of a god!”

“And why should I pick someone that I love?” Lewis picked up another stone and put it down. “Why should I choose any of the ones that I love? Isn’t that obvious?”

Vivi smiled. “And you know that I would never, ever forgive if you did choose him.”

“That too.” Lewis chuckled. Arthur smiled as tears threatened to trickle down his face.

“If anything,” Mystery mumbled, “I should’ve-”

“Aaaaahhhhh!” Vivi pointed a finger at the kitsune. “Noooo! Don’t you dare go there, too! You’re my precious guardian pooch, and I’ll be damned if I lose you!” She scratched his ears. Mystery opened his mouth to protest her remarks, but succumbed to the blissful ear scritches and let it be.

“Aaaand done.” Lewis and his deadbeats floated back to examine their work. The little girl’s small skeleton laid in the center, surrounded by the ritual stones. Seeing her small frame made the team somber.

“God, looking at this now made me realize that I forgot this was just a kid who was dealt with the worst hand.” Arthur said.

“Yeah, poor thing.” Vivi sighed. “Lewis, you still got those instructions?”

Lewis fished out a piece of paper from his pocket and gave it to Vivi. Vivi scanned through it until she found the proper incantation. She recited the words as carefully as possible, making sure she doesn’t mispronounce anything.

There was a crash of thunder and an ear-piercing shriek, as a black mist hovered over the skeleton. The team stumbled back and ducked. Winds howled as the clouds above them formed a vortex high above the altar. It sucked up the black mist, leaving a small, glowing white orb. The orb began to rise up into the sky, and the cloud vortex dissipated. 

Silence. 

Then rumbling from the ground and the cracking and creaking of the trees; they were moving again, clearing away the dead ends and opening a path to the way out. 

Silence once more. The atmosphere felt lighter. Lighter enough to take a deep breath and savor it.

The curse has been lifted. The gang was free.

“....We did it. We did it!!!” Vivi laughed and hugged her boys.

“Oh thank God!” Arthur rolled his head back in relief.

“Now let’s scram. I’ve had enough of forests.” Mystery said.

The gang ran up the nearest path, with the living members fighting back the lingering pain in their legs, and they didn’t stop until they saw their bright orange van. They piled into it, collapsing into the back or onto the seats.

“Oh, vehicular transportation I’ve missed you!” Arthur almost cried, burying his face into the upholstery fabric.

“Another successful mission!” Vivi giggled.

“Alright, everyone settle, because I’m driving. You all still need to rest.” Lewis said.

“Ok daaaad.” Vivi teased before she leaned over from the back to give Lewis a kiss on the cheekbone. Arthur followed through after Vivi as he gave his keys to Lewis. Lewis blushed as he turned the ignition on. 

As they started to drive away, a young voice echoed into their heads:

“Thank you.” 

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E9; Chapter Nine, The Gate - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

The survivors turn up the heat on the monstrous force that's holding Will hostage, and Y/n's powers are put to the ultimate test in the process. Eleven makes plans to finish what she started.

A/n: heads up, another ask the characters is coming up at the end of this book so if you plan on asking questions relevant to the plot I do ask you hold off until the rest of this episode. If you have just simple or silly non-plot related stuff I guess I don't mind taking them here 😊 thx for reading!

Also, the El/Dustin/Lucas reunion [and friendship tbh] is criminally underappreciated and always makes me cry happy tears. Same with El and Joyce. Always broke me, always will. Duffers, give me more. Also, Max blushed in this scene, and yall can @ me I don't care, but it happened.

||3rd Person POV||

Their feet shakily carry them across the floor to each other. Their hearts both stop as they gaze one another, both in their own unique form of shock.

"Eleven." Mike's voice barely tumbles out in a strained whisper.

Her smile grows bright at the sound of her name on his tongue, a sound she had missed all these months.

"Mike!" She gasps tearfully, and they collapse into a tender hug.

For a moment they relish in one another's embrace, not caring they have to stumble for balance as they cling to one another. More sniffles and tearful gasps spill from their lips as the others look on in a mixture of sadness and excitement filled shock.

Apart from Max, who's brows furrow above her widened eyes as she leans in close to Lucas in a whisper.

"Is that...?"

Dustin and Lucas nod silently, still in as much disbelief as the collective few.

Finally, but all too soon for the pair, Mike and El break apart.

"I never gave up on you," Mike swears. "I called you every night. Every night for--"

"353 days." She finishes softly, drawing out another look of shock on the boy. "I heard."

Despite the small but taunting thought that had always lingered in the back of her mind that told her otherwise, he does not get mad. He merely tilts his head in confusion.

"Why didn't you tell me you were there?" He asks gently. "That you were okay?"

Before she can form a proper sentence, Hopper speaks up from where he had previously stood rooted to the ground.

"Because I wouldn't let her."

Mike swivels on his heels to find Hopper looking back at him, solemnly. Mike stumbles back agape as Hopper glides forward, and gestures in waining and worn down stress over the girl.

"The hell is this?" He grumbles softly, relief flooding his voice. "Where the hell you been?"

"Where have you been?" She spits back, in an equally sounding failed attempt at anger.

His gun hangs limply at his side as he takes El into his embrace, who gladly accepts by coiling her arms around his large frame in content.

"You've been hiding her," Mike gasp gravely. "You've been hiding her this whole time!"

Everyone flinches as the Wheeler boy launches an unexpected attack on the chief. He jumps forward, throwing his weight into his arms as he shoves the man.

"Hey!"

He turns, knowing the fight this boy is going to attempt and grabs at his shirt to steady him. Mike fights against his effort briefly, but he can't hide the spark of fear in his eyes as Hopper towers over him.

Hidden amongst the stunned group, Y/n shuffles on her feet nervously as she witnesses the strength of Mike's wrath. And yet, numbly, her feet carry her forward to accept the damning sentence she always knew would befall her. Her guilt had grown thrice its size in the brief moments of Mike and El's reunion and she can keep the secret no longer.

Weakly, she tugs Mike away from the chief in half-hearted protest.

"Mike,"

Her voice comes out in a wavering and cracking demand and she has to try again to be heard over his cries of protest.

"Mike!"

Finally, he, rips his attention -and arm - away from Hopper's hold, and whips his head to snap at her. Her hand remains wrapped around his sleeved arm as if hoping her gentle touch will soften the blow. But even she knows it not make a difference.

"What?"

Her eyes flicker from him to Hopper and El in a frightened manner.

"What?!" He demands. "You can't seriously be defending him?! He hid her from us! He knew!"

The words she ached to say died on her tongue, though she knew now she didn't have to tell him. Her e/c eyes went glassy, her bottom lip began to quiver and his eyes suddenly shifted.

"No," he whispers, eyes jumping from El's new attire to towards hers as he shakes his head. The pieces had fallen into place. "No, you wouldn't...?"

"I'm so sorry, I-"

He rips his arm away from her in disgust and cradles it against his chest. The small act creates another crack in her heart as he looks at her in fury and loathing. Will already looked at her like this, and now Mike, too.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?!" He demands, glare flying between Hopper and Y/n. "What is wrong with you?!"'

"Mike, I wanted to tell you--"

"BUT YOU DIDN'T!" His anger is now fully directed at Y/n. "YOU DIDN'T TELL ME!"

It's Hopper's turn to tug Mike away from Y/n, but again, Mike violently rips himself away.

"It wasn't safe!" Y/n pleads.

"Bullshit!" Mike shoved the girl in front of him away.

"Mike-!" El interjects.

In his anger, Mike doesn't seem register her pleas. All of his attention - and pain - directed soley on Y/n.

She stumbled back, not surprised at such a harsh response but she tries to stay calm for the sake of everyone around her. Her hands begin to darken as heat bubbles to the surface.

"I can't believe you, Y/n!" A fresh batch of tears welled in his eyes but he dismissed hers. Unable to care.

He shakes his head, not knowing why he even bothers to ask but it slips out in a dark whisper. "How long have you known?"

Y/n takes a long, shaky deep breath. Her voice quivers as she speaks.

"The day Dart escaped, and... and right before the Mind Flayer got Will on the field."

His face twists into a bitter scowl. "Five days? You've known for five days?!"

"And it's been killing me, Mike! But she said it would keep you safe!"

"Killing you?! It's been killing you?! You think I give a shit? YOU LIED-!"

He storms after her again, ready to shove her but his hands never reach her shoulders. Her body tenses as he charges and a small, involuntary burst of energy explodes around her, protecting her.

He falls back in a yelp of pain, Hopper is able to catch the boy before he reaches the ground and everyone watching - those especially who hadn't previously known about Y/n's abilities - flinched in shock. Several items around her within a two-foot radius shook and even tumbled off the shelves and tables. Y/n looks at everyone and then back at Mike in a worried glance.

"Mike, are you okay? I didn't mean--"

"Get off me!" He swats at her outstretched hand and she flinches.

Hopper's fuse runs out and his voice comes out in a thunderous bark.

"Hey, hey! Alright!" He discards the gun against the wall. "ENOUGH!"

The two bickering friends falter at the volume of the man's voice and stumble back when he reaches for them. A firm hand on either of their shoulders, he looks them in the eye with a scowl.

"Enough." he seethes, prying Mike off of Y/n and begins pushing him in the direction of Jonathan's room. "Let's talk. Alone."

Everyone watches in surprise as the two storm off down the hall, now stewing in the shock of all that has unfolded in the past few minutes alone. El shuffles on her feet, her eyes trailing two of the three people she cares of most as they disappear down the hall, unable to shake the stress of her situation and the harm it inflicts on everyone.

"Protecting her! Protecting her?" Mike fumes.

"Now, Mike--"

"You guys really expect me to forget the fact that you two blatantly lied to my face that she was alive?"

"Mike--"

"For a whole year?!"

"ENOUGH!"

Mike's eyes widen suddenly in shock, it dissolves quickly but his anger does not. Hopper sighs, bringing a hand to rub at his eyes before shrugging at the kid with a hardened expression.

"You are going to listen to me, and you're gonna listen to me good. I kept her from you,"

He says to Mike admittedly, then gestures in the direction of the living room.

"and so did Y/n. And that sucks. I get it kid, but you have no idea what kind of consequences you and your family and anyone - including your friend -," he points to the door again, still seething with anger. "face just knowing she's alive. It is an IMMEDIATE and PERMANENT target on your back."

"Oh, what so I should be THANKING you?"

"I'm not asking you to thank me!" Hopper screams back, voice, and fuse straining. "I'm asking you to try and understand!"

"I don't! I don't understand!"

"That's fine. That's fine! Just do not blame her, she's upset enough as it is."

"I don't blame her! I blame you! I blame you!"

"That's fine, kid." Hopper spits through a fake smile, and he throws his arms up in surrender "That's okay. In fact, blame me for all of it. El, your friend, even this damn Mind Flayer, or whatever the hell else you can think of. That's okay with me, but--"

"NO! Nothing about this is okay! Nothing about this is okay!" Mike launches another attack on Hopper who stumbles back.

He eases his arms out, trying to calm the kid down. But Mike does not relent. All of his heartbreak and misery since the moment she disappeared in the cloud of ashes, to every moment of radio silence with his walkie. It all erupted out of him and he charged at Hopper, swinging punches left and right into his gut until he was backed up at the door.

"You're a stupid, disgusting-"

"Okay. All right!"

"-lying piece of shit!"

"Stop it! Stop it-"

Hopper makes a grab at the boy's arms, trying to calm him down.

"LIAR! LIAR! LIAR!"

"It's okay. Stop it!"

As he had with the Will just minutes ago, Hopper wraps his arms around the boy in a hug. And though Mike continues to cry out, his efforts against Hopper begin to weaken before fading out altogether.

"Liar! Liar! Liar!"

Mike is now collapsed into Hopper's chest and allows his cries to drain him completely. His tears streak his pinkened cheeks and stain Hopper's coat. All frustration with Mike evaporates completely and all that's left beneath is the fatherly instincts he had never let go of. He holds him tighter against his chest and lays his right hand on Mike's head with his chin buried in his hair.

"You're okay, kid." He whispers. "You're okay."

Mike's whimpers disappear into Hopper's chest though they still manage to coat the silence. Hopper holds the boy tighter, his hands rested gently against his shoulders and he whispers once more.

"I'm sorry, kid."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

After their disappearance down the hall, El gladly found herself in the embrace of Lucas and Dustin. Like Mike and Y/n, they looked the same apart from the inevitable touch of time she noticed. They had approached her timidly, but each wore similar blinding grins. El has trouble battling a smile at them and to their surprise, she eagerly launched into a hug that they gladly accepted.

"We missed you," Lucas says.

"I missed you, too," she murmurs contently.

"We talked about you pretty much every day," Dustin says, and her small smile returns.

She pulls away to look at them, but her soft brown eyes widen when she notices Dustin's smile. Curiously, she reaches out to Dustin, poking her finger at his mouth as he pulls back confused.

"Teeth," she says.

"What?"

"You have teeth,"

Dustin and Lucas share a chuckle through their still matching grins. Dustin nods, smiling extra bright to show off his new set of teeth.

"Oh. You like these pearls?"

Dustin rolls his tongue in a purr, and El's eyes grow wide as saucers in concern. Lucas and Dustin chuckle in response. They had indeed missed their friend very much, especially her confusion and shock to most regular things.

"El?"

The boys parted for Max who approached her with a shy and eager smile.

"Hey, um," she blushed, extending her hand. "I'm Max. I've heard a lot about you."

El recognized now why the redhead was so familiar, and her gaze flickered to her outstretched hand. That small flame of jealously in the pit of her stomach licked at her heart again. Intentionally ignoring the gesture of the girl and the girl herself, she pushed past her, bumping her shoulder with Max. Max's blush darkened, this time in embarrassment and she looked at the floor in hurt.

El was more focused on the woman she had spotted across the room. The first adult to ever put El needs before anyone else, even if it meant finding her son would be next to impossible. The first person to ever treat and care for her as she was, not a weapon, but a child deserving of love and nurturing. The woman who now stood across the room with tears in her eyes, a quivering smile and arms open wide as if she was her own daughter.

She collapsed in Joyce's warm embrace and no sooner did they both burst into tears. El melted in her gentle and soothing touch, and an audible whimper escaped her when she felt Joyce's palms rub small and gentle circles in her back.

It was the cozy and safe motherly embrace she had longed for all her life.

"Hey," Joyce coos softly in her ear. "Hey, sweetheart."

Another small cry bubbles out of her mouth and for a moment she feels embarrassed for wetting Joyce's jacket, but Joyce doesn't seem to care. She pulls apart from El and strokes her cheek and hair lovingly. Instinctively, scanning the girls face for any signs of injury.

"Hey," she coos again, and El sniffles.

"Is he okay?" She whispers.

Joyce tilts her head, a crooked but sweetened smile forming at El's worry, and her thumb strokes her cheek one last time.

"It's not looking good, sweetie." El's face falls at the answer, and she fears she got here too late. Her eyes pick up again and begin scanning the room when she realizes her greetings aren't done.

Her eyes land on Y/n across the room who had fallen silent after her encounter with Mike. She was far in the corner, her hand picks at the ends of her sleeves and she looked up cautiously at El.

El turns and crosses the room to her best friend.

"Y/n..."

Y/n's eyes flutter around the room briefly, all too aware of the prying ears. Cautiously, her old name slips out. "El..."

For a moment they stew in silence, not knowing what to say and the others watch befuddled at their behavior. By now they know that Y/n had discovered El's survival, but that was all they knew. But seeing them together now, both dressed in similar bold outfits they were able to piece together the two had spent some time together in the past few days. Particularly, the rest of the party.

"You came back," Y/n muttered, surprised.

"I saw everyone in danger," El answered. "I had to come home."

Y/n's eyebrows twitched ever so at the word before frowning. Her eyes flicker behind El briefly at the others, to see if they were listening. To her relief, she saw Joyce send her an understanding smile before pulling the others away into the kitchen.

"I thought you were home. With your sister. Someone who understands you," Her words came out more bitter than she anticipated but she makes no effort to take it back.

"She does, Y/n. What it was like there... Something you won't ever understand."

A look of hurt flashed across Y/n's face and her eyes take her somewhere else. Anywhere that wasn't El. She didn't want her to see how upset she was.

"But that is good." She says gently, causing Y/n's eyes to flicker back at her before returning to the floor. "It was a bad place, and... it was not your fault."

Y/n now looks back at El, her brows still creased in a frown but at least she was showing she was listening.

"How I grew up. I don't blame you."

The Henderson girl's expression softened, but her frown still lingered. She seems to consider her words, and then her attention falls to the inside of her jacket. She begins digging inside and finally she pulls out the files. The words Missing Experiment scribbled on the front. El's stomach sinks, her lips creasing together in a nervous habit.

"Then why did you keep this from me? You know that I've been searching for answers, and you had them with you that whole time! Why?"

El shifts on her feet, and when she speaks she mentally scorns herself for her wavering voice.

"I was afraid."

Y/n shakes her head with a somber and disappointed look. "Afraid of what, Jane?"

Tears started to brim in El's eyes now, not only at her mistake and the guilt it brought but the sound of her name on Y/n's tongue. It didn't feel right. Jane didn't feel right. Not anymore.

She licks her lips nervously, before answering.

"That you would leave. That once you had them... you'd go back home and I... wouldn't be able to see you again."

"El-" Y/n stops, sighing at the floor as she shakes her head. Still not used to the name. She looks back to her friend. "Jane. I wouldn't do that. You're my friend, and I wanted to help you. I did help you!"

"The truck," El threw back with a quirked brow.

Surprisingly enough, Y/n felt a weak chuckle bubble up.

"There's a very good reason why I didn't want us to ride in a truck. But I told you, we could have found another way! A safer way,"

Why is Y/n so afraid of trucks? El wondered.

"All I'm trying to say, Jane, is that I wouldn't have turned around and left as soon as I got what I was looking for. Friend's don't do that. I wanted to find out about myself, sure, but I wanted to help you, too." Y/n explains in sad exasperation. "I wouldn't have just left you..."

"But... you did?" El asks confused.

"Because they said they wanted to get rid of me!"

El looked taken aback.

"That's what I was trying to tell you. They didn't want me there and they were going to get rid of me. Besides, I asked and you said you were going to stay... You understand why I couldn't, right?"

El nods looking to the floor. She takes a deep breath and looks back at Y/n, searching her eyes. She feels a tug at her heart.

"I'm sorry, Y/n."

The ends of Y/n's lips twitch into a soft smile. She inches forward, and for a moment El fears something bad will happen. Like Y/n will shake her head and leave. But she's delighted to find how wrong she was when Y/n pulls her into a hug.

"I'm sorry, too." She whispers.

Both girls begin to sniffle, drawing the attention of the others who had previously parted into their own conversations to give them some space. After a moment, they pull away.

"So," Y/n says, offering a hopeful grin. "friends?"

El felt as if all the weight she had held on her shoulders vanished, and something the girls both noticed now was a much stronger bond forming before their very eyes. This bond was only established and sealed forever by what El said next.

"Sisters."

They smiled brightly at one another, and El's quickly melted into a shy smirk.

"El." She says finally.

Y/n's expression fell into that of a confused frown.

"Huh?"

"El. Not Jane," she looks to the floor sadly before muttering. "Never was."

Y/n's lips molded into a sympathetic smile, and the pair met in another hug. El felt the warmth return, the warmth that had disappeared the morning Y/n had back in Chicago when Y/n mumbled contently into her ear.

"I'm really glad you're back, El."

They break apart, a soft look echnaged between one another with grins to match.

"Me too," El mutters.

Suddenly El's smile fell. It was replaced with a shocked look, and she turned to look between Y/n and where Joyce had dissapeared, the panic setting in.

"Will!" She says in a worried realization. "Can... I see him?"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

El opens the door slowly to ease its creaking, and timidly she steps inside. Joyce and Y/n follow closely behind as El approaches Jonathan's bed that holds a sleeping Will. El kneels beside the sleeping boy, Joyce, and Y/n taking a seat on either side of the bed. El watches his chest steadily rise and fall, and she notes he is just as pale and weakened as he had been the last time she saw him in the void.

"H-He's not doing well," Joyce eases.

El hesitantly places a hand on his bedside, and she feels a small lump in her throat.

"I know," she mutters sadly. "I saw,"

Joyce and Y/n look to her in slight surprise.

"What else did you see?" Joyce asks.

El looks between her friend and Joyce, sadly. Her stomach begins to coil into several knots, and her hands began to clam up at the question. El recognizes the feeling all too well, it was the same feeling she'd get whenever she had to get into the bath. Or when Papa made her repeat words from men in different rooms, or when he asked her to hurt the poor cat. It was a feeling she had almost every second she was inside that lab, the room, or any time Papa was near. It was an awful sickly feeling, but as she looked at Will now, she knew.

It had to be done.

She knew what she had to do.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

El stood before the Byers kitchen table with Joyce and Y/n. Her eyes bore into the back of the notepad where the two words that sparked this dark feeling inside her were scribbled out in red.

CLOSE GATE

Y/n's eyes widen when she sees their translation for the first time. It dawned on her what Will had been telling them, and she recalls what El had tearfully admitted at the quarry just one year ago.

"The gate," she mumbles.

A look of realization hits Joyce, and she points to it eagerly. "You opened this gate before, right?"

El looks up and off to the distance, stuffing down her last bit of hesitation and she answers in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes,"

"Do you think you think if we got you back there, that you could close it?" Y/n looks worriedly back at El. The task was no doubt a large one for El to handle all alone, and though she knew it was likely their only hope, it made her fear for her.

What would happen to her? But then a simple thought crosses her mind, perhaps from the smaller corner of her mind that wanted to provide assurance and she asked herself.

It was just a gate right, surely it couldn't be that big?

Right?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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[quirknojutsuzine]

Camp Crossover🏕

Hello, aspiring heroes and ninjas! To thank you all for sending us over 50 headcanons, our very own Mod Kairi (@kairi-chan) wrote a hilarious and engaging fic based on a headcanon we received! Don’t hesitate to send us more because our inbox and CuriousCat are always open! We hope you enjoy reading! :D

Genre: Humor & Slice of Life

Rating: T

Headcanon: “Bakugou being obsessed with explosive tags”

The forest shook with explosions—rocks, splinters, and dirt flying everywhere. Kirishima hardened his body and raised his arms to protect himself. His friend was yelling expletives at the guy with pearl-colored eyes.

“Stop looking at me funny, you damn extra!” Bakugo yelled. He flexed his fingers, little explosives going off. “And stop with that ballerina turning shit!”

The other guy raised a brow but did not change his stance. His arms were opened wide and slightly tilted downward. “You’re more obnoxious than Naruto.”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” Bakugo screamed, the explosives around his hands getting bigger. “WIPE THAT SMIRK OFF YOUR FACE!”

Kirishima grimaced and took a step forward. “Come on, stop it. Sensei said we were supposed to get along with these guys.” His friend was short-tempered, and it would have been fine if he only ran his mouth, but Bakugo was a man of action.

“He started it! Looking at me all funny with his creepy eyes.”

“It is the Byakugan,” Neji explained simply. “But I don’t need it to take down someone as simpleminded as you.”

“Oh shit.” Kirishima slapped his hand on his forehead. This guy was a piece of work and knew how to taunt his opponents well, he’d give him that. And here he thought he would have been able to have a nice training session today.

“I will blow you to bits, you ballerina weird-eyed extra!” Bakugo lunged forward, his arms behind him as he let out a string of explosives from his arms to thrust him forward. He jumped, and brought his arms and hands in front of him, unleashing his firepower on the ninja. “DIE!”

Kirishima tried to look away, but kept one eye open, wanting to see what would happen next. He braced himself for the explosion about to come but got blown off his feet from behind. He went flying to Bakugo and ruined his momentum. Neji fluidly evaded them and watched as the two fell flat on their face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” A worried and feminine voice called out. The bushes rustled and out came Momo, holding on to a kunai knife with an explosive tag attached on the end. “I’m sorry, I aimed wrong!”

“Is anyone hurt?” Tsuyu came jumping in and looked at her two classmates on the ground. She only blinked, and then looked back at Momo. “I think they’re okay.”

“Oh thank goodness.” Momo sighed, a hand on her chest.

“Maybe we should have started with the smaller tags…” Tenten chuckled and scratched the back of her neck as she approached Momo. “That was a good first try, though.” She then shifted her attention to her teammate. “Oh, Neji. I didn’t know you were training today.”

He only nodded. “Someone wanted to challenge me.”

“Oh? How did that go?” Tenten asked curiously.

Neji stepped aside and revealed Bakugo pushing Kirishima off of him, a scowl on his face.

“What the hell was that?” Kirishima rubbed his head. “It was a good thing I was using my quirk. It was stronger than Bakugo’s explosives…”

“Haaaa?!” Bakugo scowled again. “What could be stronger than me?!”

“This.” Tenten took the kunai from Momo’s hand and twirled it around her fingers. “Your explosive tricks aren’t so unique, here.” She giggled.

Bakugo did not find that funny. He ground his teeth together and got up on his feet, rushing towards her to look at it. “That’s just a fucking piece of paper.”

The kunoichi nodded and touched the tag with her finger before twirling it quickly and then throwing it at a far off tree. Right when the knife made contact with the trunk, a loud explosion came off. Momo, Tsuyu, and Kirishima winced. Neji looked unphased, while Tenten retained the smirk on her lips.

Bakugo, however, looked on with stars in his eyes, and a wicked grin slowly spread on his face. He turned around to face Tenten and shook her shoulders. “You gotta fucking give me some of those!”

.

.

.

“Shannaro!” Sakura’s voice was quickly overpowered with the sound of the earth and rocks splitting apart, dust quickly rising and covering her form.

Deku was shaking with excitement, his eyes wide with wonder and a smile on his face. “That is so cool!” He squealed, gripping his notebook. “Sakura-chan, you’re so cool!”

The girl before him looked nothing someone who could wreak so much havoc. She was lithe, cute, and had pink hair. But that really shouldn’t have surprised him. Heroes came in all shapes and sizes, after all.

The kunoichi brushed her hair away from her face and grinned at him. “Thanks! The key is concentrating all your chakra to your fist and releasing it at the right moment.”

“Concentrating all your chakra to your fist and releasing it at the right moment,” Deku repeated as he scribbled that down on his notebook. He took a step back when Sakura used the body flicker technique and ended right next to him, easily erasing the twenty-five-meter space between them. She peered at his notebook. “Are you writing that down? How studious of you.”

He tried not to act too surprised. She could teleport, too? Deku had to write that down. “Uh-umm… Yeah.” He nodded and closed his notebook. “I write all of my observations and study them later on. I’m not the most talented, so I do what I can to catch up to my classmates.”

Sakura hummed, green eyes softening. “Is that so?”

“Huh? What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Sakura laughed. “You just remind me a lot of myself when I was younger. I don’t have any special kekkei genkais, but I work and train hard under Tsunade-sama so I could catch up to my friends, too.”

“Ooh.” Deku’s eyes widened, and so did his grin. “Then we can work hard together.”

“For sure!” Sakura pumped her fist in the air. “Now, tell me about that jutsu of yours. Kaka-sensei said it sounded similar to my technique, and you could use some help with chakra control.”

“Oh, it’s-it’s a quirk.” Deku looked at his hands and flexed his fingers. “I can unleash a great amount of power and speed, but I’m still learning how to control it so I won’t hurt myself.”

“Ah, I heard about that, too.” Sakura giggled. “Don’t worry, I can heal you if you go too far.”

“Eehh? You can heal, too?!” More than two quirks?! That was amazing! “How do you do it?”

“Same way I split the ground apart.” Sakura removed her glove and held her palm up for Deku to see. Slowly, it started to glow green, reflecting in his eyes. “Chakra control.”

“Teach me, please!” Deku stood up straight and then bowed low from the waist. “Please, Sakura-chan, teach me how to control my quirk!”

Green eyes widened for a moment, and then a determined smirk grew on her lips. “You got it. I’m not going easy on you, you know?”

Deku straightened up, his eyes glinting with the challenge. “I will take any form of training you will give me!”

.

.

.

“Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine!” Ochako strained and ground her teeth. She lifted her leg from the ground and kicked the wooden dummy even harder than she had. “Thirty!”

“Good job, Ochako-san! The fire of youth burns greatly within you!” Rock Lee gave her a grin and a thumbs up.

The girl put her leg down and grinned at him, too. “This is so hard, Lee-san but I can feel myself getting stronger!”

“It is only difficult when you do not have the power of youth!” Lee clenched his fists, the fire burning in his eyes. “But you have it and it is imperative you keep going!”

“Right!” Ochako felt her whole body ignite with motivation and determination. She faced the dummy again and took her stance. “Thirty-one!” She kicked. “Thirty-two!” She kicked again.

“That’s right, you’re doing great! Do three hundred on your right and another three hundred on your left!”

“Thirty—what?!” She paled. “Th-three hundred?”

“I see you want more of a challenge, very well, five hundred! I like your spirit!” The ninja grinned, his pearly-white teeth sparkling. His attention then shifted to the fast-approaching student.

Iida was running right towards them, using his arms for momentum. A cloud of dirt was trailing behind him.

“Another youthful contender!” Rock Lee readied himself to run along with Iida. “Come, we shall run a hundred laps around the village!” He took off the moment he and Iida were side by side, and easily speeding up, leaving Iida behind.

“Don’t think this is the best I’ve got!” Iida shouted and ran even faster, shouting as he caught up with Rock Lee.

.

.

.

“Hey, guys!” Deku waved, a large grin on his face. He sat down on the table, in front of Kirishima. “How was your first day with the Ninja teams? Sakura-chan was kind enough to heal me when I got carried away, too.”

“Ooh.” Ochako beamed. “She has a strength and healing quirk? Maybe I should ask her if she’s free…” she slumped on the table. “I can’t feel my legs…”

“Neither can I.” Iida wobbled over to the table and set his food down. “Lee-san is formidable.” He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “His speed is amazing.”

“Ooh!” Deku was amazed. This training camp with the students in the other show was a wonderful idea. “I want to train with him next! How about you, Kirishima?”

“I didn’t get to train with Neji so much…” Kirishima sighed and picked at his food. “Bakugo picked a fight with him instead and found a new toy.”

“Oh? What did Kacchan find?”

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

“Aaah!” Ochako screamed and held her arms up instinctively to protect herself.

Deku did the same but quickly held on to his glass to stop it from toppling over.

Kirishima didn’t even blink. “Explosive tags.”

In the distance, Bakugo’s maniacal screaming and laughing could be heard, followed by more explosions. Tenten was screaming something indistinct, probably telling him to stop.

“Is Kacchan still training?” Deku muttered, trying to look out the window.

“No, apparently they have these paper bomb thingies.” Kirishima picked up a tissue to demonstrate. “You activate it with chakra and it detonates after a given time.”

“Ooh!” Ochako’s eyes widened. “What makes it explode?”

Kirishima shrugged his shoulder up. “Uuuhh… Ninja magic?”

“Chakra!” Deku’s eyes were also wide with wonder. He picked up his notebook and started scribbling on it, muttering to himself about the wonders of Ninja tools and their different quirks.

More explosives went off, and Kirishima sighed again when Aizawa came jumping out in his yellow bean bag. He hopped outside and started screaming at Bakugo to stop.

Kirishima sighed again. “I wasn’t able to learn anything new like you two today.”

“Why so down?” Ojiro came by, holding on to his tray.

“He’s sad he didn’t get to learn with his appointed Ninja today,” Ochako explained.

“Oh.” Ojiro smiled sympathetically at him. “If you want, you can join me and Jirou tomorrow. We got assigned to Kiba. I heard he has some sort of dog-like quirk… and an actual dog.”

Kirishima peeked at him. “Really?” That sounded interesting. “Can you ask him for me?”

“Sure.” His classmate smiled. “Just make sure you tell Aizawa-sensei.”

“That sounds fun, Kirishima-kun!” Ochako beamed. “And he has a dog! I’m sure it’s cute.”

That brought a smile on Kirishima’s face. “Yeah, I guess it sounds fun.” The camp was long from over, and he promised he would get stronger from this learning experience.

[need-a-fugue]

Why Not? - Chapter Nine

Summary: With a garage to run and a young daughter to, well… run after, Bucky Barnes doesn’t exactly have time for dating. And with his relationship track record – and the constant meddling of a certain overbearing best friend – he’s not so sure that’s a bad thing. But then he meets Annie – a rather insistent, pretty damn cute fellow car enthusiast – and it’s got him asking himself, despite all his hesitations, why not?

Author’s Note: Written for Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge. Thanks to @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​​ for triggering this… sprawling thing simply by supplying me with the prompt of Mechanic!AU for Bucky. It’s taken on a life of its own already… look at what you’ve done! 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: SUPER fluffy. Always some language.

The beginning of the week – and all of Wednesday thus far – passes slower than molasses in January. Slower than a herd of turtles in a marathon. Slower than rush-hour traffic in downtown Boston. Slower than…

“Hello?” rips into her periphery, tearing her focus away from the melancholy countdown percolating in her head. “Angela,” Tony intones thickly as he glides into her small office. There’s a sly, knowing smirk brewing on his lips, his voice full of innuendo when he goes on to ask, “What has you so… deep in thought?”

“Sorry,” she mutters, straightening upright and beginning to shuffle papers back and forth erratically in an attempt to make herself look busy. “Nothing.”

A long, haughty laugh, a lingering pose by her desk, a deliberate quirk of his brows followed by a clever wink… and Annie’s done. She rolls her eyes, pushes back in the oversized office chair, and rises to leave. “What? No chitchat? No coffee klatch?” Tony almost whines as she grabs her cell and prepares to head out. “Where’s the gossip, huh? C’mon, kid, spill the tea!”

She tries – tries damn hard – to keep from laughing as he sputters next to her. But the corners of her mouth tick up nevertheless, even as she works to keep her lips pinched firmly shut.

He steps slowly over to her, looming in front of her. “Is tonight the night?” he asks with a wiggle of his brows. Then, eyes tracing down along her frame, expression setting in something akin to disappointment, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Tony!” she gushes, her shoulders drooping. All at once, a wave a trepidation rolls over her, pushing all of the impatience and excitement to the far back corner of her mind. She glances down at her black cropped trousers, eyes catching the hem of her flowy red, silk tank. “Wh-what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

He shrugs. “Guess it really depends on what’s underneath.”

Wide eyes fly up to meet his smug, grinning face. “Tony!” she exclaims – for probably the twentieth time today. “How many times do I have to tell you? You cannot talk to employees about… what lives under their clothes.”

His nose twitches, lip pulling into a disgusted snarl. “I hope to God there’s nothing living under there,” he states with a snort. Annie lets out a huff and rolls her eyes yet again. “I’m just saying that there better be some lace and silk between you and those really unsexy pants if you want to get laid tonight.” He cocks his head assessingly, his posture and expression – and attention on her body – eliciting a thick, hot blush along her cheeks. “Or maybe something… edible?”

Her jaw drops, an short gasp popping loose from her chest and bringing a swift howl of laughter from her terribly inappropriate boss. “I can’t… I don’t… Why would I…”

Tony waves a dismissive hand through the air – “Relax, kid. I’m just messing with you.” – and turns on a sincere, if still jovial, expression. “You look great. He’d be crazy not to want to – ”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” she murmurs – almost begs – as a look of humiliation washes over her face.

“Alright, alright,” he laughs out, dropping a hand to her shoulder and giving her a small shove towards the door. “You’re the one who said you had to be gone by five today. No matter what. Now look,” he intones, flashing his hundred-thousand-dollar watch in her face. “It’s 5:04.”

She huffs out a reluctant goodbye and spins to leave, doubts about her clothes – and her less than exciting underwear – clouding her mind as she meanders to the garage. But the minute she makes it to her Bronco, the minute her fingers turn the key in the ignition, one wonderful, beautiful thought spills out into her consciousness and overtakes all of the trivial worries and pesky nerves. It’s Wednesday. Finally, it’s Wednesday.

Annie spends the entire – too damn long – drive over to his place thinking about Bucky’s face and the way his stubble felt beneath her fingertips. About his lips, plump and just slightly chapped, and the way they pressed so urgently into hers. About the soft tenor of his voice – Got to spend the day with my two favorite girls – low and husky and just for her.

It is all that she can focus on. Throughout the drive out to Brooklyn. And the brief stop at the Indian place down the street, where she looms for ten minutes waiting on her order, looking every part the dreamy, doe-eyed – possibly creepy – love-struck teenager. For the several minutes it takes to gather all the food – and the bottle of wine that Tony had gifted her this morning – precariously in her arms. And for the too long trudge down the block – because parking is miserable out here – and up to his door. She is positively fixated on all things Bucky Barnes.

But the spell is swiftly broken – and the silly, goofy smile she’d been wearing all day long vanishes in an instant – the moment Bucky sharply swings open the door to his apartment.

“Shit,” he groans, the single word barely audible over the piercing cries of the little girl in his arms. He spins away from the door – away from a rather stunned Annie – and gently sways Lana in his arms, soft shhhs continuously falling from his lips despite getting thoroughly drown out by her pitiful sobs.

Annie’s jaw drops, eyes blinking rapidly as she takes in the scene. The cluttered room, not yet tidied, though she’s certain he planned on cleaning up before she came. The echoing misery of a sobbing child reverberating off the walls. The shirtless specimen in front of her, his perfectly toned back rippling distractedly, each and every painfully defined muscle shifting as he cradles his baby closer.

She shakes her head vaguely – sloughing off those desirous thoughts – and steps through the door, casually bumping it shut with her foot behind her. Bucky turns back to her when he hears the click of it closing, looks at her with what can only be described as utter desperation in his eyes. Now she sees that Lana is shirtless too, wearing only a pair of pink pajama bottoms. And she smells – mixed in with the heady scent of the Tikka Masala still in her hand – the sickly tang of vomit in the air.

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters over the top of Svetlana’s head, his right hand creeping up to gently weave into her curls and tug her screaming face back down to his shoulder. “Nat’s running late. And…” A long, languid, completely depleted sigh falls from his lips before the rather obvious declaration of, “Lana came home sick.” He steps back, moving toward the hall where he carefully kicks away a small pile of discarded clothing, soft utterances of shhh and It’s okay, baby repeatedly tumbling from his mouth and into the inconsolable creature in his arms.

Annie sets down the food and wine on the breakfast bar and follows on his heels, still silent, still unsure of quite what to say.

“She just threw up again,” he breathes out, his voice a mix of frustration and sadness, a put-on gentle tone overlaying it all for his daughter’s sake. He stops at her bedroom door and turns to face Annie, sees her reaching down to collect the felled – vomit-covered – shirts from the floor. “No,” he snaps, a single, stilling hand dropping from Lana’s back and shooting out towards her. “Don’t. Just… I’ll take care of it.”

“It’s okay,” she issues out, face contorting into a closed-lip grin that doesn’t quite manage to convey the reassurance she’d been aiming for. “You’ve got your hands full.”

Lana’s cries begin to wane – if only the slightest bit – but Bucky can still feel her hot tears steadily cascading down his shoulder and chest as he offers Annie a quick nod and steps into the dimly lit room.

It hadn’t been like this all day… thank God. She had seemed fine this morning, bouncing around as usual, making it nearly impossible for him to comb out her hair and secure it into the requested pigtails. She ate her breakfast – or as much of it as she typically might – and scurried off into her pre-K classroom the moment he dropped her off, very nearly forgetting to give him a kiss goodbye. So it was a surprise to say the least, when the daycare called around noon and told him that his little girl wasn’t feeling well.

Truthfully, he didn’t think too much of it. Just asked Steve to cover for him and took off to go gather his baby up.

Now, Svetlana Barnes is no stranger to the fine art of temper tantrums and manipulative weeping. She is a four year old after all. She can cry and scream and wail with the best of them. But it’s honestly pretty rare – especially with a you know that wobbling lip won’t work on me mother like Natasha. And what’s rarer still is their tough little cookie crying in discomfort. She’s more the type to get angry when she’s tired or under the weather. And silently broody – though utterly clingy – when hurt.

So Bucky knew something was wrong when she started softly crying just as he began to buckle her into the car seat. In a breath of a moment, instinct kicked in and he frantically tugged at the buckle to release her, to pull her back out of the car and… aim her somewhere else. But by the time he realized what was about to happen, it was already too late. As soon as his fingers bent around the seatbelt, she upchucked into her own lap. He had managed to flip his hands up in time to catch most of it – and not-so-sneakily dump it off to the side of the daycare parking lot – but the very act of getting sick had turned the poor little girl into a wailing heap of flushed cheeks and trembling limbs. He wiped his hands on his pants with a disgusted grimace, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all, and jumped into the front seat, driving as fast as he felt safe doing to get his baby back home.

One bath and a too-long battle over children’s Tylenol later, and Lana had finally fallen asleep, giving Bucky just enough time to shower, change, and finish a load of laundry. But not five minutes after Natasha called to say she was stuck in a meeting and would be late picking her up – I’m so, sorry, James. I know you have plans and… Just tell her I’ll be there soon. – he heard the short, pathetic cries resume.

He tried to get her to the bathroom in time, but no such luck. Less than an hour before Annie was set to arrive – and she was always early for everything – and he and Lana both were covered in vomit in yet again. Not that any of that really mattered when he had his despondent little baby cradled so tightly in his arms, her steady weeping ripping through to his very soul.

“Shhh,” he tries again, patting her warm, sticky back before reaching down to open a drawer, grabbing a clean T-shirt and tossing it out onto her bed. The only light in the room is from the early evening sun filtering in through the edges of the closed blinds, and from her pale yellow monkey night lamp off in the corner. He slowly lowers himself into the old rocking chair near the door – the one that used to be his mom’s… used to be for her to soothe him and his little sister all those years ago – and hikes Lana a little further up his chest, guiding her head down to his shoulder once again. “I know, baby,” he utters absently, one hand slowly swiping along her back, the other softly petting at her sweaty hair as he begins a methodical rock. “I know. It’s okay.”

From the hall, Annie can hear his tender whispers only vaguely. But that almost makes it worse… harder to take in. The softness in his voice, the subtle desperation, not only breaks her heart, but makes her feel terribly out of place. Like an interloper in this sad, sweet moment. She finishes gathering the soiled clothes and pops them into the washing machine next to the bathroom, next to Bucky’s bedroom. The door is wide open and she chances a glance in, sees the neatly made bed, smiles softly to herself, and then realizes all at once that this may well be as close as she’ll get to that bed tonight.

She slowly saunters back to Lana’s bedroom, looming listlessly in the doorway for a moment, watching as Bucky’s hulking shoulders lean back into the small wooden spindles of the rocking chair, tiny fingers grasping at his flesh. He rocks with a slow, practiced rhythm, like he’s done this dance a hundred times before. Of course he has, she thinks to herself, rolling her eyes. He’s a father.

Tony’s words from the other day come back to her, urging her to consider whether or not getting involved with a dad might be too much. You’ll never come first, you know. The utter truth to those words, and the frightening simplicity of the all-too-obvious statement, cause her gut to clench.

He didn’t call to cancel, she reminds herself. He didn’t text to say not to come. He didn’t turn her away when she arrived either. She may be on the outside looking in at this moment in time, but at least she’s here. Can’t that be enough?

A knock at the door rips her from her reverie, her eyes shooting down the hall for a beat before veering questioningly over to Bucky. Through the dimness of the room, he locks onto her curious gaze and gives a gentle nod, a silent command – a plea – to help him out by seeing who it is.

She hurries down the hall and pulls open the door to find Steve, a sweet, almost nervous smile splitting his face when he sees her. “Hey, Annie,” he intones, stepping blithely into the apartment. He’s several paces in before he spins back to face her. “I am so sorry about this. Nat got caught up at the office… she should’ve been here an hour ago. I know you and Buck have plans.” He ducks his head meekly in apology. “He was really… excited about it.”

A fleeting trill of elation shoots up her spine – he was really excited – before swiftly flickering away. “No, no, it’s nothing,” she mutters, winding her arms tightly around her middle. “I just feel bad for Lana.” She ticks her chin towards the hall – “They’re in her bedroom.” – and heads over to the living room to start picking up, absently tidying to both pass the time and quell her nerves.

He gives a nod of thanks and disappears down the hall, breathing out a soft, “Hey there,” as he steps through the doorway to the little girl’s room.

Bucky looks up at him with weary eyes, never stopping the slow, steady rocking nor his gentle stroke up and down his daughter’s back. “Hey,” he says simply, his voice rumbling though his chest and into Lana, causing her to stir.

She rubs her face sleepily into his him, warm tears and saliva causing a slick beneath her cheek as she turns to see Steve lingering in the doorway. He ducks his head to make eye contact, offering a small, crooked smile before stepping into the room and dropping to one knee by the rocking chair. “Hey, bud,” he says, reaching out and swiping at the sweat-laden hair sticking to her forehead. He tenderly nudges it from her face, letting his thumb drift down to wipe away a thick, salty tear track. “Heard you don’t feel so good.”

The sobs had all but stopped, leaving only small moans and shuddery hiccups in their wake. But still, it seems it’s too difficult for her to speak, nothing more than a short nod and sniffle being offered to her uncle as he flattens his palm on her cheek to test her temperature.

“She puked in the car when I picked her up,” Bucky mutters, the hand atop her back now moving in a rhythmic pat to help quell her hiccups. “Got her cleaned up and into bed… then she blew again about twenty minutes ago.”

Steve cringes in a sort of awful solidarity. Then he raises a brow, teasing glint in his eye as he leans back and looks assessingly at the pair before him. “And judging from the lack of clothes, I’m guessing she nailed you?”

He releases a dejected huff. “Both times.”

A small laugh spills from his lips and he leans in close, locking onto Svetlana’s dull blue eyes. “Well, buddy, what do you say? You want me take you back to mommy’s? She should be home real soon…”

“She was supposed to be here a fucking hour ago,” Bucky seethes as he presses Lana’s head back down to the crook of his neck. He feels her hot skin slide along his and lets out a small hiss. “Probably time for more Tylenol.”

That gets a bit of a rise out of her, tiny limbs pulling together to push back on her father, form writhing as she struggles and whines out, “Nooooo,” in a hoarse, pathetic tone that very nearly breaks his heart.

He looks down at her as she pulls away, raises his brows in a listen to your father way, and says simply, “Yes.”

The tears start up again, her face twisting and reddening. And she leans further away, tilting over the arm of the chair as she reaches pitifully out for Steve. “Oh, poor baby,” he intones thickly, reaching for her as well. He easily scoops her up and out of her father’s lap, giving Bucky a shit-eating grin over the top of her head as he rises with the sweaty, crying, clingy girl in his arms.

Bucky merely gives a tired – and thoroughly annoyed – eyeroll in response. “You’re really gonna make me be the bad guy?” he asks, letting out a small, exhausted groan as he hauls himself up from the rocking chair.

He swipes the little blue T-shirt off the bed and turns to tug it on over the top of Svetlana’s head – quite a feat as she hangs onto her uncle for dear life, desperate to stay as far away from her father as possible now that he’s promised more medicine. He finally works both of her arms in and pulls the shirt down her clammy back.

“C’mon,” he sighs, side stepping Steve and heading into the kitchen, assuming he’ll follow.

Lana doesn’t see him grab the bottle of liquid Tylenol from the counter, but the moment Steve pivots to pluck her coiled form from around his chest, she senses what’s coming. And she blows a gasket, the soft, stifled cries rising quickly into vicious, ear-splitting screams.

“Baby, you’re gonna make yourself sick again,” Bucky laments loudly as he tries to speak over the shrill, deafening sobs. More than a hint of impatience spills out of him as he takes hold of her arm to keep her from turning back into Steve, tugging a bit harsher than he wants to as she continues to struggle against him. “There’s no reason to get so damn worked up.”

Steve gives her a little bounce and tries to look down at her, tries to make eye contact with the wild, thrashing creature. “C’mon, bud. You choke down some medicine now and we can have cookies back at home.”

Bucky drops her tiny arm and gives his friend an incredulous glare over the top of the little girl’s head. “You’ll regret doing that, I promise,” he tells him with a raised, warning brow.

Steve offers little more than a dismissive shrug before giving Lana a quick, tight squeeze and saying to her, “You know how mad mommy’ll be at me if I bring you home without any medicine in you?” She wildly tosses her head back and forth, a no and an I don’t care in one frantic gesture. “What if she yells at me?” he asks in an almost desperate tone. He gives her another light bounce and ducks his head to capture her gaze, offers a teasing sort of smile as he asks, “What if she hits me? You don’t want that, do you?”

Bucky snorts loudly from his side, but holds back his own sarcastic response, noting that Lana’s cries are diminishing as Steve continues to beg for her help.

“You could be saving my life, pumpkin,” he says with a thick – faux – sincerity. “Just take a teeny, tiny bit of medicine so mommy doesn’t hurt me.” A full, pouty lip juts from his face, the sides of his mouth tugging down into an overdone frown. “Please?”

She shakes her head again, a mighty pout of her own pulling across her countenance. But it’s obvious that she’s too tired to keep fighting. Finally placated by her uncle’s ridiculous pleas – and maybe a bit by a very real desire to keep him from getting in trouble – she drops her temple to his chest and looks up at her father with weary, red-rimmed eyes.

He gives her the liquid Tylenol, glides a thumb over her disgustedly pursing lips to wipe away the remnants, and bends over to drop a lingering kiss on her warm forehead… even as she whines and tries to pull away.

Steve catches the worried, sad look washing over his friend’s face as he straightens upright, his voice dropping into a low, tender tone as he tells him, “She’ll be alright.”

He nods – “Yeah, I know.” – never removing his desolate gaze from the flushed little face in front of him. “I know,” he repeats with a sigh.

“We’ll call you later to let you know how she’s doing.”

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters again, finally looking up at Steve and breathing out a long, pained sigh.

“Don’t worry,” he tries again, adding on a carefree smile for good measure. He glances over at Annie, her arms laden with the toys that she’s picked up from all over the apartment, and his grin grows wider. “You two just have fun. Really. We’ve got this.” He ducks his head, dropping his nose to Lana’s sweaty curls. “Right, buddy?”

She doesn’t respond, opting instead to tightly pinch shut her eyes and crumple her face in that way that both men recognize as near sleep. Bucky grabs the small, already packed backpack from the sofa as they head for the door, handing it over to Steve and leaning down to kiss Lana goodbye a final time. “I love you, baby,” he whispers to her, surprised when she mutters a love you back at him before twisting further into Steve’s hold and being whisked out the door.

Annie finishes depositing the toys in their rightful cubbies before turning to look at the forlorn man across the room. “I…” she stutters for a moment, eager to break the sudden, heady silence. She clears her throat and steps out from behind the couch, moving slowly towards him. “Is there anything else to throw in the wash? Her sheets, maybe?”

He turns to her – just as she sidles up next to him, her considerate words heavy on the air between them – with the most pitiful expression she’s ever seen grace that handsome face. His deep blue eyes look shadowed and hazy, dark bags already forming beneath. And his lips part just slightly, ready to talk, yet painfully silent.

She’s about to speak again, to ask if he’s alright or if he needs anything. Or – the awful words bubbling in her throat like thick bile – if he’d rather she just left.

But the moment her mouth bobs open, he lunges forward, grabbing hold of her and spinning her round, thrusting her back so that she’s pressed against the closed door. His hands grip at her biceps for just a fraction of a moment before shifting up to grab and tug and simply lose themselves in her long, thick hair. A short, strangled breath catches in her throat as their teeth slam almost violently together, lips twisting and pulling and nipping as she lets herself get lost in the desperate kiss.

Then, all at once, just as she’s about to wrap herself so completely around him – run her fingers through his hair, grip tight to his still-naked shoulders, trail her nails down his perfectly chiseled back – he pulls swiftly away. “Sorry,” spills from his lush, swollen lips as he slowly backs away, gaze averted, hand now tugging at his own hair before sliding down in his face in utter frustration. “Shit,” he groans languidly. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

She wants to say, no. To refuse his apology and tell him that there’s no reason to be sorry, no reason at all. She wants to laugh at him for thinking that something like that could ever require an apology. Hell, in this precise moment, she wants to leap forward and climb him like a fucking tree. But all she does is remain – cemented to the spot, legs now wobbly beneath her – stiffly silent as her back gathers sweat, even while firmly pressed against the cool wood of the door.

“What…” he sputters out amid a crazed sort of laugh. He tugs at his hair again, looks up at her with wild, almost startled eyes. “What the fuck are we doing?”

A loud click reverberates between them as Annie finally slams her gaping mouth shut, teeth clanging together. His expression shifts, just a bit, changing from manic and alarmed to… amused. “I think we were… kissing,” she utters, almost a question.

And he can’t help but laugh. “Yeah,” he breathes out languidly, shaking his head as he does so. “Yeah.”

She steps forward, finally finding her legs – though, admittedly, they’re still more than a bit shaky – and blurts out, “Do you need help?” a little more enthusiastically than intended. “I mean… cleaning up… or…”

He waves an absent hand through the air, avoiding her gaze once again. “No, doll,” he intones gently. “No, I got it.”

“I really don’t mind,” she says, sidestepping him and moving into the kitchen, her entire body buzzing as she flits around, putting things away – Tylenol, cereal, a container of Pedialyte – not even registering the fact that she somehow seems to know just where everything goes. There are a handful of dishes in the sink, soaking in now-cold, sudsy water, and she flips on the faucet to begin finishing them up, reaching out for a sponge on the side of the sink before having her hand stilled by his. A small gasp escapes her as he moves closer, presses his chest into her back, leaning forward enough to pin her hips between the sink and his warm, muscular frame.

“Don’t,” he whispers into her hair as his wide-open palm stretches over the back of her hand. His fingers wind with hers, knocking the sponge loose as he reaches around from the other side to turn off the water. He pulls her hand to her side, wrapping both of their arms across her middle, his left dropping to almost violently grip the edge of the sink. She stills before him – beneath him – feels his hips press her further into the counter, a dull pressure building in her abdomen. His forehead drops to the base of her skull, his breath hot on her neck and back, seeping through her hair, as he utters again, “Don’t.”

“Bucky,” she chokes out, his name catching in her chest.

He holds her close for just a moment more, tightening his arm around her middle, stepping close enough that she can feel him growing hard as he continues to press firmly into her. He nuzzles at her hair, breaks through the thick, dark curtain with his nose and lazily trails several soft kisses along the ridge of her spine… up and down the center of her neck. Then he lets out a long, deep breath and simply steps away.

The moment he moves, she’s left feeling cold, the sudden absence of warmth at her back sending a swift shiver throughout her body. She spins to look at him, sees him once again run a nervous hand through his hair, a sheepish flush blooming on his cheeks. “You’re not going to apologize again, are you?” she asks, somehow managing to level her voice and raise a teasing brow despite the lightheaded thrill that still pulsates through her.

“No,” he chuckles. Then with a shrug. “Maybe.” He looks up at her, locks his bright blue eyes onto hers and shakes his head slowly… regretfully. “This isn’t how I wanted tonight to go.”

She steps forward – just a bit, nervous hesitation stunting her movements – and she asks, “Isn’t tonight just starting?”

“Annie,” rumbles out of him, equal parts longing and chiding. “You’re probably gonna get sick just being here.” He too takes a halting step forward, just close enough that he’s able to reach out and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you to get sick, doll.”

“I don’t really want that either, but…” She gives a casual shrug. “I’ve already been exposed, so…”

A crooked smile splits his face, head ducking almost bashfully for a moment. “This kind of thing,” he mutters, shaking his head once more, “it happens, you know? It happens a lot. Kids get sick. Or hurt. Or they… throw tantrums. And they… ruin plans.” He sighs, lets out the smallest chuckle, and steps back to lean into the refrigerator… to lean away from her.

“Are you saying our plans are… ruined?” she asks, more of a bite to her words than intended.

He raises his brows and lets out a long sigh. “You gonna tell me all of this gets you in the mood?”

“Not this,” she blurts out fervently. “But…” She waves a hand out in front of her, gesturing vaguely at him… at his shirtless, beautiful body. And at the hardened length still swelling in his jeans.

He lets out a small laugh before letting his gaze simply linger on her face, on the bright blush still coating her cheeks, washing over those beautiful dimples. But he doesn’t step closer, nor does he reach out.

The longer he lingers – still and silent – the easier it becomes for her to see that, as much as he seems to be struggling to tear his eyes away from her, he’s not planning on approaching her again. Bitter frustration roils in her gut and a low groan slips from her lips as her eyes roll dramatically back, an irritated expression designed to mask her absolute disappointment.

He blows a tired breath out of his nose, nostrils flaring as he finally forces himself to pull his gaze away from her, directing it to the floor, back to the other room, to his hands as they nervously fist and knot in front in of him. Anywhere but her. “This is so… stupid,” he mutters, annoyance leaking from the words. “I mean… we shouldn’t have to have this conversation now. Not now… when we’ve only been on a handful of dates… fuck,” he chokes out. “We haven’t even fucked.”

Her lips split open, ready to speak, but it takes a moment for her to form the words, mouth bobbing aimlessly as she shoves down the response of, we could just take care of that last part now. Instead her brows twist curiously together, head cocking confusedly to the side as she asks simply, “What conversation?”

He finally looks back at her, but his expression is so dramatically changed, eyes no longer hooded with lust, but darkened with a sort of profound sobriety. “Kids,” he bleats out with a shrug, unfolding his hands and shoving them into his pockets as he goes on to ask, “Do you want kids?”

“Well, yeah,” she breathes out easily, puzzlement still painting her face.

“Now?” he asks, raising a brow to drive home his point.

She doesn’t respond, not immediately anyway, because truthfully the answer is no. Of course she doesn’t want kids right now. She’s just getting started in her career. She only just met him. It would be crazy. But isn’t it also a little bit crazy to be asking her that right now? To be asking… like this?

Her face slowly hardens, eyes narrowing a bit as a wave of involuntary anger rolls over her. “Are you asking me if I want to be Lana’s mother?” she asks, tone drenched in sarcasm. “Because I thought Natasha already had that covered.”

“I’m being serious,” he tells her in a deep-set tone to match his words.

Her hands drop to her hips, a brutally defiant stance – which, admittedly, she rarely wears – popping out full force. “So am I.” He rolls his eyes in annoyance, and the flippant gesture sets her blood to boil. “What? I can’t be with you if I’m not willing to be a mother right away?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Did you ask Steve if he was willing to be a father?” She shoots back, the words spilling out of her before she gets a chance to think them through. “Because I was under the impression that you were pissed as hell with him for just trying to be!”

“I’m not…” he sputters before pinching his lips firmly shut, a look of pure annoyance settling over his now stern face. “He’s being a parent right now, whether he wants to be or not. Because he has no choice. If you live with a kid…”

“I didn’t realize we were that serious,” she snipes. “Are you asking me to move in?”

“Damn it, Annie, I’m trying to… I just want to…”

“Have that conversation,” she finishes for him, no question to her voice.

“Yes!” he exclaims, pushing off the fridge and pulling up to his full height – shoulders stiffly set – as he stares down at her. “Is that so wrong?!”

“Okay, fine. Let’s do it,” she nearly snarls at him. “How ‘bout you?” A single, questioning brow rises high, her voice shifting into a mocking tone. “Do you want more kids?”

A startled silence fills the room, Bucky’s face taking on a lost quality for a long moment before pinching tight, his posture slumping as he breathes out, “I… I don’t know.”

“Oh,” she intones with a self-satisfied smirk. “You don’t know? Or maybe you just haven’t thought about it, and now you’re being put on the spot in the middle of a… heated discussion? Are you finding that these sorts of questions are difficult to answer?” Her head cocks to the side, faux-sincere frown pulling as she goes on to ask, “Maybe a little unfair?”

“Yeah. I get it,” he spits out. “I’m just trying to explain…”

“Bucky,” she sighs in frustration. “I’m not an idiot. I know that getting involved with someone who has a kid means a whole… plethora of other things. Other responsibilities. And… annoyances. And the truth is, this conversation… these questions… they’re important. I know that. But…” Her shoulders bounce up and down in a sort of desperate shrug. “I don’t know what you want from me here. I… I like you. And I like Lana. And I am… willing…”

His own shoulders drop, the righteous air being swiftly taken from his sails. “I just don’t want…” He looks up at her and smiles… a sad, distressed smile. “I really like you,” he admits, the words tumbling out in a single, low breath. “But if this isn’t gonna work… if you can’t…” His head once again begins that slow, deliberate pivot to-and-fro.

She steps closer, hands finally falling from their stiff posture at her hips. “Have I made it seem like I can’t?” she asks, taking another small step towards him. “Or like I don’t want to try?”

“No,” he mutters softly. “But… it’s a lot.”

She shrugs, “Maybe,” she admits, pulling up closer and issuing out, voice breathy and low, “But maybe I think you’re worth the trouble.”

He glances up to find her mere inches from him, “Annie,” falling from his lips in a coy sort of warning.

She leans closer, her breath hot on his skin, nose grazing his stubbled cheek. “I know you had a really rough day, Buck,” she intones, barely a whisper. “But Lana’s okay with Steve and her mom. And you… you’re okay here with me.”

He pulls back a bit, looks down at her with questioning – imploring – eyes. The way she gazes back up at him – full of reassurance and comfort and… certainty – sets his heart to stutter, causes his breath to catch in his chest.

“Fuck,” he mutters vaguely, the single, heady word echoing thickly in his own ears, voicing his trepidation, covering his excitement. He reaches up to take hold of her face, both palms pressing into her still-burning cheeks, thumbs dipping briefly into those perfect dimples as her growing smile presses into him. “Fuck,” he repeats with a chuckle before dropping his lips to hers and letting himself simply… fall.

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part nine) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually)  Word count: ±5050 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part nine: Everyone deals with the aftermath of the fight differently. Worried about Dean, Y/N goes out to look for him, but doesn’t find the man she got to know in the past weeks. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Save Yourself - KALEO (Y/N and Dean scene), Burden - Foy Vance (end scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettishfor helping me. You girls are awesome betas. Thank you for your endless patience!

Ride With Me Masterlist

     The evening has set in completely, a clouded sky obstructing a view of the galaxy above. Normally, a dark blue would stretch out above the ranch, blending into a lighter tone at the horizon in the west where the sun sank down hours ago. But today the sky is black. No moon nor stars decorate the night’s ceiling. Almost as if the weather knows that it’s not the time to be breathtaking. No one will look up to appreciate her anyway. 

     Y/N vacuumed the bunkhouse, then gave the kitchen a good once over, just to keep busy. Jo took her example and scrubbed the bathroom. At least the therapeutical cleanup isn’t for nothing, because there was enough sand between the floorboards for the footing of a new arena, and there were several organisms living on leftovers in the refrigerator. Wranglers are a bunch of swines, that much Y/N knows. She neatly folds the wrung out the cloth that she used, leaves it in the sink, and stares through the four-squared window. Still no sign of Dean. Honestly, she’s not sure if it would be reasonable to expect Ash back tonight, since he doesn’t have to show up for work in the morning. But Dean isn’t going to stay away, is he?

     While she is cleaning the faucet until she’s able to see her own reflection in the copper, she moves past denying how worried she is about him. Staying here and letting him be, as Jo put it, feels wrong. A breath of air rolls from her lips when she eyes the wall clock again. Ten minutes to nine; he’s been gone for almost two hours. For a moment she contemplates what to do next. She can still ride Meadow, even though she intended to give her the day off. It will keep her busy, for sure, her horse will probably offer some comfort, too. But she cannot take away the concern she carries for the head wrangler, only he can do that. With three determined steps she’s by the door opening, and is about to push away the fly curtain, when she hears stumbling, coming from behind. Jo just exited the bathroom, almost tripping over the stick of the mop while holding up a bucket of water. She has purple rubber gloves on, her blonde hair looks quite similar to the rag she is holding, and her shirt is pulled into a knot above her belly button. It’s quite a peculiar sight.

     “Where are you going?” she asks, perplexed. Surely, Y/N isn’t going to leave her friend to scrub the floor alone.      “I’m gonna go to the stables. I think we did enough cleaning for one day, or a week,” she excuses.      “To the stables, my ass. You’re going after Dean, ain’t ya?”      Y/N opens her mouth to counter Jo with a firm ‘no’, but when she looks at her friend, she drops the act. One cocked eyebrow, that same judgemental grin she gave the intern when she commented on her boots being too clean for a ranch hand, the day the cowgirl picked her up from the airport. Darn, Jo is on to her. And so she presses her lips together and sighs.       “He seemed upset,” she utters.      “He’s a dude, he’ll live. Men are mad for a minute, walk it off and by the time they turn around, they have forgotten what the whole thing was about. They’re like goldfish,” her friend scoffs.      Y/N snorts at that comparison. Clearly the ranch owner’s daughter has a strong opinion of the other gender.             “I’m just going to check on him, alright?” she promises.      “Do what you gotta do,” Jo replies. “You know where I’ll be.”      Thankful Y/N smiles at her friend, then moves the fly curtain out of the way and steps outside. Jo might think it’s stupid of her to let Dean get under her skin, but that doesn’t mean she will leave her to struggle with it alone, in case it backfires. Odds are that the wrangler is going to hurt her feelings somewhere down the line, the numbers are not exactly in his favor. But knowing that Jo will be there with a safety net ready to catch her, is reassuring. After a mocking ‘hate to say I told you so’, she will be her friend. 

     Grateful, Y/N walks down in the direction she saw Dean disappear hours ago. The air is thick, as if another thunderstorm is about to break out. The wind died down completely, leaving the lands in silence. The only sound she can detect, is a rhythmical pound every so many seconds, much like a pile-driver. Y/N isn’t far off, because when she reaches the cattle pens, she finds Dean, slamming a post into the ground with a sledgehammer. Seems like she wasn’t the only one who kept her hands busy to get through the evening.       Clearly still worked up over the fight he had with Ash, Dean swings the hammer over his head with everything that he’s got and hits the pole on the head. His grey shirt sticks to his torso, sweat shimmering on his skin, brought out by the lampposts that light the driveway. Veins lay thick on his forearms, dust and dirt smudges add to the shades in his dark features. He hadn’t noticed her yet, so caught up in the work that he fails to hear her footsteps. In silence, she watches, both intrigued and intimidated, but eventually gathers the courage to announce herself.      “Dean?”

     He pauses his action for a brief second and looks at the timid woman, bewildered. Out of breath, he takes her in, but decides not to respond and heaves the hammer again in order to smash it down, driving the post deeper into the ground.      “It’s getting pretty late,” she adds, hoping to get some kind of response that is more than just a look.      “I have to finish this fence,” he returns, his voice monotone, as if he is trying to restrain every emotion.      “The fence will still be there tomorrow,” Y/N returns.      “I’d rather fix it now.” He hits the pole again. “At least this fucking fence –” and again, “– I can fix.”      Oh, yeah; this is definitely a good way to deal with things. Y/N watches him jam the sledgehammer down a couple of more times, overworking his body.       “You’ve been going at it since 4 AM,” she counters, trying to convince him. “Please come inside?”      “I’m fine,” he replies bluntly, between swings.      Y/N huffs, sarcasm evident. “Yeah, I can see that.”      The head wrangler doesn’t respond, yet keeps grinding. He feels the young woman’s eyes on him, though. She is reading into his actions, his words, his behavior, and it’s bugging the hell out of him. 

     Cautiously, she moves in a few steps closer. “Do you want to talk about it?”      He drops the sledgehammer on the ground with a loud thump and turns to her, chest heaving and clearly annoyed.      “Do I look like I wanna talk about it?” he scolds between breaths. “I told you I’m fine!”      Taken aback by the hostility in his voice, Y/N stares at him. This is a side of Dean she has never seen before. Sure, he gave her a cold shoulder when she turned him down on her first night at the ranch, but the darkness that clouds his eyes now is different. He has closed himself off and as he was rebuilding the fence, he pulled up a wall as well. She understands that he’s hurt, but he is the second friend to lash out at her tonight and it’s more than she can handle.      “You know what? I won’t waste your time then. I’m certainly not going to waste any more of my time on you,” she spits, acrimony on her tongue. “Good luck with your damn fence.”

     Angry, Y/N turns on her heels before he can spot the tears burning in her eyes. Hurried steps take her away from the man that gets to her more than she should let him. You dumb goose. How could you have been so naive? Jo was right to warn her every single time she did. She has known her cousin her entire life and still Y/N begged to differ. For hours, she’s been worried about the guy who is only nice to his intern when he thinks he can seize the opportunity to get her into his bed. She empathized with him, and this is what she gets in return. A snarl from that selfish dick when she tries to help him. The cowgirl can hear him call out for her, but she ignores it. It’s not until she hears her name again close behind her, that she hesitates.      “Y/N…”      Strong yet tender fingers lock around her wrist and stop the woman who tries to flee from him. The action spins her around, but she avoids Dean’s eyes. When Y/N does glance up into those green orbs bouncing over her features, she can detect the dismay in his expression. If there is anything that she does not want him to see, it’s the tears that threaten to roll down her cheeks.           The bitterness that affected his temper a moment ago is gone and guilt replaces it. Shit, what has he done?      “I’m sorry,” he says, not a trace of swallowed pride. “You’ve been blamed for things that ain’t your fault enough today. You didn’t deserve that.”      He loosens the grip on her wrist a little and lets his fingers slide down her smooth skin until he holds her hand, squeezing it gently. There are so many emotions from both sides of the spectrum coursing through Y/N, but the most evident is the sensation that races up and down every nerve like a racetrack, the start and finish where he touches her. She looks down at their entwined fingers, at how her hand, soft from the all-purpose cleaner, fits in his palm. This is the first time that there is intentional physical contact and it shuts down her brain and sends her heart into overdrive. 

     “You’re not fine,” she manages to say. “I’m not a simpleton, Dean.”      “I know you’re not,” he acknowledges. “It’s just that…”      He pauses, hesitant about his next step. Opening up about the things that occupy his mind and keep him up at night is not something he’s comfortable with. His entire life he only had a few of those conversations, a few with Bobby, the others with Ellen. He only talked to them because they already knew a thing or two about his past and the issues that it brought along. But apparently the newest member of the crew is able to pierce through that veil and see behind the mask he thought he wore so well.       “Dean… I know this isn’t all about Ash, and whatever it is that is bothering you, it’s okay. You can talk to me.” Y/N squeezes his hand, ensuring, letting him know she’s ready to listen.      The anger she felt a moment ago when he shut down on her has disappeared as the ice on the lakes at the end of winter, back in Freeport. She isn’t even sure how this happened, but standing here in the wide-open spaces, lingering in his touch, it feels so good and so safe. It brings a calm over her she didn’t realize she longed for. 

     “I - I don’t really talk about this stuff,” the head wrangler admits. “I dunno, it feels like when I do, I just rattle shit up… It wouldn’t do anyone good.”      He lets go of her, before the girl he feels attracted to starts to wonder what the connection means, but runs his thumb over her knuckles gently before her fingers slip from his. The moment he pulls away, the wrangler already aches for her touch. Uneasy, he turns away and rests both his hands on the mid rail of the fence, his hunched shoulders blocking a clear view of his face. He cannot let her see it. He cannot let her see him.      “So that’s your strategy? When something bad happens, you bury it?”       Y/N isn’t judging him, he can tell by the way she asks the question and is looking at him, curious and sympathetic. What she is doing, though, is trying to understand how his mind works. What if she’s able to decipher his code? What if she can speak this foreign language that he made his? What if she figures me out?      Just the thought of letting it all rise to the surface scares Dean to death. Knowing that the one person he wants to impress, who he wants to do good by, will be able to tell how broken he truly is. And yet, despite the fear that is eating him up inside, he cannot pretend. He cannot lie to her.      “Yeah, I guess I do,” he admits. “Usually it works for me.”      “But not always,” she knows.      “No, not always.”

     He’s quiet now, his gaze locked on the soil that has become solid again after this morning’s rain. Y/N observes his body language; how he’s turned slightly away from her, head tipped down, resting his arms on the fence as if he needs something to lean on. It’s a stark contrast to the confident smile and bright eyes that she got used to. This is a part of him people rarely get to see, Y/N is very much aware of that. What she’s also aware of, is how delicate the situation is. Pushing him to talk will only trigger the opposite, and so she lets him be. The words she leaves between the two of them have only one purpose: to make him feel better.      “If you don’t feel like talking, that’s alright. But what happened to Ash, you know he was wrong to take it out on you, right? This is not your fault.”      Even in the dim light she can see his jaw flex, confirming her suspicion that he does, indeed, blames himself for his friend’s departure.      “It was my decision. One I had to make, but still. At least I should’ve been honest with him. He had a hunch that something wasn’t right and I could have eased him into it. Instead, I told him everything was going to be alright. Who does that?” the handsome wrangler ponders, able to kick himself in the head for his tactic. “He’s family, he deserves better.”      “You tried to protect him,” Y/N soothes.      The cowboy scoffs and pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth. “And look how that turned out…”

     Dean appreciates the cowgirl’s efforts. Hell, he admires her for them, because she could have walked off and let him rot after that snarl he gave her, and it would have done him justice. The thing is, Y/N wasn’t far off when she assumed that he wasn’t just upset about Ash. His whole life he has tried to protect the people he loved at the expense of himself, without question. One person stands out from all the others. A boy with hazel hair, bangs hanging in front of his eyes which used to look up to Dean admiringly. Always carrying some book around, always reading and studying. Quiet, observant, smart, a will of his own, even at a young age. A boy Dean fought for to keep safe, tried to make sure he would land on his feet alright, and be given all the opportunities he deserved. A boy who he took the hit for, every single time. A boy who would call Dean his big brother. A boy called Sam. He failed him, just like he failed Ash today.

     “Hey…”      The woman who is breaking down his walls brings him out of the trance he was stuck in, her voice alone having that effect. He turns to her again as she steps closer and looks up at him.      “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but sometimes it’s easier to open up to an outsider.”      She’s not done with her pledge, but Dean interrupts her either way.      “You’re not an outsider,” he makes clear. “I know you’re not from here, but that doesn’t mean you don’t belong. In fact, I think you are exactly where you should be.”      The words quiet her, leaving a smile on her lips and warmth in her heart. Feeling accepted and welcome, she lets her eyes glide over the dark desert lands on her right. Her surroundings look exactly the same as it did on the evening she arrived on the property. She remembers how alien this world seemed, witnessing a landscape like she had never seen. Her gaze captures the overhead sign above the driveway, ‘Gold Canyon Ranch’ carved out of the worn pinewood. Maybe Dean is right; maybe she is exactly where she needs to be.      “Well, outsider or not…” She restores eye contact, a calm exuding from her that soothes him. “You can always knock on my door.”      For the first time tonight, she can spot a glint of relief in his expression. It’s almost unnoticeable, but it’s there.      Dean is not going to make any promises, though. Not because he doesn’t want to get close to her; on the contrary. But revealing what he’s truly about, what has inflicted the scars which haven’t healed even after all those years, it will scare her away.       “Thank you,” he responds, grateful. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

     It’s a good enough answer for Y/N and she smiles back, glancing up into his eyes. There she is again, trapped like a butterfly in a spider’s web, unable to move or look away. His breathing has slowed and is back to normal after the exertion, but beads of sweat are still forming on his forehead, a drop rolling down his temple. He wipes his brow with his forearm, barely breaking eye contact. They both sense it, the change in the atmosphere, just like when the two had a moment under the Joshua tree. God, he wants to kiss her so bad that lust almost wins the battle it’s fighting with his confidence. He is offered another chance to make a move, but he’s not going to take it. This smart, kind, and strong woman deserves much better than the damaged man that he is. He breaks the tension by glancing down briefly while clearing his throat. When he looks back at her, he could swear he sees disappointment in her gorgeous eyes and regret stabs him in the gut.       “I’m, uh - I’m gonna finish up that fence,” he stammers, making a fist and pointing his thumb over his shoulder.       “Need a hand?” she asks, recovering quickly from the letdown.       Dean seems stunned by her offer, because he frowns at the intern after a double-take. “You want to help me fix the fence?”      “I’m only offering once,” she warns jokingly.      The head wrangler grins, amused. “Well, in that case. Yeah, I could use a hand,” he accepts.

     The cowgirl walks past him, eyeing him over her shoulder as she parades away. He stares for a second, smiling at the sight of her picking up the sledgehammer along the way, which apparently is heavier than she anticipated. The clumsy way she handles the large tool makes him chuckle, joyful for the first time tonight. No wonder, because without trying, she is absolutely stunning. A warmth spreads through him in waves, and he is highly aware of it. He recognizes the sensation. It has washed over him several times already, always when he laid his eyes on her. The girl with bright eyes and messy hair after a hard day’s work, despite her efforts to contain her locks. The girl who cares for others, who is kind to every living creature on this planet. She is beautiful in every way, inside and out. Under the yellow ray that falls down on her from the lantern above, she turns around. The spotlight creates dark shadows on the ground, but at the same time, it illuminates her features with a warm glow. 

     “Are you coming or what? That fence isn’t gonna fix itself,” she challenges.      Dean scoffs with a laugh, appreciating the attitude. Then he heads her way, stopping her when she almost loses her balance after heaving the large hammer above her head.      “Why don’t you give the sledgehammer to me, before someone gets hurt,” he mocks, holding out his hand.      “I can handle a hammer,” she returns, huffing defensive.      Doubtful, the wrangler looks back at her. “I think the fence is gonna disagree with you there.”      “Do you want my help, or not?” she recalls, letting out a laugh.      “Yeah, I want your help,” he admits. 

     The words lay deeper than would appear on first notice. It’s not intentional and Dean is worried for a second that she will pick up on what he really wants; he wants her to help him. Help him to heal, help him breathe, help him to love. No one has ever come through to him like she has already, and that’s exactly why he won’t make a move. He is beginning to understand what this all means, what is happening to him. How he feels about the newest member of the crew, is different. It’s mind-blowing and exciting, yet at the same time, it scares the shit out of him. The space she has occupied in his heart is growing steadily, but he can’t allow himself to act on it, because he simply can’t be selfish with her. That’s okay, though. Having her around as a colleague and a friend for the limited time she will stay with him trumps not having her in his life at all.       “I’m gonna give this pole a couple more knocks on the head. Can you fetch the new woodwork?” He nods at the wooden planks, stacked up in the back of his truck, a little further on the driveway.

     Reluctantly, Y/N lets go of the hammer and turns to get the new material for the fence. By the time she brings three new rails over, he has leveled the post with the others still standing. While she holds the board in place, Dean nails it to the post. In order to hold still, Y/N stands close to the head wrangler as he secures the fence. She fixates on the plank she’s holding, trying to ignore the fact that she is seriously invading his personal space. He smells like the damp earth below their feet and a hint of deodorant mixed with hard work; it’s the opposite of a turn-off. Trying to distract herself, she listens to the ticking sound of the head on the pin, until all the new woodwork is mounted to the posts. Sometimes he pauses for just a short second, his gaze burning her skin. Once he’s done, Y/N picks up the broken pieces left by the cattle when they stormed through, and carries them to Dean’s Chevrolet, where she lays the wood down in the cargo bed. Now that she and the handsome wrangler are a few more feet apart, she feels like she can breathe again, missing him close by at the same time. As she leans against the truck, he loads up the last of the wood that he didn’t use for the restoration. Again, his eyes linger on her briefly; the poor guy just cannot help himself, can he? Suddenly she feels bold.

     “Ash was right about one thing, though.”      “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” he wonders, as he dusts off his hands.      She grins cheeky, biting her bottom lip. “You are desperate to get in my pants.”      Dean stares at the cowgirl flabbergasted, eyebrows shooting up. Whoa, where the hell did the shy girl go? One question surfaces in the sea of thoughts that her remark triggered; what is her angle? Does she want him to get in her pants? The handsome wrangler scoffs nervously and looks down flustered, as he rubs the back of his neck. But he doesn’t deny it. He can’t.       “What, no comeback?” she nags, expecting either a smart or flirty return.      “There are some things I just can’t argue with,” he chuckles, a blush pushing past the freckles on his cheeks. “Ain’t no reason to get cocky, though.”

     He winks at her flirtatiously, his bright green eyes joined by a smug grin and Y/N cannot help but laugh. Who would have known that she missed Cowboy Casanova? It’s good to see he got his wit back, because he had her worried there for a second. She has spotted the pattern, though. Whenever he is forced to deal with an issue he wants to steer clear of, he dodges the matter by either making fun of the situation or by shutting down completely. So this is his defense mechanism, this is his armor. But beneath all the silence and the horse crap, he admitted straight up that he wants her. Ash might have implied that the head wrangler is only following her like a lost puppy because he wants to keep counting the girls he had in fives, but Y/N knows that’s not all that there is to it. With nothing more than a look, he made it pretty clear he feels something for her that Friday evening after training when they had a moment under the Joshua tree. Now that assumption has been confirmed. 

     As the gears in her head are turning, she begins to walk across the gravel parking lot back to the bunkhouse, but it’s not just her grey matter that is doing overtime. Contemplating his own words, Dean gets behind the wheel of his Chevrolet. The fact is, he wasn’t just flirting. He’s simply telling the truth. But hasn’t that been the case the entire time? The wrangler is hungry for the new ranch hand, he’s pining so bad that selflessness alone is stopping him from running up the driveway and closing her in his arms. Strangely enough, it has nothing to do with sex, or greed, or any other sin, despite what others might think. For a moment, he worries if she might have read into his words just now. He doesn’t want to give her hope, or does he? Fighting his mind, he sighs; he’s so tired he can’t even think straight. 

     With a flip of the key, the engine comes alive, only to drive a couple of hundred yards. After steering the black pickup to a spot next to the shed, Dean leaves the transmission in park. He will unload tomorrow, today he’s calling it quits. A grunt passes his lips when he hoists himself out of the car again. Damn, if his muscles are sore now, he doesn’t want to picture how bad it’s going to hurt in the morning. Maybe a long hot shower will do him good, he definitely needs one to rid himself from the filth he’s covered in.       The head wrangler strolls up the trail that leads to his bed and finds the girl he’s losing himself to, watching the bunkhouse from some distance. When Dean levels with her, he sees why she stopped. On the bottom steps of the porch, two figures sit and talk: one of them is Jo, the other is Ash.       “Well, what do ya know,” Dean huffs, surprised.       Relieved, Y/N smiles. “Seems like he came around. Go talk to him.”

     His chest constricts a little with the thought of the confrontation alone and he hesitates. His friend is most likely still mad at him. What if doesn’t want to settle this? What if he screws it up again?       When Y/N detects that the man next to her is in two minds, she nudges him reassuringly with her shoulder, smiling at him before he gathers enough courage to step forward. The pair are walking up to the steps, when Jo spots them. The cattle worker next to her looks up now too, shame and uneasiness draping his features when he sees the head wrangler. The blonde cowgirl gets to her feet, picking up her hat that she had put down next to her.      “I’ll leave you guys to it,” she says. “Comin’, Yankee?”       Y/N nods and passes Dean, shortly squeezing his arm supportingly as she does.      “Good luck,” she whispers, as she glances over her shoulder.            He nods at her thankfully and takes Jo’s spot on the porch stairs, as the two girls retreat inside. An awkwardness fills the air within seconds, thick and suffocating, yet neither of the men say anything in order to break it. After what feels like minutes of going over what has been said and still needs to be, Ash gets up. Motionless, Dean sits on the step, forearms on his knees, fingers forked together. He hears his friend’s footsteps on the floorboards, followed by the rattling of the bamboo fly curtain and then the eerie silence; Ash has walked away. 

     Pained, Dean closes his eyes and presses the knuckles of his clasped hands against the bridge of his nose. The tightness in his chest that he felt when he realized he had to face his friend has turned into an uncomfortable ache now. It seems to be a recurring theme in his life, people walking out on him. Fuck, why is it so hard to do this? Why can’t he just tell Ash he’s sorry? He takes a breath and lifts his head, staring at the lights coming from the neighbors property, several miles up the road. Then something moves into his peripheral vision and he turns to find a can of PBR beer handed to him. Dean’s eyes move up to see who is holding the beverage, the weight falling off his shoulders when he sees the guy who rocks the mullet. The head wrangler takes the cold refreshment while Ash sits down next to him again. They both open their cans and take a slug of the golden brew. The silence returns, but it’s a much more pleasant one this time. Without saying a word, they’ve made peace. That does not mean, though, that nothing should be said. 

     “Ash?”      “Hmm?”      “I - uh… I’m-–”      “– Yeah, brother. Me too.”

Thank you for reading! I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part ten here

[whyamistillwatchingtheseshows]

Idk if you’re still taking requests, but i had this really cute kinda cheesy thought about MingKit’s 1 year anniversary and how Kit would spend the whole day pampering & loving his boyfriend bc even tho he might not be touchy with other people, Kit wants Ming to know he loves him just as much as Ming loves Kit

Three things were on my mind when I read this ask again. Yes, I read through it once, but then came back to as I thought up a way to work this plot. 1: Damn the SOTUS feels with that gear! 2: Chocolate covered strawberries. 3: I shamelessly watched a JoongNine fanvid and in it there’s one of those damn silly games where they have to hold an object between them. Joong lifts Nine into his arms [and I swear the little shit knows what he’s doing] and even before the object is being given to them, Nine is basically using his hand against Joong’s neck/chin the way I’ve already imagined Kit doing to Ming. His hand is there angling Joong’s lips to his for a “kiss.” Is this character bleed a wish granted? Is this glorious fanservice? Because neither boy is panicked well that is until their mouths betray them when answering the questions. For the record, not that you wanted to know this anon, but I think Nine has soo much queer energy [so I do imagine the little shit knows what he’s doing] and no one will change my mind about that. Forgive me for the rant, but the inspiration for part of your fic came from the source: 

Ming couldn’t believe he bribed an Engineer for a gear. He wasn’t part of that program specifically because it was optional for students pursuing an Engineering degree. The meaning of the gear shifted, more often than not representing an Engineer’s heart rather than being just a token of their hard work accomplished under pressure from a “hazing” team. Ming wanted a gear for the former reason, a representation of his heart now hung from a necklace that he was going to present to Kit as a gift for their one year anniversary. 

When they were at dinner Ming nervously handed over the little box. Kit opened it and read the little note. I love you. Here’s my heart for safekeeping. He only smiled at Ming and attempted to latch the necklace. His fingers fumbled so Ming jumped up and fixed it on his neck for him. Kit looked up at him and smiled. At the dinner, nothing was given in return, which Ming didn’t expect, but it did catch him off guard. 

Back at the room, Ming kicked off his shoes. He plopped onto the sofa. Kit sat with him, propping feet into his lap. Ming apprehensively pulled them away, but Kit wrangled them back. He pressed his thumb into the ball of Ming’s left foot. The boy let out the loudest groan Kit ever heard him make over the year and that was saying something. Kit massaged the left one for a good ten minutes, then he moved to the right foot. Ming was now laying down, his head against the arm of the sofa. His eyes were fluttering closed and soon enough Kit heard snores. 

–

That was the end of their anniversary day. It wasn’t a big spectacle, but the one thing Ming enjoyed seeing was Kit now adding the necklace to his morning dress routine. For some reason he always put it on before he put on a shirt and then he pulled it from underneath to situate the gear against his chest. 

“Are you going to get dressed?” Kit could see Ming staring at him through the mirror. Ming jumped out of the bed to wrap arms around him. Kit smiled. “I have an anniversary surprise for you anyway. So get dressed.” 

Ming raised an eyebrow but did as he was told. Soon enough they were in Kit’s car driving to a destination unknown. 

—

They arrived at the beach. The same beach where Ming first realized that he was going to chase after his now stubborn boyfriend. From the back of the car [Ming had no idea it was there], Kit procured a picnic basket. Kit sheepishly grinned at him when Ming leaned against the back of the car admiring him. “Surprise!” Kit playfully said. “A beach picnic.” Kit had the basket in hand, Ming in the other hand. As they trekked through the sand, Kit lost his footing, the basket tumbling out of his hands and Ming falling with him. They both cackled as they immediately felt beach sand filling every crevice possible. Ming had fallen on top of him. Kit looked up at those beautiful eyes that mesmerize him every time. Every day for the past year those big brown eyes filled him with love. 

“Now that I have your heart for safe keeping it doesn’t mean I have to treat you like something fragile right?” 

“You being fragile with someone or anything? Ha!” Ming snapped. “That doesn’t seem right, because the KitKat I know plays rough.” 

“Does he?” Kit ignored the nickname. Which did he prefer? It’s been a year and he can’t make up his mind about “Kitty” or “KitKat”- in reality the best sound was when Ming simply and excitedly said, “Kit!” Ming couldn’t get in another word because with impressive strength he rolled them over so that he was on top. 

Could they make out on the beach all day? Yes. They could. Kit aimed for it, but the passerby would probably gawk. Kit reluctantly pulled his lips away. Ming chased them back, gripping hair to “force” one more kiss. Kit didn’t want it to end but he escaped. Ming sat up on his elbows watching Kit as he grabbed the toppled over picnic basket. Hopefully everything was fine. So they had to eat with their hands because the silverware got sandy. Who the fuck cares? It was mostly finger food anyway, because feeding Ming chocolate covered strawberries was next on the agenda. 

—

Ming licked chocolate from his lips. He remembered when Kit had been too shy to even remotely share a drink with the same straw. Now, on a public beach he was feeding him. Ming couldn’t ask for anything better. This was the best. There was only one more strawberry. Kit reaches for it and bites off the leaf. He then puts part of the strawberry in his mouth, chocolate end facing Ming. He immediately bites half of it into his mouth, their lips touching a little bit. As they finish their bites, lips connected to share a strawberry and chocolate flavored kiss. 

–

Later that day, Ming become busy with a study group, leaving Kit to his own devices. That only meant he had a chance to decorate the room. Several hours later the bedroom door opened and Ming received a face full of balloon. 

“Happy Anniversary!” Kit exclaimed. He rounded the room. It looked like someone’s art exhibit as he admired the pictures of them on the walls. They were temporarily hung there, because Ming assumed Kit didn’t want to ruin the dorm walls. Still the gesture wasn’t lost on him. The gesture, in fact, made tears well up to the surface. When Ming found the last picture on the wall, it was a recent one. From yesterday at the beach. When the heat died down from the kiss, they leaned in for a picture. Kit would never forget the grin on Ming’s face when he surprised him with a quick cheek kiss as he snapped the picture. How in the world it came out a perfect shot baffled Kit, but he wouldn’t complain that much. 

Here’s to the old memories and here’s to creating the new. I love you, Ming, the back of the photo read. An empty frame sat on the desk. Ming could see the top left corner adorned with an Earth charm and the right held a Moon charm. He wondered if the frame was custom made or store bought. He didn’t ask. Either way it made him happy. Really happy. Arms wrapped around his waist from the side and his arm automatically slid around Kit’s shoulders. 

“Can I put it in the frame?” Ming sniffled. Kit nodded as Ming released him to work open the back of the frame and slide the picture in. He positioned it on the desk so that it can be clearly seen by either one of them if they sat there to study. Kit squeezed him harder. 

“I know it’s late,” he muttered. “This gift. I hadn’t finished planning it by the time we had dinner on our actual anniversary night. Then after that dinner my plans were stalled.” He joked and before a word could pass from Ming’s mouth, Kit pressed his lips to his boyfriend’s. 

Ming lifted him in his arms and to Kit it always felt like floating on a cloud. As if the ground were lost underneath his feet and he could fly. Ming pulled back a second, tears still threatening to bubble over. Some of them did and Kit wiped them away. “I love you so much,” Kit whispered when he leaned their foreheads together. Ming pulled them apart to regain composure, fearful that more tears would stain his cheeks. He pinched Ming’s chin and slowly leaned up for another kiss. As usual, the little shit didn’t lean down, so Kit was on his tip toes. He took the opportunity to jump into his arms, a hand caressing up his neck and turning that beautifully chiseled jaw to capture lips. 

Kit made a silent vow for the future to come: Whether it was an anniversary or not, Kit would find a way to show Ming how much he loved him.

[just-another-word-blogger]

So, I started writing this around this time last year and got halfway through and became completely uninterested and unmotivated and for whatever reason I felt like finishing it tonight. And I’m happy with it, I hope you all like it, it’s the only Harry-related thing I've ever written. Let me know what you think!

Summary: Harry thinks Y/N has a voice of a God.

3k+ words

DECEMBER 2015

Harry knew Y/N was destined for greatness. He knew it the moment he met her. He knew she would change the world one day.

And this was before he even heard her sing.

They had been together 3 months when he decided to surprise her one evening once he had arrived home after travelling with the boys.

He had come home one day earlier then he had originally planned. It wasn’t late, so she should’ve still been awake. He unlocked her front door with the key she had made for him before he climbed the stairs and heard the running water of her shower. And then, he heard her.

He paused for a moment to make sure he wasn’t hearing things, and when he realized it was in fact his beautiful girlfriend singing, he dropped his belongings on her bedroom floor and raced into the bathroom.

God, she was magnificent, so absolutely talented. “Never knew you could sing, love!” His sudden presence caused her to shriek out in fear. She quickly covered her naked body with her hands but relaxed when she saw her boyfriend standing in the door way, staring at her in what seemed to be complete awe.

“Harry! Jesus Christ! You scared the hell out of me!” She forced out a laugh, she was shaken up pretty good. Harry’s jaw was on the floor and his eyes were sparkling with complete adoration.

“You have a beautiful voice,” he couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across his face when he saw her shyly bow her head to look at the tiled floor. She turned the taps off and stepped out of the shower.

“It’s nothing really,” she reached for the towel on the rack, when he beat her to it, hiding it behind his back. “Harry c’mon,” she giggled.

“How come I never knew my girl was so talented hmm? Well, f’course I know you’re talented, but love, you truly have an amazing voice.” They were both smiling like idiots now. He stepped closer to her so there was not as much distance between them, not even minding that he was getting himself wet since she was still dripping wet from her shower, before he looked into her eyes, she was so beautiful. He was about to lean in when she whispered a soft, “I’m cold.”

With that he quickly wrapped her up in the towel he had been keeping from her and picked her up and threw her over his shoulder causing her to squeal. Through cute giggles they both released, he carried her over to the bed, putting her down onto her back, kissing down her neck and along her shoulder blades that were still soaking wet.

He was hovering above her, placing soft, innocent kisses all over her face, when he stopped and gazed into her eyes again, pushing her wet hair off of her face. “Do you have any idea how much I love you, baby?”

Smiling, she gently grabbed his face in her hands and brought his lips to hers. After a kiss that seemed to last forever, she whispered back, “not nearly as much as I love you.” With another kiss to her lips he looked down and in between their bodies, wagging his eyebrows up and down suggestively, which caused her to giggle again, before he slowly pulled off the towel that was loosely covering her figure and discarded it on the floor.

“I’m so glad you’re back.”

…

April 2016

Harry would not let Y/N forget about how he caught her singing that night. He begged and begged for her to, “Pretty please sing for me angel. Want to hear you sing again, please.” But she always refused. Y/N was always shy when it came to Harry; he made her weak in the knees all the damn time.

After ages of begging he would eventually give up only to ask her again later on.

Then on one fateful day, he managed to catch her singing once again.

She was cleaning their now shared home, just a casual tidy to keep her entertained while Harry was running errands around town. She had her earphones in and was singing her heart out, pouring all her emotion into the song.

What she didn’t realize however, was her sneaky boyfriend recording her. She turned herself and the vacuum she was using around, bumping smack bang into him.

“Oh! Hey baby. You just love sneaking up on me, don’t you?” Y/N giggled, cheeks heating up at the thought of him hearing her belting out a Michael Jackson song at the top of her lungs. She noticed him not-so-subtly exit out of his camera app on his phone. She looked up to meet his eyes that clearly told her he was hiding something and she watched as he tried to get rid of the smile forming on his lips, that was when she clicked. “No! You didn’t!”

“I did,” he cheeks, dimples popping. She goes to snatch his phone out of his hands but Harry bolts to the staircase, bounding up the stairs two at a time laughing his high-pitched hyena laugh with Y/N hot on his heels chasing after him and yelling, “You’re gonna get it Styles! I mean it!” Using his long legs as an advantage Harry makes it up the stairs with enough time to hide before she catches up. He runs into their bedroom and tucks himself in behind the door awaiting her arrival.

Not long after, Y/N comes running into the room only to be pounced on and knocked clean off her feet and onto the bed. He dives straight in and tickles her sides until she’s struggling to breathe and she’s turning red. She thrashes underneath him and tries to shove him off ultimately failing. Once he finally decides to stop she lets out a gargled moan as she tries to regain her breath. The sound however seems to go straight to his head, or more accurately, his cock, as it sounds rather similar to the noises she makes while he’s in between her legs.

Harry hovers over her, both of them panting like crazy as he shifts his thigh ever so slightly so it comes in contact with her core. She lets out another slight moan and looks up to meet his now lust-filled gaze.

“Are you really going to use sex as a way out of this?” she asks, sounding as firm as she can, trying to hide the fact that his previous action has her a bit riled up.

“Maybe,” he mumbles lowly, grinding his thigh against her once again, this time harder, causing her to moan loudly and he attaches his lips to her jaw, sucking on the skin.

“Well get on with it then.” And that he does, Harry hastily pulls of her clothing, discarding them all around the room in a quick attempt to get to her. Without warning he plunges two fingers into her tight, leaking hole, smirking to himself because she’s completely soaked, and only from a grind of his thigh against her.

“Oh my-Harry!” She cries, hand flying down to clasp around his that is moving in and out of her at lightning speed. Using his other hand, he grabs both of hers in one swift movement pinning them above her head. She’s on the verge of tears, and she’s never been so close to finishing so fast in her life.

“No touching,” Harry growls, bending down so he can suck on her clit, quite roughly. Once she alerts him that she’s, “so close baby-uh-oh my god feels so good!” The cheeky shit bites down gently on her clit and she lets out a scream in pleasure. She’s letting go all over his fingers, shaking and crying and Harry loves it. Loves seeing her like this, she’s so perfect he thinks.

He gives her no time to recover before he grabs her hips and flips her onto her stomach, causing her to let out a muffled huff. Harry is hard beyond belief, he’s surprised his cock hasn’t ripped through his shorts yet. He smacks her cute bum once before standing up to hastily rid himself of his clothing.

Y/N is still out of breath, feeling out of this world, the stars only just starting to disappear from her view. Harry crawls back on the bed and lifts her butt in the air, leaving a wet kiss on the now red cheek.

“Ready baby? Gonna fill ya so good,” he growls, voice deep and husky, hands firmly on her hips, sure to leave bruises. She lets out an urgent, “yes! Oh god yes!” before he slams into her so hard she falls forward. Head pushed back into the pillows on their bed. Both groaning in utter pleasure. “Fuck Princess! You’re so fuckin tight-how are you this tight baby? Suffocating Daddy’s cock, feels so good and snug-uh.”

Y/N has tears streaming down her face now, she’s on cloud nine. “Oh! You’re so deep, how-uh! I’m gonna cum! Oh my God! Oh my-!”

“Not far behind ya baby,” with that he lets out a deep guttural moan and shoots his load in her tight pussy, her letting go also. Harry pulls out with a groan from them both, before eating all of their juices from inside her, she shrieks at this, hand flying behind her to thread her fingers through his locks. Moaning so filthily she could put a pornstar to shame.

Once he’s finally done, he pops off her licking his lips and muttering a quiet, “yummy,” before crawling beside her and bringing her limp body flushed against his.

“That was new,” she manages to squeak out, causing him to giggle.

“What can I say love? Your voice does things to me,” he smiles into her hair, kissing her neck, “Does this mean I’m off the hook?”

She’s silent for a moment, thinking it over before letting out a quiet, “Nope.”

Harry smirks.

***

It’s nearing 9:00pm and boy, were they exhausted. You name any place in that house, they did it there. They would have done it at least 6 more times after the first round, Harry on a mission to make her forget the video, and maybe even her own name.

He took her in the shower, bent her over the kitchen bench and even had his way with her on their balcony for the whole city to see. They were recovering in the living room in the pillow fort they had built, the only thing covering their bodies being a thin bed sheet.

She’s resting her head on his chest, listening to his erratic heart-beat and drawing on the exposed skin of his tummy while he softly plays with her hair while whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

“You’re gonna be the death of me one of these days,” he whispers and chuckles lightly, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“You love me,” she smiles warmly up at him, shifting her head to look him in the eyes to see them full of love and admiration that she surely mirrors.

“My God love, ya have no idea.” She snuggles back into his chest pressing small, open-mouthed kisses over his skin, receiving a hum of pleasure from him before she straddles his torso. She kisses all over his beautiful stomach all the while grinding down onto him. The sounds he was making were like music to her ears.

He quickly grabs her wrists that were resting on his chest whilst she left marks on his abdomen, before flipping her over onto her back attacking her neck with his lips, capturing the skin between his teeth before muttering a quiet, “Absolutely no idea,” before gripping her hips and filling her up for the 7th time in the last few hours.

***

July 2017

“Finally!” Harry rejoices as he places his and Y/N’s luggage onto the ground and proceeds to throw himself onto their living room couch, sighing in appreciation of the familiar comfort. “S’good to be home.” Y/N follows suit and situates herself on the recliner humming in agreement, almost instantly dozing off.

“S’cuse me miss, what do you think you’re doin?” Harry laughs as he walks over to where she’s now laying on the recliner.

“Tired,” is all she can muster, Harry was hoping to get a bit of loving in since they were so restricted back in Jamaica, well they did manage to sneak in a few rounds every now and then when his mates were asleep or out of the house, but he was excited to get inside of her in the comfort of their own home without having to remind her to be, “quiet for me baby, you can do it,” but seeing his girl so wrecked just makes his heart swell and fills him with a want and need to make her as comfortable as he possibly can.

“Okay pet,” he replies quietly, kissing the top of her head before pulling her into his arms. He carefully walked up the stairs to their bedroom where he laid her down gently and removed her shoes. After tucking her in, he gave her one last kiss on the forehead before leaving her to rest and recover from their crazy vacation, looking at her and smiling to himself as he closes their bedroom door behind him.

Harry is still gob smacked after nearly 2 years as to how the hell he managed to be the lucky man who got to call Y/N his own, the man who got to sleep next to her every night, the man who had the privilege of making love to her, the man who was able to proudly tell people that he and Y/N Y/L/N were without a doubt, madly in love.

He obviously did something right to deserve her. Harry can remember the exact moment he met her all those years ago.

***

September 2015

One Direction is due to go on hiatus soon and the boys are out celebrating Niall’s 22nd birthday. He decided just to keep it casual instead of booking an entire venue for all of his friends and family. Niall thought clubbing with the boys at his favorite club would be a simple yet fun way to celebrate the big 2-2.

They’re having a great night, taking shot after shot enjoying the music. Soon later, after a few too many drinks the four of them are out on the dancefloor. Liam, Louis and Niall busting a groove all the while Harry – who is absolutely blind drunk at this point - is going wild; showing off some horrid moves you could only tolerate if you knew and loved Harry like the boys did.

During one particular wild move Harry accidently bumps someone resulting in that someone and Harry to fall clean on their arses. He registers that it is a woman he’s knocked down once he hears what he presumes to be crying. After he blinks away the dots temporarily restricting his vision he immediately turns to the stranger beside him and lets out a slur of sincere apologies, absolutely freaking out, the last thing he planned for tonight was to injure some poor, innocent woman who just minding her own business. He gently pulls her to face him, and to his relief, finds that she’s laughing her head off and is in fact, not crying.

“M’so so sorry,” his voice is filled with genuine guilt as he stands up to then help her, watching her closely in case she is injured, “M’such a dick, are you alright? Didn’t hurt ya?” When he pulls her back up onto her feet he sees her trying to catch her breath, wiping away the tears that have formed from her manic laughing. That’s when he sees how beautiful she is for the first time.

“No, I should be apologizing,” she continues to laugh, “this is why I don’t dance, the one time I do, I knock some poor fellow off his bloody ends.”

He laughs hard at this; realizing it’s been a while since someone’s made him laugh so hard, “No love, I knocked you. M’sure your dancing was great.” He tucks a piece of stray hair behind her ear, and looks into her bloodshot eyes, quickly noticing she’s just as drunk as he is.

“Oh, well that’s good- Oh my God I love this song! Come with me!” She grabs Harry’s arm and tugs him to the middle of the dancefloor where they remain for the remainder of the night, dancing horribly – turned out she was pretty bad at dancing and nearly as bad as he was, nearly though - and screaming their lungs out to the blaring music until the A.M.

Harry made sure not to leave that club without her number in his phone, and her safely in a cab on her way home before leaving with the boys.

“Made a new tonight did ya Harry?” Liam laughs elbowing Harry in the ribs causing Louis and Niall let out a few snickers.

“Yeah, actually. Think I did.”

It’s safe to say that Harry fell in love with her the moment he laid eyes on Y/N, but that’s something he will never admit to her because he knows she’d give him a shove and tell him how cheesy it sounded. But it’s true, and he did.

***

Harry was scrolling through his photos from Jamaica later that night, as his girl was snuggled beside him, she’d slept the whole afternoon only to get up to shower to freshen up from the long flight, before falling back to asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow again.

He had taken many photos of the scenery in Jamaica - it is such a marvelous place, he promised to take Y/N there again sometime so they can properly explore it since the majority of the time they were there he was recording his new album - but most of his camera roll was filled with pictures of her. She just looked so beautiful all the damn time; he couldn’t help himself he just had to take as many pictures as he could.

He’s endlessly scrolling when he comes across a video he doesn’t remember recording, he turns down the volume before hitting the play button. He’s not sure what he was expecting to watch but it definitely isn’t what he sees or hears.

His love’s voice comes out of his phone speakers beautifully as he watches the video on the screen. He and Y/N are clearly drunk and are out on the beach. The moon hanging large in the sky behind her as she sings Sign of The Times so incredibly he begins to tear up.

How the hell did he forget he took this? How the hell did he manage to take this without Y/N getting mad at him and forcing him to delete the footage?

He must have watched it 100 times. Harry’s in awe that this woman keeps her voice to herself, and he’s almost disappointed that people don’t get to hear how beautifully she sings. Well, yeah it’s nice to have some secrets that you keep to yourself, but this kind of secret was one that should definitely not be kept private.

He knows he shouldn’t, he knows very darn well that he shouldn’t, but he’s Harry he can’t help himself, her talent needs to be shared, people don’t know what they’re missing is how he justifies his next action.

With a press of a button, Y/N’s video is out on the internet for the entire world to see, captioned, ‘My love. X’

It’s just an innocent post on his Instagram of his wonderful girlfriend, right? No harm done.

No way could Harry have anticipated what would happen next.

[inexchangeforyoursoul]

*chucks this to the starving lions* Can I get, uhhh… you interested in some dabihawks intimacy over burns? (2k+ words) ( AO3 )

Hawks lacks his trademark energy. His movements, be them his quirky little leg bounce or a mundane lift of a hand, have become sluggish- that is, if he even bothers moving. Everything about him screams exhaustion, even after almost two weeks of being off duty. Forcing himself to get outside makes Dabi think the hero crazy for two entirely new reasons.

First, he’s everything but suited to walk the streets like this, with restricted mobility that’s just begging for some nosy assholes to tail him. Especially nowadays. He also could have become easy prey to petty villains in the first shady alley, as there’s no way in hell that he can use his left wing for anything but sending out some warped or puny feathers. Considering the cotton pads lining his neck and that his upper body is still covered in bandages under the tee, two sizes too big, this is also not subject to change for a while. There’s one additional pad on his left cheek, likely hiding the spot of a particularly nasty blister. And this mess here had the nerve to ask for a meetup and sneak out to this infection-ridden hole, but let's not even go there.

No, there's a bigger issue. The other reason Hawks is a madman… the thing that ties an unswallowable knot in Dabi’s stomach, and makes him reconsider coming for the umpteenth time, and legitimately uncomfortable… is that the gauze on the other's body is hiding second, if not third degree burns that he himself had inflicted, under circumstances he’d rather not even think of.

Once it becomes obvious that he won't be the one to initiate, Hawks’ familiar voice rings with forced bravado. “What’s with the long face? You look even deader than usual,” he chides the villain. It almost sounds like there wasn't a rotting elephant carcass in the room. Almost.

There's no answer he can muster. He’s just staring vacantly at the left side of the other’s face. A silent thought notes how the hero's hair grows about as fast as his feathers do after being shaved. Or burned. He made all those passive-aggressive jokes in the beginning, about what high quality kindling Hawks would make if set ablaze. And he really does burn so fast… so easily.

He should have ignored the message altogether.

Hawks sighs; his scowl softens and the tired smile disappears without a trace. No point in waltzing around the metaphorical bush, is there. “See… this is why I wanted to come. Because I figured your punk ass would wax emo over it. She's safe and sound, isn't she? And I'll just have to deal with it. It’s for doing the same damn heroic thing you keep chewing me out on, after all. Can’t help not make dumb decisions? Then let them bite you in the ass! So it did, you were right! Congrats. Not that it’s a big deal, though. This shit’s always been part of my job description.”

He cannot find it in himself to give an edge to the words, or get any snarkier with Dabi right now. The incident had some really bad timing. Things… had already been changing between them, for better or worse. Dabi’s painfully aware of this, too. As for Hawks…

It's hard to forget what it looks like. The way a man's blind rage and murderous intent change to the frantic panic and horror of a child at the drop of a hat… What seeing it feels like, as your left side is set on fire in real time, feeling a thousand-degree hand print itself into your flesh in slow motion, before it’s yanked away as if it had been charred by something burning even hotter inside you. What Dabi’s voice sounds like when in distress, calling out for someone he cared for, thinking he hurt them. Then the change to a faint moment of immense relief in those haunting eyes as your body goes into shock, before giving way to some kind of indescribable emotion that’s the bastard child of those preceding it, and more.

Dabi blinks, eyes still fixated over the rose-laced, ghastly pale patchwork on Hawks’ tan skin. That's a job description he wouldn't have to worry about if he had been given a choice, the idiot. First, he was mad at him that he would intervene. But… if Hawks hadn’t been there, and jumped in between a few minutes later, he---

“It's weird and creepy to have you staring at me like this, you know? The world didn't quite end, but aren't there some news which you should be raving about…? There's chaos and distrust all over the place, people are suspicious of everything labelled hero… they even got rid of that flaming pile of garbage to save some face, didn't they? I'm having it nice with the second guesses around my alignment and inactivity, to be honest… Slipping from the top ten while also being hospitalized makes you have time for yourself! Who would have thought?” It won’t stay like this. No, no… his name is just clean enough from every available angle that both the populace and the Commission trust him and in his return. Latter will want to get him battle ready as soon as possible, right after screaming their heads off at him. He’ll get a message next week, tops. He’s almost happy to oblige, though…

“I’ve been wanting some me time for a while now, but, how should I put it... now that I got my wish… I feel like shit, and can’t do shit that I’d like to do. Karma, bitch- I’m sitting in my room all day, with no idea how to pass time, haha!” No learning to play the guitar, gardening, or how to bake brownies. He can't even take a proper shower with all the bandages and his left shoulder being as stiff as a board. There's only his body, pulsating with slowly rising, light fever, and the numb existence after taking one of those potent painkillers before the aching starts all over again. He usually cannot even remember what happens in the series he ends up watching. It’s frustrating as all hell, and killing his ADHD-plagued ass whenever he has the energy to do something. He would have gone crazy if even his right hand had been off-limits.

If not for Hawks, he would have...

The blonde’s eyes flicker to his aching side as his fake smile returns, and he lifts a hand over the bandages covering his neck. The fingers look mangled under thick layers of shedding, dead skin; the rest, still hidden from view. “The model gig is off the table, too, I guess. They are planning to patch my face up once my wings and joints are salvaged, from what I could gather. Not that it’s a priority, though.” There’s a pause. “I also caught up with my feed, and some ‘fans’ just up and left after getting a little sunburn, too… like, seriously!? That’s just mean,” he moans with thinly veiled disappointment. He exhales with closed eyes and the barely-smile, fingers lingering at the edges of the exposed burns. The expression sticks for a moment.

He would have… burned his mother.

Dabi steps closer, reaching up to Hawks’ face, then barely touches his wounded cheek. This prompts the other to open his eyes again, with light surprise, confusion, and perhaps wariness reflecting in them. “It’s high time those little snots reevaluated their tastes,” Dabi speaks up at last, brushing the back of his fingers over the sensitive skin. He never gave a flying fuck about pretty faces, but… “You never looked better.”

To anybody else, this would sound like a dig… which, it kind of is. But Hawks can read and hear the subtext, which is to say, mild disdain and genuine gratitude. It’s… something else, though. Basically being told that he’s the most beautiful he’s ever been. It’s doing funny things to him inside- it’s beyond great to feel something after the days spent as a walking vegetable. Those fingers are, ironically, also nice and cool against his aching skin, but all of this is getting a little too much to handle at once.

Intended or not, it worms an involuntary (and rather painful), real smile out of Hawks. “Wow… gross.”

He’d be amused at the answer already, but the smile is what gives Dabi whiplash, cracking the uneasiness boulder the size of a truck sitting on his chest and sending him straight to cloud nine. Which is not something that he wants right now, goddammit.

And he would backpedal on the spot, because this backfired really bad, but Hawks has already placed his marred hand over his, and is reaching up with his other one, too. The relatively undamaged right is placed over his bare arm and traces over the scarred-up skin.

“… Does it still hurt a lot?” Hawks asks then, examining the burns meticulously; the texture sends a small chill down his spine, forcing all remaining hair on his body to stand.

He lost sleep over thinking about this. It’s a little embarrassing… thinking about whether Dabi’s wounds hurt as much as his do, all of the time. Or how he took the news. Last thing he kind of remembers before waking up to numb aches is getting an ice layer cast over him by the youngest Todoroki, and all he knew after finally catching up on the news was that the villain managed to escape and was MIA. Honestly… he had just been worried and thinking about Dabi a lot.

… Okay, it’s very embarrassing. And alarming.

“Can’t feel much where it's like that,” he admits. Where gentle fingers run over dead skin, there's a ghost of a presence that the surviving nerves deep below give notice of. A hint of warmth, maybe. Nothing more. “Not now, nor when the stuff cracks and bleeds. What will hurt… are these spots,” he guides the man’s hand up to the staples over his wrist, then takes the same hand and rubs lazy circles over a healed-up spot. “Dead and live skin don’t get along well. They get pulled apart easily, especially if you are still growing… and shit swells and tears when you are not careful. But you’ve already seen that happen to me.” Having finished the vaguely educational monologue, he looks Hawks in the eyes. “It’s also bold of you to waltz into a cesspool like this one. The plague eats roast meat for breakfast, and I hear chicken’s his favourite.”

The last line revives the smile before it could fade, and he looks back at Dabi, too. “Aww, worried~?”

“Nah,” the villain replies with the corners of his mouth also creeping upwards. Hawks’ dulled senses don’t even register that he’s already in his face until it’s too late; “The plague is me.”

The kiss is tender, and lasts only a second or two; before the hero knows it, it’s already over. He blinks first, trying to decide whether he just hallucinated this under the influence of drugs, or it was a real-ass thing that just happened… then hides his mouth behind his free hand with a blushing face.

“… that was totally uncalled for,” he mumbles, trying not to sound whiny, while also trying his best to look as angry as possible. It’s entirely futile as he can’t get rid of the fully grown, shit eating grin, though. “I’m still running a fever, you know. This is not helping.”

Burning face and heart aside, a part of him feels bad about this. Even if nobody asked Dabi to do this. It’s as if he was using the situation for selfish gains.

“In that case, get your sorry ass back to the hospital or whatever, little phoenix,” Dabi purrs, giving another kiss on his temples once Hawks manages to look at him again. The villain lets go of the hand at last, but stays close, staring into the other’s eyes for a moment.

There it is again. That ‘more’ he saw in them back then. It’s stupid, yes… but Hawks would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy basking in the glint that’s so foreign to those eyes.

He doesn’t get much time to enjoy himself, as Dabi’s lips are already curling into an impish smile; “Then, once you resurrect from those ashes… maybe we could run a fever together, hmm?”

Hawks spends the next minutes cursing softly from behind both hands as his ears start burning up, too... and Dabi just laughs, not caring for the blood leaking from his face.

***

*old HDD processing noises* not that I’m particularly happy with it, but yeah, I think this is the first kiss I’ve ever written. hell, those may be even the first vaguely suggestive lines that are meant to be taken seriously that I’ve ever written. Hide yo wives, and hide yo husbands, this is the beginning, I’m going hog wild y’all

ps admit it… the half-assed summary had your expectations fooled

[ilovelukey]

Preparations

A/N: Here is a lil thing about getting ready for your wedding! I’m planning on doing a whole series with this, next chapter on the wedding and wedding night, and then maybe two little chapters on the honeymoon (next ones will be smuttyyyyyy) 

Warnings: Lingerie? Almost sex? Not really anything

Word count: 2.3k

These are the sets I was picturing:

(in white)

(All are from Agent Provocateur)         

        Ever since Luke had proposed, you felt like you were absolutely walking on cloud nine. Planning a wedding with him was an absolute dream. Everytime you approached him with a question- what flavor cake, your wedding colors, the venue- he gave you actual answers instead of just letting you decide, which was insanely helpful. Not to mention you had the same taste in most of these things. The wedding was scheduled in just a few days. Luke was flying his family from Sydney since most of his friends and your friends were in LA. With everything finally prepared, you and your bridesmaids were going out to pamper yourselves. The girls had offered to take you out for a spa day. Your bachelorette party had been a few nights ago and the hangover had been horrible and it honestly felt like you hadn’t had a full night of sleep since then with all the stress and last minute planning so this was exactly you needed. 

       You had just left the Ritz- Carlton spa, your nails were freshly done, you’d gotten a face mask, massage, and a body scrub and you had never felt more refreshed. 

“Where are we going now?” You asked as you realized you weren’t heading back towards any of your houses. 

“This next surprise is actually from Luke.” Crystal winked at you and kept driving. 

        Finally you pulled up and parked in front of a big black building with pink writing “Agent Provocateur”. Crystal, KayKay, and your four best friends from high school got out of the car, pulling you along behind them.

“What’s going on?” you laugh as they drag you into the store. Black leather lines the walls, crystal whips, gorgeous lingerie, all stacked up on every side. A cute little sales associate in a pink uniform walks up to the seven of you and asked in a chipper voice “Hi! How can I help you?” 

“Hi, we have an appointment under Hemmings.” KayKay answered for you.

“Great!” The brunette sales associate answered “you guys are booked for the Bridal Service?” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright, follow me, please.” 

       You followed the girl back into the store to a private room with pink walls and long curtains flowing to the ground for the changing rooms. Vases filled with flowers decorated the table tops. The sales associate brought a tray with seven flutes of pink champagne, each of you grabbed one and thanked her.

“My name is Kelly, I’ll be helping you ladies out today. Now, which of you is the bride-to-be?” 

The girls pushed you forward,

“Me!” you laughed “I’m y/n.” you stuck your hand out and she shook it. 

“Well, congratulations. Have you been to our store before?” You shake your head no. “No worries!” Kelly smiled, “So we normally recommend that our clients forget any notion they had of what they want because we have all sorts of styles and fits and we encourage you to try them all on. I’ll take your measurements and then I’ll grab a few things for you to try out.” You let her wrap the measuring tape around you, marking down each number in her head. 

“Great, I’ll be right back.” 

        You and the girls sit down on the plush pink couch and matching chairs, sipping your champagne.

“So…” Crystal smirked “Luke has some instructions for you.”

“Oh god,” you laughed and took another sip of champagne.

“He wants you to get something for the night of the wedding, and at least two things for the honeymoon.” The girls all laughed.

“Jesus, Crys, isn’t this store, like, really expensive? I can’t afford this.” Crystal put her hand on your knee, shaking her head. 

“Girl… you should know Luke well enough to know that he has already paid for it.” You groaned and put your face in your hand.

“That little shit.” You mumbled, jokingly, but the girls could see the way your cheeks turned bright red at the information. They knew that he loved you more than anything and you felt the same way about him. The boys always made fun of Luke, telling him he was pussy whipped, but whenever they did, he just smiled at you and winked, knowing you were just as whipped for him. 

        Kelly walked back in, her arms carrying at least a dozen hangers with all different shades of white, cream, and beige. Some bras covered in lace, others bedazzled, satin, cotton, all overlapping each other. You and all the girls gasped at the beautiful fabrics in front of you. Kelly started hanging them up on the rack by you.

“So we have a few different styles for the bridal lingerie here. Go ahead and try those on. I understand that our groom-to-be also wants some options for the honeymoon so I’ll grab those and be right back.” She winked and walked out. 

“Damn, girl. These are gorgeous.” Your maid of honor, Emma said. 

“Try this one!” KayKay gasped, holding up a pink and black set, with a matching garter belt. 

“Wow. That’s stunning.” You touched the soft satin material. You took the hanger and closed the curtain behind you, stripping off your own clothes and underwear and putting the new set on. The fabric was soft against your skin as you pulled the curtain back, showing it off to your friends, who all immediately hooted and whistled. You did a little turn for them and posed, jokingly, laughing. You repeated the process with the next set, and Kelly walks back in with more beautiful sets hanging over her arms, this time in bright colors. She placed them on the hangers and looked at the white set you were currently in. 

“That’s beautiful on you.” She said. You looked in the mirror at the white lace bra, with little ties crossing the front. A matching waist trainer made your waist look even smaller, and matching white lace panties pulled the look together. You had to admit, you did look really good. You had been hoping for a white set, in the spirit of being somewhat traditional. 

“Wow…” the girls all sighed. 

“Y/n, you look fucking hot.” Emma laughed. You had to admit that you really did look hot. 

“I really like this one.” You said, still admiring yourself in the mirror. You weren’t normally one to stare at yourself like this, but you felt really good in this. You’d been working hard to lose a little bit of weight and get in shape for the wedding and you were proud of how well you’d done. 

“I… think this is the one.” The girls all cheered at your revelation and you smiled at Kelly.

“Perfect! You look great. I brought you some stuff to try on for the honeymoon too. Oh! And we have this gorgeous robe that goes with the set you just picked out.”  Kelly left the room to grab the robe she mentioned, and you took one last look at yourself before turning to go back into the dressing area, closing the curtain, and trying on some sets for the honeymoon. 

        You tried on a whole bunch of other looks. Finally, you found two you adored. One red set with a bralette with straps across the front, all in lace. It had a matching garter belt with little frills on the end and you knew it would look perfect with a pair of black heels you had at home. The other set you decided on was a bright pink corset made out of a satin material with lace on the top of the cups of the bra. 

        You checked out with the three sets and a robe and you and the girls headed out. They dropped you off at home and it was already dark outside. When you walked into you and Luke’s house, you were greeted by Petunia, happily trotting over and licking at you. You put your shopping bags down and got on your knees to give her a hug and a few kisses. You heard some louder footsteps heading towards you and looked up to see your handsome man, his hair pulled back and he was wearing sweatpants and a t shirt. You immediately got up (much to Petunia’s disappointment) and ran over to Luke, jumping in his arms.

“Luke, you shouldn’t have.” He chuckled and squeezed you tight, lifting you off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his hips and gave him a big kiss. 

“If we’re being honest, it’s more of a gift for me, isn’t it, love?” He placed you down. “Now show me what you got.” He patted your butt as you walked over and picked up the bag, filled with three pink and black boxes, each wrapped up with a bow.

“Hmm you’ll just have to wait until our wedding.” You grinned, slyly. 

“Not fair.”

“It’s very fair!” You argued back, hitting his chest lightly. You walked back and threw your arms around him once again, and he leaned down and kissed your nose.

“Gonna be my wife, baby. I can’t fucking wait.” 

“Mmm. Mrs. y/n Hemmings. It sounds good, doesn’t it?”

“It sounds pretty damn perfect.” He grabbed you by your waist and threw you over his shoulder in a fireman carry, while you laughed and kicked your legs and hit his back in protest.

“Luke!” but you could barely get his name out, you were laughing so hard. He carried you up to your room, placed the lingerie boxes in the special “wedding closet” you two had, which was nearly overflowing with all of your stuff for the special night. He threw you on the bed and your face was hurting, you were smiling and laughing so hard. He came back and threw his body over yours, making you laugh more at how heavy he was.

“Lu…” you laughed, “You’re crushing me!” 

“You calling me fat?” He poked at you.

“No, but you’re a fucking giant.” You squealed at him, still only partially able to breathe through the laughter and his weight smushing your much smaller body. He giggled and held his body up on his elbows. 

“You’re just tiny.” He said and kissed your neck.

“I’m normal sized! You’re like… Hagrid.” 

“Okay no sex tonight.” He said as you kept laughing, trying to pull him back to you as he moved his body away from you, jokingly turning his back to you. 

“Noooo, Lu!” You whined and laughed, sitting up and grabbing the back of his shirt. You pulled the fabric towards you and finally he turned around and jumped back on the bed, right next to you. 

“Only if you take it back.” He smirked and crossed his arms. 

“Fine!” You sighed, “I take it back!” You pouted at him, trying to hold back a smile. Luke laughed and went back to kissing you, each kiss making you laugh, because it tickled a little bit with his scruff. 

“...Paul Bunyan.” You whispered.

“What did you just call me?” He furrowed his brows at you.

“Paul Bunyan! He’s a famous giant.” 

“Okay, that’s it.” And his hands were on your stomach, tickling you. Luke knew all of your most ticklish spots, and hit them all perfectly. He did this until you couldn’t breathe and were begging him to stop.

“Luke! I give up! You win!” You shouted. 

“I don’t believe you.” He looked at you suspiciously, barely taking his hands away, just in case. You just smirked at him, and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Clifford.” You whispered. He immediately brought his fingers back to your sides, picking right back up where he left off. 

“Clifford? If anything, Ash is Clifford right now. Or is Michael Clifford?” 

“You can all be Clifford!” You yelled, in between laughs. He smiled down at you, his hands finally easing up once he could tell that you couldn’t physically take anymore without running out of oxygen or peeing yourself. He brought his hand up to your cheek, stroking it. His lips lowered down to yours, pressing a sweet kiss on yours. You hummed against him as his hand went down to your neck. 

“Such a naughty girl, huh?” He smirked at you, cocking his eyebrow. You just nodded in response. 

“Gonna have to teach you to be good when you’re my wife.” 

“You could teach me now.” You dared him in a light, raspy whisper.

“I dunno, baby girl. Think you should ponder on your actions.” He chuckled as your mouth dropped open in fake shock. 

“I really didn’t do anything wrong, Hemmings.” You pouted. He just smiled at you lazily, his eyes half lidded. He studied your face, just for the sake of doing so, because he loved to look at you. 

“Y’know, soon I’ll be calling you Hemmings too.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your nose before rolling over back next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“That’s very true.” You turned to him, propping yourself up on an elbow. He was still looking at you dreamily. 

“Don’t you fall asleep on me.” You warned him, but it was no use. He just chuckled at you.

“Had a long day. Had to meet the boys so early to work on… stuff.” 

“Yeah,” you recalled “I forgot to ask, where were you this morning? When I woke up you weren’t here. And I got up at like… eight.” 

“Hm. That’s for me to know and you to find out.” He stated matter of factly. You laughed at him.

“Well, I need to shower, love. If you’re asleep when I’m back… then good night. I love you.” You kissed his forehead and got up.

“Love you. My future wife.” You heard him mumble and you smiled to yourself as you closed the bathroom door and got in the shower. You smiled to yourself as you were drying off, and getting ready for bed. You were probably even smiling to yourself as you were sleeping in bed, curled up next to your own little giant. Your future husband.