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brokenhardies · 2 years

Text

Foolsuke AU Prologue

This is more of a test as I am writing Chapter One currently!

word count: 2512

Taglist

@darth-caillic @sterling-writes @ryutabas @reirvival @arrthurpendragon @foxesandmagic (want to be added or removed? send an ask or a dm!)

also including @inkwell1013 @thebigpapilio and @mushroomfusion245 (sorry for bothering yall with this lmao)

The casino was abuzz with activity. Patrons gambling their life away in the space-age-style building quickly turned to one another, murmuring in fear for their safety and lives. Hunchbacked guards wandered the locale, posted in various areas as if to block the hallways from whoever was invading the casino. Suddenly, the doors violently opened, as a collection of police officers entered the building to witness the chaos. A man in front of the officers, dressed in a suit, placed a walkie-talkie to his ear.

“We have entered the casino. The whole floor is panicked, but there are no signs of any Phantom Thieves. We’ll scour the perimeter for them.”

However, the Phantom Thieves they were searching for would appear soon enough, as they didn’t notice an individual perched outside the stained glass window above them. A tall, lanky, teenager, who almost appeared underfed aside from some lean muscle. They had long, dark blue hair tied into a braid that dangled by the side of their ear, and steely grey eyes hidden by a white fox mask, decorated with red lining and accents. The mask covered the upper half of their face, stopping just above their nose. Their outfit was quite sleek – a dark blue jumpsuit beneath a lighter blue kimono style jacket, a red and white obi linked to a similar coloured fox-tail decoration that dangled down their back. They had on deep red gloves and white heeled boots, that made them look quite clearly like a ‘thief’, as mentioned prior.

They had managed to commandeer a floating platform, which they were perched on currently, holding their body to make it appear smaller and almost nonexistent. They looked into the casino, a slight smile across their features. Alright, here goes.

Suddenly, much to the surprise of the officers below, the teenager jumped through the window, snagging a cord onto one of the chandeliers on the roof and swinging over the patrons below, as some screamed in horror as the manifestation of their worst nightmare appeared before them. They swung upwards, holding the chandelier as they waited for the officers to chase their silhouette.

“Good!” A young, feminine-sounding voice exclaimed in their ear, “Now start running!”

And so they did, jumping from chandelier to chandelier as another voice began to comment on the action before – more masculine, somewhat rough.

“Jesus Christ, Fox,” He growled, “You wanna draw more attention to yourself?”

“It isn’t my fault that you have no semblance of aesthetics, Roger.” The teenager - Fox - muttered, causing the other voice - Roger - to scoff.

“Dude, you could’ve gotten us spotted!” He exclaimed, “I’ve been getting some weird readings, it’s too risky to do that sorta shit!”

“I think the window plan was an excellent idea,” Another soft feminine voice, more mature than the first one, chimed in, “After all, they wouldn’t think to chase us up here.”

“We’ll talk about semantics later, Panther-senpai,” The first voice began, “For now, we just need to move on!”

Fox grinned in response, continuing to jump across the chandeliers and finding a spot to run across the lobby lights. Turning corner to corner, they quickly noticed that they were being followed. Their eyes widened as they sped up.

“They’re catching up.” They said, their voice surprisingly calm. “Should I deal with them now or focus on running?”

“I’d suggest finishing them off,” Another young male voice, somewhat smarmy or arrogant, but with an obviously friendly tone, “We’ll retrieve the briefcase on our end, you just need to play distraction.”

“I thought that was our job, Ace?” A dry, masculine voice commented, causing the smarmy teen - Ace, apparently - to scoff in response. Another voice cut in, a feminine one, somewhat gruff but almost in more of a tough, leader-style tone, like a top detective sergeant in a police procedural.

“Alright, Ace, Raven, cut it out.” Fox could almost hear the eye roll from this team member, “I see a balcony a few steps away, just jump down.”

Fox nodded and did as they were told, flipping over the balcony and landing, proudly, on their feet. That’s when they looked up and noticed that the guards that had been chasing them settled into hunched-over, monstrous forms. They had snarling grimaces on their face. It was clear these weren’t ordinary police officers or security guards. No, these were Shadows.

“Shit!” Roger exclaimed, “Shadows! They’re pretty weak, but it’s still an effin’ chore.”

“Not to worry Roger, I can handle them.” Fox smirked, “I’ll give you the signal if I need support.”

As they said this, the men in suits arched back, dissolving with a sickening crunch into red and black goop. The goop then merged into one, finally congealing into a terrifying-looking corpse, dressed in a red cloak, holding a puppet in its left hand. To anyone else, this would be terrifying. However, Fox wasn’t exactly ‘anyone else’. Without much of an announcement, they grabbed their mask by the side, causing a pair of bat wings to start to form. Then, with a sudden pull, a demonic figure appeared behind them.

The figure was tall, almost tengu-like in appearance. It also seemed to be made of fire, fire swirling around it to form skin and hair as bright yellow eyes glowed through the deep red-to-blue gradient flames. Its legs were sharp and somewhat curved, almost knife-like in appearance. It was monstrous. And this teenager could control it with ease. They grinned, snapping their fingers and bringing the demon to attention, pointing towards the corpse-like creature as suddenly, it erupted in flames. This didn’t get rid of it, but it did cause it to stumble, and considering it had a healthy burn on its body, it would likely get more hurt if it tried anything. It also attempted to throw an attack at Fox, but they dodged, it, continuing their assault.

“Alright, everyone!” Roger exclaimed, “Head to positions! Route B is the way to go!”

With one shot from Fox’s assault rifle, the creature vanished into nothing. They placed the rifle into the holster on their back and began to sprint, looking behind them. The guards had caught up. Quickly taking a sharp left, they exited into the backrooms, looking around the area to try to find another route. It was clear that escape route one had been compromised. Fox grumbled something under their breath, but quickly looked up. There was a grapple point. They swung around, snapping the cord to the grapple point and flipping upwards, jumping to the top of a collection of shelves in one swift movement.

“Roger,” A polite, feminine voice began, “Are you still getting those strange readings?”

“Hang on, I didn’t get a chance to check…” Roger grumbled, before suddenly, he gasped, “Thanks for reminding me Blanc. Fox! There’s someone close to your coordinates, I’m not sure if it’s another Shadow or what?!”

Well, that seemed quite stressful. Fox quickly darted around a corner, finding a stairwell that they travelled upwards… And quickly saw that Shadows had followed them. Their eyes widened. This wasn’t how the plan was supposed to go, considering they’d discovered an escape route with the rest of their team, and it seemed to work fine. Obviously, crashing through the window was a bad decision. But they couldn’t help it. They swallowed, taking a couple of steps back as they grabbed their mask - preparing to summon their Persona again - while hearing Roger’s increasingly loud cries getting louder and more panicked.

“Shit, the reading’s getting closer!”

However, before the panic could settle in, Fox noticed a figure entering from a door on the other side of the room. A young-looking teenage boy, with messy black hair and bright, cerulean eyes. He wore a black gymnastics-style leotard, a yellow bandana around his neck and a deep blue cropped jacket that covered his arms. Much like Fox, he had a mask – only his was a black domino mask. On his feet were a pair of slouched, brown boots, and he was holding a scimitar threateningly towards the shadows. The shadows quickly turned, looking at the strange interloper who entered the room, before he suddenly swung around, doing a cartwheel before firing at one of the shadows with a slingshot. The pellet hit the shadow between the eyes, forcing it to dissolve. Another shadow ran towards the boy, but he swiped the scimitar upwards, slicing the creature down the middle.

He turned to face Fox. “I figured since you’ve helped me out so many times, I’d return the favour.”

He smiled, marching towards Fox, as the shadows dissolved behind him, settling into the forms of a strangely hairless bird adorned in gold jewellery and a pair of humanoid cheetahs wearing red capes and wielding dual swords. A shadow guard behind him attempted to run at him, but he kicked off the creature’s chest, throwing his scimitar in the air and catching it with ease as he hit the floor, catlike and graceful, as the shadow disintegrated without much effort.

“We’ll do this together!”

That’s when he summoned his Persona – a barrel-chested individual, tall with broad shoulders and lithe legs, holding a rapier in one hand and its head concealed by a helmet. It appeared almost superheroic, a long black cape that fluttered in the wind that seemed to form when it was summoned. Next to Fox’s own, it seemed much larger, but its magic was delicate, as the two leopards found out when they were knocked down in a blaze of light. As for the bird – one shot from the boy’s slingshot felled it. He turned to face Fox.

“Should we do it?”

To which Fox nodded, causing the pair to dive in and defeat the creatures with the might of their combined abilities. They all dissolved into nothing, their personas vanishing back into their mask.

“Thank you for the assist.”

The boy rubbed his hand behind his neck. “It was nothin’!” He grinned, his voice a smug purr, “You seemed surprisingly helpless there… Like how I was.” He leapt up onto a crate, looking back at Fox. “Hey! I know I’m not part of this team, so I shouldn’t get involved, but… Don’t forget our promise, okay?”

“I won’t.” Fox stated, waving at the boy as he vanished into the darkness. There was an awkward pause as the remaining members of the team struggled to comprehend what they just saw.

“Jeez,” A young woman’s voice commented, sounding somewhat nasally, “Didn’t know Inari had that many friends.”

“Look, that doesn’t matter now,” Roger continued, “We have to save our own skin!”

There was still time to escape, as Fox darted up the stairs and around a corner, dodging multiple shadow guards who seemed to appear out of thin air. Good thing they were good at hiding, something they had managed to hone in spite of only being a Phantom Thief for a short while. That’s when they saw the exit, marked with a large sign. They paused, even if this may have been a trap, the slightest hesitation could result in them all being captured. So, in spite of themselves, they raced through the door and exited onto a balcony area, running across the top of the balcony. And that was when they heard it…

The sound of sirens and helicopter blades above them. Oh no. They continued to run, but they were taken off guard by the sudden sounds, and suddenly - tripped over thin air, tumbling over the balcony and falling to the floor. They heard Roger scream their codename, but it was the last thing they heard before the signal cut out. Officers surrounded them, as they looked up in surprise. Now, pinned down, one removed their mask, revealing the teenager beneath the disguise. The officer smirked.

“Tough luck kid,” He stated, “You’ve been sold out.”

Fox groaned, bowing their head. If they knew it was going to come to this, they probably shouldn’t have tried.

xxx

It was a few hours later that SIU prosecutor Kunizaku Okumura entered the interrogation room, and what he found there wasn’t what he had been expecting. A young person dressed in a Shujin Academy uniform, hair tied in a dangling side braid and silver grey eyes filled with scorn and anger. To be fair, he was expecting the leader of the Phantom Thieves… Not what amounted to a teenager. They had bruises covering their face, and they looked like they’d been through hell.

“I didn’t expect it to be you.” He commented, causing the individual - Yusuke Kitagawa - to look up, their teeth grit in pain.

“Life is full of surprises.”

Okumura sighed. “Now’s not the time for witty comments.” He sat in front of the supposed leader of the Phantom Thieves, “You’ve been through quite an ordeal, I can tell. Anything can happen in here, and I can’t do anything about it.”

Okumura paused, looking down at the floor to see a syringe filled with white liquid. His eyes widened. The officers here doped the kid, then beat them up. His stomach dropped as the individual before him turned to face the syringe.

“Oh, that?” They began, “According to them it’s a ‘truth serum’. Makes me more ‘willing’ to tell you what happened. I think it’s a placebo effect, but, if that is the case, I still have been given an entire cocktail of drugs on top of that.”

Bastards… There was no time to dwell. “You will be answering my questions for the rest of this,” He continued, “We don’t have much time, so answer my questions quickly and honestly. Now tell me… What was your objective? Why did you cause such a major incident? It didn’t seem feasible as a simple ‘prank’, but there wasn’t a chance to assemble this case for prosecution.”

Yusuke coughed. “We weren’t completely untouchable, Okumura-san.”

“Yes, but did you honestly expect people to believe this ‘other world’ exists through just reading reports?” Okumura stated, “You seem quite coherent, so I’ll make this quick. When and where did you discover this other world? How is it possible to change one’s heart? I need your full account; start from the beginning.”

There was a pause, brief enough to be noticeable. Yusuke looked down at their fingers, rapping against the table. It was hard to think, their head was swimming. Must be the drugs. Or just exhaustion. That’s when a blue butterfly entered their field of vision;

“You are held captive,” A voice began in the back of their head, “A prisoner of fate to a future that has been sealed in advance. This is truly an unjust game… Your chances of winning are almost none. But if my voice is reaching you, there may yet be a possibility open to you. I beg you, please overcome this game… And save the world. The key to victory lies within the memories of your bonds - the truth that you and your friends grasped. It all began that day, when the game started a year and a half ago…”

With the butterfly urging them, Yusuke paused, taking a small breath in.

“It began April 11th…”

#arcanaswap #arcana swap au #arcanaswap au #arcana swap

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staygolddindjarin · 3 years

Text

Grief

Chapter One: History

Din Djarin x Reader x a bunch of other star wars characters

Series Summary: Raised on Mandalore, born into a bloodline of warriors, no one ever expected for the daughter of a Clan leader to go rogue. Leaving the life of security and making the journey to fight in the war against the empire meant many things... giving up the way of the Mandalore, and giving up a solid future. A future that involves an arranged marriage to a foundling from another clan.

Chapter Warnings: Oof this ones kinda angsty right off the bat- ⚠️ attempted suicide?? Kinda?? Age gap (reader is underage, but don't worry it's just for the sake of backstory and also there's no spicy, so...) mentions of death and afterlife, fluff if you like squint really hard

A/n: hello there... I'm sorry to inflict tumblr with this atrocity, but wattpad had to deal with it so tumblr can too. I wrote a different version of this on my wp with an OC name, but I know that not everyone cares for that so this won't include that. Also this series will be such a slow burn... prepare yourself ahead of time because it's going to be agonizing

Words: 6.3k+

SERIES MASTERLIST UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Part 1/?

"Pehea gar mar'eyir ni...."

How did you find me....

He came and sat beside me, the sound of metal scraping agaisnt the ground when he knelt first.

"Gar cuyir te shi solus tion'ad comes olar jii. Ni kar'taylir gar jate'shya gar mirdir Ni vaabir," He responded.

You are the only one who comes here now. I know you better than you think I do.

I heaved a deep breath before letting it out in an exhausted sigh. Speaking in my native tongue was something I always appreciated, but now sitting here it felt nearly uncomfortable, but there was a reason for that.

"I wanted to be alone," The words from my mouth were no longer in my language, and he shifted beside me, trying to convey his confusion without a word.

"Care to elaborate?" He suggested, his asking tone was harsh... but then so was everything else about him.

I didn't really feel like explaning my feelings at the moment. I didn't want to focus on the very thing he was asking about. Even though he wasn't absolutely sure of what he was asking.

"You wouldn't understand if I told you," I trailed off.

"Try me." His voice wasn't any softer, but the sincerity he rarely showed had seeped into his tone.

"I really don't think it's a good idea. You really won't understand, and for all I know you could make things worse off for me than they already are," I didn't like it when he let his guard down around me. I didn't like getting closer to him, even though I was supposed to.

"I can't force you. Whatever it is, I wouldn't get myself too worked up," He sounded hurt, but I couldn't bring myself to believe it was by my words. He was too strong to be wounded by such trivial things.

He moved in his seat, beginning to stand, and for some reason the thought of being alone like I had originally intended seemed like a horrible idea.

I reached out to grip his arm. I kept my gaze forward, knowing that even if I looked at him I could not see his eyes.

"Stay."

He didn't hesitate. He sat down again, and I no longer felt guilt for the hurt in his voice a moment prior.

We sat for a moment in silence, just looking over the cliffside, into the deep canyons that wove in between settlements and encampments of our tribes and clans.

"I don't want this life," I whispered. I had only half hoped he would be paying enough attention to hear me. My voice was soft enough that he might not have.

"What do you mean?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, regretting the choice to even say what I did. I felt a shiver go down my arms, and I felt the wind come into the old open cavern, making the air around me chill. My arms were exposed, for I didn't expect the cold tonight. I didn't expect to be here this long.

"I'll turn sixteen in four days. I will either take the creed, or deny everything I've ever been taught. I'd leave if I do that," I finally gave a glance in his direction. He looked back at me, or at least the beskar did. I could never tell where his eyes were.

"You want to leave?" That pained tone of his voice had returned. The one I felt guilty for without actually believing I had done anything to cause it.

I did. I wanted to get off this planet. Away from the responsibility of becoming what everyone expected of me.

"I have to. It's the only way I will ever be at peace, but I'm not sure if I truly have the strength to stand in front of my family and deny the creed."

I could run away. I had some friends who were planning to jump a transport and join the rebellion against the empire.

They had offered me to be apart of this, but I had refused, believing that I would follow in my ancestors footsteps and take the creed. My father had already provided the beskar for my helmet to be made. It was already in the armourer's possession. All that was left was for me to come of age.

"Where did you go, just now?" He noticed my lack of attentiveness to my current reality, and brought me back to where I was. On the drafty cliffside, with my legs hanging over the end.

"Nowhere. I was just thinking about the future," I had admitted. Though I felt the need to stay emotionally distant from him, and not let myself develop a closeness, I knew I could trust him with my life, which is why I even revealed these things to him in the first place.

"What do you think your future will look like?" The tone that brought me guilt had again left his voice, but was replaced by something else... was it fear? I could not even think of theorizing that he could ever be scared. He was one of the bravest in his clan. Never had he shown an ounce of fear to anyone or anything. How stupid of me to even wonder.

"Merc and his crew are gonna stow away on a crate transport tomorrow. He has contact with the rebellion. He said that I could go with them if I was up for it," I looked down, almost embarrassed at admitting a plan of escape to someone so loyal to this place. Even though he wasn't born on this planet, and even though he wasn't a blood member of any tribe, the foundling was more of a mandalorian than I could ever be.

"You've agreed?"

"No. Not yet," I shook my head. I didn't feel like my reasons were valid. Having him sit beside me, and ask me these things made me realize that I needed to explain myself further.

"Din, I want to be free. I don't want to spend the rest of my life under a code that is so restricting to me, binding my every decision. Everything I'd do would have to be following after the creed."

He didn't respond, and even though his features were shrouded under the reflective surface of his beskar, I could tell he was thinking of something.

"I'm not yet sixteen, but when I am... I don't want to be locked down under a piece of metal. I don't want to have to be bound to this planet or a clan. I want to go some place far away and be something that is different than what everyone expects of me. I want to fight battles against the empire, I want to make my own rules. I want to be free to marry who I love, and not be betrothed to whoever my father chooses for me," I finished off my speech about freedom, but realized the last sentence too late. I should have chosen a better set of words.

Din's head hung down, looking at the wrist guards he wore. He shook his head back and forth and before I could interject, he began speaking.

"So that's why...." he trailed off. I was honestly too scared to say anything now. Why must I speak so bluntly and hurtfully honest to people? Perhaps it is because I had never gotten close to him that now I had no fear in what I said to his face.

"If the reason you plan to leave your family is because of me, then-"

"No," I said harshly, catching him off guard. I was usually snippy with others, but I had never before shown a tendency to be angry or intense with my speech. "Believe me, this has nothing to do with you."

"You have always shown enthusiasm towards coming of age. It's only now, when we are arranged, that you show any difference," He brought on certainty in his voice that I nearly couldn't deny, but the truth was... it really wasn't about him. "I can converse with your father, the rest of the clan... I will find a way to break it off if it will make you stay."

"Din, I don't want you to do that. If you don't believe me when I tell you that you are not the cause of this, then so be it, but I will not have you ruining your good name in my favor, when it won't even stop me," The heat of the moment provided actual, physical warmth for me in the time I was running my mouth off, but now that I had finished, and begun to calm down, I felt the freezing air on my arms again, wrapping them around myself and drawing my legs closer to generate more body heat.

"Are you cold?" He changed the subject, needing something- anything else to say.

"Its not exactly warm up here," My voice was low and sarcastic, but at hearing my words, Din stood up and stepped behind me. Before I even had a chance to ask him what he was doing, I felt his thick woolen cape being draped around my shoulders.

I smiled softly, not even a real, full smile. More of just a small tug from the side of my lips. My real smile was saved for later.

"Thank you."

He nodded as he sat back down, letting his legs fall over the cliffside.

"So you're gonna leave with them, aren't you?" His head turned to face me, but I couldn't dare try and stare at the beskar while thinking of what I would do. This choice was the beginning of the rest of my life.

"I think so," I didn't think. Thinking was what I had been doing too much of. Now I was certain. This was my choice. I was going to start new, and become something different. I may have been born on mandalore, but I was definitely not a mandalorian.

I had a rush of confidence come through me until I remembered what this meant. It all hit me like a dropship coming out of hyperspace. What was I thinking?

"No," I whispered. Din didn't understand my sudden discouragement, but he would soon.

"Merc and his friends already denied the creed. He's a foundling. They all are," I started to tear up as I realized what would happen to my family. The loss of a child in a clan is bad enough, but my family hadn't done anything to dessrve this. They were caring. They had shown me love. They had given me the best life I could ask for on a planet with such a religion.

"Second thoughts?" He asked genuinely, scooting closer beside me as to maybe get more information from my body language, or even my breathing.

"I can't do this. My family would be ruined. If I ran away, they would be punished for it," I felt tears coming up in my eyes. My clan was good to me. The people were kind, and I found solace there. Even if I had always dreamt about something bigger, I couldn't bear to let ruin come upon my family name. It wasn't fair to let that happen, especially when the only thing in the way was my own selfishness. "I can't leave my family."

I let the tears stream down my face, not even bothering to wipe them away. The contrast of the cold wind on my hot, tear streaked face had helped to calm me down a little.

"If you plan on staying, you understand that I am apart of your future here, don't you?"

"Din, I already told you before... you are not the reason I want to leave," I tried my best to keep myself together, but with my wet cheeks and red, puffy eyes, I didn't see how that could be an option.

What if there was another way to freedom?

I sat, trying to think of some stories that the other clan members would talk about.

"Din?"

He hummed in response, keeping his gaze on me.

"Has anyone in your clan ever mentioned afterlife?" I maybe should have taken a different approach to this. He seemed to be rendered speechless by my topic of conversation, but I had to ask.

"You mean after death?" He asked me and I nodded.

"I've heard some stories."

I thought about how it had been described to me. A paradise, with never-ending happiness, and unlimted freedom. Freedom.

"After you die, you appear in the world as another life. You can do whatever you want and no one has consequences for any of it. It's like a world without chaos. Everything is perfect," I remember every word as it comes out of my mouth. The words that were spoken to me, more like taught to me when I was a bit younger by the elders who had retired from their days of battle.

"It sounds too easy." He said, ripping me out of my fantasy.

"That's the point. You don't have to worry about anything or anyone, because you can do as you please, and everything will still be the same. All you have to do is die...."

"Like being reborn into a different world."

"Exactly."

I hesitated to take my safety blaster from it's holster under my hip, and when I did, I looked at it before pointing it out in the distance and testing the trigger. It shot a blast of lazer energy out into the air, landing somewhere beneath us in the canyon.

I decided that this was not an act to pursue at the moment, for Din was sitting right beside me, and the sight of watching a young girl pull the trigger against her own head might be an unpleasant one. Even for him, though he has seen worse.

I put the blaster back in it's holster and stand up from the rocky ground. Din follows suit, looking down at me with quiet concern. I wouldn't have known it until now, but I wondered if he had come to care for me at all during these last few weeks we had been betrothed.

I'd known him the majority of my life anyways, so I knew he must have felt some sort of attachment to me, but in what form, I hadn't ever cared to ask.

He kept breathing heavily as he looked down at me for a few moments, and it almost sounded like he wanted to ask me something. The question was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to utter the words.

"Here's your cape back," I slid the material off my shoulders, trying to hand it back to him, but he pushed it back towards me.

"You should keep it for now. The sun is nearly down, it will only grow colder."

He reached his gloved hand up to my face, and I could swear I felt the warmth of his hand beneath the coarse leather.

I only nodded, and leaned forward, trying to lean my head into him, but he carefully stopped me, his hands on my shoulders. Instead he rested his helmet against my forhead, and the cold beskar wasn't such a bad feeling as it rested there.

"I won't let you down. I promise." He said, clueless of my plans for later tonight, after the tribes were asleep, and no one would be at the cliffside.

"I know you won't. You're a good man, Din Djarin." I paused, trying to gather better words. "A true Mandalorian if there ever was one."

The moment didn't last any longer because of how frigid the air was becoming. It was warmer back with the tribes, they always had a fire burning.

Without another word, we both left the old artillery cavern and hiked down the side of the canyon to get back to our own clan territory.

Once I was at the edge of mine, I turned around to utter a simple goodbye, and found that he was very close behind me. His hand came up and rested on my shoulder, lightly squeezing it.

Maybe this was the last time we would see each other. Tonight I would envoke my plan to freedom, to rebirth. Perhaps we would meet in another life. Perhaps I would have just enough memory of this life to try and find him in the next one. One where I will have freedom.

Tonight I had gotten closer to the metal clad Mandalorian than I ever had before. I didn't regret it. He listened to what I had to say, and there were few who ever did.

His hand fell from it's place on my shoulder, but I didn't let him walk away yet. I pulled him into an embrace, feeling him tense up for a moment before reciprocating. It took him a few seconds to let out the breath he was holding in, but when he did, he found himself relaxing into the comfort.

"Goodbye, Din," My voice wasn't sad, or overly sensitive in any way. I figured it actually sounded quite optimistic.

"You know I'll see you tomorrow." He said, reminding me of the clan meetings. Once a month the clans would gather and each tribe would go over the agenda for whatever was to happen soon. Battles were normally discussed, but tomorrow, me and a few of the others in the other clans would be talked about. Our ceremonial coming of age where we would take the creed.

"Yeah... right. Don't come looking for me, I don't plan on showing up," I said quietly, careful in anyone was to hear me.

He pulled me back at arms length and looked at me, but his black blast shield hid his features and I could not tell if he thought I was crazy or not.

"How come?" His voice was also quiet, as we noticed some of my clan passing by to get to the fire.

"Don't worry about it. You'll still see me tomorrow," I lied. Or did I? Everyone within the five neighboring tribes would probably see me tomorrow.

He nodded, pulling us all the way apart and stepping back.

"Good."

He didn't look like he was gonna walk away until I had gone into the hub of my clan's small village. I turned around and walked towards the large fire, seeing my mother. Her helmet was unmistakable. The pattern of the strill engraved into the side of the beskar. It was her signet. A worthy kill of her days in battle. I would never have one. I walked towards her when she noticed me.

Her modulated voice let out a small chuckle, before I stepped beside her.

"It is well to see you spending time with Din Djarin. Me and your father were afraid you may not have been fond of him," She kept her gaze on the fire, speaking only loud enough for me to hear her, given that the other mandalorians of our village were also gathering around the fire, conversing with each other the same way we were.

"I am fond of him, why would I not be?" I was unsure of what she meant. Sure, I had been keeping a distance between us since my father had arranged our marriage, but I never had shown that I wasn't fond of him. I was polite, and gave him attention when it was asked of me.

"Whenever I or your father bring up the discussion of your eighteenth birthday, you always seem to act like it's the plague," She was smirking under her helmet, and I could tell. I could always tell what face she made underneath her metal covering.

"Maybe it's the fact that I dread getting married at all. I'm not opposed to Din, though," I convinced her. I wouldn't have to try and do that again after tonight.

"Whatever it is, your father will be pleased to know you and him were in each other's company. Although I will stray from telling him you two were alone... you were alone, weren't you?" She turned her metal covered head, trying to figure out from the look on my face.

"Yes," I answered truthfully, knowing there was no point in lying. No damage could be done at this point, except for maybe towards Din.

"And what were you both doing?" She tilted her head, and I let mine drop. I would tell her the truth, because nothing bad could come from it. Or could it.

"We were just talking... about the future," I answered.

"Your marriage..." She suggested, and I nodded, knowing that it did come up in the conversation.

"Yes."

"I shudder to ask if consummating was apart of this conversation," She looked back at the fire, knowing how red my cheeks would turn and how embarrassed I would be.

"No, nothing like that. I can promise you," I shivered at the thought. Din was a good man, but I didn't necessarily need to be letting thoughts like that intrude my mind.

Everyone else around the fire seemed to be distracted by the glowing flames, and my mother was soon the same, so I suggested my absense.

"I'm going to go in for the night, get some rest. Big meeting tomorrow..." I said before reaching out and squeezing her hand tightly.

She nodded to me, and I took my leave, walking towards our living quarters on the opposite side of camp.

I wasn't looking where I was going, and brushed my shoulder against Merc, who was with Gander and Shyloh.

"Sorry, didn't see you coming," I told him, but he shook his head, optiing ti ask me a question instead.

"Don't worry about it, I was looking for you anyway... Did you think about the offer? We leave at sunrise on the north delivery tarmac," He informed me, but I didn't have an answer. I wasn't staying here, but I wasn't leaving either.

"You'll know if I show up," I gave him a smirk, partially just because I was glad to see someone's actual face tonight, and not just a metal facade.

"We can't wait up for you, just know that."

I nodded, letting them get by. Maybe I could go with them. Live this life freely without starting another one.

No.

My family will not be able to handle that. It's better off if I'm dead. At least they won't go on to believe that I betrayed them, turning my back on all loyalty they had ever taught me. They would nevwr wonder if I ever loved them or planned on keeping their wishes.

I could start fresh. They wouldn't have to worry about me anymore. And I wouldn't have to worry anymore either. Rebirth.

I went straight to bed, clutching the woolen blanket beside me close to my chest.

For some reason I felt a pang of guilt in my chest. Something that made the sting of salty tears swell in my eyes. I knew that what I was doing was best, but yet I started having a hard time justifying something so drastic. They would get on fine without me, wouldn't they? They would go on living by the creed. This is the way. They will find a way to go on without me, like they did before I was born. Din will be arranged with another girl as soon as I'm gone. Everything will be alright.

The wetness that spilled over my eyes and down my face lasted hours, even though my mind kept telling itself that it was at peace.

It was in the dead of night, when I gathered a few of my belongings into a knapsack, throwing it over my shoulder before leaving out the tattered window of my private space.

I ventured to the canyon, with the moons lighting my way. The planet was never truly dark, due to the brightness and the number of shinning moons, all the color silver.

I set my knapsack down on the edge beside me. By the end of this, I would be at the bottom, waiting to be found the next day. I just hoped it wouldn't be anyone I knew. Of course, the number of people who ever came out here was only two. Me, and Din Djarin.

I hoped he wouldn't find me. I hoped it would be someone from another tribe that was flying over, and happened to spot something at the base of the cliffside.

I pulled my flask to my mouth, taking a large drink. A bit spilled onto my chin, and I wiped it off, feeling the breeze on my face. It was much colder now than earlier tonight. I wasn't sure if I should pull the blanket from my belongings and wrap it around myself, or skip the process of making myself comfortable and just get this over with.

I leaned over, looking straight at the ground, hundreds of feet below me. My heart started racing, and I got scared. Why shouldn't I be? I have every right to be absolutely terrified. I closed my eyes, trying to scoot myself over the edge inch by inch, seeing if I would just drop.

I nearly panicked when my bottom hit a crack in the ground and I thought I was going over. My breath hitched in my throat and I instantly pulled myself back.

"This isn't as easy as I thought it would be," I murmered, beginning to feel the emotional side of everything rise to the surface again. It didn't help that with the absolute silence that circled around me, I couldn't have any single thing to distract me.

I stood to my feet, wrapping my arms around myself to ease the goosebumps rising on my skin from the frigid air.

I stood right on the edge, lifting a foot over and leaning forward, but before I could fall, I again caught myself, the adrenaline working overtime in my system and beginning to heat me up.

That wasn't going to work either. If I could, I would put a blaster to my temple and pull the trigger, but then it wouldn't look like an accident.

I paced around back and forth a few times, trying to calm myself down, to stop the whimpering and to make my tears cease. It wasn't working. I just needed to get this over and done with. A new life, with endless possibilities was waiting for me on the other side. Freedom was on the other side.

I wiped my face, even though it didn't stop me from crying, but it helped me to see clearer. I backed up, into the cavern, all the way inside until my back hit the wall of the ex artillery carvern. This was it. A new beginning. Rebirth. New life. Freedom.

I ran as fast as I could toward the edge, my eyes closed. I could feel the wind blowing against me even harder with my speed, and I could tell the edge was drawing near. Every step I took, I felt as though it was my last one.

I finally felt my foot hit the edge, but then I never fell. Instead, I was tackled to the ground. Whoever landed on top of me was heavy enough to hold me down, because half of me was hanging off the edge of the cliff.

I didn't dare even open my eyes. This was a sign. Someone stopped me.

I clinged onto whoever it was, and knew almost instantly who was laid over me when I heard him groan.

I cried even harder, my head buried in his armor clad chest, and my arms around his neck and his torso.

He was holding me tightly, one hand cradled my head into his neck, and the other firmly gripped my waist. He rolled us both over and I swear I felt him shaking.

"What were you thinking?" He stressed, his grip on me tightening as if he was scared to let go. I was scared too. I didn't want him to let go.

"You have to talk to me..."

I heaved a deep breath, deep enough to steady my voice so my whimpering didn't interfere with my words.

"I want out. I need to get out," I cracked in the middle of saying so few words, but they conveyed the message I was trying to get through.

"I can get you out, I promise.... But please don't ever try that again," His voice was full of worry, and as I suspected, he was trembling in fear.

"I'm sorry..." I cried some more, realizing that what I had done was now the biggest mistake I ever made, even if I was saved.

"It's okay. You're okay. I've got you," He spoke to me, my voice quieting down as my sobbing came to a slow halt.

I lifted my face from where I had burrowed it into his neck, looking up at him. I didn't know what his expression was, but something told me it was fearful, and worrysome.

"I have to get out of here," I repeated again. The last day or so it became my mantra, and would leave my lips often, even just to myself. Mostly just to myself.

"You're going to. You're going with Merc... when are they leaving?" He asked, his arms still around me like mine were for him.

"At sunrise. They're gonna jump a delivery ship on the north tarmac," I explained, my voice was now hoarse and thick, due to not only all the crying I had done, but also the cold night air that had entered my lungs.

"Sunrise isn't for a few hours..." he let me know, and I nodded, knowing we shouldn't probably leave yet, for the walk to the north tarmac wasn't very long from here.

"Din, if I leave, my family is going to get the fire for my decision. I can't let that happen," I told him, my voice had become more firm, and I needed to convey the importance of how much this meant to me.

"I give you my word, that as long as I live, nothing will happen to your family," He swore, and I could just feel his eyes staring into mine. So much so that for the first time since he put that helmet on, I knew where his eyes were.

"I trust you. And I know that you'll always keep your word," I nodded, a small smile finally forming on my face.

Since it got fairly quiet, and we were still entangled together, I scooted off of Din and opted instead to take the seat beside him.

"I should tell you some things before I go. I just don't want to leave anything unresolved," I admitted, and he stayed silent, waiting for me to continue.

"I know this might sound horrible, but I hated the idea of getting too close to you. It was like if I had formed an emotional bond with you, I wouldn't be able to leave anymore. And the last thing on my mind had been to stay. I've wanted freedom for a while now, I was just always too scared to say anything. And when my father told me that you and him had come to an agreement for arranging a marriage.... it's like it all became more real to me. My freedom would be taken in just days. The creed of mandalore is sacred, and it's truly an amazing thing... but it isn't for everyone."

He sat and took everything in. All the words that just spewed from my mouth like I had been holding them in for ages went against everything I had ever learned. Everything that had ever been put into my mind was the opposite of what I wanted.

"You're young. You want more than what the creed can offer you. I think you'll be able to find what you want wherever you're going," He said, I knew there was more, for he didn't even mention anything that I had said about not wanting to be close to him, but when he stayed silent, I knew he was finished, and that I still had more to say.

"Din, I wanted to tell you that if I had to be married, I wouldn't have minded it being you," I admitted. I would leave no stone unturned before I was to just pick up and leave forever... maybe not forever, maybe someday I would return to my family, to Din.

"I can't say I don't feel the same," He seemed to become stiff next to me, but I soon found the reason when he suddenly reached for my hand with his gloved one.

I took it proudly, intertwining our finhers together.

"You know, I was only an eight year old kid when you took the creed. I have so many memories of you yourself, but whenever I recall them... I can't see your face. I've completely forgotten what you look like," I laughed a bit, though it was quite a sad thing actually. I could not remember him in a way that wasn't covered in metal. I remembered that he was a boy once, and that he would play with all the younger children in the clan set next to his. He played with me and the kids I lived next to. He was a lively, energetic boy. Always doing something... sometimes causing mischievous acts. He was so different now. But the change wasn't bad. Since he'd taken the creed he has been the most noble, fearsome, and trustworthy member of his clan. Completely honorable in every sense of the word.

"I don't look like I used to. It wouldn't do you any good to remember anyways," He chuckled under his helmet, and it brought a smile to hear the melodic sound.

"Well, if I'd stayed long enough to marry you I would find out for myself," I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling comfort by his presence. If I had made the absolute decision to leave this planet earlier, I could have let myself grow a relationship with him. Romantic or not, he was easy to talk to, and I trusted him. He was a friend to me, and I never imagined more, but now his presence was just something that put me at such ease.

"Do you think you'll ever come back?" He pondered, seeing as just the tiniest moonrays shown down into the canyon ahead.

"Someday. I'll comeback and repay you."

"For what?"

"Saving my life," I replied. My attempt to throw my own life away had been pushed away but I had to bring it up. I owed him my life.

"Anyone would have done the same if they had seen," He insisted, and I shook my head.

"How did you even know I was out here?" My curiosity got the better of me, and I asked for an explanation.

"I couldn't sleep, I took a walk through Ronion until I found myself here. I saw you across from the mesa on the south side... I saw you lift your foot over the edge, I knew what you were trying to do," He said, his grip on my hand got tighter almost instantly.

"Thank you. If you hadn't been there, I would be at the bottm of this canyon." I let so much seriousness onto my voice, and it didn't sound like me.

"Don't thank me yet... not until I get you on the tarmac,"

We sat in silence after that, just looking out over the horizon. When the slightest bit of light hit the edge of the planet, we stood to our feet, gathering my knapsack and begining the journey to the north delivery tarmac.

We were there in no time, and before I could even look for them, Merc and his crew were in sight. They were all sitting with their backs against some cargo imports, waiting for the transport to arrive.

"Well, well, well... look at what the shriek hawk dragged in," Shyloh said, gesturing to me and Din.

"Djarin, I didn't expect to see you here," Merc raised an eyebrow at the sight.

"I'm just here to make sure she gets onto the transport safely," He assured them. I looked out of the corner of my eye, and in the brighter horizon I was able to see a cargo ship coming into the landing area.

"Our rides here," I said, and they all jumped up. Since the ships were automatically run, and don't even require droids, it was often very easy to hop aboard and be carried to another destination. Of course, there were only a few who ever wanted to leave.

I myself hadn't ever left Mandalore, neither had I traveled much even on the planet. Only a few trips to visit the the markets with my father. I never even went into the city, for it was told that in the city lived Mandalorians who did not keep the creed. The tribes were convinced that they hadn't actually ever taken the oath, and just wore the armor for the sake of doing it.

The ship's doors opened, pulling me out of my thoughts, and a conveyer belt folded down to let the cargo units be carried out onto the tarmac for later pickup.

"Alright, it's time to head out," Gander said, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder and boarding the transport.

The rest followed after him, but I still had one thing left to do.

Din looked at me, waiting for me to join the others, but I came close to him one last time.

"You promise my family will be taken care of?" I asked, to which he simply answered with a firm nod. However the look on my face gave him reason to believe that his answer wasn't good enough, so he spoke instead.

"I give you my word. If they are not taken care of, I will let you strike me dead where I stand."

That was good enough for me. He truly meant it. He was a man of his word.

I pulled his head toward mine, resting ny forehead against his in a traditional mandalorian kiss. I pulled back when I heard my name being called from the transport.

"Goodbye, Din Djarin," I told him.

He didn't respond, he just let me go, watching intently as I boarded the ship before the doors closed.

The cargo transports were always on schedule, so as soon as the doors closed, it began lifting into the air. I looked out through the transparent view finder on the side, watching him stand as we began moving out of sight.

"You gonna miss him?" Shyloh asked, his brows furrowing as if he were sorry for me.

"Yes, I suppose I will."

I lost sight of Din, and realized we were leaving the atmosphere most likely preparing for a jump to hyperspace.

"But I'll see him again."

Tags are open ig...

A/n: please don't get too caught up in the age gap y'all it's just for backstory purposes because this story is eventually going to follow canon events.... (also i know that this doesn't really portray Mandalore correctly, but let's pretend it does because i had this idea)

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x oc #din djarin x jedi!reader #cassian andor #luke skywalker #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #rough day #din djarin series #din djarin imagine #din djarin fluff #din djarin angst

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arcadejohn127-9 · 3 years

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Ahhh I love your writing sm!! Could I request how the brothers would react to an MC that's super doting and overly loving from the get-go?. Always insists on helping w cooking duty, brings the brothers coffee if they look busy, etc? pls & ty!

Tbh I don't really have a love language over than verbal but this speaks to me

In game I make my MC very much like this, overly positive and always wanting to help. Not because I have to, I could easily pick more honest or teasing options but when it comes to it. My first instinct/Response is those options because I like the idea of being helpful to people

It's only when people start using that for their advantage or make me help them out even though I'm busy or just don't want to do it. That's when there's an issue.

Lucifer:

"oh~ Luci! You still working?"

You peered over at him at his desk, peaking from the space between the wall and the stair railing

He looked up at you with a tired expression, frowning

"I am, what do you need?"

you trotted down the rest of the steps, walking over to him with a bright smile

A tray in hand with coffee and biscuits and apple slices

"I made these for you, I know it isn't much but you're always working so hard... perhaps I can help?"

Lucifer wasn't too surprised, you were always offering your help whenever you could but it still surprised him you were so quick to offer

He didn't know how you had all that energy to face the day and then do more for others but he always enjoyed your company

"be my guest."

You grabbed a mini stool and sat beside him, you'd read over papers with him, massaging his hand whenever you noticed it cramped

He shared the snacks you got him and even revealed the mini snack draw he had in his desk

He put a finger to his lips with a smile

"don't tell my brother's, this will be just between you and me."

He showed you what he had and you picked whatever caught your fancy, happily eating as you looked over the papers

Mammon:

He wasn't use to Someone being nice to him so when you came along and offered acts of service - he was blown away!

Even over time he wasn't really use to it

Speaking of you and your acts or service; you were whistling a happy tune

A thick wallet in your pocket, you headed straight to mammons room

It was as if he could smell the money, he rushed to your side and started eyeing the wallet

"Stop peeking - it's a gift."

He looked at you confused but was grinning

"oh? The great Mammon can't refuse a gift!"

You placed the wallet in his hand, he let out a yelp at the weight of it

It was completely loaded!!! It was stuffed with money!

He couldn't believe it - it had to be a trick! There was no way you were giving him this much money!

"Are ya playing with me? Ha ha human."

"no tricks, you've been struggling with your debt to the witch's so I thought I'd help, I heard you've been getting in trouble with Lucifer more because of it so I wanted to help!"

He didn't even realize he teared up, he jumped towards you and hugged you close

Nuzzling your faces together as he hugged you tight

"You-! YOU DAMN HUMAN- NO YOU ANGEL! YOU'RE THE BEST THING THAT'S HAPPENED TO ME!"

You patted his arm, laughing and it wasn't long before he was planning to spend a big splurge on you despite his issues with money already

Levithan:

He was shuffling into his room, headphones on and just starting to calm down

Today was hectic so he was happy to finally be back home

"Evening! Don't worry, I still used the secret password."

"HUH-?! THAT'S NOT- WHY ARE YOU IN MY ROOM?!"

He threw his headphones off, face bright red

He should of known you were up to something, you kept humming whenever you entered his room

Talking about cleaning up after himself but he kept forgetting due to getting distracted

"I noticed it's gotten really messy so I decided to clean it for you but before you say anything, I know you hate when it's cleaned because you don't know where anything so I've labelled where everything has been stored if it's changed places."

He was still upset, he REALLY hated it when things are changed without him knowing first

But he looked around the room and sure enough, things were still in the cupboards and places he stacked them in and the labels were correct

Everything was completely organized! All the piled up ramen was even gone!

He exhaled a long breathe calming himself down, he was happy - really really happy

"Thanks.... just - can we arrange something next time? But I do like what you did! It looks nice - it's much better now!"

"of course, I'll ask next time - also~ I got you some special ruri-chan themed chips in hopes to make you feel better."

He moves before he knows it, hugging you tight

"STAY WITH ME FOREVER!!!!"

He's definitely embarassed afterwards and gets you out of his room before he makes himself look more like a love sick fool

But don't worry, he texts you wanting to hang out later

Satan:

Satan has been locked in his room after having a big outburst earlier that day

He got overwhelmed from all the noises and threw a book at mammon

You waited awhile before going after him, wanting him to calm down and looked after mammons sore head

You grabbed the book he threw, making a nice calming tea and even made some Apple pie

When you knocked his door he freezed

"Who is it-?! Lucifer, I'm not in the mood for your scolding-"

"it's just me, I got you something!"

He opened the door for you, letting you inside

His room looked clean for once - you didn't doubt he continued his rage into his room and cleaned up to calm down

You offered him a smile, placing the tray on his bed

"I hope you like it, I made it myself."

He looked at the fresh apple pie, his stomach rumbling at the mere sight of it

"you did this...for me? Didn't I scare you?"

You hummed, sitting close to him

"yeah a little but everyone has their bad days, you having one doesn't change anything - though you do need to apologize to mammon."

He sat down by his bed, placing the tray on his lap

"you're right I do, thank you for not just seeing me as some angry creature....I didn't intend to blow up like that."

You patted his arm, still smiling

You two sat together, you read his book for him whilst he ate and drank

He was very bashful at how supportive you are but that was you, you've always been so quick to offer help or do things for people ever since you've arrived

You were good to him, he'll always appreciate that

Asmodeus:

His love language is affection and words

Yours is acts of service

It's perfect!

Though, when it was established you were quick to help and offer your service - prepare for MANY innuendos

He'll come skipping to you, draping himself off the nearest object and asking if you want to help him de-stress

Most of the time you just have spa days or lay around doing nothing

You decided to treat him today seeing as exams were stressing him out

"Asmo! Won't you help me? I have this lovely new-"

He's skidding as he appears in the doorway, ready to do whatever you want

But you just grinned, knowing your plan worked

You grabbed him and shoved him into a chair

Before he knew it; his hair was tied up and his jacket and scarf has disappeared

"oh? What's all this about? Does my love want some special care?"

"nope, I just want to look after you today~ you've been stressing over exams so much, I wanted to treat you like a prince."

He had the biggest grin on his face after that

And treated like a prince he was

You did his skin routine, brushed his hair and curled it

If he even mentioned being thirsty you were straight to getting him a nice refreshing drink

If you're able to - please carry him bridal style - he will love every second of it

"you treat me so well, I know I'm already a blessing to this demonic world but you're just pure light."

He's so love sick, an absolute fool in love

"nonsense, I'm just helping you like usual."

Which is true, you were always being helpful to him

Thats why he loved doing whatever he could for you

"Never leave the Devildom, I couldn't bare not seeing your beautiful face everyday."

You just laughed, massaging his face and gave him a quick kiss

Beezlebub:

Another person who does acts of service as a love language

Though, do forgive him if he forgets due to hunger - he'll immediately make it up to you

At this point he's become a subconscious challenge/game of service - always trying to one up each other

Currently, he was really anxious about his up coming game

It was the biggest one that R.A.D was having and was against a smaller school in the Devildom

The brothers all agreed to come watch him play and even made banners and levi brought glowsticks

You were no were to be seen

The weeks running up to the game you were always busy and whilst you still do some things for him here or there - you were mostly out of the house

But it was but a long lasting plan

You planned on supporting him the best way you could!

When he finally rolled onto the field he felt dread when he didn't spot you in the crowd

He couldn't stop frowning until he saw you, shaking pom poms and running with the cheersquad

That's right, you joined the cheer team to show your support for the lovely demon

"I WANT TO DEDICATE A CHEER TO OUR STAR PLAYER - BEEZLEBUB!!!"

He's so flustered and absolutely shining with joy under his helmet

As soon as he could he came running towards you and hugged you tight

"I was so worried I did something that made you drift away....you did this for me?"

"of course! I'm sorry I made you worried, I wanted to surprise you."

He had to take off his helmet after trying to nuzzle your face, you yelped when it bonked you

"This is the best thing anyone has done for me, thank you (Y/N)."

"you're welcome, now go win that game! Prove those losers that R.A.D is the best school around!"

It was no surprised that R.A.D won

The players all cheered and partied, inviting the band and cheerleaders to celebrate with them

But you decided to have a sleepover with Beelzebub, feeding him plenty of tasty foods as your own type of celebration

"Open wide."

You almost choked on the cake basically shoved in your mouth, laughing as frosting covered your nose and cheeks

You got your revenge but he happily licked what he could

This is the best celebration he could ever get

All because of you!

Belphegor:

Even if your love language wasn't acts or service, you definitely got in the habit of doing it with this guy

He was spoilt from always being carried and pampered by his twin

He could get away with sleeping anywhere as long as he got things done and good grades

But you were always the helpful human, giving him snacks or fluffing his pillows

He's joked about getting a bell so he could call you whenever he needed you

That never happened

"Belphie!! You awake? I got something for you."

He immediately popped his head up and waved to get your attention

You showed him the cup of hot mocha you've recently made; sweet and delicious and has an extra kick to help with keeping awake

"Smells delicious, you made this?"

"yep! Now drink up, we got plans today."

He happily drunk it, feeling more awake with every gulp

By the end of the Cup he was absolutely overjoyed from the taste

Though you almost groaned in frustration when he yawned, so happy that he got sleepy

"you have anymore~? I could drink loads of these- make me more, you know how to make them, I'm too sleepy - it's your fault I'm sleepy."

You flicked his head

Reminding him to not act like a brat

But you did make him more and throughout the day you'd give him a large cup

You needed to do studies and make sure belphegor kept his grades up - Lucifer's orders

But he was already a star pupil regardless so you weren't sure why you had to

But spending time with your favourite demon was never an issue, regardless of his attitude

"We need to do this more, I love it when you look after me."

"I know, now write your answer, I need proof you're working so I don't get strung up."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #gamingclubpresident #aracadejohn217 9 #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #beelzebub obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me luficer #obey me imagine #obey me headcanon #obey me x you #obey me x mc #obey me x reader

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gingersnaaps · 3 years

Text

making things right

you and iwaizumi just aren't meant to be, and if he has to fuck some sense into your little brain for you to understand, then so be it.

wc: 2.8k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): noncon, explicit n*fw, blackmail, emotional manipulation, emotional sadism, dumbification, degradation, fem!reader with inner genitals, has something resembling an actual plot

a/n: i couldn't decide which way i wanted to go with the plot, so i just did both. read a darker version of this here

i don't want minors interacting with my content

Oikawa really doesn’t like how much time Iwaizumi has been spending around you lately.

It’s not that he’s jealous, of course - that kind of pettiness is far beneath him - it just doesn’t seem right. It’s not the natural order of things for someone as pretty as you, all soft skin and glowing smiles, to be practically draped around Iwaizumi all the fucking time.

He’s counted, you know, and today was the thirty-eighth time that you’ve visited their lunch table and somehow ended up on Iwaizumi’s lap.

And doesn’t he also have to think of his team? The Spring Interhigh’s coming up, and it wouldn’t do for one of the most important players on the team to be constantly distracted. He’s seen the way Iwaizumi looks at you: it’s adoration encapsulated in a gaze, the kind of tenderness and admiration that he’s only ever seen Iwaizumi direct at himself.

Oikawa’s going to have to fix this, isn’t he? He’s going to have to make everything the way it should be.

He finds that he enjoys the constant planning and brainstorming and especially the fantasizing far more than he’d anticipated.

Oikawa notes down which days you go home immediately after school, which days you stay, and the routes you take home. He writes down all your friends in a little notebook, familiarizes himself with the classes you take, and pays extra attention to your mood swings.

Of course, as he spends more and more time detailing every aspect of your life, it’s only natural for his thoughts to… wander. In class, he catches his own attention drifting away from Japanese literature to thoughts of what you’d look like strung out on his cock, eyes squeezing out tears as he stuffs you full and claims your pussy. He thinks about how slutty your skirt looks when you’re bending over, and about how much he’d like to rip it off of you. He likes to imagine how Iwaizumi would react, too - the way he’d cry and sob and finally understand that you don’t belong with someone like him.

He finds that these thoughts allow him to tolerate Iwaizumi’s presence near you a lot better, even though the two of you have only grown closer as of late. When you start getting particularly obnoxious with your flirting, he just has to picture you screaming in pain as he fucks you dry, or think about the bulge in your throat from his cock shoved deep inside your mouth. And when he sees Iwaizumi finally ask you out on a date to the ramen place nearby, he almost feels sorry for how short-lived, how temporary, your romance is going to be.

As the weeks go by and the Interhigh draws near, Oikawa thinks he’s got a pretty good idea of how to make it happen.

It starts off almost too easy.

Oikawa’s usually the one who stays late after practice, slamming his serves into the opposite end of the court until his vision goes dizzy and his arms turn numb. But Iwaizumi - bless his generosity - had planned on staying after to help a few of the first years out with their serves.

He waits at the school gates, scanning the entrance for any sign of you. You should be finishing up with your little club soon if the notes he’d been keeping were any indication, and sure enough, he spots your bright teal jacket scurrying towards the gates after just a few minutes.

Oikawa plasters on his friendliest smile, waving you towards him. “Hey,” he greets. “Iwa-chan told me to wait for you today. Do you want to come over? He’ll be along in just a minute - he’s just cleaning up the gym a bit.”

“Aren’t you the captain?” you tease. “So much for being responsible.”

He forces out a laugh. Do you realize how insufferable you are? Because you’re really not doing yourself any favors with the way you’re acting. But he pushes down the surge of anger that threatens to spill over, because he knows you’ll change your tune as soon as you arrive at his place.

He can’t wait.

The walk home is filled with empty banter, useless conversation that flits back and forth on the most boring of topics. To be honest, Oikawa appreciates this - it gives him the mental room to think about much more interesting things, like the way your breasts are pushing against the jacket, or the slight sheen of your lip gloss. Or, alternatively, the way your breasts would look spilling out of his hands, and the way your shiny lips would look smeared with spit and cum.

He places a hand on your waist as he guides you inside his house, but you stiffen. “Isn’t Hajime supposed to have caught up to us by now?” you ask.

Hajime.

First name basis, huh?

It’s a small detail, but it’s the kind of change that has him seeing red at the periphery of his vision, the kind that makes him want to ruin your slutty body until it's bruised and leaking cum. He’s been friends with Iwaizumi for twelve years. Twelve years, and all he’s gotten from him is a nickname. You’ve known him for barely a fucking year, and here you are, sauntering away with his first name.

His hand on your waist tightens, gripping and squeezing at your lovely flesh until he can feel you wince in pain. “I’m afraid it might be a while,” he says, voice brittle.

“What do you mean?” you ask, turning around, your eyes widening.

Oikawa shoves you inside and slams the door. “I mean,” he hisses. “That your precious Hajime won’t be coming around anytime soon.”

Panic rises in your throat, but he slaps a hand over your mouth quicker than you can scream. All that escapes is a strangled cry, weak and thin, one that quickly dies out in the entrance hall of his house. It’s much too quiet to reach any neighbors, you realize with a sinking feeling. The last bit of faint hope you harbor in the back of your mind dies when you realize that there’s no concerned housewife coming to check on the commotion, no fumbling child who might stumble in on you and Oikawa. You’re alone. You’re fucked.

He’d made sure of it.

“Bitches like you are so stupid, aren’t you? Making me spell everything out for you.” His voice drips condescension as he yanks you by the hair towards the bedroom. There’s no reason to put up an act anymore, he thinks, so he can be as rough as he wants with his new toy - he just has to make sure he returns you in one piece to Iwaizumi. Oikawa’s sure he won’t mind if you’re a little beat up around the edges, a little used by the end of this.

As he throws you down on the bed, the thought gives him immense satisfaction. You’d been so eager to do things with Iwaizumi - he’d coaxed out embarrassed confessions from his friend over late-night calls - so he’s almost sure that you’re a needy slut during sex.

Of course, you’re not nearly so eager now, not when he’s holding your squirming body down on the bed.

“You do realize that this is what you get, right? It’s your fault for being this fucking easy. Should’ve thought a bit harder about going home with me. Did your mommy and daddy never teach you to not trust men?” he says, face curling into a smile.

You’re unable to get a word out, mouth dry and cottony from the fear that pierces you. He watches your eyes flicker between the bulge in his pants and his face, uncertain and wary, like a deer caught in headlights. Oikawa can’t help the sick pleasure that bubbles up within him at the look on your face.

“Please,” you say hoarsely. “Please.”

“You have to use your words, you know. You could be begging me to stop, but I think you like this. I think you’re begging me to get on with it,” he says.

Maybe he’s taking it a step too far with the dramatics, but he can’t bring himself to tone it down - not when he’s right about to get to the good bit, and certainly not when he sees those pretty tears trickling down your face.

He looks you up and down appraisingly. He’d always thought you were rather pretty, with your soft halo of hair and your glittering smile - but he can’t deny that there’s a special sort of charm in the way you fidget uncomfortably under his gaze.

It makes him hungry.

As he spreads your thighs apart, all he can think about is how much he wants to claim you, to ruin you, because that’s what he imagines fucking you is like: ownership and victory spread on his tongue while your juices drench his cock. All the filthy dreams he’s had, every fantasy he’s gotten off to late at night, and the stifling heat spreading through his core is begging him to fuck you, to ravish your tight hole until the only name you know is his own.

He doesn’t really want to bother with prep. He’s sure that stretching you out on three - no, maybe four fingers until you scream would be fun, but you don’t deserve that kind of special treatment. Aren’t sluts like you supposed to be wet all the time anyway?

You can feel the outline of his dick dragging along your soft thighs, pressing close to your cunt, a breathy moan escaping his lips from the friction of his sweatpants grinding against your body. It’s not long before he pulls his cock out all the way and strokes it a few times. He grabs at your hips, maneuvering you like a rag doll, and fits the tip of his cock at your fluttering entrance. Nudging at your hole, he pushes in just the head of his cock - enough so you can feel the sting of his girth, but not nearly deep enough to offer any real relief.

You whine involuntarily, and a grin lights up his face. “You’re desperate, aren’t you?” he asks, dragging a thumb against your lips. “Is it because Iwa-chan doesn’t fuck you well enough? Is his pathetic dick too small to fill up that hole of yours properly?” he leers. “I’ve seen his cock before… mine’s bigger, you know.”

“Fuck you,” you mumble. You’re dizzy from the fear and panic that clouds your brain, but anger still seeps into your veins at his crude words.

Maybe if your head was a bit clearer, you would’ve realized that only stupid girls talk back.

Oikawa’s hips snap into yours harshly, his cock tearing at your insides, and you let out a strangled gasp. You’re not prepared for how well his cock stretches you out - it’s curved in all the right places, ramming into your cervix, brushing up against your tender g-spot - and as he ruthlessly pounds your frail body into the mattress, your mind blanks, overloaded with sensation. You can’t remember who you are, or why you’re getting fucked. The only thing on your mind is the raw feeling of being cunt split wide open, of having your insides rearranged until you’re a drooling, dumb mess.

“Fuck who?” he asks, shoving two fingers inside your sloppy mouth,

“F- fuck…” you whisper. His fingers are gripping at your hips so tightly you can feel the skin beginning to bruise, and there’s just too much to handle. He’s everywhere; his fingers probe around your mouth, making you gag, and his cock drags along your tender walls until you’re left quivering around his length.

He leans down to kiss at your forehead, his lips brushing tenderly against your hair. “You can do it, baby,” he encourages, cooing at you. “You can say it.”

“Fuck me,” you whimper quietly, cheeks burning with shame.

“Good girl,” he says, voice sickly sweet. “I knew you could do it for me.”

Fucking you feels so much better once you’re compliant, he thinks. He slows down a bit, savoring the sensation of your cunt twitching uselessly while you writhe on the bed in pleasure. He feels a sharp jolt of arousal as he looks at the marks he’s left all over you, admiring how the angry bruises on your hips and waist are beginning to purple.

You tug at his shirt, sniffling and crying. “Please,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re asking for anymore, not even sure whether you want Oikawa to stop or continue, but you can’t handle the way he’s slowly fucking you senseless.

He raises an eyebrow. “You want it faster?” he asks cruelly, bouncing you into his cock. There’s no response on your end, but Oikawa thinks he’ll take that as a yes. And if that’s what you want?

Well, that’s what you get.

The hum of pleasure in your core intensifies as he picks up speed again. This time, he angles his cock until it grinds down harshly on your sensitive spot, leaving your legs limp and body helpless as your cunt tightens like a vice. As you shudder from the orgasm that washes over you, he spills into your pussy until your hole is leaking white down your thighs.

You can feel him laughing softly as he pulls out and climbs to rest beside you, leaving you stuck in a pool of your own sweat and cum and. He wipes the remaining cum off of his cock, smearing it on your face, but you barely react. You feel so dirty, so tainted and violated, but you’re not sure you could move even if you tried - his cock has left you boneless and made sure that every square inch of your body is sore and aching.

“Well,” he says, breathless. “Better run home unless you want Iwa-chan to know you’ve been all used up.”

Hajime? Your eyes widen, welling up with tears.

Oikawa unlocks the phone in his hand and presses play.

The sounds that echo through the empty room make you feel like screaming, because there’s no denying the solid, tangible proof that’s being played back. Your breathy moans are clear as day, and it’s unmistakable when you hear yourself begging Oikawa to fuck you harder, faster, to split you apart on his cock.

With a sinking feeling, you know there’s no explanation that would ever satisfy Hajime if he heard this audio. You can already see the pain in his eyes if he were to find out that his best friend for the past twelve years had ruined you, fucked you so thouroughly that you could barely tell the difference between pain and pleasure.

You don’t want that, you realize miserably. You can’t have that.

“I’m not going to send it,” he says. He sees hope creep into your expression, as if you’re almost daring to believe that you could go back to your normal life after this little session, but he doesn’t feel any pity for you when he speaks again.

“Not if you stay away.”

You and Hajime don’t belong together anyway, so why would he be sorry?

Your eyes drop as you inhale shakily. Oikawa watches you fumble around for your clothing, entertained by the way you trip and stumble as your weak legs attempt to hold you upright. It makes for an awkward, ugly image - but he can’t deny the warm thrill of satisfaction that runs up his spine as you slink out of his bedroom.

He’s finally making things right.

When you go to school the next day, you’re glad that you don’t have any classes with Hajime for the first time ever. It makes it easier to avoid him, and you purposely choose to sit as far away as possible from their table in the lunchroom. You don’t bother responding to his messages either, every single text of his sending a bitter jolt of pain through you, and you eventually block his number.

Weeks later, you’re not sure he’d believe you even if you were to explain everything. What would you even say? That you’d been ignoring him and ghosting him because his best friend of twelve years had raped and blackmailed you? That someone he knows and trusts was capable of devastating violence? Oikawa and him seem closer than ever, and you start to wonder at your own stupidity. To think that you could ever get in between a bond as close as theirs - maybe Oikawa was right all along.

You’re walking home alone one day, the hazy late-day sun bathing the roads in a shimmering heat, when you hear footsteps and a voice behind you. Your heart hammers unsteadily, getting ready to run, when you hear three words that make your stomach drop.

“I’ve missed you.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa x reader #haikyuu #yandere x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #yandere #hq x reader #hq yandere #iwaizumi x reader #tw.noncon #tw.blackmail #tw.manipulation #lin.n*fw #tw.dc

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beneathstarryskies · 3 years

Text

you can be the medicine (yamato x f!reader)

Word Count: 2,013

Summary: After finding you in the midst of a very bad day, Yamato decides to pamper you. While spooning on the couch, things get a bit heated.

Warnings: smut, cockwarming, unprotected sex, dry humping, oral sex (fem receiving), little tiny bit of angst

A/N: Inspired by these headcanons from @actuallysaiyan! 🥺

Everything felt heavy. It was a dark, draining feeling you couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried. Your plan for a productive day quickly shatters. You beat yourself up over it, despite knowing sometimes these things can't be helped.

By the time Yamato gets home, he finds you buried under the covers of your bed. You’re struggling to keep your breathing steady when he carefully uncovers your head. Slowly you open your tear-filled eyes to look up at him.

As soon as he sees the sadness on your face, he wants to take care of you. He can’t stand seeing you in so much despair. He sits down on the bed beside you, his fingers brushing the hair away from your face.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he asks softly.

He quickly realizes that was the wrong question to ask when it just renders you crying even more. You roll over onto your stomach to bury your face in the pillow. He panics for a moment but quickly pulls himself together. He rubs your back soothingly.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he says softly. “It’s okay baby.”

You sit up and curl yourself against him. Immediately he pulls you completely into his lap. He rubs your back while you cry.

“I don’t even know what happened,” you cry against his chest. “I was doing so good.”

“It’s okay to have a bad day,” he says softly. “It’s okay.”

He lets you cry into his chest for a few moments before you feel him standing up with you cradled in his arms.

“Where are we going?”

“I'm gonna run you a warm bath.”

“Baby,” you sigh. “That would be amazing.”

He sets you down on the bathroom sink. Through teary eyes you watch as he starts the tub with a nice lavender-scented bubble bath. While the water is running, he helps you out of your clothes. For a moment you’re suspicious of his intentions, but soon realize he’s not even trying to touch you in a sensual way. Yamato truly just wanted to help you feel better.

You lift yourself onto your tiptoes to kiss him softly on the lips, causing his cheeks to turn pink. His eyes are still glued to you when you lower yourself into the water.

He kneels down beside the tub with a soft smile.

“What do you want to eat?” he asks. “Anything you want.”

You sigh, “I don’t even know. You choose.”

He knits his eyebrows together, “Are you sure?”

You nod before sinking down in the tub until the bubbles are covering everything except your head.

He leaves you alone so he can order the food. A few minutes later he returns with your bathrobe and slippers for when you’re ready to get out of the tub.

He starts to leave again, but your pout stops him, “Stay with me?”

“I’ve gotta wait for the food-”

“You don’t have to get in the tub. Just sit with me,” you bite your lip.

“Alright,” he smiles as he sits down beside the tub, leaning against the side of it as he looks at you adoringly.

You lift your hand out of the water to stroke the top of his head. He leans back a bit because your hand is wet, but when you gently tug on his hair he leans into your touch.

“I love you so much,” you whisper.

“I love you too,” he smiles.

He leans in to kiss you softly. It takes no time for the kiss to deepen. Your fingers soothe along his jawline, and your tongue slips between his lips. He groans in surprise but eagerly allows access. You’re almost out of the bathtub when the doorbell rings.

“That’s the food,” he says against your lips.

“Okay,” you smile weakly. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

When you’ve gotten out of the bathtub and dried yourself off you opt to just slip on some panties and one of Yamato’s shirts. In the living room, he’s laid out a nice assortment of some of your favorite foods, and he has your favorite show ready on the television. The lights are turned down low.

“This is great,” you kiss his cheek before taking a seat on the sofa beside him.

He starts the show, and the two of you eat in silence. The simplicity of just being here with Yamato, and knowing you could always count on him makes you feel a little bit better.

After you’re both done eating, you start cuddling on the couch while he plays with your hair. You’re not sure how it happened, only that after a couple of episodes of your show you find yourself laying down.

A few moments later Yamato is spooning you, his arm draped over your waist. His hand is up your shirt and pressed against your stomach as he holds you close. He places a kiss on your temple, and you crane your neck for him to kiss your lips. As you lay your head back down on the pillow, he begins pressing a soft trail of kisses down the side of your face leading to your neck. His hand up your shirt starts soothing along your skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers before nipping at your neck.

You press your ass against his crotch. Yamato groans and rolls his hips against you. His hand slips further up your shirt, massaging the soft swell of your breast. You rut against him in response. You can feel him getting hard against your ass.

He pinches your nipple, eliciting a soft moan from you. His fingertips trail down your warm flesh to your core. He rubs your slick through your panties.

“Already so excited?” he teases softly.

“You’re one to talk,” you emphasize your point by rubbing your ass against him.

Something happens on the television catches your attention for a moment, but you’re quickly drawn back in when you feel Yamato move your panties to the side. He slips into you slowly, drawing out each thrust.

“Oh,” you sigh. You try to move your hips against him, but you’re stopped by a firm grip on your waist.

“Don’t rush, baby,” he whispers hotly against your ear.

He pulls all the way out of you then slowly pushes back in, bottoming out. He repeats the action, dragging every inch of his cock against your walls. His lips press wet kisses to your neck as he continues his agonizingly slow thrusts. You lean your head back against his shoulder, letting your eyes flutter closed. He stops moving, when your eyes open he leans in to kiss you. His tongue slides against yours, teasing you softly.

His hand slips into your panties, beginning to stroke your clit in careful circles. You whimper softly as the need for him to move inside of you grows. Taking advantage of him no longer having a tight grip on your hips, you wiggle against him to create more friction.

Yamato grunts then whines, “P-Please.”

“Please what?”

“I’m trying to make this last, baby,” he thrusts into you in spite of himself. “You feel so good.”

Since he made such a nice case, you stop thrusting so he can set the pace. He returns to his slow thrusts while continuing to tease your clit. His cock drags along the most sensitive spots within you. At your core, you begin to feel the pressure building in the sweetest way.

“I’m so close,” you whine.

He speeds up his movements, working to push you over the edge. You let out a moan as you linger so close to the edge.

“Cum for me baby. I wanna make you feel good.”

Three more deep thrusts have you tumbling over the edge, crying out his name as you cum. He continues fucking you through each wave of pleasure, slowing down once you’re steady again.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he kisses your jaw. “So beautiful.”

He pulls out of you, smiling when you let out a whine. He takes your underwear off and throws them off to the side.

“What are you doing?” you ask, only to have him lowering his head between your thighs tell you the answer.

He presses a kiss to your thighs before answering, “I want to taste you.”

Your lips part to speak again. Your words are lost in your throat when his tongue slides between your folds. You lean your head back against the pillows as his tongue teases your entrance. His fingers press into your thighs as he grows more and more intense with his ministrations.

Your hips raise up against his face, and he happily presses his face closer. You feel your orgasm building inside you with his tongue swirling around your clit. Two of his fingers press slide into your wet entrance.

Your back arches as your second orgasm crashes against you. Your fingers tug at his hair, your hips slightly bucking against him. He moans happily as he continues lapping at you hungrily. You expect him to stop, but instead, he keeps going. Steadily uilding your third orgasm fromthe remains of the last one. His fingers pumping in and out of, the sensations it’s bringing are painfully exquisite. Your hands press against his shoulders, lightly pushing yet if he pulled back your hips were rising to meet him. You look down to see that he's palming himself, his cheeks flushing as he realizes you've noticed.

“Oh fuck,” you whine as your orgasm shakes through you.

When you’ve come back down, he sits up between your thighs. His chin is glistening from your juices. He pulls his shirt off, then stands to pull his pants off all the way. You take the moment to discard your shirt. He crawls back on top of you and hooks your leg around his waist. With a deep kiss on your lips, he presses his achingly hard cock inside of you.

His tongue slips between your lips, pressing against yours. With his cock still sheathed inside of you, he lays still. He kisses you passionately while his thumb soothes over your cheek. It feels so good to have every inch of his bare skin against you. He pulls out of you then pushes back in harder than you expected. It sends a new rush of arousal through your core.

The moan you let out causes him to pull out of the kiss with a concerned look.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you kiss his cheek. “Feels good.”

He does it again, watching as your face twists with pleasure. Satisfied with his work, he continues doing this until your toes are curling. Another orgasm rapidly building as he begins going faster. His movements become a bit more erratic and less controlled. The tips of your fingers dig into the muscles of his back, your hips rising to meet each thrust. One of his hands reaches down to rub your clit in quick circles. His cock is throbbing inside of you.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he says. He presses his forehead against your collarbone, small kisses covering the skin.

Your next orgasm is drawn out. As it washes over you, your pussy clenches around him. The pulsing of your walls against him mixed with your cries of pleasure is enough to send Yamato over the edge. He clings to your body as he cums deep within you. His hot cum covering your walls. He keeps thrusting into you until he’s spilled every drop deep inside of you.

Once he’s ridden out his last high, his body goes slack. He keeps his head resting on your chest, his thumb soothes little circles on your hip. You play with his hair softly, every so often kissing his forehead.

You stay like this for a long time until he finally pulls out of you. His cheeks are still flushed with the afterglow.

“You really know how to comfort a girl,” you smirk.

“Only my girl,” he winks at you before going to get a washcloth. He comes back and helps you get cleaned up.

Neither of you bothers to get dressed again before snuggling back on the couch. You lay on top of him with your head on his chest. He pulls a soft blanket over your body then kisses your forehead.

He’s still looking at you even when you shift your focus back to the television. In a few minutes, you’re breathing softly against his skin while you sleep.

#yamato x reader #tenzo x reader #naruto x reader #naruto fanfiction #smut #yamato smut

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beewolfwrites · 3 years

Text

An Iron Box - The Answer

@cheshiya @tenseoyong @szallejhscorner @something-more-original-please @ofsunsetsandpoetries @nek0dzuken @allozaur @hiqhkey @serenzippity

That rooftop scene is growing closer, and so is my excitement :D

I’ve noticed a few new readers, and I just wanted to add a heads up that you can find the Tumblr post links and the AO3 links to each of the three fics at the top of my Tumblr, if that helps at all!

Here’s the AO3 link to this chapter too.

I hope you like it! <3

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

‘Chishiya, I’d hate to be your enemy.’

When Arisu had spoken those words right as he punched in the code, he’d already made his fatal mistake.

You are all my enemies, in a way.

I stood back, watching as Arisu’s bloodied and unconscious body was slung over a militant’s shoulder and carried out of the royal suite. Usagi went next, kicking and screaming her boyfriend’s name. Just as she was dragged out the door, her eyes locked on me, and I could see the sheer betrayal there, the hatred burning and seething under her skin.

I simply smiled.

It wasn’t personal. It’s just how this world works.

Sometimes you have to sacrifice a pawn to reach the king.

The rest of us meandered out into the hall where the two traitors were being hauled towards their fate. I felt a hand clamp firmly on my shoulder, and fought the urge to move away when I saw Aguni standing beside me.

‘You did good, Chishiya. I never did trust those two.’

You should rethink where you put your trust.

‘Don’t mention it,’ I said. ‘It’s the least I could do.’

There was a furious cry down the hall as Usagi bit someone’s hand, followed by a slap, and then silence. I already had an inkling about what would happen to the two of them. Knowing Niragi, he would have some fun with Usagi before disposing of her. Perhaps I should’ve felt guilty. Some people certainly would. But there was a small, satisfied part of me that was glad it was her instead of...

‘That reminds me,’ Aguni said. ‘How did you know about them?’

‘Ah… that.’ I took the walkie talkie out of my pocket and flashed it to him. ‘They tried to get me to join them. I went along with it to find out the details, and you know the rest.’

Aguni’s brows furrowed at the sight of the device, but he didn’t ask to inspect or keep it. That’s when I knew I had him wrapped around my finger.

‘I understand. If you see any other suspicious behaviour, let me know.’

‘Of course.’

I nodded politely as he disappeared down the hall and submerged himself in his room.

Now that those two were taken care of, the militants would be distracted for a little while. That left us a generous amount of time until dark, although the real plan wouldn’t take long to execute, especially now I knew where the actual safe was.

Aguni may have been observant, but not nearly as observant as I was. Knowing that he had come so close to having the cards snatched from right under his nose, it would’ve unsettled anyone. And in such an unstable situation, it was only human nature to seek stability by making sure that your precious items are untouched.

I guess I was wrong about the blank sheet.

There was a room on the top floor that I knew wasn’t currently being used. In such close proximity to the royal suite, it was the perfect hideout where I could talk into the walkie talkie without worrying about eavesdroppers.

Slipping inside, I pulled it from my pocket once again to tune it to a radio frequency I had told Kuina about earlier. Knowing her, she would have tuned (name’s) to the same one right after Arisu’s capture.

I lifted the walkie talkie to my mouth. ‘Kuina?’

There was a drawn out moment of static, then Kuina’s voice crackled through. ‘I’m here. (Name) still needs a minute though.’

I figured as much. Once she realised what was happening, it was inevitable that she would react badly. Having Kuina there to keep her away from Arisu and Usagi had been for the best. And now she knew that I had unwillingly involved her in a plan like this, her opinion of me had probably sunk lower than before.

Is this also for the best?

I sat down on the unused bed, deciding that yes, it was. She would only be a distraction. If it came down to it, I needed to survive. And once we left the Beach, if she despised me so much that she chose to go down a separate path, it couldn’t be better.

But still…

‘Chishiya.’ Kuina’s voice interrupted the quiet. ‘I hope you feel guilty for this. I seriously hope a small part of you realises how screwed up this was.’

I smiled at her lack of understanding. I realised perfectly well, but for the sake of surviving in a world like this, you couldn’t allow yourself to slip to the bottom of the food chain.

‘You’ve changed your tune,’ I replied. ‘Are you backing out all of a sudden?’

‘Of course not. I can’t afford to, and neither can (name).’ She paused, then tentatively asked, ‘Did you know? About her… and you, you know.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Did you know she had feel—’ Kuina’s voice stopped, then she hushed, ‘She’s coming out now. We’ll be upstairs soon.’

The communication cut off, and all I could do was wait until they were in position. Wait, and mull over Kuina’s unfinished question. Obviously, they had been talking about me, but I almost didn’t want to know what they had said.

I waited fifteen minutes, and there was still no sign from either of them. If they carried on at this speed, we would run out of time. Growing restless, I held up the walkie talkie.

‘You two, how are things on your side?’

There was no response, but they would have to reply eventually. What I didn’t expect was her voice to come through.

‘You’re all good to go from where I’m standing.’ Her voice was still dripping with unspoken anger and betrayal, and it was surprising she was even willing to talk to me.

So you’re not as childish as you act. Who would’ve thought.

‘Aguni’s still in his room,’ Kuina followed up with a sigh. ‘We’re getting bored now.’

‘Then should we get going with the plan?’ I suggested. The reply I got was scathing.

‘We’ve already gotten going. It’s you who needs to hurry up.’

That attitude, it was almost laughable. How commanding (name) had become in an instant, as if she weren’t tagging along on someone else’s plan.

‘Patience,’ I reminded her, and turning down the volume on the walkie talkie, I cracked open the door.

In the hall, there wasn’t a soul in sight. It couldn’t have been more perfect. The royal suite was unguarded, and I easily slipped by unnoticed. Inside, the room was bathed in darkness, and it became apparent Aguni hadn’t yet bothered to move his belongings in. There were still traces of the incident earlier. The carpet by the open wardrobe was spotted with blood. Arisu’s blood.

I turned the volume on the walkie talkie back up. ‘I don’t know if Arisu is stupid or intelligent. Hatter was paranoid. He wouldn’t have hidden the cards in a normal safe.’

‘Where’s the real one then?’ Kuina asked.

I turned to the deer painting on the wall. It didn’t particularly stand out as anything special, just a deer’s face and antlers against a blue toned background. And yet earlier that day, despite all the commotion and Arisu’s screams of pain, it had captured Aguni’s focus.

‘When Arisu was caught,’ I said, slowly approaching the painting, ‘Aguni wasn’t paying attention. He was looking towards a certain picture on the wall. It turns out the paper wasn’t empty after all. It contained a drawing instead.’

Briefly placing the walkie talkie on a side table, I lifted the painting from the wall, uncovering the hidden treasure that I had been hoping for. The plaster had been carved up, forming a hole large enough to jam a small safe inside. And sure enough, there it was. A hotel safe, much like the one Arisu had tried, was embedded deep into the wall.

Her voice, sounded through the static. ‘So, you had no idea where it was until then?’

I picked up the walkie talkie again. ‘Exactly. What happened to Arisu was necessary if we were going to find the real safe. Speaking of which, I’ve found it.’

Now it was the moment of truth. The final test to see if my code was correct. I punched the numbers in one by one. 8022. Each one held its own magnitude, and I half-expected an alarm to ring out.

Except it didn’t. The safe display read ‘OPEN’.

‘You used him just for that?’ was Kuina’s tired response.

Really, after all this time, did she not realise that this was the price one had to pay? This world had a certain dynamic. In order to survive, you couldn’t allow yourself to get caught up in guilt or shame.

‘In order to gain something, you have to lose something,’ I said. ‘He’s just a sacrifice. Things like this happen a lot, don’t they?’

'No, they don’t. Not at all. I really don’t want to be your enemy.’

I smiled, remembering the betrayal in Arisu’s expression. ‘I get that a lot.’

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

The deck was like a weight, swinging in my pocket. A surefire sense of power and danger, all hidden within a stack of cards. There was no way of knowing whether collecting them granted any passage back to the old world. But there was also nothing to prove that they didn’t.

Either way, I’m certain something will happen once the deck is completed.

These cards couldn’t be for nothing.

After replacing the painting, I told Kuina and (name) to meet me near the patio exit at the east of the hotel. I could’ve caught up with them on my way down from the top floor, but I wanted to make a small diversion.

I’d never felt any attachment to my room, and even now as I took one last look, there was nothing in particular keeping me here.

Well, maybe just one thing.

Pulling open the second drawer down on the desk, I felt around at the back for the tiny box. It was only small, and the ring inside even smaller. It sat open in the palm of my hand, the silver fashioned into a small sun with a glistening green centre.

Somehow, its weight was even heavier than the cards.

Is there any point?

I could’ve easily slipped it into my pocket, but it was practically useless. Even if I gave it to her, she would instantly reject it.

I placed the box back in the draw. It would stay a secret for the next person moving into this room. As I shut the drawer, I suddenly remembered another, darker secret hidden inside the one below. I opened it up, seeing the little souvenir I’d taken from my first game.

The pistol glistened inside, metallic and dangerous. Now that would certainly keep Niragi at bay. But again, was it worth it? It didn’t hold many bullets, and it wouldn’t stand a chance against a rifle. Once we were out of here, I could probably find something a little bigger, perhaps in Tokyo’s empty Yakuza hotspots.

I left it there along with the ring. Even walking away felt like tugging at a string that kept pulling me back towards that tiny box. I would have to rip that string apart.

Making my way down through the hotel, I strolled outside, dipping into the smaller paths where the patio was peaceful. The only sounds were the faded music drowned out by wind, and the soft trill of crickets. Two silhouettes came into view, one basking in the glow beneath a lamppost, the other hidden against the wall in its shadow.

‘I guess we won’t be needing these anymore.’ I pulled off the wristband I had gotten so used to wearing. Just as I reached the brick archway at the edge of the grounds, Kuina spoke.

‘Don’t you feel sorry?’

I paused. ‘Sorry?’

‘About what happened to Arisu,’ (name) said. ‘I feel really sorry for him. We both do.’

Kuina hummed in agreement. ‘Don’t you?’

I turned, glancing from Kuina’s frown to the figure behind her. No matter how hard she tried to hide in her friend’s shadow, I could always find her, especially when her eyes looked so full of anger and hurt. Standing there, both bracing themselves against the cold, the two of them echoed off one another in perfect harmony.

‘I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.’

I knew what line came next. She didn’t have to sing, so long as she was still breathing. Perhaps I could make her understand.

‘Is there anything we wouldn’t do in order to survive?’

Clearly, there was. Their eyes widened, as if the truth of this world hadn’t fully hit them yet. As if all my efforts had been for nothing in their eyes.

Fine. Very well.

I smiled, no longer caring to hide the bitterness. ‘If you both feel so worried, then maybe you should go and help him.’

And of course, neither of them budged. They knew they couldn’t. They were both so happy to come with me if it meant escaping the Beach, yet they still felt the right to criticise my methods. I turned back towards the arch and took the first step forward into freedom, only to hear that tiny, oh-so-familiar sound.

A buzzing.

‘It can’t be,’ I muttered.

This was always a possibility. But why here? Why now? Why, when I was so close to winning? Any other time, and I wouldn’t have minded. This, however, was simply annoying.

I was so deep in thought, I barely registered the footsteps behind me… the familiar form sliding past me… walking closer towards the arch.

‘Stop.’

My hand moved on its own, grabbing her wrist and tugging her back just in time. For one small second I felt the heat of her skin, right before it was yanked out of my grip.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ She touched her wrist as if it had been burned, unaware that it had been the other way around.

I couldn’t answer. The cold had settled back in, the emptiness. It only confirmed that nagging suspicion I already knew. The reason I couldn’t rip the string apart. She was the answer.

Kuina appeared at my side, waiting for an explanation. Her presence reminded me that there was something far, far more pressing at stake. Suddenly remembering the wristband I was holding, I tossed it into the arch.

A glowing red laser shot through the centre and it clattered to the ground.

The timing was almost ironic, too perfect to be true. Almost like the gamemasters had been watching us all along, just as they had with that little stunt they pulled in the Eight of Hearts. As frustrating as this was, I had to admire their creativity.

I sighed, turning around to see a wall of lasers appear along the parameters of the hotel.

Touche.

#alice in borderland #aib #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #Chishiya x reader #chishiya x oc #Imawa no Kuni no Arisu #chishiya alice in Borderland

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staynskz · 3 years

Text

Making Amends

Pairing: Husband Bangchan x Wife female reader

Genre: angst

Word count: 2.5k

Warning(s): None

Prologue: You and Chan had dated for some time before deciding it was a good time to marry. You both had children soon after marriage; Aris, your daughter, is 5 years old, and Eli, your son, is 3 years old. You both had a wonderful marriage. Compromises were always made to work around everyone’s schedule, but you were sure to make sure everything was always in order around your home. Sometimes, those compromises were you being too forgiving at times. It was hard, but it could be worse. Chan was always helpful, but there were also times where he overworked and forgot to worry about his responsibilities at home. Those were times that got dark and hard for you.

There were so many blessings in your life: your two children, Aris and Eli, your husband, Chan, and so many more people you’ve gotten to know over the years. Sometimes, life would get in the way, but it was so hard to try and smile through it all. You understood that Chan was busy producing and leading the group, but you also knew that there could’ve been ways around both of your schedules to make time for each other. If you could do it, Chan should be willing to compromise too. You felt like you were giving too much time to everyone else but yourself. It was getting harder and harder every day. Chan kept coming home late and was overworking himself, but you loved him too much to bother to ask for any help. The children were still so young, and you wanted nothing but to watch them grow up. It was too much now. You were overthinking, weren’t you?

After finishing the dishes, showering the children, and tucking them into their beds, you finally were able to sit on your bed before ending the night by closing your eyes. You couldn’t close your eyes. You didn’t know what tomorrow held. Chan still wasn’t home either. All of the thoughts in your head brought you to tears. You hadn’t cried like this before. You were broken, burnt out, and exhausted. Being a loving mother, doting wife, and friends to others was too much now. You could only keep crying into your hands. It felt like it was nonstop. You weren’t you anymore; you’d changed. Wanting to avoid getting puffy eyes in the morning, you decided to get up and clean your eyes before going to bed. As you looked up, you saw a figure that made you jump from shock. It was Chan. Trying to wipe your tears away before he could see them, you smiled at him saying, “hi babe, you’re home early.” He didn’t say anything. He just stared at you. He knew you were hurting. You always did that. You hid your pain regardless of how much it hurt you to keep it altogether. To avoid the worried stare he had in his eyes, you got up to go to the bathroom. Hurrying past him, you hoped that he wouldn’t say anything about your crying. Chan knew how to read the room. He knew that you didn’t like to talk about anything until you were ready. “Babe…why were you crying?” he asked quietly. Darn it! He asked! Shit! Shit! Shit! What do you say? Turning around, you saw that Chan was still staring at the bed. Before more tears could form, you assured, “I was just watching a really good movie. It touched my heart, so I’m just relaxing from it.” “You don’t cry like that over movies, Y/N…” “Well this just reminded me of a lot of sad stories I’d heard about,” you were doing anything to lie to avoid a scolding from Chan about you not opening up to him about your problems. “Y/N-” “I’m telling the truth, Chan, it’s not that serious-“ was all you could muster before he turned around and stared at you. That stare was like nothing you’ve ever seen before. He was so tired, yet so worried about you as well. His eyebags were dark and bigger than the night before. You just hoped that he would let it slide. You went silent. When Chan looked at you like this, you were unable to lie and say that you were okay. He knew you, inside and out. You were both inseparable-soulmates as some would say. The red string that ties your souls together was being pulled from you both and drawing you far away from each other. “Don’t lie to me, Y/N. You know I don’t like it when you lie. We said we would be open and honest from the day we’ve been together until now. There’s nothing that we should be keeping from each other.” “Chan, I…” Should you keep lying until you get out of this rut? You were able to fool Chan for awhile sometimes, but this time it wasn’t going to work. “I’ve just been stressed…” “Stressed about what?” he asked as he slowly approached you. “About everything, honestly. There’s so much that I need to take care of, and the kids are still growing up, and I’m trying to make dinner every night, I’m trying to sleep every night, I’m trying to make sure you’re doing okay, I’m trying to make sure all of my duties at work are complete before the day ends, it all just keeps going around and around, Chan. It’s never going to stop. And… it feels like you’re not here to help me, Chan. I feel so alone, and I’m trying to make sure everyone’s doing okay while I’m not okay…” Chan was always a good listener; whatever problems you had, he was there to offer knowledgeable advice. He was silent this time around. You looked up at him staring straight down at you. “So, you’re saying you’re mad at me?” “Wait, no. Chan, I’m not-I mean-I am, just a little bit, but-” “Why didn’t you just say it then? You know that you could’ve just told me. I’m always here to listen to whatever problems you have, babe.” “Well… you’ve been so busy producing that I didn’t want to bother you at all. I wanted to make sure you weren’t stressed for whatever project you have going on at work.” “But we said-” “Yes, Chan. I know what we promised each other when we got married, but sometimes it’s not enough for-” “So you think I’m not doing enough?” “What? No. Chan, I didn’t mean it like that.” “You could’ve just said it to me if you wanted me to do more, Y/N. You know that I love you and I want what’s best for our family. Why do you-” “How am I supposed to tell you when you’re always busy, Chan?!” There it was… your limiting point. You hated it when people asked you why you didn’t say anything in the beginning. You were too considerate for your own good. “How am I supposed to talk to a husband who’s never home?! My husband isn’t home to help me cook dinner, bathe the children, and can’t even get home to eat least enjoy dinner with me?!” “Oh, so you ARE mad at me. Well, if you said anything to me, I would’ve-” “Stop saying that! Stop saying that if I said something you would’ve done something, Chan! You know that I’m busy, yet you leave me home with the children to care for, and I do everything for this house! If you truly cared, you would’ve SEEN that I was exhausted from doing this all on my own!” “Well, I’ve just been-” “Sometimes, it doesn’t even feel like I’m a married woman, Chan! These women out here have husbands who worry about them, who take care of them, who do everything they can to make a house function, but you just worry about work! Do you even care about us?! Your wife who works AND cleans your house?! Your children who barely get to see you as they’re growing up?!” You weren’t thinking clearly. You were angry. You were angry at life, the world, and especially Chan at this moment. You didn’t think those words would come out of your mouth, though. You never meant to say hurtful things to each other, but stressful times would sometimes get the best of you both. Chan scoffed at your response and walked backwards toward to closet. “Well, I’m sorry that you feel like a single mother, Y/N. Sorry that I can’t be the perfect husband for you or be the perfect father for our children.” “Chan…I didn’t mean that. I-” “We’ll just leave it at that,” Chan said as he grabbed his suitcase and jacket, leaving the bedroom. You knew where he was going… back to the studio to produce more. You were frustrated as hell, but you had work in the morning and were already tired from the day, so you decided it was time to call it day and slid into the covers to sleep.

Over the next few days, you and Chan barely spoke to each other. You didn’t want to speak to an angry Chan, and hurting him with your words was enough. However, the kids were able to sense the tension between you and Chan. They knew that on normal days, mommy and daddy would wake them up, and everybody would get ready together. On normal days, mommy and daddy would cook dinner together with daddy back hugging and kissing mommy until mommy had to kick him out from being too annoying. When cleaning after dinner, mommy and daddy would have a dance session in the kitchen. On normal days, daddy would put on a show for them, and have them all tackle and tickle mommy until mommy gave up laughing. On normal days, daddy would come home from work early, and daddy would share what daddy created in the studio. The past few days weren’t normal. Aris and Eli knew that. Even at a young age, they knew that mommy and daddy weren’t happy. On Saturday morning, Aris asked you, “Mommy… are you and daddy mad at each other?” Lost in your own train of thought, you snapped back into reality as your daughter tapped you for an answer. “Huh? What was that, honey?” “I saidddd are you and daddy mad at each other???” What were you supposed to tell your kids? That you and Chan had an argument? Hell no. “No, baby. We’re fine. Don’t worry about it, okay? You need to eat your breakfast before you go to uncle Binnie’s, okay?” Eyeing Eli suspiciously, she goes back to eating her breakfast. Trying to hide the tears brimming in your eyes, you smiled at the kids before going back to eating your own breakfast. Today was a Saturday, and you didn’t feel prepared to work at all. You had been hauling your ass around at work for the past few weeks preparing for a project you had to present today. They’d pushed dates around, causing you an even bigger headache, and making you have to change plans last minute. The kids were dropped off at Changbin and his s/o’s house. They’d volunteered to take care of the kids since you and Chan were both working.

After work, you were on your way to Changbin’s house. Outside his house, you saw Chan’s car parked in front of his house. You texted Chan that the kids were going to be at Changbin’s house, but he never replied. You were surprised he didn’t inform you if he was going to pick them up or not either. Inhaling deeply, you got out of your car and walked towards the front door. Ringing the doorbell, you heard little bits of laughter and shrieking coming from inside. The kids always loved their uncle Binnie; he never failed to entertain them. Chan was the one who came to open the door. You stood by the front door, instructing the kids that their fun time with uncle Binnie was over. Bummed out, they said bye to their uncle and auntie Binnie.

After tucking the children into bed together, Chan approached you. “Why do the kids know that we’re not happy right now?” “What do you mean? I don’t understand.” “The kids told Changbin that we were arguing and were mad at each other,” he explained. You stood speechless. You knew children would say random things, but you didn’t think your daughter could pick up so easily on small clues. “Don’t act so innocent, Y/N. I know you’re always gossiping on the phone with your girlfriends about how unhappy you are in our marriage.” Those words stung. They hurt even worse than if someone were to take a knife and penetrate your heart with it. “How would I know, Chan?! Maybe it’s because they don’t see their father! Maybe it’s because they know that none of us are happy in this damn house!” “Don’t play the victim. I know that it’s because of your big mouth that our children have to hear about this!” There he was… attacking you again-for something that was entirely out of your control. “MY BIG MOUTH?! I HAVEN’T EVEN SPOKEN TO MY FRIENDS FOR THE PAST FEW WEEKS BECAUSE I’VE BEEN SO BUSY! IF YOU ACTUALLY KNEW MY DAY TO DAY SCHEDULE, YOU WOULD KNOW THAT OUR CHILDREN AREN’T DUMB, CHAN! YOU WOULD KNOW THAT YOUR CHILDREN ARE GROWING UP WITHOUT YOU!” He was angry-trying to stay calm, but the silence was from anger, not from understanding nor from love. Where did your marriage go wrong? Where did you both turn into hate-filled lovers, who can’t even speak to each other without raising your voices? You didn’t know, and you didn’t care. You had been patient enough. You were silent for too long. It wasn’t going to change anything. There was so much that you wanted to say, but you knew Chan wasn’t going to do anything either. His compromises were the bare minimum. To hide the tears that were falling down your face, you turned your back towards Chan, and walked out the door. It was hard enough that you felt like a single mother. Before leaving the room, you admitted to Chan, “You know what, maybe I am unhappy in this marriage. I do feel like a single mother taking care of my own children…Maybe it’s time we find new things to do rather than stay in this worthless relationship, Chan.”

Your marriage was failing. Not was… is. Your marriage was something you’d wanted to be so proud of since you were a little girl. You imagined yourself being the caring, doting mother and wife, and being the one everyone else was envious of. It was the total opposite now. Everyone pitied you because you had a husband who didn’t care for you, probably hated you as well. There were so many things going on inside your head, you couldn’t think clearly anymore. At work, you couldn’t focus. The words you’d said to Chan-that you knew pierced his heart as well. You felt so guilty. Was your marriage going to end in divorce? Was it going to be the relationship you promised to never have? Either way, it was going to be one hell of a struggle trying to please everyone’s schedules.

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Author’s Note: Hi, I’m just barely starting out this series. I’m not sure how many parts I’m gonna write, but hopefully you guys liked it! :) Give me some critical feedback or advice on my writing if you want too! I want to continuously write better!

Tag list: @crispbang

#husbandchan #bangchanxreader #dadbangchan #bangchanstraykids #straykids #bangchanangst #skz #husbandbangchan

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding XVI

Part I - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Part XIII - - - - Part XIV - - - - Part XV

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Masters Aerdo, Koon and Nu lurched forward in distress as Obi-Wan unceremoniously slammed his mental walls into place.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” He reassured them, smiling weakly and rubbing his temples.

“Cutting yourself off so abruptly from the force after a meditation that deep is dangerous,” Master Aerdo said, alarmed. “Please endeavor to be more gentle with yourself, Master Kenobi.”

“Of course, I simply thought it would be be best to allow for some, ah, uncertainty with my retreat to counteract my... necessary indiscretion.”

“Uncertainty!” Plo scolded. “If I hadn’t been in same room as you I might have thought you were dead!”

“Well, yes, that’s rather-”

Vokara Che burst through the door, followed closely by Bant Eerin.

“PLO KOON! WHAT IN THE GALACTIC CORE HAVE YOU DONE TO MY PATIENT!”

Master Koon took a step back, “Vokara, please-”

“I’m perfectly alright, Master Che,” Obi-Wan interjected, “Master Koon has helped me beyond what I can ever repay. I- Oh dear. You all have.” Obi-Wan looked around, guilt creeping into his voice. “Oh. OH. I am so sorry for what I must have put you all through. I- I assure you, it wasn’t what it looked like. Thank you so much for all you’ve done to save me from...well, my own foolishness, I suppose. Oh that must have been- I deeply apologize for the inconvenience I’ve caused.”

Master Che took a deep breath. “Your good health is repayment enough for whatever debt you feel you might owe. May I take your recent...reaching out to mean that you have begun to regain your sense of where and when you are and no longer feel the need for more...drastic means of escape? Alarming raising of shields notwithstanding?”

Obi-Wan winced. “I am...still confused on a number of points, I admit. But I’ve cleared up most of my important doubts. Its... 7957 by the Centralized Republic Calendar. I’m in the temple Halls of Healing on Couracant. Everyone in this room is a fellow member of Jedi Order.” Obi-Wan hastily wiped away a few tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

He cleared his throat as the five onlookers watched with a mixture of sympathy and confusion. “It’s going to be difficult, but I owe you all an explanation. Actually I need to explain a few things quite urgently, but first-”

His train of thought was interrupted by the roiling force presence that proceeded Mace Windu’s entrance. Mace paused at the foot of the bed, eyeing Obi-Wan critically as everyone else shuffled slightly out of the way to the edges of the increasingly crowded room.

“Master Kenobi. You’re looking better.” He finally said.

“I’m feeling better. You really can’t imagine. I’m sure you have questions, but first I must insist- ow!” Obi-Wan jerked back, startled by the sudden rap of a gimer stick on the side of his head.

“Master Yoda!” Che and Aerdo scolded as the Grandmaster suddenly appeared on the nightstand to get a better look at his troublesome great-grand padawan.

Vokara actually grabbed the wizened elder with both hands, lifting him by the armpits and chastising him like a misbehaving youngling. “That is not an appropriate greeting for any of my patients. Shame on you.”

“Patients, hmm? Shame, shame indeed.” Yoda muttered, dangling in the air. “Gone, my patience is. For making us think he had joined the force too early, shame indeed on Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head. “My apologies, grandmaster. I had strong reason to believe that I was trapped in a hallucination. I will explain everything but first we really need to comm-”

“Your suicide attempt, I was not referring to, no. Do such a thing in your right mind, I know you would never. Concerned, we were, of course. Halfway fake your own death, the first thing you did was, after all this! The reason I am hitting you, that is! Too old for this, I am!”

“I understand, and I had reason for retreating so suddenly. Which I will be happy to explain. But first we really need to do damage control and contact-”

- - - - -

“ANAKIN! Anakin, what’s wrong!” Padme shook her husband’s shoulders as he knelt, collapsed on the floor.

“It’s- Obi-Wan” he choked out. “He was here! He was awake and alive and then he just- stopped.”

“Oh force. You don’t mean he’s-”

“I don’t know. I can’t sense him. I don’t know.”

“Go. And when you find him, please comm me to let me know if-”

But Anakin was already gone.

- - - - -

"Oh...hm.” Master Tiin shuddered slightly.

“Sir? Is everything alright?” Captain Rex asked.

“Does this have something to do with General Kenobi’s illness?” Boil called out anxiously. A low murmur rippled through the mixed meeting of high-level strategic and logistical officers.

“His- force presence grew rather strong for a moment. I would have to contact the temple to-”

“He’s dead.”

“Master Krell!” Saesee Tiin chided as the room recoiled in horror. “We don’t know that.”

General Tiin addressed the anxious room, “His force presence did cut out abruptly, but there are a number of explanations for such a thing, and jumping to the worst case scenario prematurely does us no favors.”

“Perhaps we should pause the briefing while you contact the Temple, sir.” Commander Cody offered stiffly.

“Out of line, Clone.” General Krell said, sneering. “Regardless of the status of your former General, we depart at 22:00 hours this evening. This briefing will continue. Interrupt with such a meaningless and insubordinate suggestion again and I will have you put on review for decommissioning.”

“Yes, sir.” Cody replied.

“That’s enough, Master Krell. I realize tensions are running high but please control yourself.” Tiin sighed. “We do need to finish this planning session. I apologize for the disruption, everyone. Now if you will all turn your attention back to map 3a of the Ghost Nebula...”

Command training included modules on compartmentalizing unhelpful emotional responses in order to focus on tactical information, so that’s what Cody did.

- - - - -

“If you have some Sith-related intel to divulge, I think it might be more appropriate to contact the rest of the council first, Master Kenobi,” Mundi said, discarded fluid drip awkwardly jabbing him in the side .

“I agree, but trust me, first, someone really needs to tell Anakin I’m not dead. If you don’t want to do it, I will,” Obi-Wan announced, trying to get up.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Bant snapped, pushing him back into bed.

“I- Oh Bant, It’s- some things are fuzzy, but you were one of the medi staff who came to my quarters after I...”

Bant glared in answer.

“I am so sorry, again I-”

“Obi-Wan, try not to worry too much about apologies right now. The important thing is you have people who care about you and we are all pleased by your renewed vigor for life.” Healer Aerdo interrupted, maintaining a death grip on Yoda while Che fussed over Obi-Wan’s vital readings.

“I’ve commed Skywalker but if he’s acting as I suspect, he’s not checking messages” Master Windu said from his place in the corner.

- - - - -

A Chiss Padawan leaned over to whisper to her Master as the mental flow halted unceremoniously. “Master, you don’t think...”

“Is something wrong, young one?” Chancellor Palpatine called out, smiling warmly at the young apprentice and drawing all eyes in the sub-committee meeting to the cloaked pair standing watch at the door.

“Ah, no, Supreme Chancellor, thank you for your concern. We simply observed a minor disruption in the force,” Her Tholothian Master replied smoothly as the padawan attempted not to fidget. “I’m sure the Council will contact us if it’s anything worth reporting to the Senate.”

The meeting continued but more than a few senators spent the remainder of the session discretely swapping messages speculating on what could have ruffled the usually silent and stoic guardians.

- - - - -

Shouted curses and wailing speeder horns followed Anakin as he raced to the temple.

I swear to all the gods if he’s alive i’ll never kill anyone ever again I should have been there was no warning in the force please help me if he’s dead i’m going to kill everyone on this planet except Padme and then im going to kill Dooku and Grevious and then

- - - - -

“Master Fisto!” Ashoka said, turning anxiously to the Natuolan Master as Obi-Wan’s presence evaporated. “Do you think Master Kenobi is alright?”

“We’re quite a distance away,” Kit replied soothingly. “There’s a very good chance he simply had to withdraw because he was overreaching himself to say hello.”

Ashoka frowned. “Can we contact the temple to make sure? Please?”

“I’ll send a comm, but we might not get a reply right away. We’re only a few hours out from the planet, so you’ll be able to check in on him yourself soon, alright?”

“Yes, Master.”

- - - - -

“Ah...perhaps we should shift into another room? This one is a little small for the...full Jedi Council. And I wouldn’t mind the opportunity to change out of these patients robes and into something a little more appropriate”

“You’re not going anywhere or changing into anything until I clear you.” Che snapped, elbowing Koth out of the way to jab Obi-Wan with another device.

“If one of the high council is unable to leave this room, than the high council is more than willing to meet here.” Master Gallia said calmly from her perch at the foot of the bed.

“Well I’m not leaving.” Master Nu announced. “I still haven’t gotten the full explanation Plo promised.”

“As a healer-”

- - - - -

Klicks apart from one another, Sith Assassin Ventress and Knight Vos unknowingly shared identical frowns as Quinlan softly gave voice to what they were both thinking,

“What the fuck, Kenobi.”

- - - - -

“WATCH OUT!”

“Kriff!”

“...Was that Anakin Skywalker? Did The Hero With No Fear just cut us off?”

“Must be some serious business for him to be flying like that.”

- - - - -

Count Dooku redirected the Invisible Hand; his plans for Kiros would simply have to wait. Sidious might prefer the Umbaran seige to be a long, protracted affair rather than a decisive win one way or another, but if Tyrannus’s suspicions were correct, than the time for kowtowing to the Sith Master might be near its end. Sidious had long underestimated his Grandpadawan. He suspected that whatever play was going on was less the act of a new player and more the opening move of an experience one now shifting his attention to another arena.

The ‘attack’ was likely a deliberate ruse to allow Kenobi to slip into the shadows and finally begin addressing the hint he had provided on Genosis long ago. Now, more than ever, Dooku needed to manage Separatist affairs strategically. Kenobi’s search into the force and subsequent rapid withdraw was too deliberate to be anything but the first steps of a larger plot.

- - - - -

“Ah, Master Mundi?” A young apprentice healer asked the Cerean Master guarding the entranceway to the wing. “There’s a small crowd gathering outside. All very orderly, of course. But they want to know Master Kenobi’s Status. What should I tell them?”

Mundi Sighed. “If they ask, tell them Master Kenobi’s wellbeing is protected under healer client confidentiality and the highest security clearance.”

Ki-Adi paused. “If Anakin Skywalker, arrives, just- send him this way, as you would a Council Member, understood? Don’t try and stop him.” he added begrudgingly.

“I see.” the padawan replied with impressive professional calm, "Thank you, Master Mundi” She bowed and returned to the front.

- - - - -

Maul staggered out of his cave. Kenobi was taunting him now. Kenobi would pay. Kenobi would see. Kenobi couldn’t die before Maul killed him.

- - - - -

A gap opened in the somber crowd as Anakin sprinted through, heart in his throat.

He should have been here there was no warning he should have been there

“Skywalker!” Mundi barked. “Calm yourself!”

Anakin stared at him with wild eyes and the High Master faltered, frightened for a moment. Before Anakin could say or do anything to the council member, Master Windu appeared. “Over here.”

Anakin blurred past him, mind tormenting him with images of nooses and blood and broken bodies and incomplete-

“Hello there, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sat upright in bed, smiling at him and surrounded by far too many Master’s for anyone’s comfort. Least of all the Masters, now that Mundi and Windu were forcing their back in.

Anakin took in a strangled gasp, “Obi-Wan- you- i thought you were dead.”

Obi-Wan’s welcoming smile faltered. “Oh Anakin, I’ve really put you through a terrible ordeal the last few days, haven’t I? I am so, so sorry- I- I promise I didn’t intend to leave you like that. Come here, I’ll- its going to sound quite impossible but I can explain everything. There’s so much I have to tell everyone-”

Anakin threw himself forward, ignoring Jedi dignity and who he was knocking over.

He heard a tut of disapproval behind him as he embraced his Master.

“Oh be quiet” Master Koon chided someone. “Honestly, he’s padawan age, have some compassion.”

Anakin decided to ignore that in favor of crying over Obi-Wan for the fourth time in as many days, utterly exhausted.

Obi-Wan hesitated for a bare moment before wrapping his arms around his brother and friend for the first time in years (at least for the first time where he was aware that it was real and oh force he was really going to have to meditate to fully understand what he had said and done and what everyone had said in response).

“Perhaps we should give them a moment to collect themselves.” Master Aerdo offered diplomatically. Having largely reached their threshold for open displays of emotion, the Council non-verbally came to an agreement.

“You two have five minutes to pull yourselves together,” Master Windu said severely.

“Of course, Master Windu. Thank you.” Obi-Wan rasped.

The group shuffled out with remarkable good grace, considering the number of inhabitants in the room, or rather remarkable bad grace, considering they were all supposed to be Jedi Masters.

Plo Koon patted them both on the shoulders before filing out. Master Yoda leapt nimbly out of Bant’s arms to land on the nightstand. He rapped them each lightly on the head before darting out with a chuckle. The door clicked shut.

“Master- I- never do that again.”

“I’m sorry Anakin, I promise, I wasn’t trying to die, I have far, far too much to live for. I’m never going to leave you again, I don’t care what else happens but- I’m not going to abandon you ever again, do you understand. Even if I die, I’ll come back and haunt you for the rest of your life, you’ll barely notice the difference, I swear.”

“...Thank you, but please stop talking now”

“Right, of course. I’m sorry. I’m so, so-”

“I love you, Obi-Wan.”

“...I love you too, Anakin.”

Part XVII

#star wars #my au #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au no 27 #time travel fix it #star wars au #potentially triggering #suicide references #violent thoughts

237 notes · View notes

wevegottogetaway · 4 years

Text

El Patrón

I’m so excited to finally be posting this piece. I’ve been working on it for the past few days and it’s been consuming my mind. If you like angst, smut, art student Harry, and great plot twists, this story is for you, so buckle up, cause you’ve got 13700 and then some waiting for you! And on that note, I don’t thing I have many words left in my brain... so, hope you enjoy xx

TW: smut, fool language

After her first day back to classes, Y/n is not surprised to see Harry Styles’ lanky frame standing behind the bar of Bottom’s Up. She hoped that he would bugger off to work some place else but alas, all her summer prayers were unanswered. For yet another semester, she would have to endure bartending by his sides, trying with all her might not to jab a corkscrew at his throat every time he opened his gob. Granted, she could have switched jobs herself, but the pay is too good to turn down and the bar sits literally right around the corner from her place; a match made in heaven if you ask her. Besides, she’s been mastering the art of tuning out the insufferable green-eyed prick for two years now, so what’s one more? Of course, knowing it is likely to be the last - having just kicked off the final year of her psychology major - makes the news easier to stomach. And with any luck, the fool did some sort of soul-searching over the break and came back a changed man.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her delightful presence again. Knew you couldn’t stand to live without me, y/l/n." Harry greets her with a smirk as he looks up from his phone.

Well, some much for change, but luck has never been on y/n’s side anyway; she knew it was wishful thinking to entertain the idea of a pleasant or even tolerable Harry. "Shut it, Styles. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit," she quips back and goes straight to the employee’s locker room to dispose of her stuff and swap her top for one bearing the bar’s logo. Once done, she takes a brief look in the tattered mirror still hanging by the door to readjust her ponytail, before joining her co-worker behind the counter. The bar is rather quiet for now, clock having not chimes 6pm yet, but y/n expects the place to be soon crawling with students drinking the classes’ return off their mind.

The next few minutes are spent in unexpected peaceful silence, y/n prepping for the upcoming rush while Harry idly sits by, not lifting a single finger to help her out. Admittedly, he’s completed all his pre-shift duties during the last hour, but y/n doesn’t think it warrants the smug look painted on his face as he watches her battle a jar of olives with an old opener and a concentrated frown. So peaceful silence was a bit of a stretch, maybe.

Then to make matters worse he decides to taunt her, "I see you’ve grown zero muscle strength over the break. Too busy vegetating on the beach?"

The surge of anger triggered by the provocation is enough impetus for her to crack the can open, but it doesn’t stop her from turning to face him, "I see you’ve grown zero neuron in that thick head of yours. Too busy making people miserable instead?" she counters with flaring nostrils and a look of disdain hardening her features.

"Ah, still got a feisty mouth on you. ‘Was worried you might turn soft on us." Harry sasses back, but y/n doesn’t bother telling him off this time. No matter how strong her comeback, he’ll just brush it off with that smile of his that irritates her to no end. That’s the thing with Harry, the bastard has the thickest skin of all, he’s downright unattainable. And believe it or not, bad-mouthing doesn’t come naturally to y/n, he just seems to draw it out of her, perhaps as the trigger of some kind of survival instinct. Time and time again she’s tried to come up with a quip that would leave him speechless, tail between his legs, but he always has a wittier reply to throw back at her. For so long they’ve been playing this debilitating game of ping pong and she has yet to claim a point to his countless wins.

It’d been the case since their first meeting on that dreadful Friday two years ago. Y/n was about to embark on her second year at uni and decided to get a job so she could afford her own place instead of the dreary dorms she’d gotten used to. Bottom’s Up had seemed to be the perfect choice, a 2 minutes walk from the sweet little apartment she’d just visited a few days prior. She’d been excited for her first shift that night, air still warm from the Indian summer sun drawing a plethora of eager students to come enjoy their last day of freedom. Her happy jitters had quickly dissolved once she’d made her way in the staff-only area located behind the bar though. There, she’d walked in on a very frustrated Harry vociferating at a lost-looking colleague, "how many times do you have to fuck up before doing your bloody job, Steve? Stop sitting on your lazy ass, or I swear I’ll-"

She’d come to this Steve guy’s defense then, furious at the tall curly hair jerk for bullying his way around, "stop it, you asshole. You can’t talk to people like trash, who do you think you are?" Granted, she didn’t know it at the time, but the lost look on Steve's face was in fact pretty standard for the amount of weed in his system; nor did she know that the lad could actually win the Olympics of lazy asses hands down, should such a discipline be appended. It was too late to call off the hostilities though. War had been declared, and aside maybe from that one time he had graciously accepted to cover for her when she’d had a trip to Brighton planned for one of her classes, no truce had ever been reached. Besides, she’s sure it was more so because he was low on cash rather than to fulfill the hidden desire to help her out for once in his life.

Now, as she finishes wiping her work surface with a wet cloth, y/n wishes more than ever to be teleported in a parallel universe where she doesn’t have to work with the bane of her existence, much less see his annoyingly handsome face four times a week. (Also, exams would only be optional in this alternate reality of hers, but that’s another fantasy for another day.) Mainly, she’s just glad she doesn’t see him around campus ever, the art building standing all the way across from the psychology department. At least she’s Harry-free the moment she steps out of the bar; she’d probably have a nervous breakdown if she had to put up with his antics outside of work.

***

A month in the new semester, the novelty of it all has finally worn off to make way for routines to settle in. Y/n’s weeks now consist in a well-practiced cycle of sleep, study, eat, work and occasionally go out with her best friend Mia. Her shifts at Bottom’s Up still prove to be challenging because of the company she’s forced to keep but things seem to have calmed down at the bar too. Students are now less inclined to party the week away, mainly indulging during the second half of the week, but more importantly, Harry appears to be less of a smug bastard and more of a sulky sod. For some reason, the lad has been stuck in a sullen mood, constant frown wrinkling his forehead. He has reverted to distant one-word answers as though he is saving a dictionary worth of words for whatever conundrum is going on in his brain. Y/n doesn’t mind though, and almost welcomes the transition if it means less digs taken at her expense.

Now y/n finds herself on her way to the campus library for a much needed paper-writing cramming session (the assignment is due the following day and she barely has two thirds of the work completed). After a quick stop by the coffee shop down the block, she finally strides in the lobby of the library, ready to dive nose first into the riveting matters of cognitive psychology. She’s already so focused mulling over concepts’ definition in her mind, that it takes her a minute to realize something is going on.

It’s nothing major really, no big fire rushing around the premises or fist-fight breaking the crowd into a frenzy. No, just everyone seemingly hushing and gasping, bewildered expressions etched upon their faces as they keep pointing towards the nearby study room. Truthfully, y/n might have been completely oblivious to it, it she weren’t a psychology major; but reading people’s feelings and interactions is kind of her thing, so she does notice the bubbly energy infiltrating the usually quiet space. What could possibly have them so intrigued, she wonders as more students come out of the room with the same looks of wonder.

Her confusion is finally quelled when she steps into the study room in question and her eyes fall on what has everyone so engaged. On the wall to her right, between two sets of shelves brimming with decades-old books, hangs a life size canvas of audacious shapes and bold colors. Not one seems to have been left out, the painting seemingly transporting the viewer in a psychedelic albeit appealing trance. It’s full of contrasts, an embodiment of serenity and boldness at the same time, and y/n can’t stop ogling the masterpiece for the life of her. The amount of passion is so obviously overwhelming, yet she can feel all of the artist’s emotions underneath each of the brushstrokes.

After another minute of wondrous observation, her thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice. "El Patrón? I wonder who that could be," the stranger wonders aloud, and her eyes immediately drift off to the bottom right of the painting to catch the small but unmistakable signature: black cursive letter spelling the two words withholding the real artist’s identity. The mystery only adds up to the appeal of the work and y/n already feels a bubbling feeling in the pit of her stomach at the idea of ever finding out what beautiful soul is responsible for such mind-bending work. She hopes this won’t be last she sees of it.

***

It’s Friday night and unfortunately for y/n, she’s stuck at work with her least favorite person in the world. It’s all the more unfortunate that Harry seems to be back to his usual annoying self, his thoughts finally free from whatever trouble had plagued them, and eager to fall back into nuisance mode. Less unfortunate for y/n and much to Harry’s discontent, Mia decided to stop by and keep her company. Though she feels slightly sorry for her having the act as her buffer for the night, y/n figures she’s more than making up for it with every free cocktail she keeps sliding towards her friend. Their conversation is scattered at best since patrons keep interrupting them for a fresh pint of ale, but as the night slowly dies down they manage to talk longer than 20 seconds.

The manager of the bar has long clocked off and gone home, as per usual on Friday nights, leaving both her and Harry the pleasure to indulge in a few drinks of their own. They don’t do it every week and always keep it low-key of course; Mia’s tonight presence mostly accounting for y/n’s partaking while Harry just likes a nice glass of tequila when the week-end comes around and there’s nobody to tell him off about it. One thing they never do though, is drink together, like two friends celebrating yet another week they survived at uni. Come to think of it, the only thing they do share is a job position and their never-ending bickering. Cheers to that, y/n takes another sip of her gin martini in sarcasm.

She’s brought back to reality by Mia as the tipsy brunette lets out a loud gasp before she inquires in a slightly high-pitched voice, "y/n! totally forgot to tell you, went by the library today and you’ll never guess what was there!"

"Oh my god, you saw the painting too, didn’t you" y/n answers, excited at the idea of discussing the whole thing with her best friend. Truth be told, the majestic work of art hasn’t left her mind since she’d first seen it a few days before.

"Yes" Mia squeals in confirmation, "I mean, it’s kinda impossible to miss. I wonder how they got it there without anyone seeing."

Y/n has wondered the same thing and she came to one conclusion, "they probably sneaked in last Sunday after the library closed, it’s the only time the building is empty," Mia humming in agreement. The campus library is opened 24/7 all days except on Sundays, so realistically speaking it is the only window of time that would allow for such an experiment. Whether said experiment required an actual break-in or was conducted in full legality remains a mystery but that is just bygones in y/n’s eyes. She’s much to mesmerized by the work to give a damn about how it got there in the first place.

"Oi y/l/n! What are you two fawning over this time" Harry chirps in the conversation, uninvited as always, and y/n hates how condescending he just sounded.

"Not that you could ever understand something with substance, if your lack thereof is any indication, but it’s none of your damn business," y/n spats out dismissively but Mia’s Margarita-induced brain seems to have forgotten all about their concerted hatred for piss-taking bartenders.

"Harry, you’re an art major aren’t you? D’you know who’s behind that beautiful painting at the library?"

Y/n tilts her head back in a sigh at her friend’s behavior before turning to watch the puzzled look on Harry’s face. He seems to silently gauge the both of them; for what, y/n doesn’t know, and then his whole expression switched to a blasé look. He shrugs in disinterest, "who cares? ’s just one more Banksy wannabe who’s trying at it too hard ‘f you ask me."

Y/n takes it as a personal offense, her admiration for the painting outweighing any instinct she has of avoiding the brazen man taking a sip of his tequila on rocks across from her, "of course you’d say something like that. You’re just jealous you’ll never compete with his talent."

Harry raises a brow at her accusation, "and how would you know since you’ve never seen any of my work?"

It’s a valid point, but not enough to rebut her. "Doesn’t take a genius to know a shallow mind like yours could never create something as deep and transcending. That would require actual emotions from you Harry and we both know the only emotion you’re capable of spreading is irritation."

For once she’s confident she’s gonna have the last word, but in true Harry fashion he just gives her a bored look as if to say ‘is that all?’ towel thrown over his shoulder, "right, and here I thought talking to people like trash was a bad thing. You should really take a page out of your own book, y/n, wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re as big of a jerk as I am." Then he turns back to face the room full of customers, and tends to one disheveled looking guy slurring out an order.

Y/n barely registers the friendly "alright Joe, but ’s the last one," Harry rasps out to the guy, her ears are still ringing from the last words he’d said to her. More specifically, the little truth they held despite how much he deserved the backlash, and y/n absolutely loathes the way her throat seems to be closing in on itself. She’s afraid she’s turning like him, bitter words at the ready and always trying to outdo his own taunting spiels. Before anxiety can settle in her bones though, she swallows back the knot tightening in her airways and goes back to serving customers and conversing with her friend.

***

The next time it happens, she expects it even less. A couple weeks have passed since her gruesome interaction with Harry at the bar, and along with her doubts, all thoughts about art have seemed to vanish from her busy mind. She’s had a few tests occupying all her free time and now that they’ve been done and over with, all she can think about is calling Mia up to plan their next night out; she needs a few drinks that she didn’t make for once.

She’s about to take her phone out of her pocket to send her best friend a text, when she enters the lecture hall of her Monday experimental method and research design class. The déjà-vu feeling that creeps up her spine stops her from completing the action, and y/n frowns at how her fellow students seem to be all entranced in deep conversation, exchanging baffled looks with one another. Even the sleeping kid that sits at the back seems to be more alert than during their last fire evacuation procedure test.

It’s then y/n turns around to see what is hanging at the front of the room, covering the large board. This time, the colors were carefully handpicked by the artists, flashes of pink and yellow dancing along to a frenzied rhythm of salsa as their union creates powerful jets of oranges across the canvas. It vaguely reminds her of the pendant she wears on a daily basis, rose gold laurels wrapped around a delicate sunflower, an orange topaz incrusted in its center. The painting is of abstract nature much like the last one, but the movements of the brush still bring her mind back to the jewel presently nestled between her collarbones. How odd.

The piece is slightly smaller than the last but no less impressive, catching the attention of even the least artistic eye. The sensibility of the artist is so distinct, intentions clearer and more in touch than most people with their own. For a second, y/n thinks she’s glad the pieces have only been ones of unadulterated happiness and colorful bliss so far, because god knows how heart-wrenching the outcome would be if all this uncorrupted honesty was used to fill canvas with pain.

As the professor enters the room, everybody settles back on their seat, and wait for the chap’s reaction. "Well, that sure is something. It seems we have a bit of a mystery painter on our hands, don’t we; and a talented one at that," y/n’s professor smiles at the class as he pulls a computer out of his satchel and places it at top of the front desk. His words make her look back at the artwork, this time settling on the small signature reading El Patrón on its corner. And it’s all it takes for Y/n’s obsession with the anonymous artist to be back in full force.

***

That night she can’t stop raving about the painting as she starts closing the bar after a long and tiresome shift. She’s got a shoulder pressing her phone to her ear, Mia on the line, while she absentmindedly sweeps the floor. Normally the exertion of the job would have her stifling yawns and her bones aching but tonight her voice is perky as ever as she recollects the pinnacle of her day, "you shoulda been there Mia, it was gorgeous. And same as last time, like you’d be minding your business, doing your thing and then boom, it’s there. Damn, this guy is a genius."

As she comes back around the counter, Harry makes sure she notices the roll of his eyes. He’s been wiping and tidying the bar space after making sure everything is stocked up for the next day, all the while listening to her drone about El Patrón and his stroke of genius, praise after praise falling from her lips. She completely brushes off the patronizing gesture and that’s perhaps what irritates him the most. She’s barely acknowledging him or his stunts with all her attention placed on the mystery painter and well, Harry quite likes riling her up. Doesn’t do it out of spite, but merely because he likes the way it ignites a fire in her that he’s seldom seen in people. But now, all her fire is directed elsewhere and he doesn’t know what to think of it.

***

Over the next month, the rumors around El Patrón spread like wildfire as more and more of his works are found scattered around campus. Much to y/n’s delight, she always seems to fall upon them as though they’ve been placed specifically on her path. It didn’t start as obvious though; the first following pieces hung in common areas around campus such as the lunch hall or the student center but as time went by they tended to follow her whereabouts somehow. Y/n knows she’s probably fabulating but when she’d stumble across two absolutely stunning pieces in the lobby of her gym and at the entrance of the psychology building, she couldn’t help but feel deeply attached to them. And the possibility that this mystery artist might have the same attachment to her, only fuels her obsession further, sending her reeling with all but one nerve-wracking question: who is this guy?

And it’s not like she’s the only one pondering over their identity either. Hell, the genius has literally everyone on campus under their spell, trying to uncover the enigma of the year. Everyone seems to be determined to find clues, easter eggs hidden within the paintings that could lead them closer to the truth. El Patrón has effectively turned the whole uni into a large-scale game of Cluedo, people speculating left and right and swapping theories about who it can or cannot be, what year they are probably in, or whether they have an accomplice. Nobody has ever executed such a tour de force in the history of campus, and it has everyone one edge, y/n included, desperate to be in the loop.

The fact that each painting is more beautiful than the last and always seems to connect with her in personal ways doesn’t help her daydreaming either. Take the one she found at the gym for example, for a few second she’d sworn she was looking at a familiar piece of the English South Coast, dark hues of blue fighting dots of white, reminiscent of the way foam always seems to top even the most raging waves as they crash along shores. She’d only had to close her eyes to feel the wind blowing her hair in a thousand directions and the sand engulfing her feet, making its way between her toes and every crevice of her skin. She was still in the middle of her gym when she reopened them though, her sport bag straddling her shoulder as she kept gaping at the painting in adoration.

Her suspicious keeps nagging at her head, the desire to unveil the identity of her beloved artist getting stronger by the day. The feeling is almost unbearable when she spots yet another work of his across from Bottom’s Up. The coincidences keep piling up and the more she mulls it over, the more she’s convinced this mystery guy is talking to her. Damn, is it possible to have a crush on someone because of their work? After months of this cryptic scavenger hunt, she’d dying to know if all her theories are right and the fact that she has no way to find out, is positively killer her.

That’s why when she stumbles across a flyer for a midterm exhibition gala hosted by the art department as she waits in line at her favorite coffee shop, she doesn’t think twice before jotting down all the info. In a week time, most of the uni’s art students would be gathered up in one place to present their term’s work. The chances are too high for y/n to pass up the opportunity, her guts telling her he’ll be there. It makes sense doesn’t it? Surely, this El Patrón ought to be an art student if not a teacher. How else would they have access to all the campus amenities most of the paintings were found in?

As she goes to pick up her coffee from the counter, y/n walks with a newfound spring in her steps; she really can’t wait for this gala to happen.

***

Y/n stands at the entrance of the art building, a black floor-length long-sleeves open-back dress hugging her curves in all the right places. Her heart speeds up at the nervous jitters crawling underneath her skin, and the million question swarming her frantic mind. What if he actually doesn’t know her and doesn’t give a damn about her thoughts on his work? What if it’s actually a woman and she’s been hiding a man’s pen-name to consolidate her deceit? Is she about to make the biggest fool out of herself by coming to this exhibition? She doesn’t know anyone here, nor has she ever been to this kind of event before but she’s decided this guessing game has run its course. Maybe this all thing has nothing to do with her and that’s okay. All she really wants is to have a chance to tell this exquisite mind how remarkable their work is; the rest be damned.

Y/n slowly makes her way inside, and after a quick stop at the coat room to dispose of the unnecessary garment, she is finally greeted by a room full of dressed-up people roaming and chatting around, champagne flutes in hands. How cliche, she thinks with humor, before picking up a glass of the bubbly beverage. It’ll help sooth the nerves, she reasons as she starts walking around the place to observe each of the displays. Despite not having had a glimpse of her number-one painter yet, she finds herself having a good time. Most of the work offered to her is engaging in one way or another; some pieces quite provocative is their depiction, others straight out pushing the limits of 2D, with structures coming out of the canvas as though they were about to grip at the viewer.

Turning at a corner, she comes across his art before she sees him, having almost forgotten art was supposedly his thing too, and she realizes she actually knew someone here apart from the mysterious painter. She takes a brief look at his tall frame, the baby blue suit over his crisp white shirt fitting him perfectly. A black tie is completing the look, and it makes y/n waver for a second. She’s never seen him dressed in anything other than jeans and the bar’s t-shirt every employee is supposed to wear on call. Granted, even that he can make work better than anyone else she can think of, but that suit is something else altogether.

Her eyes shifts back to his work, not wanting to waste too much time on his appearance; she is here on a mission after all. She can’t deny his painting is good as much as she wants too. It’s made of a perfectly executed optic illusion that has her pause for longer than she intended to. The colors are picked wisely only adding to the entrancing design, tempting the viewer to reach out to the painting to convince themselves that this is fact a pretty subterfuge and no reality; the frontier between both worlds much too hard to distinguish. Just like for the rest of the exhibition, a single plaque hangs underneath the canvas, introducing the title of the piece above the name of its artist: Fine Line by Harry Styles. Damn, the bastard had to be talented…

"Is it as depthless as you thought it would be?" A hoarse voice interrupts her inner thoughts. She knows it’s his at the first word and already she regrets ever thinking positive things about him.

"Funny, I would have shared a compliment but you just had to go and open your stupid mouth," she bites back as she fully turns around to face him. She can feel is eyes shamelessly scanning her body, sending her nerves on overdrive. She wants this exchange to be as curt as possible, she’s got important matters to tend to.

"Here for you mysterious bloke, I presume?" he inquires in a taunting voice.

"What’s it to you, anyway?" y/n dodges the question with another, hoping it’ll steer the conversation toward its end.

She’s answered by rosy pouting lips, a hand on his heart in faux vexation, "ouch, was just hopin’ you’d come to see me, and now you’ve just crushed my dreams, love."

The pet-name is not lost on her and Y/n has had enough. In own gulp she downs the rest of her champagne and forces the glass to his chest for him to hold as she makes her way past him, "just leave me alone and go be a pain in someone else’s ass, Harry." She doesn’t wait to see if he’s following her as she marches across the room in long and purposeful strides.

Something in the corner of her eyes catches her attention right then. Halting abruptly, almost making someone walk right into her, she turns her head to the side and that’s when she finally sees it. A whole part of the wall has been dedicated to his work, a shrine of his most outstanding pieces randomly hung against the white surface. Y/n recognizes each and every one of them, but then her eyes take in the extra work added for the exhibition: next to each of the pieces are displayed a bunch of photos capturing the students’ expressions as they first discovered the paintings. Dozens of faces lighting up in amazement, widening eyes and finger pointing at the unexpected intrusions; some show confusion and puzzlement while others simply behold laughter and animated conversation.

In the center of the wall, a video is projected. It’s a compilation of those same moments but this time captured on tape. The sound was removed, but as y/n takes in the faces of her fellow students she can almost hear the sound of their laughters; she’d been there for most of it after all. She thinks the idea is amazing, El Patrón has managed to make the viewer a permanent part of the art. The paintings are marvelous of course, full of emotions and passion, but the mysterious artist has gone one step further by also displaying how those emotions had reflected back on the audience. It is an ode to art, to the power of sharing, and proves art is limitless; not owned by museums, not bound between walls and certainly not restricted for trained-eyes only. Because art isn’t all about beauty, it speaks for the need for sharing that human have but often forget, and this is a perfect reminder of it.

The next tape playing has her eyes doubling over the video, a small gasp escaping her lips as she takes in her own figure. It was taken the day she found the painting at the gym and unlike all the other videos she’s alone. No group of students by her side elbowing her in disbelief, or sharing a puzzle look with her. Just her doe eyes gleaming at the painting, lips slightly parted in pure wonder, as she studies every inch of the canvas. And the feeling that this might mean just as much to him as it does to her comes back crashing on her. She’s not paranoid; this artist his using her as some kind of inspiration, she’s sure of it. Random cannot be this accurate, it would defy any laws of statistics.

After the slideshow finally moves on to the next video, y/n looks around in the hopes of finding the man that has wormed his way into her heart. She’s imagined it a thousand times over during the past week. A young man would be discretely standing on the side, watching the evening pan out and waiting for her to find his work. Then they would make eye contact and he’d make his way over to greet her and share more of his beautiful mind with her. That’s the happily ever after she’s hoped for since that first painting in the library, but alas everyone around her seems to be engrossed in conversation about this and that.

"I thought he would be there too," the unexpected voice makes her jump. She recognizes the student from that first day, she’d also be intrigued by the mysterious man.

"I know, all of his work is here, he has to somewhere around," y/n tries to convince herself. She hasn’t given up yet, she won’t let herself unless she goes home tonight empty-handed. Only after that will she stop searching, she promises herself. If he doesn’t show up tonight, then that’s because he doesn’t want to be found.

The girl next to her has the same disappointed tone when she explains, "you’d think so, but I’ve been asking everyone around and nobody has a clue still."

Before y/n can come up with her own rationalizations, someone starts speaking in a microphone, asking for everyone’s attention. It’s a man in his early fifties making a speech about the whole reason behind the exhibition so y/n pegs him as the head of the art department. "Thank you all for coming tonight, it is always a pleasure to see so many of you supporting our young talents. As you may know, tonight’s exhibition signs off our students’ final work for the semester, and will also see one of them receive a one-time collaboration with a renown art gallery in the city. Now, before the judges finish deliberating, let me tell you a bit about the topic of this exhibition which, by the way, serves as the main criteria for this contest. Our artists were asked to work around audience engagement and crowd reaction. The task was to produce art that would prompt an active response from the viewer and go beyond a passive experience. I hope this info helps this event take all its sense, I’ll let you all meander for a couple more minutes before we announce the winner. Thank you for your presence."

Since she has a couple more of minutes, y/n decides to take advantage of the fresh insight she was just given about the artwork and goes around the exhibition one more time. The whole thing does take on a new meaning, now that she knows what was going one in the students’ mind as they first got their assignment. But what has her in awe really, is El Patrón’s coup de maître in all of this, because unlike any other applicant here tonight, he’s had the strongest reactions from the public for months now and had even documented it. So really, in a way he’s already won, no bias to blame. The amount of work and planning behind such a tour de force surely has exceeded everyone’s expectations and secured the number-one position for the still-to-be-revealed artist. In the pocket, as they say.

"Alright everyone, without further ado we are going to announce the lucky talent selected by the judges tonight," the head of department speaks up again. "On behalf of the whole department, I would like to salute each and every one of the students that presented their work tonight. Skills are certainly not scarce among you all, and as always it gives me great pleasure to see you all grow into yourselves alongside your craft. As you know, there can only be one of you coming up to this stage tonight and I must say, this semester has proved to be full of surprises. Never in my 26 years working here have I ever seen something of the sort, so ladies, gentleman, I have no idea who is about to join me now, but please give a warm round of applause for El Patrón!"

The room explodes in loud cheers as people clap their hands in honor of the mysterious artist. Y/n probably the loudest amongst them all, is still craning her neck in every possible directions trying to catch sight of anyone moving towards the stage. The standing ovation quickly fades into silence as everyone realizes nobody is coming to claim their prize. The usual hushing following any of El Patrón’s stunts is once again spreading across the room to match people’s incredulity at the situation. It was one thing to keep their identity a secret, as it was clearly a crucial condition for the plan to work, but now that it is all over and done, prize ready for the taking, it doesn’t make much sense.

"Mister El Patrón? I think you more than deserve to drop your mask and receive your prize," the host reiterates in hopes that the much awaited artist comes out of his lair, but he’s met with the same result. Perhaps he’s not here after all, or perhaps y/n was right to think he might not want to be found, but regardless a strong feeling of disappointment takes over a body. He won’t be coming, she knows. No matter how many times the host calls for him, he won’t be coming.

She lets out a long sign in frustration then, she really thought tonight was the tonight. But now that the evening is coming to its end, tears pearl at the corner of her eyes and she just wants to go home and forget all about El Patrón. Aren’t artists supposed to be dark and twisted anyway? Maybe she just dodges a bullet, she tries to make herself feel better, but no amount of sarcasm can save her from the painful pinch at her heart. As she comes to term with the fact she won’t get any more answers by staying (and possible ever), she decides it’s her cue to go.

On her way to the exit, her eyes fall upon Harry’s slightly hunched figure. He seems deep in his thoughts, eyes fixed towards the floor though he’s not looking at anything in particular. For some unknown reason, y/n is not irked by his presence like she usually is. He’s just lost a great career opportunity so his preoccupied disposition is understandable. Feeling as though she needs to end the night on a different note - whether positive is yet to be determined - she approaches him slowly as not to startle him. "Your painting is really good. I’m sorry you didn’t win, but you should still be proud," she softly tells him to cheer him up. At least, one of them might get to go home in higher spirits.

He looks up at her then, curls bouncing on top of his head, as he aligns his two glistening emeralds to her own gems. He seems quite surprised to hear her voice, probably rightfully so since he can count on one hand (scratch that, one finger) the number of times she’s actively sought him out for conversation. She can tell he’s debating whether to say something or not, as they keep their eyes locked. It’s probably the longest and only civil exchange they’ve ever had, and somehow it manages to soothe some of her sorrows.

Y/n likes this reflective side of him, she realizes. Not that she wishes him any torments (at least not tonight) but his quietness makes him look vulnerable in that beautifully human way for once. That’s twice he’s proven her wrong about the assumptions she had on him, tonight: first his talent, now his character; she doesn’t know what to make of it. Silently, she accepts the timid smile and light nod he offers her in gratitude, before making her way to out at last.

***

Two days after the night of the exhibition, y/n still has a hard time to let her grievance go. Her mood has yet to upgrade from crappy at best, and the fact that all the artwork has been removed from their previous spots is not helping much. Of course she knew they had been put down for the big night, but her heart still missed a beat when she went to the gym only to find the walls of the lobby bare of any craft that would liven up their otherwise dull and colorless structure. Just like her state of mind, she’d joked. And y/n is not one to throw pity parties, especially to herself; but then again, she’d never fallen under the charms of a faceless virtuoso because his art brought to life parts of her that she’d believed otherwise dormant, only to be metaphorically stood up at the end of the process. So really, what does she know anymore?

Now that she’s back at work, she revels in the constant effort she has to provide. The ever-growing list of task to complete gives her mind reprieve and focus, but she still hasn’t budged from her unusually distant and withdrawn self. Even harry’s own standoffishness hasn’t caught her attention; a week ago, his awkward demeanor would have flashed red flags all over her radar. An unfiltered narcissistic prick he could be, but y/n has never known him to be anything even resembling reserve; apart maybe from that one fate-less night not even 72 hours ago when she found him on the outskirts of the attention even though she knew full well that he is more of center kind of guy.

As they’re about to start closing, the awkwardness becomes more palpable by the second. They’ve skirted around it during the whole shift, the steady solicitation of customers enough to ignore the growing tension; but as the last of the patrons finally make their way out of the bar, an eery silence settles in their wake, making them both want to crawl out of their skin. Even the heavy-served drinks they’ve indulged in, despite the absence of their respective motives, hasn’t help assuage the strain between them. Instead, they start their usual routine in overrated silence, y/n in charge of the floor while he tends to the bar. Then before long, Harry bursts the uncomfortable bubble they’ve locked themselves in, voice void of its usual teasing tone, "so, what’s got you so grumpy?" he inquires.

"Please don’t start, Harry. I really can’t be bothered tonight," y/n sighs in response, failing to recognize the note of concern in his question and thinking she wouldn’t survive another bickering session. It hasn’t been the lad’s intention though, so her false accusation has his thick skin itching against his will. To be honest, Harry’s never taken much offense from any of their past squabbles no matter how hard she’d come at him, but this one he can’t brush off. Not when for once, he’s trying to be decent, dropping the attitude he knows rubs her the wrong way and she responds by telling him to get lost.

"Fuck sake, I wasn’t tryin’ to start anythin’" he berates her for lashing out unjustifiably, "you need to take a chill pill." The hostile reaction as her pausing mid-swipe in the middle of the room. He was always so unbothered by everything she said, she hasn’t expected him to be so hard on the defensive (or even know what a defensive is in the first place).

Still, she doesn’t appreciate the same chastising tactic he’s used on her countless times, especially because given his serious temper, she knows he means it for real now. "Oh I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t know what sympathy actually sounds like coming from your mouth," she quips back in sarcasm.

The response makes him livid, "you tell me I’m a jerk every chance you got, but you sure know how to be a bitch, y/n" he spats before finishing wiping the counter. As his hand reaches the end of the surface, he finds his half-empty glass of tequila, most of the ice completely melted through the amber liquor by now. He takes one long sip in a vain attempt to calm his nerves but the alcohol merely tingles the back of his palate and warms its way down his stomach. His mind is still burden with frustrations he doesn’t know how to alleviate; the end of term, the exhibition, his career’s future, and y/n’s stubborn nature all wreaking havoc in his tired brain.

"Shut the fuck up, Harry. I didn’t ask for your attention," y/n retorts, trying not to expose how bruised her heart is. While he’d mocked her plenty during the past two years, he’d never resorted to calling her names, unlike her; so the insult does more damage than she’s willing to admit, even coming from Harry. And to think she’d thought of him as a half decent being not three days ago…

"Right, I forgot only anonymous bastards are worthy enough of your attention," he replies before checking the shelves behind the bar to make sure they’re stocked enough for the next shift. "And even when they turn out to be cowards, you still choose them over the people that are actually around you. You need to open your eyes and wake up, it’s pathetic."

Y/n has almost finished cleaning her area but at this point, she’s ready to call it quits and run as fast as she can, away from him. "Go fuck yourself, you don’t know anything you’re talking about," she manages to croak past her swelling throat and quivering lips. The man in front of her is breaking her heart even though he’s never had it in his calloused hands, and y/n doesn’t know why.

"Fuck this, ’m done," he quite literally throws in the towel, leaving it in a bowl on the counter before making his way back to his drink. In a swift movement, he grabs the bottle of tequila to pour himself a new one. "You keep blindly mopin’ about your precious painter, I don’t care, you’re probably right anyway," he says before chugging the bitter spirit in one go and slamming the bottle of tequila down on the counter in a loud bang that has y/n jump in fear. "I don’t anything about bloody anything," is all Harry says as he locks eyes with hers, before making his out of the bar, not bothering to put the bottle back to its rightful place.

Y/n is still trembling from the exchange, and it takes her a hot minute before she can finish what she was doing. As she resumes wiping the floor with shaky hands, she tries to even her breath out. Why had he been so hurtful? What could have possibly impelled him to utter such malicious words? The questions are still reeling in her mind as she twists water out of the mop for the last time. Once the floor is spotless and all the tables are no longer sticky with spilled alcohol, chairs stacked up onto them upside-down, she makes her way back behind the bar, checking that Harry didn’t leave any of his duties unattended before his theatrical exit. She spots the bottle of tequila sitting lonely on the counter but just as she goes to reach for it, she freezes.

It’s a cold shower pouring over her body all at once then, dots finally connected as her eyes read over the label of the fat bottle she’s seen him take out of the stack countless times before. Everything that happened for the last few months falls into place and suddenly there is no mystery left to be solved. ‘You’re probably right, I don’t know anything about bloody anything’ Harry’s final words keep playing on a maddening loop in her head.

Y/n takes in the small bee design printed under what is unmistakably the last piece of the puzzle she’s been craving to complete: one word that has her stomach churning in a myriad of emotions she can’t possibly untangle. Anger, relief, surprise, fear, curiosity, warmth and more, are all rushing through her in one colossal wave, because printed on that bottle in black capital letters is the brand of Harry’s favorite drink: Patrón.

***

The next day, y/n navigates through her classes purely on autopilot mode. She doesn’t quite remember picking the floral blouse nor the light-shade pair of jeans she’s wearing, and barely recalls the brief conversation she had with an old lady during her bus commute to campus. One thing she sure as hell hasn’t paid one iota of attention to, is the behavioral psychology class she’s just got out of. Two hours she spent pacing up and down every twist and turn of her mind only to come out more lost than she’d started. Add to that the fact she’s running on 4 hours of sleep, she’s quite simply a recipe for disaster. Fortunately for y/n, she isn’t due at work tonight, having called sick this morning, because sleep-deprivation aside, she still has no idea how she’s supposed to face Harry.

The revelation of the night prior is still something she has trouble wrapping her mind around, as it goes against every constructed opinion she’s made about her life. Harry is Patrón, she’s pretty sure. Harry, the allegedly conceited asshole she’s been bickering with since their first minute spent together, is the mind-blowing painter that had taken residence in y/n’s heart since the first time she set eyes on his art. The two characters have yet to fully merge into one in her mind, despite the fact it makes perfect sense to her.

The Brighton painting, the one inspiring her necklace, it was all true. And with that revelation comes two intimidating truths y/n is kind of scared to delve into: one, all this time she’s been right to think she is the muse behind this all scheme; two, if Harry is the mystery painter, that makes her Harry’s muse more specifically. And that’s the part of the equation she struggles the most with, because up until last night she was pretty positive that the twat despised her (the night in itself being prime evidence of that) but now she doesn’t know what to think.

It’s like there are two versions of Harry battling in her brain, splitting her heart in halves; the one that made her miserable at work for years and made her cry last night, and the one she’d gotten a glimpse of at the night of the exhibition. The one that hid a fully blossomed bouquet of emotions behind teasing banter to protect a diamond-rough talent that had the power to touch just about anyone’s sensibility. The one that had her wrapped around his finger in awe with that beautiful mind of his. The question is, can she or will she see this Harry the next time she’s facing him or will all their bad-blood history come crashing down on her instead? Y/n doesn’t think she’s ever fit more the definition of having mixed feelings about something.

On her way home, she makes sure she doesn’t fall asleep against the bus window, despite yawning every thirty-seconds. It feels like the trip is taking forever, she almost lets out a cry of relief when the automated voice finally announces her upcoming stop. Once she’s thanked the driver and stepped out of the bus, she’s met with a gust of brisk air, instantly blowing her hair all over her face. She draws the lapels of her coat tighter around her shivering body and starts making her way towards her apartment building.

It doesn’t take her long to complete the walking distance to her place and tread her way up the stairs, but the sight greeting her in the hallway of her floor almost sends her down on her ass. Because right across from her door, is Harry hanging yet another one of his chefs-d’oeuvre. He’s dressed casually in his usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, with a thick grey hoodie covering his broad upper-half in a feeble attempt to combat to cold weather raging outside. As he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a sharpie - no doubt to apply his trademark signature - the movements of her feet on the laminated floor catch his attention. Spinning around in a jolt of surprise, he realizes too late that he’s been caught red-handed. There was no going back this time, but he doesn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing.

There is a short moment where they are both just standing in front of each other a few feet apart, as their eyes bounce back in silent conversation, before y/n softly breaths out, "so it is you." The weight of her words has him swallow in nervousness, "of course it’s me," he replies in a gentle tone. A smile pulls at his lips when he realizes she’s not running for the hills or bursting out in a furious rant.

"I just…how? why? I mean, you gotta help me understand Harry, cause I’m pretty fucking lost over here," she blurts out with wide doe-eyes begging him for answers. Her obvious jitters earn her a soft chuckle., and for a hot minute all he can bring himself to do is study her snuggled figure and the way she keeps fiddling with her keys. It’s so endearing to him, if they were at his place, he would have offered to make some tea. The thought has him hesitantly looking at the door across from them, "can we maybe talk inside?" he inquires, beckoning his head towards her place. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to let me in, but I promise I’ll explain everythin’," he feels the need to convince her, " after that, you can kick me out if you still want."

The last bit has her smile timidly, "yeah, let’s go inside. I wanna hear what you have to say," y/n admits as she steps to the door and unlocks it. She’s intrigued by how gentle and well-mannered the man following her to the living room seems to be, light years away from the rowdy lad she’s come to know.

For a second, y/n is worries about the state she’s left the apartment before she rushed to classes this morning, but her apprehensions quickly go away once she takes in the sight of her rather tidied living space. A velvety throw blanket is covering the couch in a makeshift comforter from the way she spent the night on the couch, and apart from a few class notes scattered across the coffee table, everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be.

They both discard their top layers on the armchair adjacent to the couch, Harry slipping his hoodie off above his head in one swift gesture, while y/n simply lets the sleeves of her coat slide down her arms. He brushes his hair back into submission with one swoop of his hand, before sitting down on the couch and directing his attention back at her. She decides to leave some distance between them, taking the other end of the sofa and the move desperately makes him wonder what thoughts are running through her head. The only way to uncover them however, is if he starts talking first; and so he does.

"So uhm," he starts clumsily, clearing his throat, "remember the first day we met, you walked in on me telling some stoner guy off," he watches closely as y/n nods. "It was our first ever conversation and we fought through the whole thing. I was pretty pissed when it happened, not gonna lie, but once I got home and slept it off, I thought it was really cool how you’d stand up for that random guy." The admission has her eyebrows raising but he keeps going, "and okay maybe, just maybe, I found it a lil hot, the way you tried to put me back in my place."

He stops to make sure he hasn’t offended her, "tried to?" she challenges instead, Harry laughing at her objection.

"Right, maybe you did. My poin’ is, no-one really calls me out on my bullshit, so it was kinda refreshing that you did. But then the next day, you were still mad at me, an’ we bickered that time too. It felt like you’d already made up your mind about me. So in a way, all I had left was doin’ this thing where I push your buttons and rile you up. Know it doesn’t make sense, but it was the only way you’d interact with me so I kept doin’ it, because being jerk-Harry was better than having nothin’."

He pauses for a minute and waits as y/n swallows all the information. All this time he’s been teasing her just to have some sort of connection, no matter how perverse, while she thought he just hated her guts. When she shares this thought with him, he shakes his head with a smile, "never hated you. If I ‘ad, I wouldn’t have bothered talking t’you."

Suddenly, her chest feels lighter, as though all this months of anguish had evaporated from her mind, now that she knew their rocky relationship was the result of miscommunication, "sound logic, Styles," she replies in good humor. Then she remembers the El Patrón’s fiasco so she urges him to go on.

"My final. Right. Well as you know, we were given the assignment at the beginning of the semester, and I came up with the idea of creating this alter ego that would plant his work around campus. I thought by taking people’s by surprise I was guaranteed strong genuine reactions. People are always more opened when they don’t expect it. Like if I had just brought my paintings on the night of the exhibition, the same people wouldn’t have reacted that way, probably because they’d know they’d be observed so they would have adjusted their behavior accordingly." They both know he’s getting slightly off trail, but watching y/n so enthralled with his words makes it hard for him to stop. Fact is, for month she’s dreamed of meeting and picking at the brain of this mysterious painter, and now that he’s sitting on her couch, walking her through his thought process, she finally feels like she is.

"Anyway," he resumes the storytelling, "I started with that painting in the library and it worked so perfectly, I knew if I followed the plan I would have somethin’ really good. But then you just had to go on an’ rave about the paintings without knowing they were mine, and it was killin’ me inside. Because I knew if there was a real chance I could change your mind about me, I’d do anythin’. But no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t jeopardize my final… so I tried to tell you through the art. I started painting stuff that made me think of you and placed the pieces in locations I knew you’d pass through. It was the only way I could tell you."

Harry’s confession had Y/n’s heart beating so hard in her chest, she can almost feel it thumping through her ears. Her next question is on the edge of her lips, but she takes her time tracing each of Harry’s graceful features until his eyes catch hers, "tell me what, Harry?" she asks barely above a whisper.

His response comes in three bashful steps: first his lips curve into a shy grin that has him look down with rosy cheeks; then his hand inches its way along the soft fabric of the couch to gently hold her fingers, thumb grazing over her knuckles; and as he looks up from their joined hands to connect their gaze once more, he finally spells it, loud and clear, "tell you that I like you, y/n."

The sentiment sends her own emotions reeling in a tornado of passion. This is it, this is what she’s been half-knowingly wishing for, and now that she knows the truth in full, she’s ready to embrace it. Her eyes twinkle in bliss, a growing smile illuminating her face as she squeezes his hand in a silent invitation to slide closer to her. Harry is much happy to oblige, and once he’s sitting directly next to her, knees grazing her own, he cups her face with one of his bear-paw hands. A few strands of hair are caught in the cuddling gesture, but none of them care. Harry just keeps smiling at her, waiting for her next move, and his beam grows two sizes wide when she mirrors his affection. "I like this side of you," she whispers fondly, as her thumb draws slow circles across the skin of his cheeks.

Harry closes his eyes at her words, "this is the real me, I promise," he reassures in an almost pleading tone, vulnerability seeping through. And y/n feels like she’s lying down on cloud nine really, because dropping his fortress of pretentiousness is all she’s ever want from him. With a hushed ‘okay’, she finally brings her mouth to taste the rose-tinted flesh of his. It starts off chaste and slow, lips dovetailed in perfect symbioses like they are made to cohabit, but quickly the kiss heats up to a full on make out session. "Show me, then", y/n mutters out when they part for a breather.

Harry slowly nods his head, before helping her straddle his lap and y/n immediately brings both her hands to his neck once she settles her hips against his. The friction already had them deeply inhale, trying not to work themselves up too fast, but Harry doesn’t think he’ll have much self-control when it comes to y/n. Already he can feel his cock fattening up inside his brief, the tingling sensation making him roll his hips up into hers. Their lips are back in a sensual duel, tongues tentatively taking their turn to lick their way inside the other’s mouth. Every now and then, he teases her bottom lip with a graze of his teeth, and the move as her tugging the root of his hair at the back of his head every single time without a fail.

He loves discovering all the quirks and tells of her body, thinks he could spend hours on hand learning every single one of her curves and memorizing each of her special spots. The smell of her fragrance infiltrates his nostrils as he dips his head to her neck to plant open-month kisses along her skin. Head angled towards the ceiling to make room for his ministrations, y/n can’t do much but let her hands scout any expanse of skin accessible to her. She starts at his shoulder, squeezing the flesh to feel out the strong muscle laying underneath, before making her way down his tone arms, then to his hands currently holding onto to her waist. She gives them an affectionate pinch at the same time she presses down onto him with a deep moan, and Harry retaliates with a buck of his own.

As he starts kissing down the exposed skin of her cleavage, y/n finally drops her head to place a tender kiss to his hairline. One of her hand is back at his neck, holding him firmly to her chest as he licks at the valley of her breasts down her sternum. The other worms its way underneath his shirt from the neckline, nails grazing down his back in soft enough pressure not to leave any marks.

Harry’s descent is obstructed by the soft material of her blouse, so he takes the garment off of her in one swoop, and places his hands back on her newly exposed body, rubbing up and own the skin. As his mouth goes back to the supple flesh of her breasts, y/n increases the pace of her hips grinding on his cock. The sensations seem to be not enough and too much at the same time for her; the heavy material still covering their most sensitive parts in the way of her pleasure, while Harry’s work has her going into overdrive under his velveteen mouth and calloused fingers. She starts kissing her way up from his shoulder to the edge of his jaw, and Harry revels in the sound of her moans tickling his ear.

Done with the excess of fabric between them two, y/n grips at the top of his shirt and pulls it upwards, leaving him shirtless. "Fuck, I didn’t know you have so many tattoos," she babbles against his lips, while her hands smooth over the ink.

"Plenty you don’t know about me, love," Harry chirps as he bask in the praise and the feeling of her skin of his.

He then circles one arm around her waist to bring them chest to chest, and the contact has y/n once again intensify the friction between their crotches. "Wanna find out," she murmurs against his neck while she grinds on his clothed member, "Harry, please take me to bed."

He jolts at the quick bite she delivers to his neck, the impish gesture her way of saying ‘now’ but before she can make her way out of his lap to bring him to her room, he presses her back down with both hands on her waist. "Nuh uh, y’not goin’ anywhere. Want you to come once, b’fore I take you to bed, pet," he says, smoothing his hands over her ass to guide her rocking motions. The term of endearment sounds so innocent yet dirty all at once, it sends a chill down her spine. Nobody had called her that before.

"Can’t," she shakes her head, "can’t feel you through the jeans."

"Alright then, stand up," he calmly asserts and she doesn’t hesitate to comply, standing in between his spread legs, in her flimsy bra and jeans. "Take ‘em off then, ’s what you want no?" he sends her a tantalizing look and bites at his lips as he watches her peel the pants off her legs. He can’t help the light squeeze he gives himself through his own jeans, as y/n stands in front of him awaiting his next instructions. "Come sit on my thigh now, think should be enough to make this pretty pussy tingle in all the right places, no?"

Y/n’s insides are already twisting in a knot as she settles back on his lap and lets the rough material of his jeans against the softness of her cotton panties spread a prickling sensation through her pelvis area. Quickly, she resumes undulating her hips, gripping back at Harry’s neck to pull him in a languid kiss, pleasure vibrating against their lips. It is not long before her pace picks up, and her eyes shut at the intensity of her bliss. "That’s it, pet. Already makin’ a mess of me. You’re doin’ so well," he coaxes her with his words.

As promised, y/n feels the lips of her sensitivity start to throb at her impending release, the sensation making her clamp her thighs tighter around his meaty limb. As her knee now presses against his bulge, Harry cries his sudden pleasure out in her mouth, and that’s all it takes for her to let her orgasm consume her. She unravels on top of him, one of her hands shooting to cup at her pussy in an attempt to quell the overwhelming throb. Harry draws soothing caresses down her back as he look at the sticky mess she’s left in her panties, damp patch matching the one tainting the material of his jeans. "All ruined, just as they should be," he smirks at the sight before giving her a sweet kiss.

Flushed skin and blown pupils, she slowly regains her breath, "take off your pants and take me to bed now?" she requests.

"You’re quite demanding for someone who’s just gotten off," he keeps taunting her. After all, winding her up has always been one of his favorite thing to do, and dare he say in the past two years, he’s gotten quite good at pushing her buttons. Now he’s got new ones to figure out and play with, the thoughts has him pulsing in his jeans.

Y/n doesn’t relent in her advances, she’s never been one to bow at his mockery, "thought you like how bossy I could be. Something about the way I put you in your place, if my memory serves right."

"Anytime, anywhere, you’re the boss of me, love. But this," he cups at her cunt, adding pressure on her clit, "this is mine to have. Understood?"

Y/n’s about to combust from all the desire firing up every one of her nerve-endings. His words might be the strongest aphrodisiac she’s ever experienced, she can’t wait to see what more tricks in has up his sleeves. "Now get up and show me the way to your room, pet," he softly commands before leaving a peck on her cheek.

They both get up from the couch, and y/n guides them both down the hallway to her room, her hand wrapped in his tightly. Once they’re standing by the bed, Harry is surprised to face a patient y/n, biting her lips and awaiting his next directive. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life, "undress me, love" he murmurs against her skin after kissing her forehead.

His jeans are quickly discarded but before his boxer briefs follow suit, y/n can’t help but tease him in reprisal, "looks like I’m not the only one who made a mess in their panties."

He lets out a boisterous laugh while she smears open mouth kisses along his stretching jaw, "mmm, I’d rather make a mess somewhere else," his innuendo causing her to gasp while he works the strap of her bra. Once she’s gotten rid of his last piece of clothing, his cock springs up, free of it’s confines, dollop of pre-come already pearling at his tip, and sticking to the skin of his stomach.

With a gentle grip at her hair, he has y/n’s head tilted backward, to let his mouth make its way towards her already pebbled nipples. Since she can’t look down, y/n blindly reaches out to wrap her hand around Harry’s thick shaft and starts massaging him in languid strokes. "Your hand feels so fuckin’ good around me, pet, I wanna fuck you so badly," he hisses around her nipple, before kissing his way back up to her lips.

He starts backing her towards the bed in small steps, but she brings a hand to his chest at the feeling of the edge of the mattress brushing against the back of her knee, "wait, wait, wanna taste you first," she insists and Harry doesn’t think he could ever say no to that face, no matter how much he wants to just sink home inside of her in this moment.

"Fuck, you’re killin’ me, love," he pinches at her waist and lays his forehead against hers, "you want my cock in your pretty mouth, before I drive it home in your cunt, is that it?" She nods, eyes turning into two lustful fireballs. "Okay, love, but y’ can’t keep it on your tongue fo’ too long, cause I really need to fuck you, alright?"

Y/n hastens to lower herself when he bids her "right then, on your knees and open wide fo’ me," and her brows furrow in confusion as she watches him stray from her spot. Picking up a plush cushion from her bed, he places it on the ground for her to knee upon, "there love, want you to be comfortable," he runs his fingers through her hair, and her heart grows three sizes bigger at how tender he can be in amidst his filthy ways.

Sensually, y/n brings her lips around the crown of his cock, her tongue teasing its way across the salty skin. Once she’s licked up all the previous mess, she starts working her way down his cock, hand stroking at the base. After bopping up and down a few time, she removes her month from his swelling cock, and lets a string of spit fall down onto its head and make its way to his balls. "S’right, pet. Get me wet," Harry rasps in appreciation. Now that she’s got him properly slicked, she goes back to pumping his hardening cock and takes him into her warm inviting mouth, determined to have him all the way inside. She feels her throat expands to accommodate his thickness, and the pressure makes Harry tighten his hold in her hair, "fuck, that’s it, love. Take me good."

Muscles already tensing up in preparation for his climax, when y/n’s hand finds his full and swollen balls to roll them together like dice, he is quick to calm her zeal, "Christ pet, you gotta stop before I can’t help myself," but his tone hardens when she defies his demand, "come on now, s’enough."

Once she pulls off, the sight of her flushed face and puffy lips induces an animalistic groan to come out from his chest, as he thumbs through the wetness coating her chin. Taking the hand resting on his hip to guide her up, he captures her lips in a searing kiss, the taste of his arousal blending in their mouths.

His hands come down to knead at the flash of her ass, before he scoops her up and on the bed with a quick flex of his biceps. "Harry, please," she whines in impatience, hands gripping at his sides to pull him down against her. His rock hard cock slides against her clothed pussy, pins and needles cruising along their skin and only fueling their eagerness.

"Need me in your belly, pet?" Harry keeps working her up, as he slides her soiled panties down her legs, "need me to fuck you so good, you forget I was ever a jerk?"

She’s putty in his hold, legs wrapping around his waist to feel the pressure of his member on her bare lips , "yes, yes, I wan’ it," she pleads.

Harry would love to tease her further, have her writhing and proper begging underneath him, but at this point it would be self-torture to even consider. Instead he pumps at his shaft to give himself some relief, their sex so close his knuckles graze at her clit every time his fist comes at the top. "You ready?" Harry utters softly while spreading and skimming her cleft with the head of his cock. It has y/n gripping at his hair, a series of delirious ‘yes’ tumbling form her mouth, so he doesn’t wait a second more to push his tip past her threshold and begins his descent in her warmth. "Fuck, t’feels so good. So wet, and tight, and warm," he thinks out loud once he’s stuffer her full, balls pressing against her ass.

Y/n whimpers against his lips, urging him to start moving to quell the building pressure coiling in her belly. A slow roll of his hips finally gives her reprieve causing her to moan in gratitude. She’s already so close, it baffles her how this man could have her coming apart at the seams without doing much. His thrusts starts gaining zeal then, betraying his own yearning to take the final leap. "So tight, love. Can feel you squeezin’ me, are you close already? Is my girl gonna cum fo’ me again?" he grunts in her ear while he pounds into her dripping cunt. Y/n doesn’t offer a response, too caught up in a daze of bliss, but her clenching muscles is all the answer he needs to start nudging his thumb at her clit. A several flicks across the sensitive bud later, her orgasm is pulsing through every bone and fiber of her body, walls hugging Harry’s cock so tight, it has to pause his hammering.

Waiting for her to catch her breath, he peppers delicate kisses along her cheek, "was that good, love? Think you can give me another, uhm?" he asks when she’s regained some of her senses. The pressure at his groin is growing more and more the longer his cock remains unmoving entombed within her vice, and the luscious agony must be written all over his face, "yes, Harry, wanna be good for you" y/n cups his jaw tenderly.

He nods at her approval, "good girl," delivers a sweet earnest kiss to her pouty lips as he pulls out and spins her around to lay on her stomach. His hand brushes the hair off her skin so he can sew a string of kisses at her shoulder blades and neck. Painfully red, his cock is propped between her buttcheeks, "can I take you like that?" he punctuates his inquiry by rolling his hips backward, tip lingering at her soaked entrance. Y/n clutches the sheets firmly, as she murmurs a faint ‘please’, back arching at the thrills consuming her mind.

Harry plunges in her wet core in one smooth swing, hand digging at her hip to keep her steady as the other one interlaces with hers to lay on the mattress above her head. Unforgiving lunges have y/n cinch around him, face buried in the sheets and muffling salacious wails of pleasure, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to steer from his end for much longer. He slows his cadence to steady and firm strokes, slipping a hand around her waist to polish her swell.

A million tremors spark off the onset of Y/n’s climax as she shudders in a firework of ecstasy. Harry doesn’t relent until he’s worked her through completion and can no longer stop the coil in his loins from snapping. His release fills her in several spurts of wet warmth before he flops down next to her, positively fucked out.

They both lay unmoving in comfortable bliss for a few minutes, before y/n plops her head on his chest and an arm around his torso, her leg sneaking in between his. "Well, here goes two years of sexual tension," Harry says jokingly, fingers drawing abstracts design on the skin of her back. It might just be his favorite canvas to paint on from now, he muses before chastising himself at the onslaught of filthy thoughts tagging along. A playful slap on his abdomen takes his mind out of the gutter, "don’t ruin the moment," y/n says in fake admonition before placing a tender kiss on the spot she just abused.

"M’sorry, love. M’just really chuffed to be in your bed finally," the last word reminding her that while she’s struggled to come to term with her feelings for him, ransacking her mind for a possible change of heart, he’d only seen her in but one light. The revelation still has her floored and giddy, "can I ask you something?" she asks as there was still one question pacing back and forth the pathways of her mind. Harry hums in acquiescence, "anythin’ love, by brain is yours."

She feels his hand cradling her skull followed by a small peck to her forehead, and she smiles at the gesture, "why did you stay away that night at the exhibition when you got the prize? Why not coming forward?" It’s been bugging her brain since it happened. Although she didn’t have much insight on anything at the time, most of the pieces of the puzzle fell in place after the big reveal; but this, she still can’t make sense of.

Harry lets out a long breath, organizing his thoughts, "two reasons," he starts off tiredly. "One, I kinda like having this secret business going on, and like, as long as nobody knows, I am in control of how and when it happens, you know? And the moment I let go of that, I can’t go back." He searches her face for any hint of confusion but she’s just patiently listening. "Two, when we bumped into each other at the gala, I got convinced you’d never see me differently regardless of how good a painter I was; and that had become a big part of who El Patrón was."

It’s the first time she hears his alter ego’s name from his mouth and with how flowingly natural it sounded coming out of his lips, y/n suspects that it’d been a conscious decision on his part. She recalls their interaction that night, the way they fell in their usual ways of ping-ponging vindictive words until one of them has enough and leaves the premises (usually y/n). A lump starts forming in her throat at the recollection of all the other fights they’ve had and how they’d all been pointless wastes of time and energy, now that she knows she is meant to be in his arms. She wishes things could have been different but the warmth of his body around her overweighs her regrets. They’re here now, looking bright toward the future, and it’s all that matters.

"I’ll keep your secret if you want, be the Lilly to your Hannah Montana," she tells him lightly before they both laugh at the silly reference.

Happiness and glee has Harry tightening his hold around her shoulder, "nah, I don’t wanna play double-agents anymore. I wanna be the guy who gets the girl." He dips his head to catch her lips between his own, reveling in their newfound intimacy. Turning her face against his chest, Y/n impresses her bashful smile on his swallow-tattooed skin, before she lays a trail of pecks tickling the area underneath his armpits, "well, you got me now."

➪ Masterlist

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #Harry fic #enemies to lovers #angst #so much angst #smut #I didn't think I could be this filthy lol #uni au #artstudent!harry #art #harry fanfic #harry styles writing #reader insert #harry styles au

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its-ya-boi-autumn · 4 years

Note

Hope your day is going well can we get a sexy aggressive chrollo punishing their s/o for acting bratty? Thank you! ❤️

I've been in such a horni boi mood it's actually concerning

also, I’m posting this for 1.3k! Thank you guys and I apologize for the thousandth time for my lousy schedule with writing, this has been in my inbox as have many more and I plan to bust them out when I get the motivation. Thank you for sticking with me and still enjoying my content despite the fact that I’m a little slow, your support and patience is appreciated a lot :’) I suck at talking about emotions but I’m trying to be genuine I know I suck at it. I hope you enjoy this~ (I was uncomfy as hell meaning it’s a good one lol)

You couldn’t help the smirk that edged at your lips as the door slammed shut behind you. The click of a lock signaled your exit being sealed before you were spun around and slammed against the nearest wall, caging you in with his strong arms. Chrollo’s face was threateningly close, his lips allowed quick gusts of air to brush up against your own.

“Aww why are you all upset with me?” your tone was whiny and by God was it annoying. His grey gaze was hard on your face, clearly he’d had enough. You wiggled beneath him, your hands making way up his chest. He wasn’t having it, immediately taking your wrists and pinning them above your head. The mere force stole a rather erotic gasp straight from your throat. It was rare for his patience to run so thin and only you could get him here. But this was exactly what you wanted, and he knew it. Chrollo inhaled deeply before speaking.

“You know damn well why I’m upset with you. I’m not playing your little games tonight. Now is not the time y/n.” the way your name spilled from his mouth sent sparks fluttering around your thighs. Your hips drifted forward before coming into contact with his own.

“It definitely feels like you do~ come on Chrollo, please~?” you weren’t one to give up very easily which was initially what he liked about you. But tonight wasn’t the night for that. He’d have to leave with the troupe in 30 minutes and that was nowhere near enough time to punish you properly.

“I said no.” his voice stayed firm but your legs felt like jelly and you let your body sink against the wall, arms still high above your head. The way your mouth parted in a subtle moan mixed with your slack figure was a sight to behold and he didn’t know how much longer he’d hold off. Especially with your front rubbing up against his hard on.

“Even if you don’t fuck me you’ll have to fix your little friend down there.” you teased, rutting yourself again him again. You were granted a growl from somewhere in his chest, goosebumps slithering all over your skin. Your arms, your thighs, your chest, tingled with the need to be touched. You looked up at him with pleading eyes. He knew you were in need and you’d act like this until you got what you wanted. In fact the more he thought about it the riskier it may have been to leave you like this. For all he knew his phone would be blown up with explicits of your nude form and that was the last thing he needed on the job. You couldn’t fix it yourself since that little sweet spot was too far back for you to reach with your own slender fingers, and he’d refused you any toys unless he specifically used them on you because of his love for your desperation for him. And you were right. He’d have to fix himself before leaving, and Chrollo didn’t finish quickly.

You watched as his thoughts unfolded and you knew he was contemplating it. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, hoping he’d give in. Before you knew it you were spun around again, chest and face pressed up against the wall. His breath laid heavy near your ear. He said nothing but he didn’t have to. The throbbing of his cock on your ass said enough. The hand not holding your wrists roughly wound itself up your shirt, tugging insistently on the sensitive bud of your breast. You noticed he couldn’t help but rut himself through his jeans onto your clothed behind. The feeling made you giggle, earning a sharp smack on the ass. Your gasp only made him harder.

Chrollo knew it was a bad idea to draw this out, but your attitude warranted no reward. He needed to see you begging and pleading for him, though currently it seemed as if he were begging for you with the way he was dry humping you. He needed to switch things up a bit.

The feeling of his body parting from yours was cold and sudden, drawing a whine from you. The bulge beneath his zipper was beyond obvious, licking your lips at the sight. You watched your lover make his way for the bed, taking off his black blazer and setting it to the side. Chrollo plopped down on the sheets, patting his thighs.

“Come here princess.” his voice was low, no room for disobedience. You simply did as told, parting your thighs to seat yourself upon his thigh. He stopped you, smirking.

“Not like that,” he started, the look in his eyes hearing your core, “bend over for me.”

It took a moment for the command to process, but he waited. You gulped, sliding off his thigh to bend yourself over them. Your breathing became quite shallow, slight fear taking over your senses. His hand gently placed itself atop your behind, causing you to jump at the contact. This made him chuckle. It showed you hadn’t been quite ready.

“Hands behind your back.” and you did just that, crossing them behind the small of your back. Chrollo gripped your forearms and held them in place. The slight pressure arched your back enough for a slight pang of pain to elicit more wetness to your panties. His hand left your ass, leaving the anticipation of his next move to roll around your head.

“I should be leaving soon, but you’ve been a little too bratty for my liking tonight.” he mumbled, more to himself than to you, but you could still hear it. You scoffed.

“I had barely done anything~” you tried to coax him more. A white hot pain stung your ass cheek, followed by a resounding smack bouncing off the walls. You arched at the feeling, digging your teeth into his thigh. He hit you again.

“Lift your head up, I’d like to hear you.” Chrollo ordered your already shaking form. You tried, but it was it good enough for him. Another stinging smack against your skin. He hadn’t even taken your leggings off just yet but you could feel the welt already rising beneath the fabric. Chrollo hit so hard sometimes you had to hold back on the safe word, you knew he’d only gotten started and it’d only piss him off more. Though he’d stop if you asked him.

But all you wanted right now was for him to fuck you, though he didn’t even have the time to do so.

Another slap but this time to the sensitive spot at the very top of your thigh. The moan you let out surprised both of you. It had been louder than expected. Chrollo laughed.

“My my, you’re even needier than I thought sweetheart.” the teasing tone made your blood boil. He was one to talk. You wriggled around in his lap, trying to also get some friction for yourself between your legs. This, of course, earned you yet another smack to your upper thighs.

“Fuck just take them off already!” you whined to Chrollo. Your leggings had become so insufferably constricting and there was almost nothing you could do about it. Chrollo of course found your discomfort amusing but obliged to your wish, tugging the waistband down just enough so it set at the tops of your thighs. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted but it would have to do. You just wanted him to touch you, that was all you needed.

The palm of his hand smoothed over your bare rear, sending sparks of fire across your swollen skin. You jolted at the touch on the welted skin, your hips jumping up slightly. Chrollo slapped your ass once more for good measure, ghosting his hand across your core. His touch made you gasp, keening backwards for more. Another sharp smack.

“Don’t move.” the command had you clenching around nothing, soaking yourself.

“Chrollo please, I need you.” and so began the begging, your voice wobbly from the eagerness of your needs. The hand on your ass spread your cheek a little to the side, exposing cold air to your wet clothed cunt. It made you whimper, willing everything in you to stay still. He parted your thighs for a peek. Chrollo was rather pleased to see that your body’s primal had taken over. Just as he wanted.

“You want me to touch you, don’t you dearest?” the question was rhetorical. It was obvious what you wanted though you nodded anyway. He spanked you again.

“Speak.”

“Yes Chrollo!”

“Yes what?”

“Yes I want- want you to touch me.” your response wavered, the sudden shame flooding in your chest. Cheeks–both sets–red and burning, Chrollo gave you another harsh blow, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. “Chrollo please!” you tried again, wanting nothing more than his fingers to slip between your folds and prod at that sweet spot in the very back of your pussy. He did as you asked, sliding your ruined panties to the side to reveal your glistening heat, met with chill air all over again. Again your back arched at the sensation, toes curling and mouth hanging open. His middle and ring fingers gather your slick before dipping beneath your inner folds and caressing your walls shallowly. The sigh of relief you let out sent shivers all over your body.

“That feels good doesn’t it angel?” his pet names made your clit twitch. He knew every way to make you submit to him, taking pleasure in your despair. He delved deeper, stretching your pussy with a third finger before gently poking the spongey patch on your upper wall. Your legs started to shake, hips rocking in his lap. Rather than thrusting his digits in and out he simply focused all of his attention on that one patch, poking and rubbing against it generously.

Discharge had began to collect around his fingers, signaling your closeness so early. He withdrew his hands from you, picking you up and pinning you to the bed. He reached into his side table drawer and pulled out the leather handcuffs you’d bought, the purple glitter shining from the lamplight. Chrollo cuffed you to the headboard before getting up from the bed.

“H-hey! Where are you going?” you called out as he walked across the room. He opened the closet doors, rummaging through for something. He held whatever he found behind his back, closing the closet doors back up. He waltzed back over to the bed, revealing the wand in his hand. Checking his watch, he sighed.

“I guess it’s time for me to go now,” he started, plugging the wand into the wall next to your shared bed. He stuffed it between your legs, pressing it against your aching clit roughly. Chrollo turned the setting up so medium and your body instantly reacted. Your thighs clenched around the toy, rutting against it for some friction. His hand came down upon your ass once more making you cry out.

“Don’t come until I get back, understand?” he asked, already knowing the answer. He grabbed his blazer back up and fixed himself up some, just fo be safe. He could fix his little problem in his pants when he found a bathroom, though he wouldn’t have to worry about your antics until he got home. “You’re just gonna leave me like this?” you complained, shaking and tugging at the cuffs that bound your wrists.

“I’ll come back, but I want you to learn your lesson.” he said before leaving the room, you lying in bed, your release so close but always so far.

#chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #hxh #huntr x Hunter 2011 #anime #fanfiction #my writing #smut #chrollo smut #hxh smut

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im-lad-ris · 4 years

Text

I Won’t Say I’m in Love : Thranduil X Female! Reader

Prompts: “Hi can I request a Thranduil x elf! reader imagine where he likes her but is too prideful to admit it so the reader & Legolas put on a show to make him jealous?” & “Can you write a Thranduil x fem elf! reader imagine, based on the song I won’t say (i’m in love) from the movie Hercules please??”

Submitted by: @elia-the-bibliophile

Words: 2.5K

A/N: Sorry I’ve been so behind on my writings, so much has been going on and its really been stifling my writing process. But I hope you guys enjoy this, I lost the original draft and completely rewrote it from scratch. Also, this has now become one of my longest ficlets! Also its not edited yet but I will go through soon and fix any errors! Also will add to masterlist soon!

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

The first time the elf king laid his eyes on you, you had been a force to be reckoned with. Your hands were gripping dual swords, and you had made your way across the battlefield with grace, slicing down any orc that had found itself unlucky enough to be in your path.

He had taken a sharp breath and tried to remember that he was standing in a battlefield, but watching you move he felt a tug at his heartstrings. He could not even bare to tear his eyes away from you as he swung his own blade at an orc that had gotten to close for comfort. The foul things head had come off and landed at his feet, and yet he watched as you jumped up and planted your feet into another elf’s back, sending him flying out of the way of an arrow that surely would have ended his life. You had used the momentum to flip around and land back on your feet just in time to deflect another arrow with one blade, while using the other one to slash at the orc nearest you.

Thranduil’s face remained impassive, after all he was a king and he had some image to uphold, but he was finally able to draw his eyes away from you. He knew he had seen your face in his kingdom before, but now you were on his radar. He moved through the battle with new vigor, intent on being able to look upon your face once every filthy orc on the field had had its life snuffed out.

----

“Legolas, you really should not make bets that you know you cannot win” you stated, as another guard tossed a bag of coin into your waiting hand. You smiled as you waggled the coin bag in front of your friend’s face, and all he could manage in response was an incoherent mumble.

You had just drunk Legolas under the table, which was usually how these sorts of bets with him panned out. You couldn’t help but to laugh at him before you lifted him up, supporting him with your shoulder and following the familiar route to his room. As you passed into the royal suite of rooms, you noticed Legolas had fallen asleep while slung across your shoulder. You sighed before you opened the door to his room and threw him, rather ungracefully, onto his bed. You shook your head, a smile still gracing your lips, before dusting your hands off on your tunic and heading out the door.

As you closed the door and turned around you were met with the rather imposing figure of the king.

“There must be good reason for you to be sneaking out of my sons room at this time of night” Thranduil said, his gaze sharp as he looked down at you, but you could see the twinkle in his eyes. You were unsure what such a twinkle meant in comparison to the glare he sent down at you. You had always been unsure about the way he saw you.

“Aran nín (my king)” You started, as you dipped your head into a bow, “He decided that he could beat me in a drinking contest. I’m simply doing the right thing by escorting him to his bed when he could not even manage to hold his own weight up.” You replied as you tried to hide your smile from remembering your friend’s antics.

His face remained impassive, although you were sure you saw his lip twitch.

“Well to make up for my sons... disagreeable behavior, it would be my pleasure to escort you back to your room, híril nîn (my lady)” he said as he fell into place next to you, his hand resting on the small of your back as you both trekked to your room. You tried your best to stay calm, but you felt as if your heart was in your throat and you were sure Thranduil could hear it. His hand never moved from your back, and when you reached your door, he took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your palm before bidding you goodnight. You almost squealed with delight but instead you smiled and kept composure, waiting to lose it as you jumped into bed for the night.

You absolutely adored Thranduil. He was by far the handsomest elf you had ever laid your eyes upon, something you had thought even when you were a small elleth who ran around the kingdom. His eyes were an ocean, and you desired nothing more to swim in them everyday for the rest of your life. The way his hand had been on your back, the way his lips had lingered on your palm, all gave you hope that maybe he felt the same, but reality came crashing down every time you met his gaze. He did not smile, and his face was always hardened with a glare. Somedays you wondered if he felt anything at all, while on others you wished that we would gaze upon you as if you were is beloved, his treasure.

----

If there's a prize for rotten judgement,

I guess I've already won that

No woman is worth the aggravation,

That's ancient history, been there, done that!

As Thranduil left from your rooms, he had clenched his hand to his side. He should have said something, but what good would that have done. His pride always got the better of him and caused him to hold his tongue. He was the king! How could he bring himself to admit that he was feeling something for you?

The past had not been kind to him in regards to love. He spoke nothing of Elerrian anymore, and although he cared much for her, she had passed long ago, leaving him alone in a cold world. Looking at you, he felt the tug on his emotions he once had with her. To him, it was almost as if a string of fate had been wrapped around both your pinkies, and it was all he could do to ignore the pulling sensation he felt.

He dare not fall into the pits of love once more, as much as he wished he could. He recalls the day he saw you on the battlefield and had to keep himself in check. He cannot... no, he would not allow himself to admit that he felt something for you. He had learned throughout his long life that love was nothing but heartache and pain, and he refused to lose another who was dear to him.

----

She's the Earth and heaven to you,

Try to keep it hidden

Honey, we can see right through you

Boy, ya can't conceal it

We know how ya feel and

Who you're thinking of!

He watched as you sat and laughed with his son, his nails digging into the arm of his seat at the head of the table.

After Thranduil’s first encounter with you, he could not help but make it so you were always near him. He found out your name from Legolas, who apparently was your friend and confidant, which is the most likely reason he knew he had seen you before. After this, he assigned you as one of the main commanders of Mirkwood’s forces due to your battle prowess, however, this had allowed you to not only join his council, but also the privilege of being the only elleth on it.

However, this had also led to Legolas being able to spend more time with you. Thranduil refused to admit that he was jealous. He was the ruler of the kingdom, one such as he did not feel such things. But the more he saw you laugh with his son, the more he had to bite down on his tongue to keep from lashing out in an unsavory manner in front of you.

However, he could not stop his glare towards his son as he watched you fling your head back in laughter, your arm on Legolas’s shoulder as you tried to catch your breath. Legolas turned to look him in the eyes, clearly uncertain as to the nature of the glare he was receiving, although his face did light up as he seemed to put the pieces together.

Thranduil gritted his teeth together, his fingernails leaving crescent indents on his palms as he balled his fists, he was feeling as though he would be ground into dust as he watched Legolas lean over and whisper in your ear as you blushed and nodded. He felt as if he was a mortar, with the pestle grinding his very being into dust. Yet, he was still stone, still unwavering and would not yet yield. He refused to speak with you on the matter of his affections, it was unbecoming of a ruler. He would not stand here and declare his feelings for you, and he most likely never would.

He pushed his emotions down and loosened his fists as his knuckles had turn white, he willed his face to once again be completely impassive, even as he felt as if wanted to crush something with his hands as you and Legolas left together.

----

Legolas leaned towards you, his hand on your shoulder and a knowing smile on his lips. He turned and met his fathers fiery gaze once more before he spoke.

“Hey, Y/N, remember that crush you have on my ada (father)?” he asked you. Your eyes went wide, and you sputtered before trying to cover the growing blush on your face with your hands.

“Leg! Do you really need to bring that up here?” you whispered back at him through your hands.

“Of course! Any chance to embarrass you Mellon nîn (my friend)!” he laughed for a second, before his face turned deathly serious. “But back to the point, I think I have a plan of sorts, and I very much believe you’d wish you hear it”

----

No chance, no way

I won't say it, no, no

You swoon, you sigh

Why deny it, uh-oh

It's too cliche

I won't say I'm in love

The next evening, the pieces of Legolas’s plan had slid together almost seamlessly.

He sat with you at the front of the corridor, so that any who passed could plainly see what was happening between the two of you. This worked in his favor, especially since his ada usually passed the hall around this time in order to reach the royal suites. Plus, any servants who passed were certain to inform him about the goings on they had witnessed, which would most likely prompt him to rush to you both.

Legolas’s arm was slung over your shoulder and your legs were pulled into his lap, He gently rubbed small circles into your thigh with his fingernails.

Soon, he heard the familiar footsteps of his ada, and began to set the plan into motion.

His hand left your knee and he placed his finger under your chin, using it to keep your face level with his. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the dark gray of his ada’s robe as he began to turn into the corridor. Legolas winked at you and pulled you closer, his lips dancing over the shell of your ear. He couldn’t help but whisper softly to you, “I wish I could see the look on his face right now Y/N”, causing you to involuntarily shudder.

After turning the corner, Thranduil was practically seeing red, he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His son, his only child, amorously flirting in his hallways, his kingdom. However., when he saw it was you in Legolas’s arms, he forgot how to breathe, and he couldn’t seem to think clearly. His brain had turned to acid in his skull. His face hardened as he stormed over to you both, grabbing you by the wrist harshly and yanking you away from Legolas and down the hall. After a few twists and turns, he had reached the end of a deserted hallway and pushed you up against the wall.

Before you could even gasp at the contact your body had made with the wall behind you, Thranduil’s lips were on yours. You stood still, his hand still grasping your wrist tight. He pulled away from you, and the look on his face seemed dejected, it was unbecoming of his beautiful features to be contorted into such a look of melancholia.

He released the pressure on your wrist and dropped it before turning away and trying to make off down the corridor.

You couldn’t stop yourself by grabbing him by the back of his robe and pushing him against the wall, just as he had done to you. “Where do you think you’re going...” you surged forward, as your lips brushed over his, “Thranduil..”

His eyes widened before you crashed your lips into his, full of fiery passion and spirit, the kind he had seen from you so often. His lips were warm, and he tasted of mint, this moment reminding you of days spent in the forest, nights spent under the stars. He sucked at your bottom lip as your hand wove its way into his hair. You couldn’t help yourself as you grazed your teeth over his lower lip, your hands roaming up to run through his hair and caress his face and neck, everything soft as silk. He let out a low groan before he grabbed you once again and switched positions, your back once again on the wall. He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours and breathing heavily.

“Fuck...” he muttered under his breath, before burying his head in your shoulder.

“Thranduil... Gi melin (I love you)” you whispered from swollen lips “Meleth nîn…(my love)” one of your hands rubbed circles into his low back, the other tucked strands of hair behind his ear.

“Do not forget Y/N,” he started, the shakiness in his voice surprising you “I would pluck every star from the sky and lay them at your feet. I offer you my sword, I offer you my life.” He raised his head from your shoulder before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You are my ithildim (star-light)” he whispered as his thumb ran across your cheek. He offered you a small smile, the first genuine one you had ever seen from him, before he pulled his hand away and walked off down the corridor.

Your fingers ran over your lips, which still tingled, and when you licked at them you could still taste the mint on them. Your skin felt seared where his hands had run across it. As you watched him leave, you could not help but to let out a small laugh. His pride had forbidden him from directly saying he loved you the way you did him, but his actions, his words, they all proved to you the truth. Although he could not say his feelings, he had shown you them plainly enough.

You smacked your hands against your cheeks and shook your head before you made after him, you refused to let your little rendezvous be over so soon, especially after you and Legolas had went through all that effort to make it happen.

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

Tag List: @writing-fortolkein @saltysalt01 @your-pixels-are-showing @emastrangee

Remember to send an ask or message me if you want to be added to the lag list

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #Thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil imagine #LOTR #legolas greenleaf #King Thranduil #imagine #lotr imagine #songfic #i wont say im in love

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itsthewritergal · 4 years

Text

Does He Know? F.W. x reader

This is part two of My Lips are Sealed!! I am loving how this is coming along, I’ve got so many ideas! Let me know what you think is going to happen next :)

Trigger Warnings - mentions of abortion, as always please don’t read if it may trigger you!! I’ve got many other Fred fics instead :) xx

You can find part one Here

or part 3 here

Y/N felt sick, she jogged her knee up and down in attempts to slow her nerves. Every bone in her body told her to run, but she sat in the plastic uncomfortable chairs. Her eyes grazed over the couples who sat together, whispering with each other. Y/N knew that if George was here he’d make some fun out of it, he’d try to imitate some of the other patients, or ask ridiculous questions which no doubt would make them both laugh. She knew he’d be able to make her laugh, her mind drifted over to Fred. He’d be trying to chat up the nurses. She pushed the thoughts of him out of her head quickly. She watched as one couple were laughing with each other, they gave Y/N a small smile when they caught her eye, she smiled back politely; silently wishing the ground would swallow her whole.

She just wanted this to be over, she wanted to go back to work and laugh with Fred and George like she would usually do, she didn’t want to have this weighing heavy on her heart. Picking up a magazine she began flicking through the pictures. Nothing could stop her mind wondering though, what would her life be like if she left right now. Would she buy a little house, and paint the nursery all by herself. Pushing the thoughts out of her head, she didn’t want to think about that right now, she couldn’t back out, she didn’t want to. Turning her attention back towards the magazine, she forced herself to read the words printed.

“Y/N would you like to come through?” The nurse said kindly, Y/N smiled as she followed her out of the waiting room.

-----

Y/N hurried her way towards the exit of the hospital, she just wanted to go back home and sleep. Emotionally she was drained, more than she had expected, her mind was running continuously wondering whether she had made the right choice.

“Y/N!” A voice called Y/N turned around and was greeted by Caitlin, George’s girlfriend “How are you?” she asked quickly making her way towards Y/N

“Good! I haven’t seen you for a while” Y/N plastered a fake smile onto her face, she could tell that Caitlin saw straight through it.

“George told me you had an appointment today, he said I might see you” She grinned “Do you fancy a coffee? I’m on my break and am dying for one” She asked

“I’d love to” Y/N said honestly, Despite not wanting to talk she really didn’t want to be alone, she knew as soon as she was her mind would wonder to places she didn’t want it to go.

Caitlin sat herself opposite Y/N in the hospital cafe. The waitress set two large mugs down on the table, Y/N thanked her gratefully. Caitlin and Y/N sat in silence for a few minutes waiting for the other one to start the conversation.

“George told me” She said quietly, Y/N smiled slightly, George never could keep a secret from Caitlin

“I thought he would” Y/N answered, her eyes entranced by the cup of tea in front of her

“He swore me to secrecy, but he thought that you could use a friend” She gave Y/N a sympathetic smile “It can’t have been easy”

“It’s done now” Y/N said quietly, stirring another spoonful of sugar into her tea

“You could have asked me to come with you” she said kindly, Y/N avoided her gaze knowing that she was going to burst into tears at any moment “Or George, either one of us, you know that don't you?” She said sympathetically

“I know, George said he would come with me” Y/N said quietly “It was something I needed to do alone” Y/N answered fighting to keep the tears inside

“I understand that” Caitlin smiled “George is worried about you. Kept texting me this morning making sure that I wouldn’t forget that you were coming” She chuckled

“He’s a good friend” Y/N said simply,

“Do you know who the dad was?” Caitlin asked after a few moments of silence, Y/N felt her heart crack a little as her mind drifted back to that night

“Fred” Y/N whispered, feeling a weight lift once she said his name

“You two are together?” Caitlin asked confused

“No” Y/N said sadly, pushing the thoughts of that night out of her mind

“I didn’t know you two even” Caitlin trailed off slightly

“It was once, at their summer party” Y/N explained

“But you left early because you weren’t well” She said replaying the moments of that night

“Fred took me home” Y/N said simply “He stayed with me, we were both drunk and it just happened”

“Does he know?” Caitlin asked

“No” Y/N said quickly “He can’t know. It didn’t mean anything to him, it was just a bit of fun”

“I wont say anything” she promised giving Y/N’s hand a friendly squeeze “George hasn’t told him about your appointment either” She added

“He hasn’t?” Y/N said knowing that the twins didn’t have secrets between them

“No, he hasn’t. He said that you didn’t want anyone to know, so he never told him”

Y/N smiled a little, knowing that her friendship with Fred would still be in tact.

“I ought to get back to work” She said

“Of course” Y/N said quickly “Thank you for the coffee” Y/N smiled kindly

“How about you come over tomorrow night, let’s have a girlie night” Caitlin suggested

“I’d love that” she answered honestly knowing that it was just what she needed

“Perfect! I finish at six so come over around 7?” Caitlin said

“I’ll be there” Y/N smiled as Caitlin left the cafe quickly.

------

Y/N paused for a moment before she stepped into the shop, a few customers wandered their way around the shelves. Fred was animatedly talking to a young boy about one of the products, Y/N had to tear her eyes away from the interaction, Y/N made her way up to the staff room. Closing the door behind her, she set her bag and coat down. Wiping underneath her eyes in attempts to remove the mascara which had run slightly, she pulled her hair into a tight ponytail. Plastering on the best fake smile she could, she walked out into the shop. Waving at Fred as she walked over to help a confused looking customer. Fred waved back animatedly, grinned as he did. Y/N finished with the customer, pleased having gotten her to spend double what she had planned to.

“I knew there was a reason why we employed you” Fred laughed, leaning himself on the counter in front of Y/N, who smiled in response.

“Fred I’ve got a lady upstairs who’s driving me mad, can you go work your magic?” George asked

“I’m on it” He grinned, bounding off upstairs, eager for the challenge

“Hey” George said quietly drawing Y/N’s attention towards him “How was this morning?” He asked

“Fine” She said blankly, not wanting to talk about it

“Was it all ok? He asked, his voice was laced with concern

“It was fine George, I really don’t want to talk about it” She pleaded

“I”m you’re friend. It might help to talk about it?” He suggested

“I doubt it, I just want to forget it all” She said honestly, pulling her eyes away from George’s gaze

“Are you ok?” he asked

“I’m fine. I’m absolutely fine” She knew that she didn’t sound very convincing

“Promise me?” He said “Swear it?” He said

“George” she wined “I’ll be fine” She said

“You know where I am if you want to talk about it” George said

“I’ve got a girlie night with Caitlin tomorrow, after some ice cream and lots of wine I’ll be back to normal” She said with a forced laugh.

Taglist (also I’m really hoping it works because I’ve never done it before!)

@asuperconfusedgirl @obsessedwithjustaboutanything @fuckthenewyorkpost @manuosorioh @gingerspicetalks @fred-weasleys-bitch @whorotional @n3ssm0nique @hey27 @unadulteratedfirellamapanda @ellsxwilkins @rosaliepostsstuff @whitewineandpizzapuffs

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley angst #fred weasley imagines #fred #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #hp fandom #hp #hp fanfic

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snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales · 3 years

Text

Blue Moon - Part 3

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.) What’s this? What’s this?! Yes, I have decided to be kind and give you part 3 early! After this, updates will resume as normal, as stated on the Masterlist. ……..Unless I crumble again, and cave, and post early, but we’re not talking about that. *ahem* Surprise!

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 3,037

Xxx

After everything had been cleaned up, and Derek was resting peacefully on his bed, the pack left, giving you a quiet reassuring word, pat on the shoulder, or kind look, offering their time if you needed to talk.

Thanking them, you slid the door closed, letting your forehead slump against it lightly. Your breathing was deep, trying to gather yourself from the chaos of the day. Comfortable silence settled around you and you smiled softly before turning to survey the now empty loft.

Derek was sitting up on the edge of his bed staring at the floor between his feet, and you jumped slightly before walking over to him slowly.

“You feeling better, champ?” you said playfully.

His shoulders shaking in a silent laugh, he finally looked up to you. “I am, thanks to you.”

“Pfffft,” you waved him off dismissively. “If I hadn’t been here you would have kicked ass for me.” You grinned as he shook his head disbelievingly.

“Learn to take a compliment, okay?” His gaze held yours, his own grin climbing.

“I will, but you see, that requires you to give them more often so I can understand what this new sensation is and associate it with a compliment from the mighty Derek Hale.”

He snorted out a laugh, shaking his head as he stared at the floor again. For some reason it was hard for him to meet your gaze, something that had only gotten worse after today’s events.

Cupping his cheek, you made him meet your eyes and held them there for a second. You didn’t miss how he melted slightly into your palm as if to seek out more of your touch.

“Derek, look at me. I will fight for you, the pack will fight for you, but you have to let us. You’re not responsible for everything that goes wrong. The world just sucks sometimes. So do Stilinski’s plan’s, but that’s an argument for a different time.” You both smiled gently at each other.

Your thumb traced his cheek bone, and his eyes fluttered shut as a sigh passed his lips, fully leaning into your hand. “I know.” His voice was small and quiet, not typical of the Alpha bravado you were used to.

“I know you do.”

You let things sit in the comfortable silence for a few moments more before broaching the topic you had wanted to all night.

“What’s going on with you and Jennifer?”

He went stiff in your hold, not pulling back, but obviously on edge. “Why do you ask?”

“I just….” You bit your lip, looking down and to the side as you studied the floor hoping it held your words. Derek’s finger hooked under your chin and tilting your face back up to look into his made you gulp before letting out a heavy sigh.

Closing your eyes briefly as you gathered your thoughts. You almost forgot them when his hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your cheek bone like you had him, and you melted.

Letting one last soft sigh leave your lips, you took a deep breath and met his eyes again as you spoke softly. “I just, I have a bad feeling about her. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s something I can’t shake.”

You sat back on your haunches, effectively removing his hand from your face and yours from his. Your gaze went back to searching the floor, eyes darting up to meet his as you spoke, gauging his reactions as you continued.

“You’re different when you’re around her. Earlier on the phone your personality did a one eighty as soon as you knew it was her, and you practically rushed me out of my own home.”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” he said somewhat standoffishly.

You scoffed. “Yes, I did. You won’t let me leave your sight unless I’m at school with the pack! If anything, tonight proved I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“That’s for your own safety! The Alpha pack is dangerous and-”

“And so am I, Derek.”

He stared at you, no response coming.

“I’m just trying to look out for you. It’s almost like she’s lulling you into a false sense of security.” Derek scoffed. “Think about it, Derek. When did she show up? What weird thing coincided with her arrival? I have only been in this world for all of five minutes-”

“Five months isn’t five minutes-”

“Thank you for counting, but you know what I mean.”

Silence settled around you both once again.

“I have barely been in this world, and already it’s showed me enough to trust my instincts, and they tell me something is off. I’m just looking out for you, Derek.”

“Well, thank you, but I can look out for myself,” he snapped. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and scrunching your eyes shut. “I’m going to bed, I’m exhausted.”

Right then a tentative knock on the loft door drew your attention, and you turned to see it slide open to reveal the bit- wit- woman of the hour.

Spinning back around to see Derek’s unapologetic gaze, you held your ground, your voice the only thing giving way. “She’s back?” Your voice was almost venomous.

Derek shrugged. “It’s my loft.”

Grabbing your duffle from earlier as you brushed past her shoulder, you swear you saw her smirk.

“Where are you going, Y/N?” Derek sounded slightly concerned but mostly annoyed.

“I don’t know, Derek. But far from here.”

“Y/N, it’s dangerous-”

“So am I, Derek,” you seethed. Eyes leveled on his, he huffed out a sigh. “So am I.”

Jennifer opened her mouth like she was going to say something to you, but you held a finger up in her face. “You don’t get to talk to me outside of the school.”

She scoffed, her mouth snapping shut, and she turned wide eyes to Derek.

Turning back to face him, you grabbed your set of keys, shrugging on your jacket. “Let me know when your loft is empty again.” You were tempted to say “habitable”, but knew the shit storm that would start.

“Where are you going, Y/N?” He stood up, aggravated now.

“Like I said, I don’t know. But like I also said, if tonight proved anything, I can take care of myself.” You looked down to the keys in your hand, still covered in his blood from earlier, and you held them up by your face for emphasis, making him close his mouth, drawing it into a tight line as he stared at your wiggling fingers.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“You’re welcome,” you mumbled back, fiddling with the keys.

Looking to Jennifer once more, trying to contain your disdain, you looked back to Derek with a sigh. “I’ll stay with someone in the pack, just to be on the safe side. We still have to come up with our plan for this.” You wiggled your fingers still covered in his blood so he knew what you were talking about without going into specifics in front of the she-devil. He nodded briefly.

“Let me give you a ride,” he said, going for his own keys.

“No, Derek,” you let out on an exhausted breath. “You don’t have to come with me.” You parroted his words back at him.

Letting the loft door close with a gentle thud, you swiped at angry tears before they fell and made your way down the steps, dialing Stiles’ number.

“Hey, Stiles. Can I crash at your place tonight?”

Xxx

“I’ll kill him,” Stiles said matter of factly, rubbing circles into your shoulder with his thumbs where his hands rested, you curled up into him on the couch. The two of you had always had a close relationship, and tonight was no different.

You let out a breathy chuckle. “No, you won’t, Stiles.”

“He hurt you!” He kept his arms around you, but pulled back enough to look at you. “With his words!” He looked off into the distance, “Which almost makes it worse, because Derek Hale does not use his words….”

“Stiles….”

“He’s like a mime. A very large, very violent mime….”

“Stiles!” you chuckled.

“Hmmm? Yeah? What?” He zoned back in to the conversation, meeting your gaze again.

Shaking your head gently with a smile, you snickered. “Just do what I do, and don’t call him ‘Derek’, I just call him ‘Dramatic’.” You quickly turned, a finger close to Stiles’ face, making him go slightly cross eyed if he focused on it. “But not out loud. In your mind. Out loud, you die.”

Stiles let out a loud laugh, and you giggled, fixing your feet where they were tucked under you, and leaned back into him.

“On to more pleasant matters, Miss Jennifer Blake….”

You groaned, tossing your head back in the process, face screwed up like you ate a lemon. “I thought you said more pleasant matters, not her.”

Stiles chuckled as he went on, “I think you may be right about her.”

You sat up straight, pushing against his chest to look him in the face, jaw dropped in disbelief. “She’s evil? I can kick her out? Kick her butt? All of the above?”

“Woah, hold on, tiger,” Stiles said, snickering. “I just agree something is off about her, and the way she and Derek are, I get heebee jeebee vibes more than usual. …..And not just because it repulses me to see him in a relationship. Blech.” Stiles shuddered dramatically, making you smile and cast a glare at him at the same time.

“But on the note of kicking ass-” Stiles perked up, changing the subject, thankfully- “you kicked some serious Alpha ass back at the loft!” Stiles grinned down at you, and you couldn’t help but look down sheepishly. “I mean, can we talk about the awesomeness of you?!”

You laughed at this, looking up through your eyelashes at him, feeling your cheeks tinge pink in slight embarrassment, but your grin broad with pride. “I was kinda awesome, wasn’t I?” You lifted your face up fully to look at him straight on. “You wanna know a secret?”

He leaned into you, nodding almost imperceptibly, mouth slightly ajar and eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“Half the stuff I don’t even know how I did it. It was just instinct.”

“Get out,” Stiles said in mock surprise, and you playfully shoved his shoulder. “You mean you’re like all my other ‘new’ friends-” you felt yourself making the same face that you had in the hall at school, now realizing it was a distinctly Stilinski reaction- “and are just inherently good at things now that you have been cursed?”

You knit your eyebrows together, and you both spoke in unison, “The bite is a gift, not a curse.”

“See? I told you. Sourwolf Syndrome.”

You just shook your head at Stiles and rolled your eyes.

“No, but seriously, Stiles!” You adjusted your position on the couch once again, grabbing your ankle tucked under you with one hand, the other bracing your elbow on the back of the couch as you gestured while you spoke. Another intrinsic Stilinski thing to do.

“I literally did some of that stuff and in my head I was just saying, ‘What did I just do?’ over and over and over again.” You looked Stiles in the eyes, his face amused but serious at the same time. “Don’t get me wrong, Derek is a great teacher-” Stiles let out a “Pfffft” and looked away disbelievingly, waving that thought away with his hand- “he is!” The look he leveled on you, lips pursed, eyebrows raised, head tilted slightly down and to the side, had you chuckling. “But he never taught me some of that.”

“Maybe you were a superhero in a past life, or something,” Stiles mused, his eyes dancing playfully.

“Or a supervillain,” you countered, grinning in a way you hoped looked evil and mischievous but probably, with your luck, looked more like a grimace.

“This is highly plausible.” He nodded in agreement, looking off into the distance and scratching his neck as his head bobbed.

His arm was braced behind you on the couch, outstretched, and he pulled it in close, scooping you towards him, holding you tight to his chest, his cheek against your hair as he spoke. “Either way, can I have your autograph?”

You laughed, the silence comfortable between you, until it was broken by Stiles’ phone going off on the coffee table. This was the second time this had happened today. You swore, if it had anything to do with Jennifer again….

“Oh, look. The bell.” You mimicked his words from earlier today at school, making him level a small glare on you, to which you just grinned.

“I was thinking on my feet.”

“Are you sure you weren’t thinking with your feet?”

“How does that…. That makes literally no sense, Y/N. Do better.” He shook his head in disapproval of your joke, making you giggle, as he finally answered the call.

“Scott, hey, what’s the big-”

Because of your enhanced hearing, you didn’t need to move closer to hear the other end of the phone call.

Something about some scuffle that went down at the old abandoned mall with the Alpha pack, he was cut up but it should heal soon, the others were okay, but they think Derek is dead.

Your mind went numb.

“They ‘think’?” you asked Stiles.

“We couldn’t get to him, we had to get out….” You couldn’t pay attention as Scott’s voice faded out and all you heard is the short panicked breaths you’re making.

“Scott, I’ll call you back,” you heard Stiles say, hanging up even though Scott’s voice kept going, and taking your face in his hands firmly. “Y/N, breathe.”

“I am breathing.”

“That’s not breathing, that’s hyperventilating.”

You can’t help the slight twitch upward of your lips, and appreciated his trying to distract you, but you just felt your eyes start to glow. Reaching up you grabbed his wrists and screwed your eyes shut.

“Breathe.” He elongated the word, his voice soft, and stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, still firmly holding your face in his hands.

“He can’t be dead, Stiles.” You opened your eyes, knowing they have returned to their human color, but now they held tears threatening to fall.

“You’re right, we don’t know, that sucker has been dead to me multiple times, literally, and it never really took. I think he makes it to the afterlife and they just kick him back as ‘return to sender’.” You chuckled sadly, tears finally falling. “And don’t even get me started on Peter.” You groaned.

“Stiles, I’m serious.”

“So am I!”

“No!” His thumbs stilled as your grip on his wrists tightened, and you screwed your eyes shut again. “No.” You lowered your voice this time, trying to be calm, and gave his wrists a reassuring squeeze before loosening your hold again. Meeting his eyes, you willed your tears to stop. “You don’t understand, Stiles. Scott isn’t a member of the pack. I am. When Erica died, it was just like Cora said- like losing a limb. I would feel if my Alpha was dead.”

“You don’t know that-”

“But I do. It’s like the fight, it’s an instinct. I just know, Stiles.” He resumed rubbing your cheeks with his thumb, swiping errant tears away. “I just know.”

You sniffled, squeezing his wrists one more time and then rising from the couch before he quickly caught your hand, stopping you.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to go look for him!”

“It’s not safe, Y/N-”

“Why does everyone keep telling me that?!” you yelled in frustration, your hands finding the few remaining tears as you try to calm yourself once again. “This whole world is dangerous, Stiles! It comes with the territory! Everyone else got to go help, meanwhile I was stuck here-”

“Geeze, say what you really feel,” Stiles cut you off, his voice somewhat offended, but his face was determined.

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, I just….” You cradled the side of your face with the hand Stiles wasn’t still holding on to. “We should go look and see, he might need help.”

“If they all left, I can guarantee it was because it wasn’t safe for anyone, and Derek wouldn’t want everyone rushing into a situation like that for any reason, you know that.”

He was right. You wouldn’t admit it to him, but he was. You looked down at the carpet as he spoke.

“Look, I have that out of town meet tomorrow with the rest of the pack. We will all come up with some solution, meanwhile, you stay here.” His voice extended on the last few words as his grip tightened on your wrist like he knew you would put up a fight, meeting your gaze dead on when you leveled wide eyes on him.

“You stay here,” he continued, holding your gaze, “and see if he shows up at all. Check the hospitals, the police station, stuff like that, just avoid the loft because they already know you live there and the vet clinic because Deaton will let Scott know the second something happens. I can’t ask my dad to help at all, he doesn’t know anything about this world, and he won’t take me seriously if I ask too many questions. I have no idea why the man thinks I am always scheming.”

“Because you are,” you said softly. “You are right now, Stiles.”

“Just living up to my namesake,” he grinned, making you chuckle despite your tears.

“When we get back, we’ll handle this, but for now, just stay here. You can stay in my room, I’ll tell my dad you just didn’t want to be home alone while your parents are out of town, and once we get back, unless we call and something has changed-”

“Stiles-” you gripped his face in your hands- “breathe.”

He chuckled, grabbing your wrists like you had his. “I am breathing,” he countered.

“No, you’re scheming,” you corrected, both of you grinning at the other.

“It'll be okay, Y/N. We’ll sort this out.”

Xxx

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