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wevegottogetaway · 4 years ago

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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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zeldas-cigarrette · 4 years ago

Text

Illicit affairs. (1)

(not my gif:))

⎯ zelda spellman x reader

⎯ word count: 2,1k

⎯ warnings: slight mention of alcohol

⎯ summary: after a night out you wake up next to Zelda Spellman, later you find out you two met in a bar the night before.

⎯ ❥ author’s note: I don’t know how I got this idea but I thought it’d be fun to just write it down and see what happens, I’ll maybe do another two parts because I want to finish it with a happy ending:) ✨

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

A loud and penetrating noise tore you out of your sweet sleep, as soon as your eyes flung open you felt a sting in your head. The memories of last night were blurry and you had no idea how you ended up in your bed. Only the regularly set alarm on your phone stopped you from sleeping any longer. Usually, you weren’t someone who drinks but something about yesterday made you forget about it. You didn’t dare to move, everybody part seemed to hurt with the slightest of movements. It was just your white bedroom ceiling, that you saw. The sun had begun to rise and the morning sky was dipped in shades of pink. Without further thinking you started to get up, not wanting to be late for your job as a teacher in the academy of unseen arts. You were afraid of Zelda, the headmistress, the woman never seemed to like you. You never knew why.

Your head turned to the other side of the room to see if you had broken anything in your state last night. Unknowingly of what to expect next to you, your heart missed a beat for a second. On top of your fluffy white pillow Zelda Spellman was laying. Not even able to think clearly, you tried to put the pieces of last night in the place. In between some very clear scenes more and more occurred only black pictures. You had no clue how in hell the often resilient witch ended up next to you in bed. Curiously, you bent over her face to see if she was somewhat conscious. You waved your hand over her face, one time, two times; nothing.

Soft snores left her slightly opened mouth. This was bad; ‘when she wakes up you’re dead’ you thought. It took you a lot of courage to make the first step and poke her with your finger, not sure of what was about to happen. Her eyes quickly opened, her eyes met yours. A maybe unwanted cry escaped her mouth causing you to join out of surprise of the sudden noise. „Satan, why did you have to scream?” you asked massaging your ear in pain. „What am I doing here?” her voice still a bit raspy. You tried to play it cool, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks you turned away searching for any evidence of last nights events. Still nothing. „Did we…” „I don’t think so.”

It was awkward, none of you knew anything. Just now you realised how chill it was in your apartment. „Okay, don’t worry. We’ll figure this out, just get dressed, I’ll make coffee if you want some,” you declared hopping out of the bed and covering your body with a gown. You shot her a last glance before exiting your bedroom, though a bit shaky. How much alcohol did you consume to be in that state now? Passing the few paintings on your walls on the way to the kitchen, you switched on your coffee machine, hoping it wouldn’t be too awkward. Soon the smell of fresh coffee filled the air and also Zelda seemingly disappointed walked around the corner.

„What in Satan’s name happened last night?” the woman asked puzzled. You handed her a cup of coffee, noticing a silver ring tugging on her left hand. „Nice ring,” you smiled. „What ring? I don’t wear rings!” „Obviously you do now,” you replied pointing at it. The witch’ forehead laid in wrinkles before she shook her head as if she couldn’t believe her own eyes. „Why you? Why am I in your house?” she suddenly snapped and harshly placed the cup on the table. „Calm down, I don’t know and I could’ve also imagined someone nicer than you.” Wrong you couldn’t, you craved her attention. Since the very first moment you laid eyes on the red-headed witch, you found it hard to avert your gaze. Only an eye roll signalised how annoyed she was. „Okay, I came into that bar and ordered something… I don’t remember what,” you whispered to yourself. You heard the older woman scoff in. „What? Do you know what happened?” your voice grew energetic way too fast. Silence. It was this gruelling silence where you feel so little you don’t even dare to break the ongoing nothingness. You glanced down at your fingers, finding a silver ring, looking similar to the one that Zelda was wearing. „Why do I have the same ring as you?” in your voice grew to panic. Her head jolted in your hand’s direction. The pupils of her green eyes grew wide in split seconds. „You don’t think we-“ „I don’t know? I’m not even sure how I ended up at home,” you stammered unsure of what words to choose next. Obviously, the situation was uncomfortable for both parties, Zelda couldn’t stop herself from pinching the bridge of her nose in disbelief of her memory loss.

That woman always seemed like the most put-together person you knew, there were hardly any encounters or incidents that let people see kind of emotion. „You go to the academy and do whatever you have to, and I will look for any evidence or signs that could verify our theory,” it was hard to stay calm. You weren’t ready for such thing as marriage and Zelda clearly seemed to dislike you and if you both really did it last night; you couldn’t even imagine what to do then. It didn’t take long until the witch disappeared from your kitchen. You let yourself fall on one of the chairs, head in your hands, covering your eyes with fingers in the hope to bring back the memories.

The constant sips of coffee that ran down your throat didn’t wipe out the dizzy feeling in you nor did they wake you as they used to. Watching the sun as it rose just made you sleepier. It didn’t get in your head how you had absolutely no proper memories from your night out. Yes, it’s been stressful and you just wanted to take a break from your negative thoughts and all the stuff that’s been weighing you down, but it was never your intention to get so drunk or to upset the mighty Zelda Spellman herself. You gulped audibly before you forced yourself up from the chair. It was time to dig a little deeper and to scour your apartment, next to the bar you went to.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

It was useless, there was no paper or anything that could tell you what happened the night before. The whole morning and parts of the afternoon, you spent searching. Under your bed, you also rummaged through the kitchen drawers. Nothing.

A knock on your door nearly startled you to death, so deeply concentrated were you on finding anything in the living room. You pushed yourself up from the ground, walking up to your front door. A look through the spy drowned your mood completely. You knew the woman would show up at least in the evening, but you did not think it’d be right after work.

„Anything found yet?” „Well, Hello to you too, and no- nothing,” you sighed and let her enter your small apartment. „The last option is, to head to the bar and ask some people who’ve been there with us yesterday,” you shrugged and stared at the silvery ring you placed on the kitchen counter earlier. „The whole day I’ve been asking myself what has happened, and I cannot puzzle the pieces together, and as much as I hate to admit; you’re right,” Zelda’s sudden thought sharing startled you. „Alright, then let’s go.” You stepped on the gas as much as possible, still, it felt like a ride on a snails back. The whole situation was too crazy and odd to be true, but it was.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Arriving at the bar, a neon sign greeted you. You remembered entering the place and a weird smell embracing you, smelt like cigarettes mixed with Urin. The thought of spending time in there suddenly disgusted you. A huge glass door, meant as entrance, was pushed open by the fiery witch, stomping in the alcohol hole. She immediately rushed towards a young man behind the bar, who was mixing cocktails. „Tell me, what happened here,” while yelling her voice wandered between three different ranges. „What she meant was, Hello we need your help could you tell us what happened last night,” you intervened shooting her a warning glare. His shocked face softened, „You were the girls who got married last night,” a deep laugh followed. Zelda was just about to throw hands before you were able to pull her back to where she stood. „Oh so we did… get married,” you remarked confused, „Can you possibly tell us more?” „Yes sure, you two got drunk and started talking to each other.” „You don’t get married by just talking… Justin,” you read his tag. „Of course not, as the night went on the sparks flew,” Justin cackled. Idiot. „Mhh, the sparks flew, then?” it wasn’t easy to get the worst of you but this guy was on the best way. „Sorry, Sorry,” he defensively held up his hands, „There was a priest in the corner and when you two found out about him, you rather fast decided to get married,” the idiotic bartender explained. Zelda’s fox fur shook with her in anger. All your face muscles dropped, not knowing what’ll happen next. „Was it a catholic?” Zelda asked concerned. Oh god, if it was a Catholic priest, you two were fucked, dead, excommunicated, just all the bad stuff. „I suppose so,” he shrugged. Her face shot in your direction, the looks you two shared said more than words could. What made a catholic priest come to this filthy – you can’t call it a bar- hole. „We’re going,�� she rapidly grabbed your wrist pulling you after her.

„Ouch, god what is it with you,” you freed your wrist from her grasp. „Do you know what happens if anybody finds out we got married, worse by a catholic priest from the false god?” she huffed crossing her arms in front of her chest. „It’s bad, but we can’t undo it,” you took a step back. „It is all your fault that this misery came upon us and you have nothing better to say than , we can’t undo it’,” she imitated you. You scoffed. „My fault?” ‘Never be so polite to forget to show power’ your grandma once said. The whole day you tried to be polite, to be understanding and to comfort the one who hated you from the very beginning you showed up at the academy. Now she was accusing you of planting the idea of getting married in her brain, to that agreement belongs two people. „Listen, I tried to be nice but right now you’re giving me a very hard time,” you hissed, „It needs two people to get married and obviously you agreed to it, so now Zelda Spellman I want to think about your next words or you can stay here and I’ll leave you alone with this drunk heads in there.”

Seconds passed before she spoke up again, „Alright I’m sorry.” „Good, let’s get in there and ask if there was maybe a certificate or anything that proves our marriage. I get that you do not want to be married to me, neither would I but we have to figure this out together.” The older woman nodded, realising that there was no other way out. Entering the bar for a second time you approached Justin again. „Do you -by chance- know where the certificate is?

„Yes you left it at the table and I kept it behind the bar,” he explained. „Okay, can I have it?” „And what do I get for that?” „What do you get for that? I’ll show you what you get,” Zelda hissed ready to lose it all. „Stop it.” You warned her and held her back. „What do you want smiley face?” the tone on your voice grew harsh. „A night… with you,” It left you speechless. A look at the woman next to you made it clear she wasn’t fond of it either. „Forget it,” you snapped trying not to put a hex on him. This was it, there was no way to sneak behind that stupid bar.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

„Don’t you dare to suggest I should sleep with that idiot,” you mumbled and closed the car door a bit too loud. „I wasn’t.” It relived you to know she wouldn’t go that far. „Okay, Okay, Okay,” you started to panic, „I’m freaking out, we are so fucked if anyone ever finds that out.”

You started the engine of the car, sighing. „Calm down, we’ll figure something out,” the usually emotional cold woman reassured you. You just nodded hiding a tiny smile. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad after all.

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kay-diggle · 5 years ago

Text

The First Time

Summary: You and Taehyung finally take the next step in your relationship.

Pairing: Taehyung x Female Reader

Genre & Rating: Smut, 18+

Warnings: SMUTTTYYY (basically porn with no plot), dom!taehyung, sub!reader, fingering, oral (f. recieving), loss of virginity, vaginal intercourse, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, unprotected sex

Length: 2.4k

Notes: HELLOOOO!! This is the second fic I’m posting and I also wrote this one a while back. Hope you guys enjoy! Again, feedback is always welcomed and MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Kay-Diggle’s Masterlist

He kissed your lips with so much passion that the butterflies in your stomach wouldn’t stop fluttering. He walked you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed, causing you to take a seat and pull away from the kiss.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked.

“I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life baby.....”

You moved up the bed towards the headboard, giving him space to crawl between your legs and reconnect his lips with yours. This kiss wasn’t the same though, it was harder and more needy. As things got more heated, you couldn’t help but whine.

“Tae, baby.... take this off please,” you said, referring to his suit jacket. You just wanted to feel his skin, smooth and soft.

“As you wish, Princess” he said removing his jacket. Instead of kissing you this time, he moved his lips across your neck leaving tiny bite marks in his path.

“Fuck....” you breathed out.

Just then, you felt his hands traveling up your waist and under you back, making you arch it enough for him to pull the zipper down your dress. He slightly moved in between your legs, slipping your dress off your body and leaving you in the lingerie you were grateful you chose as your undergarments tonight, instead of the old bra and granny panties you usually wore.

“Your turn...” you said, kissing him while starting to unbutton his expensive white dressy shirt. Apparently you were taking too long for his liking, as he ripped the shirt off at its last 5 buttons.

He then took a moment to admire your basically naked body laid out in front of him, making you self conscious.

Am I too fat now? Will he get turned off by my stretch marks? What if I stink now since we’ve been out?

As though he sensed you thinking all of those negative thoughts about yourself, he intertwined your fingers and leaned down, capturing your lips in the sweetest kiss you’ve possibly ever had. He washed all of your doubts away with just his lips.

And then his lips traveled down your neck again while he stroked your hair. His fingers moved from your hair to your neck to your collarbone and then your bra. He broke the kiss and began rubbing your breast through your bra, eliciting a moan from your pink swollen lips. He then pressed his lips against your left breast and then bit down hard, swiping his wet tongue across the bruise to help with the pain. All the while, his hands are behind your back, unhooking your bra and then flinging it across the room. Suddenly he took your right nipple in his mouth and started sucking while rolling the left around with his index and thumb finger, and then he switched. With his mouth still on your nipple, he ghosted his fingers down the expanse of your body, and down to your panties. He gave you a look as if asking for your permission and you gave him a small nod.

He hooked his finger inside of your underwear, moving it to the side. Then he slid his finger down your slit, feeling all of your juices and spreading them. You were incredibly wet, and he couldn’t believe it was all because of him. With his new found confidence, he hovered over you and began to remove your panties. You realized his pants were still on, so you gathered enough confidence to take them off. You sat up and began unbuckling his belt. He looked down to see how red your cheeks were getting, and he didn’t want you to be embarrassed, so he grabbed your chin and forced your eyes to meet him, instantly calming you. He kissed your lips gently and when you both pulled away, he moved his hands down to help you finish taking off his pants. Afterwards, he placed his hand on your stomach, pushing your down on your back. His fingers traveled back to your soaking center, and so did his eyes.

“Fuck baby, you’re dripping on the sheets. Can I eat you out?”

You were shocked to say the least, as you didn’t think your boyfriend would be one into oral, but were too curious and excited to say deny him nonetheless. He then moved his face down to your center, admiring your glistening pussy in front of him. Sensing your anticipation, his index finger made its way to your center, and pushed in. To say the stretch was painful was an understatement, but understandable since you’ve never had anything inside of you before. He saw that you were uncomfortable, and then latched his thick lips to your clit, sucking in hopes to distract you from the pain. And it worked.

The slurping sounds he made turned you on even more, and eventually the pain you felt from his finger turned into pleasure, prompting him to add another, and then another while still sucking viciously on your clit.

He removed his face to look at yours and replaced his mouth with his thumb, using it to circle your clit, hard and fast. Still fucking you with his fingers, he felt you convulsing around them, signaling your high would be coming soon, which was his plan. He knew that once he slid into your tight, wet cavern, he wouldn’t last long, and didn’t want to disappoint you by not making you cum on your first time.

When he felt you getting a bit too close, he removed his fingers, smirking at your disappointed face.

“Why’d you stop?” You pouted sitting up.

“Because, if you’re gonna cum for the first time... it’s gonna be around my dick love” he said with a sly smile, making your cheeks turn a crimson red.

“But wait.... shouldn’t I..? Ya know?” You gestured towards the tent in his black boxers.

“No... at least not tonight... now, condom?”

“.... you don’t have to ...” you trailed off slightly embarrassed by the conversation.

His hand cupped your cheek, kissing you and forcing you back down on the bed. This kiss went on for a while before he decided it was time.

“Relax baby. Ready?” He asked you, searching your eyes for any sign of you being uncomfortable.

“Yes Taehyung. I trust you.”

He dragged his boxers down his thick thighs, and his erection, red and angry with precum dripping out, slapped his abdomen as he removed the last piece of clothing he had on.

His dick was the prettiest you had ever seen, relatively speaking. It had a good length, maybe 6 or 7 inches. But it’s width was what really shocked you. His penis was thick as fuck, and you just had the urge to put it in your mouth. As you moved to touch it, he lightly smacked your hand away.

“Aht aht, sweetheart. Not tonight. Tonight is all about you babe” he said with another kiss to your lips.

He settled himself between your legs, hovering about you and holding his weight with his arms pressed on the bed at either side of your head. He moved to grab his dick with his hand, almost whimpering at the contact while you watched him very intensely. He then dragged his length up and down your slit, collecting your juices on the tip of his dick.

And then he was inside you.

He entered you, inch by inch, watching your face for signs of pain. It was written all over your face how much the stretch was hurting you, and he felt bad.

“Do you want me to stop, baby...?” He asked pausing all movement.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek, grateful that he was being so caring and careful with you.

“No, please keep going”

And that was all he needed. As he slowly moved his length in and out of you, you waited for the pain to dull down a bit. It took a few minutes, but when it did, it was a feeling unlike one you’ve ever felt before.

“Fuck... please go faster” you whispered in his ear and he pressed his face into the crook of your neck.

“Are you sure?” He asked

“If you ask me that question one more time, I’m gonna cut your dick off” you joked although you were slightly annoyed that he was still going so easy on you.

“Damn, okay KINKY” he chuckled before he got a little serious and kissed you again.

He removed himself from within you, making you whine, and got on his knees. He spread your legs wider, raised your hips off the bed and tightened his grip on them. Then slammed into you, causing a gasp to escape from your throat, leaving your mouth hanging wide open. This new angle allowed him to go much deeper than before and you weren’t sure if you could handle it.

“Close your mouth babe, you don’t wanna catch flies, now do you?” he smirked, bringing a hand to your chin and closing your mouth before he returned it to your hip and began drilling into you.

The pleasure you felt was out of this world. It was so much that your body couldn’t help but try and fight. Your shaky legs kept trying to close in on him, making him slip out. He gave you a slap on your ass.

“STOP fucking closing your legs. Remember you wanted this princess?” He said and pressed your bodies closer, and placing his forehead on yours, his lust filled eyes starting right back into yours.

“Fuck tae ... oh my god”

“Yea sweetheart, tell me how I’m making you feel baby...” he replied.

Obviously he has the praise kink, you mentally noted before the feeling of his dick consumed started to consume all of your thoughts.

“It feels so good... oh my god your dick feels so good inside me. Please don’t stop, ughhh” you said, giving him the confirmation he wanted.

“FUCK, baby, why are you so fucking wet and tight.” He groaned out.

As your legs kept viciously shaking, he trapped your body with his. He dropped his hold on your hips making you lay flat against the bed again, and pressed his hand on your abdomen so that you couldn’t arch your back, making sure you were taking everything he was giving you.

“Shit baby, im gonna cum. Can I cum pleaseeee” you whined while you panted, sweat coating your forehead.

“FUCK! I’m not stopping you, am I?” he asked sarcastically.

“No…” you quietly responded in a broken sob. The feeling of his dick had you crying at this point, tears slipping from your eyes.

“No i’m not. Now be a good girl for me and cum all over my dick. I need you to” he let out a low growl as he wrapped his fingers around your neck, applying a minimal amount of pleasure.

Between his words turning you all the way on, him choking you, and then him rubbing your clit, there was no way you would last for more than 30 seconds.

“Fuuuuucccckkkkk” you whined out as you felt your climax take over.

You instantly went into a state of euphoria. You had never felt such an intense but pleasurable feeling in your life. Tae watched you shake all over his dick, pushing him further to his climax but not quite there yet.

“Turn over” he said, helping you readjust your body.

With your ass up in the air, aligned with his crotch and your head on top of a pillow, he slowly slipped into you again, making you feel every inch. The new position allowed him to go even deeper than you ever thought he could, and at this point you were really worried for your cervix.

“Jesus....” you cried out.

He leaned over your body and whispered in your ear “not even he can’t save you now, sweetheart.”

And with that, he started obliterating your vagina, in a good way. He grabbed a hold of your hair, holding it back in a makeshift ponytail and tugging on it while he grunted over and over again.

The overstimulation was starting to become too much, and you weren’t sure if you could take much more. You started to slowly inch further towards the headboard, but tae noticed. It earned you a hard smack on your right ass cheek and a harder tug on your hair.

“Don’t you dare try to run away......” he said kind of angrily, and started to go even faster than before, the fastest he’s gone all night. He pulled your body up by your hair to press into him, your back directly against his front.

“Can you be a good girl and take this dick that I’m so generously giving to you?” He smacked your ass again.

“Answer me..”

“Yes I can... fuck, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.... Shit I’m gonna cum again.”

“You wanna cum with me baby?”

“Yesss... please.. what...ever.. you.. w-want” your words came out in pants.

Just then he pressed his fingers onto your clit, making the pressure become too much.

“Cum” he whispered in your ear.

And that’s all it took to set you off for the second time that night.

“Fuck fuck fuck.... baby... shit..” Taehyung chanted as he spilled into your pussy, your juices combining and leaking onto the bed.

Exhaustion instantly overtook your body and you dropped forward onto the bed. Tae fell on top of you, slightly crushing you but you didn’t care. Feeling his bare skin against your own made you smile and chuckle into the pillow your face was currently smushed into.

“Something funny babe?” he asked, smiling himself now, and lightly stroking your side. He rolled onto the other side and pulled your body until you were laying on your side facing him.

“No, I'm just… so happy baby. Thank you so much. I don’t think I could’ve asked for a more perfect first time,” you explained, scooching your body closer to his and throwing an arm around his neck.

“You are so very welcomed honey,” he smiled and kissed the tip of your nose. “I’ll go set up a bath for us so I can wash you up. I don’t think you’d be able to stand in the shower right now,” she smirked.

“Shut up,” you playfully slapped his chest and watched as he stood up and walked into the bathroom, leaving you to smile and giggle happily to yourself.

You lost your virginity to the person you were in love with and it was amazing. It was then that you were sure waiting for to have this moment with Tae, the man of your dreams, was the best decision you had ever made.

#bts #bts smut #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung imagine #dom!taehyung #sub!reader #bts imagines

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

Note

hey steph! how long would you say you spent on sorting out fic recs and tagging them and all that stuff? just curious because i really wanna start a fic rec blog too

Hey Nonny!

UGGGHHHH Tumblr deleted my entire response, so I’m going to just jot out what I remember.

Depending upon how long you’re willing to spend, a LONG time. You guys have NO idea how much work it is, and how much off-tumblr time I spend doing it. When I keep saying “it’s a full time job” it really is. The blogging you guys actually see takes about 2 hours, from filing my blog to answering a few asks here and there, but the rest is ALL filing my fics and creating lists.

Now, mine is “perfected to my liking” after two years of trial and error and headaches, but yeah, if you’re serious about becoming strictly a fic rec blog, prepare to put in a lot of time and effort. BUT to be fair, I’m ridiculous in my sorting and organizing... I have a weird OCD thing where I need stuff sorted in a certain way, and it takes longer than it probably should. But it works for me and it has become very streamlined now that almost all of my Ao3 bookmarks are finally sorted. In the beginning, when I decided I would start reccing fics, it was only meant to be a here and there thing, but then people kept coming to me more and more and that’s when I decided I needed to keep an offline list. So here’s some tips from me to you:

Keep offline lists. Tumblr fucks up enough that you WILL lose interest in redoing a big 50-fic list if tumblr decides that nope, today I don’t feel like posting your file because you didn’t refresh your page BEFORE typing it out.

Going along with the above, keep an offline masterlist of your read-and-tagged fics. All the recs I give you guys? They’re all on one of three list masterlists I have offline: GO Recs, FFNet Recs, and Ao3 Recs. This will be SO much easier for searching for topics when making new lists.

Do the lists WAY ahead of time. This has given me back many-a-Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday nights because I prep my lists ahead of time.

Develop the “public” system of filing for your things, and use that for your Masterlist, so you don’t have to redo it every time (so like don’t have just Ficname by author if that’s not what you want to do for your recs). For example, my system is this, emphasis included: Fic Name by Author (Rating, wordcount, Chapter count || WIP/AU if applicable || PODFIC LINK if applicable || list of personal and/or author tags here, even if they spoil the story; i’ve found some people with triggers appreciate that I tag EVERYTHING I find in the stories) – Author’s description or personal description if there isn’t one. Series link if it’s part of one. This way, all I have to do is copy-paste it into new documents for each list, and then copy-paste the whole list into the Tumblr doc.

Also, re: the above, do the layout in Tumblr if you’re doing a Tumblr rec blog. It keeps the formatting consistent and I don’t have to fix it between Ao3 and FFnet if I just copy-paste everything into a blank Tumblr doc, and then copy paste THAT onto the masterlist. Trust me on this one.

Draft everything. This goes along with all the above. I always “start” a list and put a big header so that I can find it in my drafts (that’s why they have the big bold H1 headers on them) and then hit “draft”. Then keep a list of your drafted fics in your preferred method of organization. I keep everything in Text Edit RTF files. I believe Alexx told me once she did spreadsheets. Either way, develop a system BEFORE jumping into this thing, because you will EASILY get overwhelmed if you aren’t used to high-stress levels.

Tag fics as you read them. Trust me on this one. Because it will save you MONTHS of re-reading every single bookmark so you can properly file fics. I do this on my Notes App with the story title, and then all the tags I know are popular requests or are for lists I know Nonnies have asked for.

Keep CONSISTENT in your tags. Don’t tag one thing O!verse but another Omegaverse. I had to redo a lot of my older tags because CMD+F was pointless on a document I purposely made to streamline the process.

USE Ao3′s TAGGING FEATURE for your bookmarks. Just make sure that if any of your tags are spoilerific, make sure you keep the rec private.

File EVERYTHING as soon as you bookmark it. It will save you a LOT of hours of going through all your recent bookmarks to file them.

That said, HAVE A FILING SYSTEM if you’re keeping everything offline. Keep separate documents for each list... Trust me on this. I used to just have one document each for Fluff fics, for example, and put subheaders in them, and it just got messy and annoying as my fic reccing became more common and plentiful. Instead, have a nice list like this, for instance:

The grey dots next to some of them are old filing methods that I need to fix and pull out. Also, as you can see, every time I finish a list, I file it into Posted and start a new list appended with a Pt number. It just keeps the system moving smoothly. I also have a system for the coloured dots; Grey is Old and refile, Orange is drafted on Tumblr, and Orange and Green means it’s drafted and ready-to-post.

I also have an offline “drafted posts document”:

That also has a system as you can see, but it keeps me knowing what I’ve already got drafted on Tumblr if I forget to tag the files with the colour dots.

It looks tedious and complicated, but I promise you, it’s really simple once you’re familiar with my method. Which is why I’m saying, you need to develop this kind of system REALLY early rather than 2 years later like I did. This drafted posts list is only recent as of... February I believe is when I started it.

Hmmm. Ah, yeah, so you can see it’s a lot of work, and this is why I absolutely dislike HateAnons negatively criticizing my lists, because it IS a lot of MY free time, between 8 and 48 hours a week. But if you truly enjoy sorting and organizing like I do, it’s a bit easier to cope with. So, yeah, whenever I tell you guys “I need some time away” this is why, and usually I switch to playing video games or doing art, both of which I miss doing on the weekends. I’m trying to keep the Tumblr stuff to mostly Weeknights these days, so that it’s an extension of my day job. Funny how I have less free time working at home than I did when I wasn’t; because I feel obligated to always be on my computer now, and I hate that. Like right now, I just bought 2 new games to play and I haven’t tried them yet because I’m always working both day-job stuff AND Tumblr stuff on weekends.

So yes, that’s another tip: Don’t let it consume you, and set a schedule. Don’t feel obligated to answer every request. When I am tired and I just genuinely don’t have the energy to dig through 1000+ fics to find 2 or three for an obscure ask, I usually make it an interactive ask – not only does it encourage community involvement and a sense of belonging for everyone, but I also discover new fics to read too! I am IMMENSELY proud and happy that my fic lists have essentially become “fic exchange” grounds. Before it was only on one or two lists, some timid new authors added their fics to my big lists, but now, since people SEE that I add their fics hidden in the notes to the main post, now everyone is happy to share their faves on the main lists AS WELL AS the smaller single asks. I like to think of myself of a “curator of happy things” so that’s what I like to do with these.

That said, you have to also decide if you’re going to be this interactive as well. Because that adds an ADDITIONAL hour or so as you make a separate “MFL” document and file those too. It’s time consuming, but totally worth it because if I’ve read the fic, all I have to do to that post in my MFL list is add my tags and file that block of text :)

I hope I helped you out a bit, Nonny, and I hope you guys enjoyed seeing a bit of my process. If I can get OBS to work on my laptop, maybe I’ll do a short video so you guys can see me doing it live.

Anyway, sorry this got long. :P

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #about me #my blog #tutorials #my advice

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iggy-dearest · 5 years ago

Text

His Mothers Day...

Trigger Warning: toxic thoughts

You got out of bed and stretched, if you were correct it was the tenth of May.

Mothers day.

Vergil had slipped out earlier this morning, probably with Dante. You felt like leaving them be for today. It would most likely pull some strings for them.

You sat in bed for half an hour just staring at the ceiling for no reason, and then decided to get up for the day.

Upon reaching the kitchen you decided on toast with egg whites for yourself, maybe you’ll have some tea as well. You should probably hurry to the office since Dante and Vergil won’t be there and Lady and Trish are elsewhere. You wonder if Nero’s going to call. Maybe you should call Kyrie, would she think that‘d be weird? Would she think it’d be rude if you didn’t call? Maybe you should call...

You check your cell phone, no calls or texts. A frown settles itself on your face.

Quickly shaking it off you lock the door to your shared apartment you quickly made your way to Devil May Cry. You don’t feel like being at home today.

~~~

Opening the heavy door to the building a stench makes its way to assault your nose. How in the name of hell could it stink this much I was just here yesterday, you wonder incredulously. Flipping the light switch on your eyes zero in on the bastard who assaulted your nose. Fucking pizza, you glare the open box with a look of steel.

Sighing deeply after hanging your bag on the rack you got years ago. You turn around and tie your hair with a stature that screams determination.

Time to get to work

~~~

Vergil hears his brother sigh deeply as he lays the roses down gently on the ground. He sympathizes..even though he’ll never say it.

Such a beautiful day, he believes..she would have loved it.

She would have loved you too.

Similar to how he does.

He stepped back therefore giving Dante the space to let his flowers rest.

Standing there in comfortable silence, one not often untense with the twins.

Both taking their time to gather themselves before heading back, having spent half the day with their mother already.

~~~

You smack your hands together to get the dirt off as you open door to the back. Finally getting rid of that awful stench in the trash, pulling out your phone you check your messages and calls.

None missed.

Letting your face droop a little you wonder, what if he forgot?

What if he just thinks I’m a horrible mother?

What if I am a horrible mother?

What if I’m a horrible mother and he thinks so too?

You set yourself down on the couch and let your own toxic thoughts consume you.

I am a horrible mother.

You decide.

After all you couldn’t stop him from growing up alone...

Nor could you stop him from fighting his father...

Or his uncle..

I’m so useless..

A useless mother...

~~~

Nero steps off of the fairy and stretches his limbs, a yawn grabs his attention. “I don’t get why you wanted to come” he tells his partner in crime, “didn’t you say that you had to pick up the cake by 3” she tells him. Wanting to avoid the real reason why she wanted to tag along. “Did you tell her we were comin’” she asks shaking off the lag of being stuck in one place for too long.

Why couldn’t they bring the van again?

“Why couldn’t we bring the van again” Nico asked, finally feeling limber. “Cause she would of recognized it and I don't know for sure if she’s at the shop or not. And no I didn’t call her, it’s supposed to be a surprise remember” he reasons with her. Nero you’re a fucking idiot, Nico deadpans inwardly “So you didn’t call your mom on Mother’s Day and you didn’t tell her we were coming. You don’t think she has any other plans” she says striking a pose as if to say ‘are-you-stupid-or-some-shit’. “Don’t gimme that look and Dante said that she didn’t have any plans” that he knew about, Nero also left out the fact that he had talked to Vergil for this. “You got the card right” Nico feels like she has to double check since Nero can be forgetful sometimes, kind of like you. “Got it” he confirms holding up a pretty pastel blue card picked out by him and Kyrie. Well mostly Kyrie. “Let’s get going we’re supposed to meet Dante” he says as he already starts walking ahead of Nico.

~~~

“Why are we at the library” Dante asks his brother. Vergil doesn't answer it was already embarrassing enough having to pick up a gift for you with Dante of all people.

He should’ve picked it up yesterday.

He takes a glance at the clock it’s already 2pm. His eyes narrow, he wants this to go by faster.

Its Mothers Day, the mother of his child should not be alone.

“Thank you for waiting” the overly enthusiastic cashier said to Vergil, who had remained impassive. He silently completed his purchase, usually he would just read it in some corner, not at all interacting with people as he preferred. Doing this was mildly out of his comfort zone, but you were worth it.

~~~

You let out a breath taking a look around, finally starting to look like the way I left it, you believe. After putting the mop and broom back in the small closet you went to check your phone, having little faith.

Nico (1 Message)

Your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, why would Nico be texting you? Opening your cellphone regardless you checked her message.

Nico: Where r u right now?

Y/n: Dmc

Y/n: ???

You answered her, maybe she’s in town and needed something, you brushed it off and went to grab the book you had in your bag so you could sit your ass down and read. You’re almost done with it and there’s supposed to be a second book, maybe if you’re lucky you could get your hands on it.

~~~

Nico sped ahead of Nero so that she could get the door for him, mostly because she doesn’t want anything to happen to your cake. She stepped to the side when she heard her phone bing. Good you texted her back!

Nero looked at her with an annoyed look plastered on his face. “Nico” his tone of voice sounded so irritated, who can blame him he’s trying to balance a cake in his hands.

Children, he can do.

Swords, no problem.

Cakes, Huston we have a problem.

“Right, sorry. She said she’s at DMC” Nico relayed the message while opening the door for him. “Got it, take the phone out of my pocket and call Dante” call Dante cause it’s still too awkward to talk to Vergil. “Which one, you have like 30” she exaggerates, “Just” he moves his arms to while trying to keep the cake leveled “here take this” he says as Nico takes the cake. Reaching into his pocket for the cheap flip phone he presses numerous buttons to call his uncle “Yeah, she’s at dmc. No we’ll meet you there” Nico hates listening to half conversations, it’s always so confusing. “See you later” she said not wanting to intrude on his family time. “Yeah” Nero said preoccupied with the cake.

~~~

“You guys, got everything” Dante asks, they all met up at the end of the block to make sure you couldn’t see or hear them. “Yeah, s’in there” Nero motioned to the plastic bag in his uncles hand. “Booze, can’t be a party without booze” he explained. “Did you call her at all today” Dante asked while they made their way down the block and towards the office. “Why does everybody keep asking me that” Nero wondered aloud as they approached the steps.

~~~

You hear the door creek open and without looking up from your book you say just loud enough for whoever came in to hear “we’re closed”. “Hey sis”, well that’s not a customer, you look up and are immediately surprised with who entered. “Hi” you drawl out sounding just as confused as you felt “welcome back” you say still confused. “Close your eyes” Dante says,

???

“what” you ask, looking at your lover.

Who has come to stand behind you, “gotta surprise for you” Dante lets on. You’re still confused but you oblige anyway “no peeking” he says as you close your eyes and fee Vergil's hands come to cover them, just to make sure.

You heard the door open you started to open your eyes but then willed them to stay closed.

Nero set the cake down on the pool table and slowly but carefully took the cake out of its boxing. He silently made his way over to where Vergil had his hands over your eyes.

Vergil slowly lifted his hands off of your eyes so that you could see...your son.

First you saw the smiling face of your son and then you saw a cake?

“Happy Mothers day” they all said in unison. Your gaze softened..and your eyes glossed over. You didn’t realize it then but this is your first Mothers Day with all of them together.

“Mom are you crying?!?!”

“No!!!”

~~~

An hour later while Dante and Vergil play pool albeit a bit freakily since apparently Dante can’t count.

You and Nero sat on the couch watching them. You with a calm yet loving gaze to the men in front of you. “Mom” his voice softer than normal, maybe it’s the booze or maybe it’s the fact that this is his first Mothers Day with booth of his parents. “Yeah” you answer to taking your eyes off of Dante and Vergil.

“Happy Mothers Day” he says, voice as light as a feather, right after that you feel a weight on your shoulder.

A happy Mothers Day indeed.

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

Not Like In The Fairy Tales (But Just As Beautiful) (Crygi/Jankie) - Chaoticnachokitten

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27419959

A/N: Heyy:)) I wrote this a few months ago and completely forgot to post it lol. Thanks to @cryshillz for giving me the idea for it and @aqtanawrites for beta-ing<3

Summary: Crystal is just your average high school student, (well, maybe except her makeup and outfit choices), friendly, dreamy and fairly popular. All she wants are her friends, One Direction songs, and maybe a fairy tale esque relationship. Everything would be perfect if it wasn't for that one girl that keeps staring at her with an expression that could kill...

Literally just your typical enemies to lovers high school au:)

It was 6am on a rainy Monday morning. Crystal woke up to the sweet tunes of 'What Makes You Beautiful' by One Direction. She had the habit of using a different One Direction song as her alarm clock every day.

Especially on Mondays she just needed a bit of extra motivation to get up and get ready for school, and that particular song never failed to make her smile, including today.

She slowly got out of bed, and walked up to her closet. It was a beautiful mess of almost offensively bright, colorful clothes. Crystal firmly believed that wearing as many colors as possible was helpful to stay positive all the time. 'Plain' or 'simple' clothing was something she liked to pretend didn't even exist.

Once she was done with picking out her outfit for the day, she went into her bathroom, preparing for her favorite part of her morning routine: her makeup. Firstly, she washed her face, and then applied some products that would hopefully protect her skin from what she was about to do to it. Then, she tried to find all of her needed makeup products. Unfortunately, she had a habit of trying out new looks constantly, and for some reason her products ended up being scattered in the entire bathroom. Her parents had given up on trying to keep the bathroom organized at this point.

After finding everything she needed, which were approximately 50 products, including tons of her beloved glitter, she started with her time consuming but fun painting, blasting her OD playlist to stay in a good mood. Her thoughts drifted around for a bit, eventually settling on the memories of how her high school had tried to get her to dress 'appropriately' and to stop her 'clown like' makeup. At first the teachers had assumed that she would get teased because of her looks, but they had been very wrong. Crystal had such a fun and loveable personality that no one really said anything negative about her, in fact, the only people who teased her about her makeup were her best friends, who obviously didn't mean it. Crystal was friends with just about everyone, except one person.

Crystal quickly tried to think of something else, she didn't want to ruin her morning by thinking about the only person she didn't like.

So, after the teachers had realized that no other student would tell her to stop with her makeup, they tried to threaten her by sending her to the principal's office multiple times. But, since she kept arguing about how she needed to express herself, and because her grades were good, the teachers gave up and her style was tolerated eventually. At least her art teacher loved her creativity.

Crystal checked herself out in the mirror one last time. Her long, curly hair was brushed nicely, it looked all shiny and soft like usual, she was wearing a full face of makeup, around three times the amount of what an average student would wear, and her outfit complemented her makeup nicely. Afterwards she went on her way to her high school, which happened to be just a few minutes away from her home. As always, she had her earphones in so she could continue to listen to her playlist, which she had named 'positive vibes'.

Before entering the big, old, dull building, she removed her earphones as electronic devices were strictly forbidden and had to be stored in the school bags, otherwise a teacher had the right to take them away. It was a stupid and annoying rule, but other than about her personal style, Crystal didn't like getting in trouble, so she just accepted it.

Crystal's morning had been pretty good so far, but of course, the first person she saw in the hallway was the one she didn't like. Her name was Gigi Goode, and, Crystal usually didn't like to swear, the only word that could be used to describe her was a complete bitch. Now, sadly, Gigi was gorgeous, everyone was jealous of her looks. Even after a long P.E lesson she still managed to look perfect, not even a single makeup particle out of place. Gigi exclusively wore expensive makeup and clothes, always looking like she was about to be on the cover of Vogue or something. Not only that, but she was smart too, a straight A student, nothing less ever. She regularly engaged in class, the teachers often used her as a good example. But beyond that, Gigi was also the most conceited person Crystal knew. She seemed to lack any kind of empathy or friendliness. The only thing she seemed to care about was herself and her reputation.

She wasn't really friends with anyone, everyone was intimidated by her. She didn't seem to care for friendships anyway. But Gigi just seemed to hate Crystal for no reason. Everytime Crystal was near Gigi she looked at the ground to avoid the look. Gigi liked to glare at Crystal like she was something unsightly, like a stain on her clothes or a disgusting bug or something along those lines. Nothing out of the ordinary, except today, if anything, Gigi looked at her with an even meaner expression than usual.

"Maybe her favorite brand of lipstick got discontinued," Crystal thought to herself as she searched for her friends, all she had to do was follow the sound. And sure enough, just a few meters away she spotted Jan and Jackie, who were talking about something. Jan seemed to be even more enthusiastic than usual, and Jackie looked slightly concerned.

"...it's a genius plan, I promise! And very easy to execute. We have to show them that they just belong together."

Jan was nearly screaming the last sentence, loud enough to hear clearly for Crystal who was just waiting for their conversation to end as she didn't want to interrupt them. But then, Jan saw Crystal and monitored for her to come.

"Genius plan? Jan, look, I love you very much, but the last time you said that, and canceled our movie night for it-"

"You're still mad about that?" Jan asked with a hint of amusement.

"Let me finish. Last time you had one of your 'genius ideas' you broke into the school with Nicky to save the frogs we were meant to dissect in biology."

"Well, obviously my plan worked because the frogs are now free, and we didn't have to dissect anything!"

Jackie sighed, fighting the smile caused by the adorableness of her girlfriend, and shook her head fondly.

"And I'm very happy about that. However, you and Nicky got detention for a whole month and only very narrowly avoided legal consequences. And you were grounded forever!"

Jan looked at Jackie with huge eyes.

"But..the frogs..they were worth all of that."

Jackie looked at Crystal who had just been listening to the fairly weird conversation. Though that kind of stuff wasn't uncommon for Jan and Jackie at all.

"Crystal, I'm dating an idiot."

Crystal just laughed and then shyly looked at Jan. The girl looked back at her with mock anger. Then she turned her attention back to Jackie.

"Oh, so I'm the idiot now? I would like to remind you of the time when I was still grounded, and you decided to do it like they do it in the movies and attempted to climb up my house to get into my room through the window, just because you wanted to see me..it's not like you see me at school literally every day."

"It was Saturday. And we spent some..quality time that day."

"That was after I quite literally had to pull you up myself after you almost fell down."

Jackie was about to respond when the bell rang as annoyingly as ever, announcing that the first class was about to start. Jan, Jackie, Crystal and, unfortunately for Crystal, Gigi were all in the same class. Jan attempted to leave, but she was pulled back by Jackie.

"No girl, no skipping classes anymore. You'll just get into trouble again."

"But..." Jan started.

"No buts. You're coming with us. Do you need a bit of..extra motivation?"

Jan smirked, getting the hint, and then nodding excitedly.

Jackie hugged her, and then placed a kiss on Jan's soft lips. A few seconds later they were full on making out.

Around a minute later the bell rang again, and the two of them broke apart. Jackie looked at Crystal, who was now staring at the ground, blushing, apologetically.

"Crys, oh my God, I'm so sorry you had to witness that."

"You're not sorry," Jan disagreed.

"It's fine, I'm used to it by now, I know how gross you guys are," Crystal smiled.

"Anyway, let's go, otherwise we'll be late for class," Jackie said in a slightly nervous tone. She hated being late.

Jan sighed.

"And I'm dating the teacher's pet."

Before Jan could try to run away again, Jackie grabbed the girl's hand and dragged her along.

On the way to class, Crystal couldn't help but feel jealous of her friends. Jan and Jackie were just such a cute couple. It wasn't like she was attracted to either of them, it was more that she had the desire to experience the same kind of love they had for each other. She wanted that kind of fairytale fantasy cute relationship, with the occasional playful teasing.

The three of them finally reached the classroom, just in time. Crystal sat down in her usual spot, and got out her needed school supplies. Since the teacher surprisingly wasn't there yet, she checked her phone, scrolling through her social media. Since there wasn't anything too interesting, she switched it off soon again and looked around for a bit. To her horror, she noticed that Gigi was looking at her. But something was weird about it. Crystal could have sworn that Gigi had looked at her with an almost friendly expression...probably as friendly as Gigi was able to, before using the look again. A few seconds later Gigi looked away again. Crystal missed that Gigi was blushing.

Crystal suddenly felt like she had invaded Gigi's personal space. It was stupid, but she felt her face heat up. To try and calm down, she ran a hand through her hair to fix it, even though nothing was wrong with it in the first place before opening her notepad, and started doodling tiny flowers and animals in it so she had something to focus on.

Just when she had calmed down enough to feel as comfortable as she could while being at school, the English teacher entered the room, greeting the students. Crystal looked up for a minute, listening to what the teacher was talking about, before going back to doodling. She was almost always more focused in class while drawing. It was accepted by most teachers, and a real blessing in art class.

Today was different. For some reason, she kept thinking about Gigi, and the way she had seen the unusual behavior of her today. It honestly wouldn't have been a big deal at all, but she had never seen Gigi without that I-accidentally-bit-into-a-lemon glance, and instead looked at Crystal like she was an actual person. Thinking about it caused Crystal to feel an odd, but definitely not unpleasant sensation spreading from her heart. Could it be..?

"No. No, definitely not, not her," she told herself before forcefully turning her attention back to the teacher.

"Okay, so today we'll start with a new topic: presentations. They are very important, you will have to do one in pretty regardless of where you want to work in your later life. Now, we'll work on your confidence first, therefore the topic of the presentation will be up to you. And because teamwork is very important as well, you'll work in groups of two."

The teacher noticed that Jan had raised her hand.

"Yes, Jan?"

"How about we get paired up randomly? Later on in our life we don't get to choose either who we'll have to work with, so this might be some good practice."

The teacher nodded, impressed by Jan's level of maturity, and surprised because the girl usually didn't participate that much.

The rest of the class seemed okay with that idea as all of them got along quite well. Jackie looked at Jan with a surprised look, Jan smiled at her before mouthing "all part of my plan, don't worry."

The teacher resumed.

"Great idea, actually, thanks Jan. Okay, everyone, please take out a piece of paper and write down your names. Then fold it and bring it to my desk."

Jan raised her hand again.

"Yes?"

"Can I please read out the teams?"

"Yeah, sure."

The next few minutes were spent by people asking for paper and pens and then writing down all of the names. Jan hastily scribbled the three letters of her own name before turning her attention to Crystal. She was writing down her name on that obnoxious rainbow colored paper she adored, making the next step of Jan's plan easier.

Then she looked at Gigi. She was using some expensive art paper she usually used to draw gorgeous pictures on. It even felt expensive, so spotting it later on shouldn't be too hard either. Jan couldn't quite believe that her plan was going so smoothly.

Jackie was ready to bring her paper to the teacher's desk, but Jan stopped her before she could do so.

"Wait, I want to be paired up with you. Mark it with a smiley or something," Jan whispered.

Jackie smirked before doing so.

"Fine, miss we-should-work-with-different-people-to-gain-new-experience."

"You'll understand later."

After every piece of paper was on the desk, Jan mixed all of them up to keep up the illusion that every pair would be selected in a fair and completely random way..

Crystal felt someone looking at her. When she looked around, it was Gigi once again. This time she was sure she had seen Gigi's initial expression which had looked almost dreamy before she was back to looking mean again. When Crystal didn't look right away again, Gigi even looked insecure for a split second before hissing "what the hell are you looking at?" before looking away herself.

Crystal was shocked. Had she just seen the usually overly confident Gigi Goode looking...insecure?

She didn't even have time to process everything that had just happened as Jan, who had already paired up quite a few people, called her name.

"Okay so Crystal and.."

Jan tried to make it seem like she was just randomly picking out a piece of paper.

"Gigi."

Crystal's jaw dropped. She didn't dare to look at Gigi. That was the worst team she had ever been in. She was shocked to the point of shivering. She felt her blood running both hot and cold at the same time. And just when she had tried to reason that she could just do her part of the assignment alone, and would just have to do the presentation with Gigi, the teacher spoke up again.

"To ensure you'll actually work together, you will get a grade as a team instead of individual ones. Before you can go, please note that you now have one week to prepare. Since I already wrote down the teams, please don't change them up again. Okay, that's it. Goodbye, see you all tomorrow."

Everyone except Crystal packed up and got ready to leave. Gigi, for once, looked unsettled and left as soon as she could in order to keep up her usual act and not show any emotions. Crystal, on the other hand, was too shocked to do anything other than staring off into space. This was officially the worst day in her life. There was no way she would survive working together with someone who looked like she was about to stab Crystal as soon as they were alone.

Jan pulled her out of her almost trance like state by waving her arms in front of Crystal.

"Hey, are you okay? You don't look good, you're so pale out of the sudden."

Crystal looked at Jan desperately.

"Okay?? No, I'm not 'okay' at all. In case you missed it, I have to work with Gigi out of all people and I can't switch partners...what am I going to do?"

Jan decided to act like she was sorry. In her opinion that drastic measure was necessary to make Crystal and Gigi talk for once, and hopefully that would be enough to make them see that they like each other. Jan had seen the way Gigi looked at Crystal when the latter wasn't aware of it, and she knew that Crystal had a hard time noticing and admitting that she liked someone, due to the fact that she once had her heart broken badly before, and it had taken lots of time and support from her friends to get over it. So, complaining about someone more often than usual was Crystal's way to try and suppress her feelings.

"I'm so sorry Crys, but I'm sure it's going to be fine. And if she's mean to you, I'll make her pay for it, I promise. In fact, I still have that weird hair dye that's supposed to dye your hair purple, but it turned mine green and it took an eternity to get it out again, remember that?"

Crystal forced herself to giggle. She did feel a bit better knowing that Jan would help her if things didn't go smoothly.

"Thanks, Janice, I appreciate it. And honestly, the green didn't look that bad. Besides, you obviously care about green frogs enough to risk legal consequences, so dyeing your hair to match them is just the natural next step."

"I probably shouldn't have told anyone that story, but I would have never thought that saving countless innocent lives would ever be used against me, at least not that frequently. But anyway, ready to leave now?"

Crystal sighed. She really didn't want to see Gigi anymore, at least today.

"What are the chances of Jackie killing you for skipping class one more time with me?"

Jan laughed.

"Unfortunately too high to risk it. Besides, you won't be able to avoid her all week, and if you don't want a bad grade you will have to work with her. Once again, I'm very sorry."

"Okay, fine. And don't apologize Jan, it's not your fault."

Jan had to suppress a smirk. If only she knew..

The rest of the school day surprisingly wasn't that terrible. Gigi didn't look at Crystal at all, not even once, instead she was fully concentrated on engaging as much as usual in each class. Crystal on the other hand didn't care about anything else that moment, she was trying and failing to come up with a way that would make working with Gigi okay. And she sure as hell wouldn't be the one to start the conversation. Since Gigi wasn't satisfied with anything less than an A, she probably would be the one to approach Crystal anyway. Hopefully.

When the school bell rang again, this time to indicate that the day was over, Crystal couldn't wait to get home, she carelessly stuffed her school supplies into her rainbow colored bag and nearly stormed out of the school without even saying goodbye to any of her friends. For once she didn't care about being nice and polite, she just wanted to go home, crawl into her bed, cry, listen to music, and ignore the world around her until she would feel better.

But today some higher force seemed to have something against her. Once she was back home, laying in her bed comfortably, surrounded by her plushies, she decided to check her phone before listening to music. It turned out to be a big mistake. She saw that she had received a message by an unknown number. Usually she would have just ignored and blocked it, but she couldn't. The number had a profile picture, and Crystal immediately recognized it. A pretty girl with perfect skin and shiny brunette hair. Gigi.

She decided that she deserved a break from everything that had happened today, so she turned on airplane mode so she wouldn't be disturbed by anyone anymore, put in her earphones once again, and then clicked on her playlist. She proceeded to close her eyes, trying not to think about anything, just listen to the music instead. She wasn't able to calm down though, even after 30 minutes of trying. The message she had refused to read out of fear earlier seemed to be haunting her. She decided to finally read it.

'Hey, it's Gigi.

It seems like we'll have to work together. I'm sure you're just as interested in a good grade as I am, so I think we should talk things out. Hating each other while trying to give a good presentation will probably not work out, plus we haven't even decided on a topic. So come to my place at 6pm, here is the address.'

Crystal checked the time. She had about an hour left. According to Google, getting to the location would take 45 minutes. She didn't want to make Gigi mad now that it seemed like they would maybe be able to finally work their problems out. She hastily jumped out of her bed, and ran into the bathroom to touch up her makeup as soon as possible.

Thankfully it wasn't terribly smudged or anything, so she was able to go on her way just a few minutes later. That way she would even have a bit of extra time in case she didn't find Gigi's house or if she needed some time to prepare herself mentally for actually ringing the doorbell, which was very likely going to be the case. Crystal had a pretty bad sense of orientation.

Meanwhile, Gigi was anxiously pacing around in her room, checking her makeup and outfit every time she passed a mirror. She had a lot of them in her room. Gigi knew that she was a mess on the inside right now, so it was even more important for her not to show it on the inside. She hoped that her facade that she had built up over the years was enough to hide her emotions from Crystal. The truth was, she wasn't as confident as she pretended to be. In fact, Gigi was a very insecure girl, afraid that someone would see right through her, able to tell just how weak she actually was on the inside. She was scared that people would make fun of her, so she just pushed everyone who tried to befriend her away. Being friends with people had never worked out in the past, instead she had been used and then she had been left with low self esteem and trust issues. Eventually she decided she wouldn't get hurt by people ever again, and that was when she started wearing expensive clothes to intimidate people and flawless makeup as it made her feel like a completely different person, beautiful and confident. Her makeup was like a mask for her as well, a constant reminder that she needed to keep up her facade to remain safe.

Gigi's thoughts were interrupted by the piercing sound of the doorbell. She checked her makeup for what seemed like the 100th time that day, and then went to open the door.

"Hey," Crystal greeted her, looking as nervous and anxious as Gigi felt. For some reason it made her feel better.

"Hey. Thanks for coming. Come in." Gigi managed to keep her usual cool tone despite the fact that she was extremely nervous.

Crystal did as she was told. Unexpectedly, Gigi's house was both huge, almost as big as a mansion, and the furniture looked extremely expensive and beautiful. But since Crystal was also a nervous mess, she wasn't able to focus on anything properly.

Gigi led her into her room (a gigantic one, beautiful and organized, girly but not at all kitschy) and monitored for Crystal to sit down on her bed. Crystal, again, did as she was told, it was her only option as she couldn't even think straight. Gigi carefully sat down next to her. She didn't look at Crystal because she felt like she would break if she did, and instead stared at her ceiling.

"Okay so, I guess I'll explain why I behave the way I do around you. The truth is, I don't hate you. I know you think I do, but I don't. In fact, I'm jealous of you."

Crystal couldn't believe her ears. First of all, Gigi talking about her feelings? And most importantly: How could Gigi Perfect Goode be jealous of her? Crystal bit her tongue to remain silent, the question was burning on her tongue, but she felt like talking wasn't a good idea right now.

"You're so lucky. You get to be yourself. You can wear and act however you want because you're so cute and loveable and everyone wants to be your friend."

Did Gigi just call me cute?

"You don't know what it means to constantly act like a bitch to keep people away from me. And all of that because I'm scared. I'm so scared of being judged. Of being used, of being hurt. I can't handle another person lowering my self esteem to the point where I can't leave the house anymore. It took me months to get where I am today. Why do you think I check my hair and makeup every few minutes? Why do you think I keep staring at you?"

Gigi was getting so emotional that she had to stop talking as her eyes were starting to get as glossy as her perfectly applied lip gloss. She tried taking deep breaths to calm down, but that just made everything worse.

"This is so stupid, I'm sorry…"

"Gigi, please don't call your emotions stupid. It's okay to express your feelings,you've been ignoring them for far too long already. I promise I won't tell anyone. And I know what being hurt feels like, believe me, and being able to talk about my feelings helped me a lot."

Perhaps it were Crystal's words, perhaps Gigi's feelings were too much for her to bottle up anymore, but just a minute later she found herself bawling her eyes out while Crystal had her arms wrapped around her in a protective and comforting way that Gigi actually felt like it was okay for her to cry and let out everything. It was weird, they didn't even really know each other, and surely she wouldn't have expected the meeting with Crystal to go like that at all, but strangely enough it felt so right.

After a solid ten minutes of crying, Gigi was finally starting to calm down. She decided that now, since she had told Crystal her secret already and she had also cried in Crystal's arms, which had probably ruined her pretty makeup/ facade, she had nothing to lose anymore. She freed herself from Crystal's grip, cupped the girl's face, and proceeded to kiss her like she had been wanting to for months. She was fast and aggressive, all of her emotions went into it.

Crystal didn't even think, the kiss felt more than right, so she kissed back just a second later with the same intensity to match Gigi's energy.

It wasn't like the start of her dream fairy tale beginning of a relationship, quite the opposite, actually. Gigi was still crying, Crystal's face was getting wet from the tears, but in that moment she could have cared less about the 'perfect' start of a relationship. What she had right here was just as perfect to her, if not more.

After what could have been seconds, minutes, or even days, both of them were blown away by the intensity of the moment that time didn't matter anymore, they slowly broke apart.

"Crystal I'm so sorry. I didn't know what came over me," Gigi started all of the sudden. She was breathing way too fast.

"Shh, calm down. My only question is, did you mean the kiss? Be honest."

Gigi nodded, looking away.

"I meant it too when I kissed you back."

Gigi looked like a weight had been lifted off of her. Then, she seemed to have an idea.

"I know this is incredibly early, but uhm..I'm alone and my parents won't come back until in a few days, do you maybe want to stay with me for the night? I just want to find out more about the girl I've been secretly admiring for the past few months."

Crystal smiled softly.

"Of course. I would love to know more about the girl that has been hiding every emotion for..I don't even know how long. Tell me what you're feeling, every single one, I want to know all about them. And please don't ever be afraid again to show people your vulnerable side. The world may be terrible, but not every single person is, I promise."

"You're the prime example of that," Gigi said quietly.

"You're still treating me like this even though I was such a terrible person to you...thank you so much Crystal."

With that, they intertwined their fingers, slowly getting closer until their lips touched again. This time it felt different, but just as amazing. It was all slow and tender, and neither of them wanted the moment to end. Maybe it was like in the kitschy fairy tales after all.

#rpdr fanfiction #crystal methyd #gigi goode #jan sport #jackie cox #crygi #jankie #high school au #angst #hurt/comfort #chaoticnachokitten #concrit welcome #s12

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krreader · 5 years ago

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the jeon twins | jk ending version.

pairing: jeon jeongguk (jk) x reader fandom: bts warnings: language ; twins!au ; non idol!au genre: angst ; hints of fluff previous: x word count: 2.9k+

summary: everything was his fault, everyone knew that.. everything that had happend was because of JK and to his surprise, the only one that wanted to help was the one he hurt so much.. the one that had deserved the world that he was willing to give, even if it messed up his entire life.

a/n: long overdue, but here it finally is, the jk version. the kookie version will be posted tomorrow - hopefully lol ♥ (don’t get me wrong, it’s already done, but idk if I’m happy with it so we’ll see)

This was all his fault.

Kookie never would have made this decision if it weren't for his twins’ stupid actions.

“But you have so many good job offers here,” his mother tried arguing, “Why.. why does it have to be the US?”

Kookie hated to see his mother so sad and no doubt, he would miss her and his father terribly, but this was the right thing to do.. he needed to leave.

“I need a fresh start, mom,” he said with a sad smile, gently holding her hand.

JK didn't look up once, his shoulders were slumped and he was both embarrassed of himself as well as ashamed. He would have assumed his mother would cry, but instead she was consumed with anger. Anger towards JK. Because she knew he was the reason her baby was leaving.

And then suddenly she was all over him, hitting him over and over again, his father trying to stop her while Kookie just watched with a heavy sigh.

JK didn't try to stop her. If anything, he wanted her to continue.. as if it would make things better.. his actions from before less horrible.

“This is all your fault!” she cried out, “It's all your fucking fault! Get out of this house! I don’t want to see you ever again!”

JK gulped down hard, getting up without arguing about it and quickly brushing away a tear that escaped his eye while doing so. He had no right to argue.. he had lost that when he broke his brother’s heart.

How did this even happen?

He used to be so happy.. popular. He had everything and everyone.

And now he was wandering the streets of Seoul, knowing that there was no one left.. and all because he wanted what his brother could have had.

Love.

He had never known love before you. Flings, flirts, sex, but never love.. that he only ever experienced with you.

The first.

The only.

This love carried him to your apartment complex. Not knowingly, though, he didn’t have a place in mind when he started walking..

It's been more than three years, so he doubted you'd still remember him. If you did, then definitely not in a good light.

You were probably telling your friends about the “guy that lied to you all along” or the “bastard that broke your heart”.

That's what he was.. a liar, a backstabber, an asshole, a horrible son and brother.

The longer he stood there, staring at your window and seeing you and him from years ago when you were standing exactly there, happily smiling at each other, the more he drowned in self-pity.

He would have gone to the nearest convenience store, would have bought himself a shit ton of Soju bottles, would have sat down somewhere at the Han river and would have drunk himself until he couldn't stand anymore, hoping the alcohol would make it all go away..

But the moment he wanted to turn away was the moment you arrived.

JK couldn't help but let out a breath he had apparently been holding.

You were looking more or less the same, but.. god, somehow you managed to get more beautiful?

No wonder his twin brother had been so infatuated with you. No wonder he had ended up falling for you.. and no wonder he could never forget you.

You were looking for your keys, rummaging through your bag for about a minute before you let out an annoyed sigh and started looking around..

It was probably just a reaction of you realizing you had left your keys inside your apartment earlier this morning when you had left for work, but you looking around made you spot him.

You didn't think it was creepy given the fact that this was the first time you had seen him in three years. He also didn't seem like he had been waiting for you here for a long time.

Even from this distance you could tell that he was having a bad day, though, his shoulders were slumped, he looked.. tired.

You had often thought about contacting him again.. and about contacting Kookie.

But no matter what JK had tried telling you, you didn't fall in love with Kookie, you fell in love with JK. Because deep down it was always him when he was with you. You realized that months after your break-up, after you had finally accepted what had happened.. and you didn't hate him for it. At first you had, naturally, but then you started to forget, or at least tried to.. and eventually, you were okay again.

And now you saw it from a different perspective, not saying that what he did was right, but you weren’t as affected by it anymore..

JK was surprised when you crossed the street and stood in front of him a moment later.

“I.. I wasn't..-”

“I know,” you said with a small smile, “I'd like to say you look good, but I'd be lying.”

JK managed to let out a genuine laugh, then nodded, his eyes now on the ground, “Yeah, it's not been a good day.”

“I can see that,” you waited a few seconds, then you said, “I left my keys inside the apartment, so I need to wait till my neighbor comes back from work so he can give me his spare key. In the meantime.. do you want to get a drink? Tell me what's wrong?”

JK shook his head, “No, I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Because of your brother?” you sighed, “JK, it's been three years.. and besides, it's only a drink. I feel like you'll drink tonight anyways. I'd feel better if I could keep an eye on you. Whatever happened to you, it makes me worry now that I’ve seen you, I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing I’d just let you go.”

“After everything that happened?”

“As I said, it's been three years.. that's a lot of time to get over someone.”

Well.. he was glad to hear that you got over him when he never got over you.

But he still felt guilty when he accepted your offer. He knew that Kookie had long lost interest in you and he knew that that was his fault. So maybe he owed it to his brother to say no.. say no because he took his brother's shot at happiness and swooped it up for himself.

But he was selfish once again tonight when he said yes.

He wanted to talk to you, wanted to spend time with you again.. because right now, you were the only person that mattered that was willing to be by his side..

You ended up going to a Korean barbecue place, with JK drinking almost an entire bottle of Soju himself in the first twenty minutes.

You didn't talk much in that time, mostly small-talk. But you watched him like a hawk, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

And the only thing that came to mind was the reason he ended things between you two.

“Is.. Kookie okay?” maybe he had died..

“Yeah,” JK nodded, “He got a job,” he smiled proudly.

“But that's great news,” you smiled as well, “I'm happy for him.”

“Yeah, me too,” but then the smile faded, “But it's in the US. He's moving in two weeks.”

Ah, so that was it.. his brother was leaving him and..-

“You think it's your fault, don't you?”

Again, despite what he had told you, you felt like you had gotten to know JK, not Kookie, despite him apparently acting like Kookie. But you knew him.. you knew the guilt in him.. because it was the same guilt that he had the day of the break-up.

It was that same look on his face.

Suddenly it was as if no time had passed.

“It is my fault,” he gulped down another shot of Soju, “My mother, my father.. they all know it.. they all know the reason he's leaving is because I betrayed him.”

“JK,” you tried reaching forward, but he immediately pulled back his hand like yours was fire.

“He really loved you, you know..-”

“No, JK, he didn't,” you shook your head, “Listen, I was angry with you for so long and I thought.. I thought about calling Kookie so many times, but at one point I realized that there was no way he could love me like you loved me in the end. Kookie never even talked to me, he didn't know me. You did.. you were there when I had my bad days, you were the one holding me and telling me it would be okay. That was you, JK.”

“But it shouldn't have been me!” he cried out, trying his hardest to keep calm so that nobody around you would realize he was crying, “I shouldn't have pretended to be him, I should have gone up to you and told you that he liked you, I should have given you his number, I should have..-” but then he fully started sobbing.

You could tell that it was both the alcohol, as well as the guilt.

You quickly switched seats so that you were sitting next to him, one hand now rubbing over his back and he let you. He needed the comfort now, he couldn't deny it.

“You can't change the past, JK. And.. maybe.. I don't know, maybe Kookie will meet the love of his life in the US and he will live a lot more happier than he ever could have done here,” you grabbed his chin and made him look at you, “Things happen for a reason, I truly believe that.”

“But this wasn't a coincidence.. this was me knowingly taking something that I shouldn't have. His opportunity.”

The thing is.. you knew he was right.

What he did was horrible, especially because it wasn't just a friend he betrayed, but his twin brother.

But nothing could be changed now..

All you could do that night was comfort him as best as you could and the fact that you weren't angry with him anymore helped JK massively.

“Thank you,” Kookie smiled at the woman in the café and sat down at one of the empty tables, opening up his laptop and answering emails when you joined him.

And boy, did he look shook.

“I know.. this is kind of overdue, isn't it?”

“Three years ago I would have been the happiest man alive,” Kookie said sadly, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah, I heard the whole story. I also heard that you're moving to the US soon. Congrats on that, I heard about the job.”

“Yep,” Kookie nodded, “I felt like I had to get away from here..”

“You mean him,” you said bluntly, taking a sip from your coffee and then staring at the cup for a few moments before continuing, “What your brother did was a backstabbing move and I won't pretend to know what it must have felt like for you, but I was on the other end, Kookie. I've been involved in this situation as well and if I know one thing, it's that your brother never meant to hurt either of us.”

“And you know that how? From what he told me, he pretended to be me all throughout your relationship..”

“Yeah, see, that's the thing.. he tried really hard, but.. he's not that good of an actor. Younger me was naive enough not to see it because she was in love and she just fell in love with the man that cared for her, but me now.. I know.”

Even though he said he wasn't interested in you anymore, you saying you loved JK made him flinch a little.

“Why are you here, (Y/N)?”

“To tell you that your brother regrets what he did.. more than anything in this world. If he could turn back time to change it, he would.”

“But he can't.”

“I know that and nobody knows that better than him,” you leaned forward, your hand on his, “I'm asking you to talk to him one last time. I'm not asking you to forgive him because that is your decision, but I'm asking you to give him a chance to explain himself again. Because if you leave without doing that, it's going to destroy him.”

“How do you know? Did he..- did you two meet up?”

“I found him in front of my apartment building one night. He was ready to drink himself to death.. I later found out why. He's been staying at my place ever since your mother kicked him out, but I rarely see him. I hear him come back in the morning and I can smell the alcohol on him.”

“Why are you letting him stay at your place when he's like this? And especially after everything he put you through?” Kookie’s eyebrows were furrowed, “You should hate him as much as me, if not more.”

“Because I know JK is not a bad guy.. he's just someone who made a stupid decision in his youth. And I feel like I owe you and him one. After all, I'm the reason you're like this..”

Kookie immediately shook his head, “You don't owe us anything..”

“Please.. just.. sit down and talk to him. One last time. If you really cared about me at one point, then do me that favor..”

Kookie tried to tell himself that he hated his twin brother more than anything in this world, but deep down he knew that it was not true. He knew that if he left without saying goodbye or trying to reconcile, he would regret it for the rest of his life. But the hurt.. the hurt was still so bad.. even after all this time.

You wrote down something on the napkin he got with his coffee, then handed it to him.

“This is my address. Please think about it.”

And with that you left him to his own thoughts.

“Here,” you put a soup in front of JK, “Eat it.”

“I'm not hungry.”

He looked horrible, even worse than a few weeks ago.

He didn't eat anymore, only drank alcohol and only took a shower because you forced him to.

He was falling apart, more and more, every day, and the only one who could stop it from happening any further was his brother.. the brother that would leave for the US tomorrow morning.

You had hoped that your little talk at the café would help, that Kookie would stop by, but.. apparently not.

“Just try it, please..” you said in despair.

“I'm not hungry,” he repeated.

He knew this wasn't fair to you. The only reason he was here was out of the kindness of your heart, but the self-pity in him was destroying him..

You let out a sigh, wanted to eat your own soup and let him and his thoughts be on his own for a moment when your doorbell rang.

“This is probably the delivery guy.”

But it wasn't.

When you opened the door you were greeted with a man you didn't think you'd ever see again.

He looked uncomfortable, unsure of why he was here, but you let him in.

“JK.. there's.. someone here to see you.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, turned around and then immediately stood up when he saw his twin brother.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment and the longer you stood there, the more awkward you felt.

Ultimately, you decided to continue eating in the living room and give the two some space.. they needed to be alone for this.

“The only reason I'm here is because of (Y/N),” Kookie said, “She asked me to come and talk to you again.. because she's worried about you.”

JK's shoulder slumped only more at that, “I'm sorry..-”

“You really don't deserve her, you know?”

“I never did.. that was always you.”

“No,” Kookie shook his head, “Neither of us could deserve someone like her. Not you and not me. But I only realized that when she talked to me.”

“Kookie, I..-”

“No, let me,” Kookie sat down with JK, but there was a lot of space between them.. quite fitting, “You apologized countless of times and I'm tired of hearing it over and over again. What you did is in the past.. neither of us can change it now, I know that. All we can do is move forward. And (Y/N) was right.. I don't want to leave like this, I don’t want us to be like this forever..”

JK was hopeful, the first time in weeks, “Okay.”

“I talked to mom and dad and told them not to be angry with you anymore.. because I'm trying not to be as well. I'm trying to be the mature one..”

“You've always been the mature one,” that made both brothers chuckle, because they knew it was true.

And for a moment it was like it was all okay again..

..but it would take a lot of effort for things to go back to normal again between them.

“Tell me what I need to do for you to forgive me. I'll do anything,” JK promised.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. The only one you should feel sorry for is (Y/N), after all, she's the one housing you and playing your mom right now when she really shouldn't.”

He nodded, “I'm trying to find my own place right now.. a job.. something, you know?”

“Good. That’s good.”

The two of them talked for about two hours, you ended up falling asleep on the couch at one point when the exhaustion took over.

It was only when Kookie left that the two of them saw you sleeping there.

“You know.. I'm really excited to start my new life in the US,” Kookie said with a genuine smile, “I can't wait to meet someone I'll really fall in love with..”

“You loved her..”

“I thought I did,” Kookie shrugged and buried his hands in his pockets, “But maybe it was never me that was meant to be with her,” and with that and a clap to his shoulder, he left.

But he left with no hate for his brother anymore.. he left with a promise to call as soon as he landed. And that was more than JK ever thought he’d get from him after everything.

And as JK watched him leave and closed the door behind him, he walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch with you, smiling when you shifted so that your head was lying in his lap as if it was the natural thing to do for you.

He pulled the blanket around your body higher and grabbed the piece of bread that was lying on the table, eating for the first time in what felt like forever.

“I'm proud of you,” you whispered, half-asleep.

And JK couldn't help but start crying again, his fingers brushing through your hair.

And only when he was sure you were back asleep did he say, “I never stopped loving you.. and I never will.”

Maybe you were right..

..maybe all things did happen for a reason.

Maybe this was were he was supposed to be all along..

..with you.

#bts imagine #bts x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #jeongguk imagine #bts #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #reader #jeon jeongguk x reader #requests

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aithrauniverse · 4 years ago

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Chapter 9-Aithne

We had bad news, and— actually, we just had bad news.

Great. Now we were trapped in a goddamn house. A creepy and ancient one at that. (And for the record, it wasn’t fun. At all.) Picking up the card from the table, I read out,

“Each riddle is related to

The others, like a smaller clue

You have minutes thirty to solve

The puzzle, and you must resolve

The problem, or you’re stuck inside

But still, push your worries aside

You’ll have an hourglass to know

When time’s up, now, ready, set, go!”

A holographic hourglass materialized and began counting the minutes down.

“What are we waiting for?” I exclaimed. “Chop chop! Let’s go find stuff! Time’s ticking!”

Astra picked up the first clue placed on the table. Reading it to herself, she mused,

“You’ll find me on the mantel shelf

I give off light all by myself

But nothing works the same way here

Look for the friend of puppeteers.”

“Seems easy,” Laila said, “Just look for a marionette.”

“Marry who now?” I raised both eyebrows.

“A puppet,” she sighed.

We hunted for that damn puppet for a good two minutes before Astra exclaimed, “I found it!” Hurrying over, we looked down. Sure enough, a Victorian-style doll lay in a sitting position, its beady eyes eerily staring up at us and its strings completely tangled.

“Yup. Creepy as I expected,” I remarked. “Now for the second clue. Where is it?”

“I think we’re missing something,” Laila muttered, “Ah!” She walked over to the mantel, grabbed an ordinary-looking flashlight and walked over.

“We don’t need a flashlight,” I objected. “It’s bright enough already.”

“This probably doesn’t release normal light,” she switched it on. A beam of dark violet, almost black light, shot out. “It’s UV light. Made to decode messages. And if I’m not wrong, there should be one somewhere...” she pointed it towards the puppet, “...here.” Words previously invisible bloomed onto the doll’s skirt, sprouting out like fresh ink.

Laila picked up the doll with one hand and held the flashlight steady with the other. She began to read out,

“Good job, you’re not dumb after all

But science will help you down the hall

Now think— what lives a thousand times?

And tells the tales of heinous crimes?”

We remained silent for a minute, wondering what it could be. Then it hit me. “Guys, I saw a Nancy Drew book on the shelf when we were looking for that puppet,” I realized. “This is what they could be talking about! It does talk about crimes, and the only thing that can live a thousand times is a story!” Dashing off to the living room, with Laila and Astra hot on my heels, I picked up the book. Dusting it off, I was about to open it, when Astra stopped me.

“Wait,” she pointed out. “There’s a note stuck in it.” Yanking the (ew, hot pink) Post-It out, she looked at it, clearly confused.

“4 1 53 60

90 –1

9 53 75?!”

“How’s that even a clue?” I was so confused and annoyed, I wanted to kick a hole in the stupid wall. But then Astra pointed something out.

“Look, there’s something else on the back,” she said. “There’s a picture of the Periodic Table. Maybe there’s some sort of pattern..."

Astra flipped the paper multiple times before exclaiming, “Gotcha! These numbers represent the atomic numbers on the table.”

“But what about the ‘-1’?” Laila asked.

“Uh... about that... oh! That could be used to stand for an anion. Anions have one less proton than electron, which has a symbol e. Now all we have to do is line them up with the symbols..." Astra trailed off.

“‘Behind The Fire’! The clue is behind the fire!” I burst out.

“But how are we going to put our hand through the fire?” Laila asked. She had a point there.

“Maybe it’s not a real fire,” Astra smiled, “Like the hourglass; it isn’t real, but we can still see it! A hologram, see?” She put her hand through the crackling fire, making Laila sputter in disbelief. She pulled out a note, her hand unscathed. Peering over her shoulder, I announced, “Oooh, a limerick! Here goes...

“Great work, you’ve followed through

Now here, I present the fourth clue

It’s tossed up high

As the paddle flies

And bounces on the table blue.”

“What bounces high...?” Laila pondered for a while, “Oh! Of course! It’s a ball!”

“Which ball?”

“How many balls do you think a room has? Just find the ball!”

“What do you mean? This isn’t a real room!”

“Okay, fine, but it’s easy to find a bouncy ball, no? Just find the light ones – like a…”

“Uh, guys, one problem,” Astra laughed nervously, pointing towards the left. “There’s a whole bucket of ping-pong balls.”

“... ping-pong ball...” Laila trailed off.

“Well, then, we just find the one with a note in it, don’t we?” I smiled. “Time to smash some ping-pong balls.”

As I found out, smashing table tennis balls was incredibly time-consuming. And boring. CRAZY boring. Seven minutes had passed, and still no sign of the note. “Guys, we only have eighteen minutes left,” Astra urged. Then, as I stepped on another ball, I saw it. That elusive note. Yanking it out, I passed it to Laila, “Would you care to do the honors?”

She took it and smiled, “Finally, a haiku.

“Darkness swallows you

Then you hit the switch, hopeful

Where is light set free?”

“Alright, haikus are officially my least favorite type of poems,” Astra groaned. “So mind-boggling..."

“Wait, I think I’ve got this one,” I interrupted. “I think... it’s a lamp! I saw a ceiling lamp in the ‘kitchen’. But how are we going to get the note?”

“We stack,” Astra smirked.

Another assumption I had made was that stacking ourselves on top of one another was easy. Again, I was proven terribly wrong. Laila was the tallest and strongest, so she stood below. I climbed on top of her and Astra, being the smallest, scrambled on top of me. In theory, it should have been like climbing stairs. But oh no, it was not. It was much more awkward.

At one point, Laila grumbled, “Aithne, your foot is in my face!” And she did not take kindly to my suggestion:

“Then get your face off my foot!” (Hey, maybe she hadn’t read Aru Shah yet. Or she was grumpy that my foot was in her face. Yeah, probably the second one.)

“It’s supposed to be on my shoulder!”

“I’m telling you, you should really take a look at what Astra is doing to my head! Woah... wha— Laila, stand still! I’m falling!”

“Why are you guys constantly shifting your weight between my shoulders—?”

“Astra, how DOES your hair reach me? Cut it – Laila! What the h—”

“No cursing, Aithne!!” Astra scolded, waving her arms.

“Wait, don’t move!! I’m losing balance!” Laila leaned to one side, our human tower swaying.

“I’m moving because you are!! Agh—!”

One and a half minutes (and a lot of cursing that was probably just me) later, Astra neatly hopped off my back, the note in hand. I rather unceremoniously fell to the floor, wincing as I rubbed my sore butt. Laila stretched. “Aithne, lose some weight,” she joked. I stuck my tongue out at her in response,

“It isn’t just me! Astra is heavy too!”

“But—"

Astra shushed the both of us and read out the (hopefully) final note,

“Two doors lie ahead of you

They’re colored white and red

Pick the right one, and you’ll pass on

Wrong choice, restart instead.”

There was also a footnote that read: ‘Even if you restart, the timing will remain.’

“Well, we’d better make the right choice then,” I tried to lighten the pressure. However, it didn’t help. The pressure was so thick that, forget a knife, you couldn’t even cut it with a freaking sword.

Then I remembered something I had heard last time from a Hindu friend of mine. Apparently, white was an inauspicious color. It represented things like asceticism and death and was reserved for mourners and widows... It represented giving up worldly desires. However, red was considered lucky... it was believed to represent sensuality and purity... saffron powder was applied on their foreheads on auspicious occasions... so does that mean should we choose red?

“Guys, I think we should choose the red door,” I decided. “In Hindu myths, white stands for things like death and red, purity and luck-bringing. This may make me sound very superstitious, but I think we should open the red door.”

“Sounds like what I said in the first room. Still, we trust you,” Laila said and gripped the handle. I silently prayed and covered my face as the door swung open, not daring to open my eyes. Slowly, I cracked them open and shifted my hand.

“Guys, we— we did it!”

#fiction #fiction story #fictional #fictional story #storywriting #writing #stories #story #writer #writers of tumblr #writers #school project #aithnEeEeEEEeEeeEEeEEee

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hoodoo12 · 4 years ago

Text

Familial Ties (And How To Break Them) 7/14

Mature. Breaking into a church, new demons, violence ~

He only had rudimentary knowledge of Catholicism -- that was a total lie, he knew enough to stay the hell away from that group -- but Pate insisted on the holy water, saying it would be helpful, so he went along. At least in Vegas, even a church, no one batted an eye at his appearance. That was both disconcerting and dull.

Beetlejuice hung back as Pate spoke to the priest about obtaining holy water. He flipped through a Bible he found on one of the pews. It was the same drivel he vaguely remembered from the fifteenth century.

Suddenly, Pate was back at his side, grabbing his elbow tightly and frog marching him back out of the building. She was hissing something under her breath about "stupid priests" and "don't understand the gravity" as they made their way back onto the busy sidewalk of the Strip.

"Pate, baby, what the hell?"

She told him the priest didn't believe her, that he thought they were crazy, and he wouldn't even sell them the holy water. There were also a few choice words about the whole situation, and a literal spitting rant about how the priest had wanted to call the cops.

Beetlejuice cocked his head and told her very blandly, "Yes, you're right. No one would ever think we were totally in the right about this, and only sane people traipse into a church spouting information about hellmouths and the need for gallons of holy water to destroy them. That guy was obviously delusional."

He waited till she calmed down enough to realize he was pulling her chain, then took her hand.

"Fuck that priest," he announced loudly. Only a few people passing by looked over at that. "You want that holy water? We'll just come back tonight and take it. Done and done."

Before she could muster the indignation to get angry with him, a grin broke out on Beetlejuice’s face that he quickly wiped away but it was enough to make her realize he was teasing her. Pate leveled a deadpan scowl at him and flashed him the bird, but it only made him snicker like a middle schooler before he composed himself and assured her that they’d come back that night. Though she did have her misgivings about breaking into let alone stealing from a church, she also didn’t have any better ideas about where or how to get holy water or how they’d kill the hellmouth without it. So she agreed.

There was a 24-hr diner a couple blocks over where they went to wile away the last few hours before the church closed. By nightfall, Pate had probably consumed two carafes’ worth of coffee by herself, not that the tired-looking waitress seemed to care about the half dozen used mugs on the table around her. She was much more perturbed by Beetlejuice reaching over the partition into the cooking area and grabbing a container of syrup, which he proceeded to drink straight from the spout. Pate hurriedly paid for them and hustled him out, muttering apologies.

Even after dark the streets of Las Vegas were far from empty, they might be even more vibrant and busy than they’d been during the day. But down the street where the church was located, things appeared quiet as the two of them approached the building, dark but for the light that shone through a beautiful stained-glass window at the front.

“A place like this has gotta have a security system,” Pate mused aloud. “Any ideas on how we get in?”

With a confident smirk, Beetlejuice loudly cracked his knuckles.

“Please, babe, give me a challenge at least!”

He cast a quick look around, as if searching for something, his gaze settling on a utility pole. Glancing back over his shoulder to waggle his eyebrows at her, he made a quick swiping motion with his hand, growling low in his throat as he did. Immediately there was a loud electrical snap and a shower of sparks fell from the transformer atop the pole. The stained-glass window went dark as the light inside abruptly switched off. As did the lights in a few adjacent buildings, the entire corner now swathed in shadows.

He turned back to face her, adjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket and gesturing with both hands like a stage magician who’d just performed a particularly mystifying illusion. Pate hummed in approval, clapping her hands with only a little irony.

“Impressive. What else can you do?”

"Oh, I can make lots of sparks fly, baby," he replied off-handedly, "but here on the street that'll get us arrested even in Sin City. Come on, I'll boost you up. You get in there, grab the water, and we're golden. You brought something to carry it in, right?"

Pate shrugged, dislodging the shoulder strap of a hydration pack she’d brought from home.

“From my hiking phase,” she informed him with a grin. “Can your demon magic jimmy the lock on the window?”

Beetlejuice simply snapped his fingers and even from where they stood Pate heard the tell tale click of the lock springing open. He moved past her, backing against the wall and lacing his fingers together for her to step in. Pate tried to be gentle, grasping his shoulders to keep steady as he hoisted her to the window. It gave easily, sliding open and permitting her to wriggle in.

It looked like a classroom, so she found her way to the sanctuary where she’d glimpsed a ceremonial basin on their earlier trip. Naturally it was empty, they must fill it only when needed. Which meant it had to come from somewhere. Pate headed for the pastor’s office, rummaging in desk drawers and the closet and filing cabinet until she unearthed a clear plastic bottle with a label that read “Consecrated Holy Water from the river Jordan.”

Perfect!

She went ahead and took the whole bottle, pushing a chair against the wall to boost her back to the sill.

“Score!” she called quietly to Beetlejuice, dropping the bottle into his waiting hands.

He caught the dropped bottle, set it down, and stretched upward to help Pate down from the window. He let his hands squeeze and linger on her backside for an extra moment; if accused of being inappropriate he'd just use the excuse he wanted to make sure she didn't stumble as she came back down to the sidewalk. He nodded at the bottle he'd set down.

"Good. Now can we get back to the hotel? Big day tomorrow. You're gonna need your rest, I want you on your back--" he said, but was cut off by gasp from her.

She flashed him a knowing grin when she felt his fingers gripping her ass, bracing her outstretched arms against his shoulders again as she dropped back down to the ground, his hands resting on her hips, hers still laid atop his shoulders. Pate rolled her eyes at his lurid talk, smiling even as she shook her head when something beyond him caught her eye.

Darkness still enveloped the corner around the church, maybe the whole block, but she could see movement. After a moment her eyes picked out a four legged shape, slinking cautiously across the road towards them as if wary of their presence. It looked like a dog at first glance, but as it drew closer she realized it was massive, three feet tall at least, with a large squarish head, low slung neck and humped shoulders like a hyena. It also appeared to have no fur or ears, drooping jowls dripping with saliva and eyes that gleamed.

She gasped harshly, realizing all at once that the eyes were not reflecting light because there was no light. Whatever this creature was, its large round eyes were glowing.

"What is that?" she whispered.

"--eh?" Beetlejuice replied, slightly annoyed something else had caught her attention when it should've been his. But her hands had become tight on his shoulders, and it wasn't in a good way. He turned to see what she could possibly be looking at.

The skulking shape even gave him a start, and his cold blood ran colder.

"Dziban," he said in a choked voice.

Suddenly, he wasn't sure what to do. He could get out of here, but didn't know if he could pull Pate through the ether with him, and like their distantly related-cousins the Hounds of Tindalos, they could travel through it too. Boost her back up into the church? Just fucking run? Frozen by indecision was a poor choice, but no option was a good one.

For Beetlejuice of all people to sound thoroughly shaken seemed a bad sign. The creature--Dziban, he'd called it?-- was skulking closer, peering at them with its gaping, pupil-less eyes. It looked emaciated, the mange-dark skin pulled tight over every bone and muscle. Pate shivered, her hands tightening on Beetlejuice's shoulders at the disturbingly human front paws, the toes as long as her own fingers and tipped with claws that clacked on the pavement as it padded ever nearer.

"Beej, what do we do?" she gulped, almost more frightened of this beast than she had been of the specter's malevolent sibling.

"You're going to go. Just put your head down and get the fuck out of here," he told her fiercely. No time for pithy comments now. He kept his eyes on the vaguely canid creature padding closer. "Rigel called Dziban out of that fucking book. I'm sure he sent it after me, so I'll keep it distracted."

He risked a look at her.

"Pate, just go!"

In the second he'd taken his eyes off Dziban, it'd covered a third of the block. He'd forgotten they could slip through corporeal space too. With its lipless mouth, it looked like it was smiling at the two of them, even as a thin tongue slipped between its teeth to test the air.

"Seriously, baby, you've gotta go!"

Beetlejuice put a hand on her shoulder and pushed as he stepped between her and the creature.

Her heart was hammering like she'd sprinted a mile already, watching the thing close the distance between them. She stood paralyzed on shaking legs, unable to follow Beetlejuice's command even if she wanted to. Fear had its talons in her, but she dithered, torn between giving in to her body's own instinct to run like a terrified rabbit or the compulsion to find some sort of weapon to protect herself and him.

When he positioned himself protectively in front of her, giving her shoulder a stiff shove to get her moving, it seemed the decision was made. She turned to bolt and was met with another pair of brightly glowing eyes and exposed teeth. She screamed and backpedaled away from a second creature.

Fucking fuck fuck fuck!

How could he have been so fucking stupid not to remember Dziban travelled in a fucking pair?!

At Pate's scream Beetlejuice spun, saw the second Dziban, and grabbed her. Pulling her off balance, he shoved her against the wall of the church, keeping himself between her and the creatures as best as possible. They had the two of them flanked, and they were going to play with them like prey, and drag them back to the Netherworld maybe alive but mostly dead.

Again without taking the time to give her any indication what he was going to do, he spun, grabbed Pate again, and shoved her upwards towards the broken window again.

"Get the fuck in!" he ordered, even as the first creature took the opportunity to rush him.

Pate gave a startled yelp when Beetlejuice seized her around the waist and all but threw her back at the window which she had neglected to close. Hands and arms scrabbling for purchase, she just managed to catch herself when his supporting hands left her, her ears filled with hellish snarls and growls. Contorting awkwardly, half in and half out of the window, Pate turned to see that one of the monsters had charged at Beetlejuice while the other remained fixated on her.

He just barely had the time to hoist her upward before Dziban was on him. He twisted as it launched itself at him; it was large enough to easily reach his throat but he managed to deflect it from its goal with his shoulder instead. Still, that got it close enough for purchase with its hands, and he had to grapple it while off balance. Pate still hadn't pulled herself fully into the church! He decided it was dark enough and plus the fact that fucking hellhounds were attacking them a few extra otherworldly phenomenon wasn't going to break any tourist's brain any further, so instead of trying to fend off the beast with the two most human hands he owned, the black tentacles erupted from the ether and wrapped around Dziban. They lent shadow mass to him as well, and helped stabilize him a little.

It hurt grabbing this thing; why did every fucking creature from the Netherworld have some weird extra ability?! Dziban were angry, hungry creatures and of course they had poisonous skin like goddamn frogs too! Why wouldn't that be the case?! he thought bitterly as the tentacles holding it most tightly ached and became weaker.

It still bit and scratched and that hurt too.

And Pate still wasn't through that goddamned window!

She tried to keep an eye on Beetlejuice as she squatted uncomfortably in the open window while also keeping the second hellhound occupied. She whistled to it like it really was just an overgrown border collie, letting her arm dangle down as low as she dared to tantalize it into keeping its attention on her.

When Dziban raised itself onto its hind legs to snap at her, she jerked her hand back, whimpering quietly when its horrifically humanoid paws gouged furrows down the cement wall. Turning her attention back to Beetlejuice she could see the writhing shadowy tentacles she had first glimpsed when they fought with Rigel in her apartment. They were wrapped around the hellhound's body, holding its clawed paws and snapping jaws at bay while others coiled around its throat, squeezing tighter and tighter until the beast's struggling started to weaken.

As if homing in on its twin's distress, the second hound turned toward the demon, growling. She wanted to call him, to warn him, but she worried that if she distracted him now the other hellhound might break free. With a tiny gasp she remembered the bottle tucked under her arm, whipping the cap off with fumbling fingers and holding it out as far as she could reach, dripping an uninterrupted stream down Dziban's back.

The hellhound flinched and snarled, shaking itself very much like a regular dog, but was otherwise unaffected and Pate's heart sank into her stomach like a lead weight.

“Consecrated Holy Water from the river Jordan my ass!”

It took more concentration and strength to effectively keep teeth and nails off him, especially feeling the effects of whatever venom the thing was secreting, but his tentacles held tight and slowly, slowly, Dziban's life slipped away. With a feral grin on his face, it gave him almost orgasmic joy to see the light fading from the creature's pupil-less eyes, even as it continued to snap and scrabble at him. A sudden splashing of water startled him, but the tentacles knew their work and continued slowly crushing. Pate's yell was more distracting, and he didn't catch what she'd said, so he turned to see what was happening.

In his moment of distraction, the beast he held struggled mightily so he turned back to focus on it again. That was enough to give the second Dziban--or the same Dziban, weren't they fucking clones or hiveminds or something?!--enough opportunity to leap forward and grab him.

Not by a tentacle, not by his suit: the hellhound's jaws closed on his shoulder and upper arm, and Beetlejuice went to his knees in agony.

"BEEJ!" she screamed, horrified, too far away to do anything other than spectate as the hellhound sank its teeth into his shoulder.

Goddammit, she had to do something! Craning to look over her shoulder back into the church, eyes searching desperately for something, anything she could use to fight them off him. There was a tall decorative cross of gilded, gold colored metal set in a stand. Struggling to lower her legs back down to the chair, Pate raced across the room, snatched the processional cross in both hands and ran back to the window, hauling herself up and pulling the pole with her.

Without Beetlejuice there to catch her, the drop back down to the ground looked much more daunting, but she took a breath and jumped. A painful jolt rocketed from her ankles to her knees and she pitched forward, catching herself on her elbows with a pained grunt. Getting to her feet, Pate gripped the standard tightly in both hands and raced forward, jabbing at the hellhound's ribs with the pointed end of the metal cross.

"Get the fuck off him!"

He had to get up. No fucking way was he going to be dragged down by fucking Rigel's fucking beasts! Beetlejuice snarled wordlessly and refused to loosen his grip on Dziban number one. It was fading fast. The second he tried to twist away from, to protect his head and neck, and then, from nowhere, a metal pole slammed into the creature, staggering it and forcing it to release him.

Pate looked scared and fierce, but she shouldn't be here--!

She obviously didn't get the message. She swung whatever that pole was, barely missing his head, and stabbed at Dziban again. Whether it was the metal it was made of or the fact it was a religious artifact, it made the hellhound jump back a bit. It gave a whiney, snarly noise that had no earthly equivalent, and it faded away. The one he had grappled also slipped away like water in cupped hands. Beetlejuice wasn't sure if he'd killed it or it was taken by its kin.

It was suddenly too quiet, and pain caught up to him. He was glad he was still on his knees, because he would have probably collapsed if he hadn't been.

Just as suddenly as they'd appeared, the hellbeasts seemed to evaporate like fog burnt away by sunlight. Pate's chest was still heaving, her blood singing in her ears and her heart thumping a frantic tattoo in her chest. Not sure if the demon hounds may come back, she kept a tight hold on her improvised weapon and lowered herself on trembling legs next to Beetlejuice. His pale face was somehow even paler, eyes pinched shut and jaw clenched in obvious pain.

She exhaled a quiet string of expletives at the sight of the dark liquid seeping through his fingers, gripped tightly around the bite wound on his shoulder.

"Can you stand up?" she asked softly and after a moment he swallowed hard and gave her a stiff nod, shifting his feet and rising a little unsteadily.

Pate stood with him, one arm held out as if to catch him if he lost his balance. She was loathe to drop the processional cross but she needed both arms, positioning herself under his uninjured arm and taking it around her shoulders while her own arm wrapped around his waist to help support him.

"I've got you," she murmured, uttering other meaningless soothing words to him as they limped back towards the hotel.

tbc . . .

#writing #fanfiction #Beetlejuice #Beetlejuice x OC #rp #Beetlejuice based on Blumjuice

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