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spookyspecterino · 1 year ago

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Lost in the Stars

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Sam Coe x Old Earth! GN! Reader

(Warnings are chapter based) Foul language, fear, anxiety

It's hereeeee! I said I would release last week, but work and life in general said no. Anyway, hope you enjoy! This was requested by @wuzpoppinrose and, as usual, I took the prompt and ran away with it.

When you get transported to a strange new city where nothing looks like home, or even Earth, one or two people are more than a little curious about your arrival.

---BREAKING---EARTH’S ATMOSPHERE GONE BY 2203---HOAX OR THE END OF HUMANITY---NEW DEVICE COULD SAVE US---

They’re really trying to start a riot.

The bright, flashing red on your phone screen blinks out as you lock it and slip it into a pocket. Yet the blaring words of the news leaves spots in your vision. Imprinting itself not only in your mind but your literal eyes as well.

That was definitely an intentional design choice.

Hard to believe that humanity has found another avenue to their destruction, adding to the seemingly endless mix already out there. Maybe that’s why it wasn’t really clicking in your mind. Just a news headline, for now at least, to be replaced by another—something just as urgent—tomorrow.

With a heavy sigh you look at the clock.

1:13 AM

Damn.

While the idea of going to bed isn’t the most exciting thing, a gentle wind blowing through your open window calls and beckons to one of your favorite activities.

Star gazing.

As a child you would look through your amateur telescope every night, like a ritual of sorts. Now…well, you didn’t have a telescope, but you did have a backyard with a clear view. On a warm night like tonight, you could stare up for hours. Getting lost in that black, star speckled blanket.

The temptation is too great, and without meaning to your feet carry you to the double doors leading out into your backyard. Crickets chirp. The wind rustles the grass and leaves. A peaceful and much needed change. To enhance the feeling, you slip off your shoes and revel in the way the grass sticks up between your toes and the feeling of dirt underfoot. It was hard to image a great calamity when here and now there was only the feeling of calm tranquility.

Yet, curiosity creeps into your mind. Your hands itched to pull up your phone again, to find out more about the “Atmosphere issue” as some news channels were calling it.

Which feelings are stronger? Fear and anxiety? Or is it the overwhelming exhaustion from another story about how Earh (and everyone on it) is going to die?

Not for the first time, your sad stare turns skyward. How many of your ancestors had done the same? Stared up into the great unknown and wondered just what is out there?

Humanity’s salvation?

Or maybe just a cold death.

For some unknown reason, you close your eyes, imagining yourself flying through the stars. Even though you’re standing, your mind begins to drift, you feel your body pulled into sleep. And you fall into the welcoming black.

. . .

“Oh man…uh—hey Sarah! Sarah!”

“Yes Noel, what is it?”

“We just got a huge spike in anomalous activity readings. It might be a glitch, but I wanted to you to look at it.”

“What makes you say it’s a glitch?” Sarah walks up to Noel, holding a steaming coffee mug.

“The reading came from here in New Atlantis.”

“Let me see.” Sarah trades the small tablet for her coffee, placing it down on the table. Her brows furrow deep as she starts to read. “That is…very odd. We’ve never seen a reading pop up here before.”

“And so suddenly.” Noel agrees.

“When did you—oh, it’s gone!”

“The anomaly?” Noel asks, huddling in close to get a look at the screen.

“It just disappeared. Like a blip.”

“So…maybe it is a glitch? Malfunctioning equipment? The idea of an anomaly appearing and then disappearing here in New Atlantis, practically outside our doorstep, is absurd.” She pauses after Sarah doesn’t react. “Right?”

“I don’t know, but I intend on figuring it out.” She turns to the garden doors. “Sam?”

“Yeah?” He calls back a moment later. He sounds like he might have food in his mouth.

“Would you mind coming with me? There’s an anomaly reading from here in New Atlantis, but it’s disappeared. I want to check it out.”

“An anomaly? Here?” Sam’s head appears through one of the doors as he leans inside. There’s a half-eaten bagel in one of his hands. “That has to be a glitch.”

“That’s what I said.” Noel commented, moving Sarah’s coffee off the table so she could run some diagnostics.

Sarah focuses on Sam. “I’d like to make sure. We have no idea what we’re dealing with or what these artifacts are capable of.”

He shrugs, tossing the rest of his bagel to the side. “Alright, don’t see why not.”

“Good. Noel, we’ll be back soon.”

“Got it. I’ll keep running some system tests.”

Sarah, in all her confidence and ease as leader, strides toward the double doors of the Lodge. Sam is right behind her, adjusting his hat, only slightly torn about his breakfast being interrupted.

“At least today has started off interesting, I was about ready to—"

“Wait.” Sarah halts, one hand resting on the ornate door handle. “Do you hear that?”

“Hm? Hear what?” Sam freezes, tilting his head around.

“It sounds like…” Sarah looks back to the door, as if she can see through it. “It sounds like shouting.”

. . .

Fresh air.

A slight breeze.

The feeling of grass.

Shifting around, your body aches—in dire need of a stretch. Limbs refuse to obey, heavy and stiff. It must be early, your eyes refuse to open, still tired and fighting the feeling of being yanked from comfortable darkness. Moving a little, the grass and leaves under you tickle and scratch lightly at your exposed skin.

When’s the last time you fell asleep outside? It must be a few years at least. Strange. You don’t remember laying down or falling asleep.

People’s voices draw your attention. That’s also strange. Your backyard isn’t anywhere near where other people would gather. Are the neighbors doing something?

And why do the birds sound so weird?

The sunlight is suddenly harsh as you crack your eyes open just a hair’s fraction. Placing a hand to block the sun, alarms in the back of your mind go off. Something feels uncomfortable in this. You turn over, using your elbow as leverage to prop yourself up. The fog is lifting as you try to get your bearings. Leaves and grass cling to your clothes.

As your eyes open up more, adjusting to the light, you stare at the strange root formations in the ground. They don’t seem right. And the trees…

You’ve never seen these trees or anything like them before.

You’re not in your backyard.

“What the fuck?” You can’t help it. The words come out as a whisper.

As your eyes travel the alien landscape you’re no longer whispering.

“What the fuck?!”

Tall, silver buildings, twisting and jutting into the sky. Planes—at least you think they are—roar overhead. You try looking for them but aren’t able to catch one. They sound so close. Are you at an airport?

How the fuck did you wind up at an airport? And what airport is this?

“Ok, weird trees. Weird city. Airport? What the hell is going on?”

Looking out through the bushes, you think you can see people walking around, milling about, talking with others.

Getting to your feet is a panicked scramble as you fight to calm your mind and racing heart. Possibilities and scenarios of the worst-case scream at you.

You don’t feel any kind of pain, a quick check around your abdomen and you confirm that you still have your kidneys.

“People. Talk to people.” The plan is set. Maybe someone can help you.

But as you move closer, they become clearer. And they look…like people…but their clothing is different. Styled in a way you’ve never seen.

Suddenly talking to them doesn’t seem appealing. You shy back, closer to the trees, almost fumbling over a tree root. You reach out for anything that can break your fall and scratch your hand on some bushes, it rustles loudly as the sticks crunch and snap. If you had any fantasies that you might be dreaming, they’re cut short when your hand stings.

You look back out into the street; you’ve caught the attention of a few people. They stare as if you’re the weird one.

Maybe it’s time to go…somewhere. The bulky weight of your phone in your pocket is reassuring. As you reach for it, fishing it out, a gruff voice startles you enough you almost drop it.

“You need to take your roleplaying elsewhere.”

It’s a man in a heavy-duty uniform. A visor covers half his face. The colors are different and foreign. Across his chest the word SECURITY is printed in bold lettering.

A cop? Private security? Maybe you’re in a resort or something.

You lean forward, as if you didn’t hear him. “Excuse me?”

“I said, you need to take your Earth roleplaying elsewhere. We don’t tolerate destruction of the gardens.”

“Earth role—I—I’m not roleplaying! Do you know where I am?”

“Oh, sure. That’s what all you freaks say when you get caught. Move along, or you’ll be spending the night in a UC security cell.”

“I don’t what the fuck a ‘UC’ is!”

“Get out of the garden! Right now!”

“Ok…Jesus.” You step out, noticeably aware that you’re still barefoot. “Please just tell me where I am.”

The guard sounds more pissed off with each word you say. “I don’t have the patience for this. Don’t you have somewhere else you can do this shit?”

“I—don’t—know—where—I—am!” You feel like clapping your hands along as you speak to try and make it clearer for him, but he already seems like he wants to kill you.

“This is your last chance to move along!”

A woman, blonde haired and tall, in a red jacket and a man in a cowboy hat, leather jacket, and jeans round the corner a little ways down the street. You hardly notice, only your subconscious registers them as more people to join those already staring.

For the sake of not causing too much of a scene, you intentionally lower your voice. “Please, help me. I have no idea how I got here. I just want to go home!”

“Uh huh, and where’s your home? Earth?” He sneers.

You’re so frustrated you feel tears spring up in the corner of your eyes. “No shit!”

“Your acting is pretty good.” The guard laughs, it sounds sharp enough to cut you. “Maybe I can arrange for someone to drop you off—without a spacesuit.”

“Drop me off—what the hell are you talking about?”

Spacesuit? Is he trying to make a joke?

“You know what, I’ve had enough, you’re coming with me.”

The blonde woman interrupts, jogging closer to stop the man. “Excuse me, hang on a moment, please.” She has a slight accent. At this point you’re just glad everyone is speaking your own language.

He’s not too happy to see her either. “And what do you want?”

“What are you doing with them, they’re obviously in distress and you’re not helping at all.” She points to you. Her companion, the cowboy, waits back. Watching curiously.

The guard snorts. “This isn’t any of your business. Just got someone here who’s taking the joke way too far.”

She looks between you and the guard. “Joke, what joke? What’s he talking about?”

You’re close to a mental breakdown. “I have no idea! Please help me!”

The guard raises his arm between you and the woman. “Don’t fall for it. I’ve dealt with these weirdos before. They love acting like they’ve got no idea what’s going on, or that they’re scared and confused, or whatever. Once they’re faced with actual consequences, they drop it.” He faces you. The blue tint of his helmet gives him an otherworldly appearance. “Isn’t that right?”

Wherever this is, it sucks. You grip your phone so tightly in your hand you might actually crack it.

Blondie turns to you. Her eyes are a gentle green. “Are you actually a role-player?”

Since she’s being kind, and asking honestly, your tone lowers. “I don’t know what that means…roleplaying what?”

“I told you, this one’s really into it.”

She holds up a hand. “Just one moment.” She points to your clothes. “Where did you get those?”

Blinking, you’re not sure if she’s serious. “My clothes?”

“Yes, where’d you get them from?”

“I bought them at the store…”

“What store?”

“H&M.”

This makes her pause. “H&M? What does that stand for?”

“I... I don’t really know—look, I’ll just show you where I live—” You hold up your phone, still in a death grip. It only takes two tries to unlock it as your hands shake. Your GPS is easy to find, but it doesn’t load. Something sinks in your stomach. The bars in the top corner of your phone screen flash with an ‘X’ through them.

“Well, isn’t that interesting.” The woman murmurs, leaning over to get a better look at it in your trembling hands.

The guard grumbles, crossing his arms. “So, they got ahold of some relics, big whoop. How many credits did you pay for that? 20K?”

You can’t seem to catch your breath. The world starts to blur. You must be stuck in a fever dream. “Credits? You mean like currency? Money?”

As you look between the guard and the woman, she’s looking at you peculiarly, as if you’re some kind of specimen under a microscope. The guard, half his expression hidden, twists his mouth in disdain.

She looks like she’s about to say something, even her hand comes out in invitation, but the guard is hellbent on ending this unpleasant distraction.

“You’re not gonna get anything useful out of this freak.” He grumbles as he swats your phone out of your hands.

Your whole body freezes up in shock at the personal affront. Your eyes track it as it falls to the ground.

The woman scoffs. “Was that really necessary?” To her credit, she seems genuinely angry on your behalf.

Your phone clatters with a sickening sound. It lands, screen facing up, and you can see it’s cracked, the background image flickers on and off.

As if it’s just another day in the office, the guard is unphased. “They need to learn the hard way—”

Even if you weren’t in a foreign land, you couldn’t—wouldn’t—let someone get away with such disrespect. Even if it was a glorified cop.

His boot is tougher than your bare foot, but you slam your heel down hard enough, with all your weight, that he feels it. You want it to hurt. You want him to feel just a modicum of the pain and anger that hums through your veins. Every ounce of frustration you feel is poured into the action.

He makes a noise close to surprise and stumbles back a few steps. Reeling and clawing at the air for purchase. Seeing your chance and wanting nothing to do with this place any longer, you dash to pick up your phone—holding it close—and nearly skid on the concrete trying to turn and beeline it for the garden.

Your bare feet sting, but the wind against your face and the small amount of triumph drowns it out. What’s a small bit of pain in the face of one-upping an asshole? Your body thrums with the force to go, go, go!

There are shouts behind you.

You distinguish the woman’s accent. “No! Stop!” It doesn’t sound directed to you.

Leaves brushing and tugging at your skin is the last thing you feel before something painful, like a powerful shock, hits you square in the back. Your body goes completely numb in an instant. You lose control of your legs, and you fall forward. Your arms are useless at breaking the impact. At least the grass and dirt are soft—cushioning and cradling you. The last thing you see are thin, green blades of grass and a twisting tree trunk before the world tilts and fades out.

#sam coe x reader #sam coe #starfield #gn reader

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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years ago

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You Did This To Us - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: ANGST, cursing, gore, implied sexual activity, infidelity, alcohol abuse, marijuana use, I’m just here to rip y’all hearts out, MDNI

Summary: It was a horrible battle against raging villains and he watched you, his loving wife of 6 years, get pierced right in front of him. It was traumatizing. Your days in the hospital sent him into depression, causing him to make the worst decisions of his life. Decisions he’s regretted the second he’s made them and decisions he’ll forever regret because of what it cost him.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

He warned you not to come. No that’s not the right word. He begged you to sit your ass down at home where you would be safe. But of course, you were never that kind of hero. You could never sit on the sidelines and watch others fight a battle you knew you could at least try to help in. So with a heavy heart, he reluctantly allowed you to come. His first regret.

Because as the battle died down and victory was in sight, his world was thrown into chaos once more. The villains were down. The wind was settling. The dust was clearing. Katsuki could see you struggling to stand due to exhaustion but saw your smile nonetheless. He gave a breath of relief as he still saw you and jogged over to you. As he did, you noticed him coming your way and your smile only grew. Until it suddenly dropped, along with his own. Out of nowhere, a sharp, metal staff flew threw the air and pierced you right in the stomach. The sight was nauseating as Katsuki covered his mouth, truly shocked. He watched you in horror as you trembled before falling to the ground.

Katsuki looked behind him to find the attacker and saw some stupid, weak ass, good for nothing villain use the last of his power just to cause you harm. Then the world began to shake. No, that wasn’t it. Katsuki was violently trembling as he looked towards the bastard on the ground. Despite him being knocked out cold, that didn’t stop Dynamight from rushing over to him, grabbing him by the neck and blasting him. No one was around. No one would see. His job was safe. He could do this and have no repercussions whatsoever, so why not?

After the petty villain’s death, Katsuk used every ounce of strength in him to run to your body that had blood trickling down the side of your lips. “Y/N!”

You turned your head the best you could to find your husband sobbing his eyes out as he picked you up into his lap. He cradled your head and gently tapped your face, trying to keep you conscious. “Hey! Hey, you’re gonna be okay, alright?! You’re gonna be okay baby I promise.”

“Suki..I’m tired.” You whispered out in a weak voice. Hearing your words stabbed him through the chest.

“I-..I know baby. I know you’re tired. But- but you can’t go to sleep okay? Don’t go to sleep. You have to stay awake- stay alive! Okay?” He pleaded with you. He called out for a medic once he saw the flashing red and blue lights near the scene and held onto your body. He looked to you and saw your eyes becoming null and dense before firing back up again. You were falling in and out of consciousness. You were a fighter and you were trying to stay alive. It made him choke out a sad laugh. “You’re gonna make it, Teddy Bear, I swear.”

“….if I don’t make it-“

“You will, you idiot, don’t say shit like that!”

“But if I don’t…just- Ah-….just know I love you, Suki.”

Katsuki kissed your forehead before hugging you close. “I know, Y/N. I love you too. More than anyone, and more than you’ll ever fucking know.”

He noticed a small smile reach your lips before the medics came. Katsuki was quick to stand with you in his arms, careful and aware of the metal still pierced within you. He handed you off to the professionals who handled you with extra care. They brought you into the ambulance with Katsuki trying to follow in before being stopped.

“The fuck-“

“Dynamight, we can’t allow you to go in.” One said.

“And why the fuck not?! That’s my wife in there!” Katsuki shouted as he pointed to you.

“I understand, but her condition is severe. We can’t have anyone taking up space as we take care of her on her way to the hospital.” He explained.

“Taking up space?! Do you even know who you’re-“

“Sir, please. Let me do my job, let me save your wife’s life.” With that, Katsuki finally nodded in silence as he allowed the medic’s words to echo in his head. “Can you meet us at the hospital?”

Once again, a silent nod. With that, the medic was off and back to your seemingly lifeless body. Katsuki watched as he lead the team and perfectly directed them. He was sure that until you got to the hospital, you were in good hands. That was one guy he could surprisingly trust. He didn’t know him very well or at all for that matter, but he has Dynamight’s trust. Now Katsuki just had to head home and clean himself up before finding you again. Screw getting checked up. He knew his body. He knew he was damn well fucking fine.

—

As Katsuki opened the door to his house in a rush, he was quick to take a shower just to wash off the dirt and blood. He quickly hopped out and changed into some clothes before looking for his car keys. He found them at his nightstand along with the framed pictures of you and him. One on your wedding night and one celebrating your 3rd anniversary as a married couple. As Katsuki quickly looked through he pictures he smiled with a tear falling down his cheek. He looked around the room and took in all the pictures of you both that decorated your walls and tables.

You both were together since junior high. You were together for 10 years and despite being at the young ages of 23 and 22, he still decided to pop the big questions and propose. You said yes. It was one of the happiest days of his life, next to getting you to be his girlfriend, and meeting you in general. Forget the hero work, he’d trade it all if it meant he got to stay with you. You were always involved when it came to his happiest points in life. And now you were fighting for your life at the hospital. So with that, Bakugou wiped his tears and ran to his car, urgently trying to meet you at the building.

As he pulled up and parked, he pushed passed all the paparazzi and fans that surrounded the entrance due to news of you being there. You can assume how bad it got when everyone took notice of another pro-hero, and that pro being Dynamight no less, showing up. Despite all that, Bakugou forced his way in and made it to the front desk, demanding to know where you were. The poor lady at the desk had to deal with this explosive bomb, only to anger him even more by asking for his ID.

“Are you a fucking idiot?! Look at me! I’m Bakugou fucking Katsuki?! The number one pro fucking hero?!” He screamed at the poor girl.

“I’m- I’m sorry sir! It’s just protocol. H/N is a pro-hero, this is just what has to be done.” She shakily let out. Bakugou grunted before slamming his ID and Hero license onto the table. The lady nodded before handing him a piece of paper that had directions to your room.

Bakugou snatched it and gave her a scowl before running to look for you. Finally making it to one of the highest floors and down the longest hallways, he finally reached your door with 2 doctors already standing out in front of it. Bakugou tried to get through but they stopped him from entering.

“What?! What fucking now?!” He shouted as he stepped back to keep their hands off of him.

“Sir, they’re taking care of your wife just fine, but you have to wait here.” One of the docs demanded. With that, an argument bursted out between the pro and the doctors. The booming voices shook the building until a familiar voice was heard from behind the blonde.

“Dynamight, your wife’s in good care. I made sure my own wife was to be her head doctor.” Bakugou turned around to find the medic that stopped him from going into your ambulance there.

“It’s you.” He spoke aloud. The medic smiled before bowing.

“Daisuke Ena,” the medic said before standing back up straight. “Please trust me when I say your wife will be fine.”

“…and why should I?” Bakugou said after thinking for a minute.

“My wife is the one taking care of her. She is one of the best, if not the best, doctor in the prefecture. That’s not a biased opinion by the way, you can look her up. Daisuke Ami. I ensured it was her who was to see to your wife.” Daisuke said with a calm smile. After looking towards your hospital room, Katsuki turned back to the medic and nodded silently like he did before. But this time, he added a small ‘thank you.’

—

6 hours. Katsuki sat in one of the seats in front of your hospital room for 6 fucking hours only for them to tell him they cannot allow you visitors. You were in an unstable condition and so they sent Katsuki home. The news was heart wrenching. You always ran through Katsuki’s mind 24/7. He couldn’t stop it. But now, these thoughts were no longer happy and innocent, consisting of ‘damn, I miss her,’ and ‘I wonder what my girl’s doing right now.’ Instead they consisted of ‘Is she gonna be okay,’ and ‘she’s gonna come home, right?’ but most of all ‘I can’t lose her.’

Luckily for Katsuki, he became familiar with medical staff, Daisuke Ena, and was lucky enough to get his number. Daisuke gave him updates on Y/N. Usually, they weren’t so great but the hero appreciated the messages. The text didn’t help in uplifting Katsuki’s spirits though. If anything, they made them worse. In the beginning, Katsuki had hope that you would turn out okay.

But then a week passed.

And then another.

And then two more and before he knew it, you had already been in there for a month. This was the longest month of Katsuki’s life. It sucks to say but in the 13 years that you both have been together, he’s hasn’t done much alone outside of hero work. And even then, he would be lucky enough to work with you. It was always you and him together. Dates? Duh. Grocery shopping? Always you and him. Going for a walk? Why not? He loves spending as much time as he could with you. He loves you. But he hadn’t realize how dependent he became on your presence. In a way, you being gone drove him mad. He knew where you were. You were in the hospital. He could drive her there and see you right now!

No he can’t.

Because he would go and you would be stuck in bed, unconscious and hooked to machines, in a room, behind a door that Katsuki can’t get by. Seeing you isn’t the same as holding you. Speaking to you isn’t the same as conversing with you. There’s no reciprocation from your end. Being around your near lifeless body could only do so much. And so after two more weeks without you went by, Katsuki fell into a depression.

And that sucks because a few days after Katsuki’s depression began, it was okay for him to see you. But you hadn’t woken up yet. He didn’t think he would be able to be near you and your practically dead body. The fact that you were alive didn’t stick to him. He can’t see your beautiful E/C eyes, he can’t hear your honey-like voice..there’s no way you’re alive. The back of his mind still had hope. He knew you were stable. He knew you were gonna be okay..hopefully..but, you weren’t waking up. You were basically dead. Dead, dead, dead. And the more he thought about it, the more realistic the idea came to be.

So he didn’t visit you anymore..something else he’ll come to regret, and because he didn’t visit, he grew mad. Throwing away his life and succumbing to the tempting taste of alcohol. Any he could get. From the cheapest beers in cans to the finest liquors sold from top shelf. In the beginning, it was..controlled, but then he showed up to hero work completely wasted. Kirishima saved his job and forced Katsuki to take a break until he becomes stable again. This only gave Katsuki free time to do whatever the hell he wanted. And what did he want to do? He wanted to become lost.

Lost in alcohol, lost in weed, lost in everything. Lost because he doesn’t have you. Everyday he would spend it drinking and smoking, constantly being cross faded and surprising all his friends when he remained alive after all the substance abuse. Wake up, drink, get ready, drink, sit in the living room, smoke, cry over you, smoke and drink, eat and drink, go to sleep after a smoke sesh, cry over you once more. Eventually, Katsuki had cried so much, the only thing keeping him together was the fact that he had all these pictures of the two of you. Pictures of your smiles, you giving him a kiss, your dates, your accomplishments..he has all these pictures..but none of them would ever be as good as the real you.

Seeing his friend going down this road, Kirishima couldn’t help but try to do everything he could to fix his friend. No matter how many times Katsuki pushed him away, the red head kept going back. And none of his attempts to help his friend worked. Until…

—

“What now, Shitty Hair?” Bakugou groaned as he opened his door and squinted at the bright day light. He doesn’t remember that last time he’s seen the sun.

“I know you’ve been in a slump-“

“Slump? That’s what you call this? I lost the love of my life, Kirishima. This isn’t a fucking slump.” Bakugou said a little louder this time.

“She’s not gone, Bakugou.” Kirishima said trying to reassure his friend.

“But she’s not here either,” the blonde said as he chewed on his lip. “…look, whatever it is you want from me, I can’t give you. Not until Y/N is back at home, here, with me, safe and alive.”

“I know you feel that way man, but you can’t keep living like this. It’s not good for you. You at least need to get out of your house.” Kirishima said with his hand on the door as Bakugou tried to shut it. The blonde narrowed his eyes at his best friend before Kirishima spoke up again. “We can go wherever you wanna go and do whatever you wanna do, you just gotta get out of this house. Please.”

As Katsuki thought about it, he took a deep sigh before speaking. “Tonight at Hiro’s?”

“Dude, you wanna go to a bar-“

“It’s a club. Better than a bar, better drinks.” Bakugou corrected.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna hit the gym or maybe go to an actual restaurant or something?” Kirishima said, trying to steer his friend clear of alcohol.

“If you want me out of my house, then we go where I wanna go. No exceptions.” Bakugou said with a stern voice. Kirishima thought about it and sighed before giving in.

“Fine. But first, you gotta clean yourself up.” The red head said. The blonde nodded before going to shut his door, only to be interrupted by his friend once again. “With a little help from your best buds.”

As Kiri pushed the door open even more, Kaminari and Sero showed their faces that held kind smiles that only made Katsuki seethe. “No fucking way. This isn’t some girl’s trip and we aren’t doing makeovers.”

“Nobody said anything about a makeover, we’re just gonna help clean ya’ up Kacchan!” Denki smiled.

“I’m a grown man, I don’t need help cleaning up.” Bakugou said with a growl.

“Tell that to your stubble, messy hair, eye bags, and stench.” Sero began. “Seriously man, you smell like liquor and weed. You’re lucky you got that caramel thing going on to save you…barely.”

Before he knew it, his friends had pushed him into his house and quickly directed him to the bathroom. They did a full treatment. Forced him into the shower and made him soak in a tub of scented soaps and bath additions as they cleaned his house. Once they were done they had picked out a clean outfit for him before working on his face. They shaved his stubble, cleaned up his cut, put some eye cream on his bags, gave him some breath spray and changed out a few of his piercings. The full treatment. And when they showed Bakugou the new old him, he couldn’t deny he felt a little better. At least, before they stepped into his room again and he saw a few pictures of you. That’s when the slump in his shoulder returned.

Seeing this, his friends were quick to take him out of the house and head to Hiro’s. Walking in, they sat at the bar, ordered some food and a few drinks, and did whatever they could to keep Bakugou’s mind off of you. And for most of the night, it worked! Bakugou was laughing again, smiling, being his old self. But that’s when Denki decided to risk it.

“We doing shots or what?” The electric blonde asked. Kirishima gave him a look as he spoke.

“Uh, let’s go light on the liquor tonight. We don’t need shots to have a good time, right?” Kirishima said. Bakugou looked at him and chuckled.

“It’s nice of you to look out for me, Shitty hair, but I got this. Trust me.” Bakugou said with a small smile.

“I don’t know, man.” Kirishima said with a pout.

“Don’t be a pussy, Kirishima.” Kaminari smirked. That’s when all of Kiri’s friends, even Bakugou, began to egg him on. Of course, he gave in. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen? Bakugou gets drunk? He’s already been drunk before, nothing too crazy could happen, right?

Wrong. Shots were being downed and the 4 friends were losing themselves. The music was blasting, the lights were blinding, and the friends were…everywhere! Kirishima was probably puking his guts out in the bathroom, Sero and Kaminari were drunk on the dance floor, leaving Bakugou drunk at the bar by himself. Bad idea. The poor blonde was looking at his phone going through pictures of you and him together. He already missed you like crazy when he was sober, now that he’s drunk, that missing has hit full throttle. And then he caught the eye of a snake.

She walked up to the pro-hero with full confidence as she took a seat next to him. “Dynamight.”

Bakugou looked up from his phone with a scowl and blush from the alcohol. “Do I fucking know you?”

“No but-“

“Then get lost.” He said and downed another sip of his whiskey. The woman smirked at his crude behavior.

“Feisty. I like that about you, you know. Always playing hard to get.” She said with a seductive tone.

“I’m not playing hard to get, I’m playing impossible to get because I’m married,” he said and showed his wedding ring. “Happily.”

“You don’t seem too happy right now mister hero. My name’s Leiko..and if you want..I could help take away your troubles.” She offered with a smile as she leaned forward, making sure to expose a little more cleavage than necessary.

“My wife is better than just some quick fuck, so no thanks.” Bakugou said, still not taking his eyes off her, trying to scare her away with a glare that unfortunately she only smirked at.

“Who said I was trying to fuck? Why don’t you talk to me? Vent. Rant. It won’t get your mind off of your wife but it will help clear your head.” She said.

“And why the hell do you think I’m having issues with my wife?!” He asked with a tense voice.

“I walked over here and you were staring down at pictures of her on your phone. Miss H/N is beautiful. You’re a very lucky man.” Leiko said, playing the role of a snake perfectly.

“…I am..” Bakugou agreed before swallowing a gulp. “I’m Uh…I’m not having issues with her or anything. And we’re not fighting either. She’s just..been in the hospital recovering from a battle..I just miss her…”

He didn’t know whether it was the alcohol or if Leiko was just that good at pretending to be nice or both, but for whatever reason she made it easy to clear his mind. She listened well, never putting any input in. She let him speak freely and only spoke up when he looked at her in expectance to. In the moment..she was being a good friend. She allowed him to vent all he wanted about you, about how much he missed you and loves you. And by the end of the night, Katsuki could feel his chest feel a little lighter.

They didn’t sleep together but Leiko left an impression on his drunk self for sure. Maybe even him as a person. He’d remember her as ‘that one nice lady from the club.’ But that was until a few days later when she reached out to him on social media. Leiko was a perfect snake. Knowing exactly what she wanted and exactly how to get it. They spoke for some time online, casual conversations. Most times, it was Leiko asking about you and if you were okay. This went on for some time until their conversations changed. Leiko casually threw in a little flirt every now and then, Katsuki saw and held no reply for it, but didn’t stop her from doing so. Leiko seemed like a good friend. A good way to air out his emotions and issues. So despite her pushy and flirtatious nature, he kept her around. Solely as a friend.

Soon enough, Leiko offered to meet in person once more. At the same club they first met in. ‘Why not?’ Katsuki thought. He had nothing else to do. And so he went. Then he went again. And again. And again. The two became ‘friends’ and Katsuki even brought her back into your shared home where they shared even more drinks. Eventually, the use of marijuana came into play and now the two were cross faded. At least one of them was. Leiko was smart and sneaky. She took less drinks, didn’t inhale the smoke, and basically remained sober. She was in complete control, unlike the blonde hero who sat on the couch beside her. He was now upset and hurt as he thought about you.

“I-..I just miss her so damn much..it fucking hurts at this point.” He said with a whimper in his voice. Being so vulnerable, Leiko took her chance and slid in.

“Well..there’s always one way to take your mind off of harsh things like this.” She softly said with a hand in his lap. She leaned in and Bakugou made no move to stop her and allowed her to continue. She pressed his lips against his and despite it not being reciprocated the first time, she still pushed with it. Katsuki didn’t enjoy it all that much or at all. It was different, it was new, it wasn’t you. It didn’t feel like home. Her lips weren’t soft, they weren’t as plump, they didn’t have the same sweet and addicting taste you did but in a way..Katsuki felt it was what he needed. Her kiss wasn’t like yours. In fact, it was the complete opposite and he hated it. But it didn’t resemble you. When Leiko kissed him, it didn’t remind him of you, and that’s what he thought he needed. So despite not liking the kiss, when she pulled away, he pulled her back. Eventually the kiss grew more intense until it was brought to the bedroom where their night continued in a more sinful manner.

That morning, Katsuki made Leiko leave, angered at what she tricked him into and ashamed of his betrayal. How could he do that to you?! His love of over a decade! When Leiko was gone, Katsuki allowed himself to break down his walls and cry. He cried so hard that morning, more than he’s ever cried before. That morning made him realize his third regret.

Leiko and Katsuki never spoke again..until some days later when Katsuki allowed himself to become extremely drunk once more. He fell into his obsessive thoughts of you and felt the pain come again. Wanting to erase the hurt, he reached out to Leiko and asked her to come over and distract him again. He needed to feel something that wasn’t you. And so Leiko happily went over that night. And a few more nights because Katsuki felt the pain again for a few more nights. As Leiko kept going, she noticed the house loss more and more touches of you. Katsuki flipped his pictures of you in his bedroom so that they wouldn’t see his nights of betrayal and he moved his clothes out of your shared closet so he wouldn’t be reminded and hit with your addicting scent that lingered on your clothes. Leiko smiled, feeling like a victor as Katsuki slept beside her in your bed on your side. The two would have quite a surprise in the morning.

—

Katsuki was awake and was still feeling the shame. He didn’t like sleeping around with Leiko but he liked the way it distracted him from his painful thoughts of you. Every morning after a night spent with her was the same. The two would wake up, she would put on one of his shirts despite his protests and get ready in his bathroom as he sat in the living room downstairs. But this morning had a little surprise twist.

As Katsuki sat in the living room with his head down, the doorbell rung. Growling in annoyance at one of his friends’ presence, he reluctantly went to open the door with a sour mood. “WHAT?!”

“Umm, excuse me. Who the fuck do you think you are talking to your wife like that?” You asked with attitude. As Katsuki adjusted his eyes to the light and his ears caught the sound of his favorite song, his eyes widened and his smile rose.

“Y-Y/N?” He asked in complete shock. He saw you alive, healthy, smiling, looking naturally beautiful right in front of him.

“Missed me, Suki?” You asked with a giggle. Bakugou pushed the door open to pull you in for the tightest hug as he lifted you off the ground.

“YOU’RE BACK!” He cried out. He held you tight and shut the door with his foot as he dropped onto the couch with you on top of him. He held you close to him as he cried into your neck. “You’re really back! Fuck- I missed you so much Y/N! I fucking love you- I’ve been a mess without you..shit!”

His tears were everlasting as they fell from his ruby eyes that you missed so much. You smiled as you wiped them away with your thumbs and the soft touch he’s craved and missed so much. You pecked his nose to calm him down as you allowed your hands to get lost in his blonde hair. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here, Suki. I’m back.”

Katsuki still held tears in his eyes and was shaking in happiness as you remained oh so close, giving him the warmth he needed after so many months. “Tell me you love me, Y/N.”

“I love you Bakugou Katsuki.” You happily said. Your husband teared up once more, so happy he was able to hear those words from you again, before pulling you in for a passionate kiss. A kiss that brought him back to life. He took in your scent and the way you tasted illegally sweet. He let his hands roam your body in a loving way until they found way into your soft H/C locks, trying to bring your head closer to his despite your lips already being in contact. You pulled away with him chasing after your lips, needing to push him back a little to allow yourself to breath. “Relax Suki.”

He scoffed at that. “Relax? I just got you back, you’re not calling the shots today princess, that’s all me.”

You both have a little laugh as you tucked in to cuddle for a small time. He missed this. This is what he needed. This is what he’s been dying for. To have you back in his arms, alive, healthy, and present. He needed this for so long and now that he has it, he feels whole again. After spending some cuddle minutes on the couch, you rose up in need for a glass of water. As you tried to walk away, Katsuki tugged on your arm to try and bring you back to him, only to have you calm him down. “I’m just getting some water, Suki.”

He reluctantly let you go, allowing himself to smile like an idiot, glad to be around you again. As you searched for a glass in the cabin, that’s when Bakugou detected the sound of someone turning the shower off. And that’s when his eyes popped. His betrayal to you. The multiple times he betrayed your love and literal proof of it standing in his shared home with you. That’s when he began to silently panic. You were gonna find out. You were gonna find out he had been acting like a sleeze behind your back and you were gonna be pissed. Heartbroken. Downright furious and you had every right to be, but Katsuki wouldn’t allow it. He knew once you found out, you would leave again. But you can’t leave! He just got you back! You’re not allowed to leave when you finally came back to him. He’s finally happy again because you’re back! You can’t leave now!

“Hey, Baby, don’t you wanna see your friends?” Katsuki asked as he walked over to you. You had finished your glass and placed it down on the island when your husband came over asking an absurd question.

“Suki, they were all there when I left the hospital. They were the ones who bought me these new clothes. Aren’t they cute?” You asked with the smile he loved oh so much.

“Uh- yeah, yeah they look amazing on you Teddy Bear. Umm..if they were all with you, why didn’t they tell me you were coming back home?” He asked as you wrapped your arms around his neck and his went right to home on your waist.

“I wanted to surprise you!” You giggled. “How’d I do?”

“Really fucking good, you little dumbass. But why don’t we get some fresh air? Yeah?” He said as he tried pulling you to the door.

“What why? I was just out there.” You said as you stopped in your tracks. “Besides, I heard you didn’t visit me much in the hospital ya’ big meanie. I wanna spend as much time with you as I can.”

“I was gone because I couldn’t stand to see you like that, baby.” He said with a whimper.

“Yeah I figured. Which is why I’m not too mad, but you still gotta make it up to me with cuddles, so let’s go!” You said and tried pulling him in the direction of your bedroom but he planted his feet into the ground.

“We can still spend time together outside the house, Teddy Bear,” Katsuki said enthusiastically, trying to keep you away from the room that for sure reeked of sex and held scattered clothes of his own and another woman’s.

“But I want to spend time at home with you,” you pouted. Bakugou felt his heart melt at the cute face you pulled and brought you closer to him.

“I know, I wanna spend time with you too but I’ve been in the house for so long, I think I need to get out of here.” The blonde said while being aware and on the lookout for Leiko.

“Well I’ve been out of the house for so long and I know I need to be in it. Besides, as your previously injured wife, what I say goes.” You said with sass and a smile. Katsuki laughed, loving your little attitude but still worried of what you may find out.

“Baby please, can we just go?” He begged as he held your soft hands in his.

“Why are you so adamant on leaving, Suki?” You asked

“That’s because he doesn’t want you to find out about me.”

Your body jumped at the sound of a new voice and you looked at Katsuki’s face, noticing it scrunching in fear, before you turned around to find another woman wearing nothing but Katsuki’s shirt. The same shirt you’ve worn a thousand times over. You could feel your heart clenching in pain but you stood your ground no less.

“Who are you?” You asked as you dropped your hands from your husband’s. You heard his little whine at the loss of your touch as he reached out to hold into your arm but you gently pushed him off.

“Y/N-“

“Oh come on, H/N. Don’t be in denial. I bet you already have an exact idea on who I am.” Leiko said with a smirk as she looked at you. You turned to your husband with raised brows and a face of anger as you glared at him. You looked back at her and bit your lip before smiling.

“Were you in it for the long haul?” You asked Leiko, wondering if she really wanted Katsuki or if she was just getting pleasure out of this.

“Definitely not. I just came for a quick fuck every now and then. Wanted to get a feel of what it was like getting dicked down by a big shot pro-hero.” She said casually.

“Did you know he was married?” You asked.

“Yeah but he didn’t seem to care so neither did I.” She said. This made your blood boil a bit and you wanted to cry so damn bad, but you refused to allow your whore of a husband and this stranger to see you break. You huffed before smiling again.

“You can take your leave now.” You kindly said. Leiko looked at you in confusion.

“You’re not mad?” She asked. Katsuki had the same thought running through his mind as his heart raced at this conversation happening right here right now.

“Oh I’m furious. But am I really supposed to be mad at some stranger who’s content with being a home wrecker? ‘Cuz I feel like most of my anger should be directed to the man-whore behind me.” You said, never looking Katsuki’s way.

“Y/N, please-“

“I’m not speaking to you yet.” You said calmly, still not looking at him. You didn’t have to turn around to know there were tears in your husband’s eyes. Leiko smiled before standing a little taller.

“Well then, I’ll be taking my leave,” she said and took off the big shirt and throwing it onto the couch, leaving herself in her underwear. “Am I expected to be back for another visit?”

“You can come back as many times as Katsuki asks. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a single man again.” You said with a laugh.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Katsuki asked with a break in his voice. Leiko laughed too before nodding and walking back to the bedroom and gathering her things. You walked silently to sit on the couch with Katsuki following you. “Y/N, what the fuck do you mean I’m single. I’m still your husband!”

You remained silent as you looked at him with a sarcastic smile. You said nothing as you waited for Leiko to return. “Say something!”

Finally, Leiko walked down the stairs, fully dressed, and looked to you before taking her leave. You smiled at her before speaking. “So..I don’t want him anymore. Do you?”

“No I’m good. Anybody’s good for a fuck but I don’t date cheaters.” Leiko said with her hand on the knob.

“I’m not a fucking cheater!” Katsuki shouted at her as he had tears dripping down his face. She gave him a dry laugh before opening the door.

“Take a look around Bakugou. You’re not a cheater?” She asked before walking out and shutting the door, leaving the two of you in the broken home. Silence passed and all that could be heard was Katsuki’s shaky breath. You then stood up, gaining his attention, and tried walking to your bedroom before Katsuki stopped you by holding onto your arm. Tight.

“Where the fuck are you going, Y/N?” He asked as he cried angrily. You tried to shake him off of you to no avail.

“I’m leaving you fucking idiot. If you haven’t noticed, you cheated. You were disloyal. You allowed some stranger into our home, into our bed, just to get your dick wet.” You said with an angry but calm tone.

“She wasn’t a stranger.” Bakugou said trying to defend himself. You laughed and stepped to face him.

“Oh really? Tell me one damn thing you know about her.” You asked. As Katsuki thought about it..he really didn’t know anything about her. Fuck- he didn’t even know her family name. All he knew was that her name was Leiko. They were speaking for a month and in that entire month, Katsuki only ever talked about himself. She never gave up any information about herself. All she wanted to do was get to know Katsuki and get in his pants. She really was a stranger and he just tossed away his entire relationship for some whore. His silence gave you your answer. “That’s what I thought.”

You tried walking away again before he ran to stand in front of you. “Y/N! Please! Just listen, okay? I was depressed because you were gone!”

“And that’s your excuse for cheating on me?!” You shouted.

“No! But- but it hurt me to even think about you in that hospital bed! I couldn’t even face you without feeling like I was dying! And then that fucking snake came and she distracted me and kept my thoughts away from you. She kept the pain away. I know that that’s not excuse for what I did but please try to understand why I did it!” He begged as he cried.

“I will never understand! Because I could never do what you did! If you were in the hospital, close to death, I would’ve been by your side every second of every day! Yes I would’ve felt all the pain and depression you did but I wouldn’t want to distract myself from it! Because at least then I would be thinking about you, and worrying about you, and caring about you, and loving you because you’re my husband Katsuki! I wouldn’t ever want to not think about you!” You shouted in anger and hurt as you allowed a few tears to fall. This urged Katsuki to cup your face in his hands and wipe away your tears.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Please, can we just move pass this? Please.” He said softly as he pressed his forehead to your own before you shoved him off.

“Get away from me!” You shouted, breaking his heart as he stumbled back. “After everything we’ve been through, you go and do this to me?! AFTER EVERYTHING?!”

“IM SORRY! PLEASE! I CAN’T TAKE BACK WHAT I DID BUT YOU HAVE TO FORGIVE ME!” He shouted back.

“WHO THE FUCK SAYS I HAVE TO FORGIVE YOU, BAKUGOU?!” You said, emphasizing the use of his family name. The name that you also held.

“Don’t call me that, baby, please.” He whimpered.

“DON’T FUCKING CALL ME THAT BAKUGOU! WE’RE DONE!” You shouted and walked away to your room with him following you. He kept spewing apologies up until you opened the bedroom door. It was a horrible mess and the stench of sex filled the air. You covered your mouth and nose as tears pricked your eyes before walking in to open your closet, disappointed as you noticed all the pictures of you two were flipped to be hidden. When you opened the doors, you didn’t find your clothes. “Where the fuck is my stuff, Bakugou.”

“I’m not telling you because you’re not leaving me, Y/N!” He said as he tried to hug you from behind before you pushed him off again.

“I’m not staying here! Tell me where my stuff is so I can leave!” You demanded.

“Like hell I will! We haven’t even had a full talk about this! You can’t just leave!” He said. You watched as tears fell down his face which only made you even more angry. He was crying? He did this! This is all his fault! How can he be the one upset?! “Y/N please, I’ll get on my fucking knees and beg you to stay if it’s what it takes but you can’t go! We’ve been together for 13 years! 13! Even before UA-“

“And you threw all that away when you decided to sleep with someone else.” You said calmly. You walked out of the room in search for your clothes as he followed and continued to speak with sobs breaking apart his sentences.

“Y/N please! I- I can fix this! You don’t have to go! You can stay and we can be happy, just like we’ve always been! Just like we were a few minutes ago before that bitch walked in and ruined everything!” He cried making you turn around in a snap.

“She didn’t ruin anything Katsuki. When you allowed her to come into your life and into our home, that’s when you fucked up. You did this to us. You ruined everything.” You said before continuing your search.

“T-Tell me what you want Y/N! I’ll make it happen! I’ll do anything- I’ll give you the fucking world! As long as you stay!” He begged. You approached the guest room in silence and Bakugou grew frantic as he blocked you from going in. “Please- don’t.”

“All my stuff is in there, isn’t it?” You asked, already knowing the answer and only having it confirmed when he remained silent. “Get out of my way.”

Bakugou shook his head as he kept the door block as you tried to pry your way through. Growing frustrated, you used a small amount of your quirk to blast him through the door, having him groan in pain as he hit the floor and watched you find your clothes in the guest room closet. You began packing your things and Bakugou was quick to stand and take everything you put in your bag out. “Stop it!”

“No! You’re staying with me! You’re not leaving me Y/N- I won’t lose you again!” He said as he tossed your bag across the room. You watched it go and stood in disbelief at his childish antics.

“Heh, you know what? Whatever, keep all the clothes. Maybe you’ll gift it to the next girl you decide to bring back here.” You said with attitude.

“I’m not bringing anybody else through those doors! I ONLY WANT YOU Y/N!” He shouted.

“Doubtful. Keep it, burn it, regift it, I don’t care. With my salary I can buy myself a new wardrobe and a new apartment. Far. Away. From you.” You said and walked out of the room. As you tried to exit the house, Katsuki pulled you back into his arms as you struggled in his grip with your face smushed against his chest.

“Please! Please tell me what you want! I’ll do anything! I’ll buy you anything! We’ll do whatever you want- Y/N I’ll even quit my job! Just please don’t go! Please forgive me!” He cried before you harshly pushed him off to reveal your sobbing face.

“I WANT TO LEAVE! BECAUSE I DONT WANT THIS ANYMORE KATSUKI!” You shouted before wiping your eyes and bringing your voice down. “I wanted my husband there with me at the hospital! I wanted him to be the first face that I saw when I woke up! But you couldn’t even give me that! Instead, you were in our home in our bed with some random person you found wherever having sex with her despite the fact that you’re a married man! …I was in a fucking hospital fighting for my life and my husband was too busy cheating on me, trying not to think about me…..I want to leave Katsuki.”

“….I can’t let you do that Y/N…I’m sorry. But I can’t do this without you.” He cried as you listed all his shortcomings. “I’ll give you whatever-“

“I don’t want material things!” You shouted in exhaustion. “I wanted your loyalty and love!”

“And you have that!”

“We wouldn’t be in this situation if I did!” You said. “I’m leaving, Katsuki. And not you or anybody else in this fucking world is going to stop me. If you try and trap me here I will break down these walls myself and get out. If you force me to stay I will do whatever it takes to get away from you. I’m not staying with you. So we’re done. And we’re getting a divorce, whether you like it or not.”

As you walked to the door you could hear his heart breaking cries as you opened the exit. “Y/N please. I don’t want this, I waited months for you to come home to me…I need you.”

“When are you gonna realize Katsuki? This is your fault. You did this to us.”

And with that, you shut the door on the house, the home, the relationship, and him. And it was all his fault.

A/N: Y’all ima be writing a part 2 for this so stay tuned

Tag list: @sxcker4you @aomi04 @tessabrown101 @ebiharachan @is-this-ash @iris-shihabi @sxturn-stars @isolight @lanantoine @whatdidshesayyy @kiranogareru

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beels-burger-babe · 3 years ago

Text

A Pain You'll Soon Regret - Pt. 2

Poly! MC Summary: MC and the demon lords get in a fight resulting in MC leaving. They planned on going to Purgatory Hall until things cool off, but they never quite make it there. Ft. Poly!MC

TW: Heavy Angst, Violence, I don't know what to tag this, but there is a pretty nasty verbal fight, Gore/Injury Vomit Part 1: HERE, Part 3: HERE, Part 4: HERE

Meanwhile at the House of Lamentation

Your leaving hadn't made the situation at the House any better. Asmodeus threw his hands up in the air and glared at the rest. "Great! Just wonderful! Now they've run off. Happy now?" venom filled his words, but he could feel his heart race in fear that he had just lost the one person who loved him for more than his looks. Satan scoffed, though he glanced at the door through the corner of his eyes. "Don't act like you're better than us. I didn't see you standing up for them." Levi growled and went straight to his room as Satan and Asmodeus began to argue. Beel took a step towards to door you had just marched out of and glance between it and his brothers. "Should we go after them? It's dark and they're drunk."

Lucifer lifted his chin as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Why should we? It's like they said, they don't want to depend on us anymore, fine. Let them see for themself how far they get without our protection," with those words, Lucifer turned on his heel and stormed to his office.

Beel sighed and looked at Belphie, "What do you think? We can go get them together?" Belphie stared at the door for a minute, a guilty look in his eyes, before he shook his head. "Give them space, Beel. They're probably heading for Purgatory Hall. Simeon and the others can take care of them for tonight. Right now we all just need to calm down before facing each other again," he patted his twin's shoulder before heading to their room; regret swirling in his stomach as he thought of how he betrayed you once more.

Mammon stood frozen staring at the door like he still hadn't made up his mind on what he wanted to do. His instincts screamed at him to get you back in his arms and keep you there. You were his human, reckless or not, and he had a duty to protect you both as your assigned protector and as your boyfriend. But for some reason, he couldn't seem to move his feet. His mind replayed the discussion in his head over and over again. He had once told MC that if they couldn't be saved by him, to make sure that they died. That he was the only one allowed to protect them. Tonight, as everyone was fighting, MC needed him to protect them, but instead, he pushed them towards the wolves. He let his greed get the best of him. "Fuck," Mammon cursed to himself as he shook himself out of his thoughts. He glanced over to see Beel restraining Satan from pouncing onto a sneering Asmodeus. He sighed and shook his head. They hadn't fought like this in a long time. You had always been there to put them into their place. Now look at them. Mammon groaned and ran a hand over his face. "Will you guys cut it out? MC is gone, okay? Ain't nothin' we can do about it now," to his surprise, his younger brothers actually stopped and seemed to be listening to him. Mammon huffed and began walking towards the stairs. "It's like Belphie said. We ain't in no place to make things better right now. Fightin' like this is what got us in this position, so quit it. Get some sleep. We'll figure it all in the mornin'." Beel, Satan and Asmodeus blinked at their older brother as he disappeared upstairs. Seeing Mammon mature and take control of the situation like that, was strange, but not unfamiliar. Asmodeus massaged his temples with one hand and fixed his hair with the other. "Ugh, all this fighting is going to be horrid for my skin," he glanced at the door one more time with a defeated look before heading towards his room. Satan clenched and unclenched his hands a couple of times, taking a few deep breaths, before silently nodding at Beel and walking away. All alone, Beel stepped towards the door. He opened it and looked out at the dark vast of the Devildom before him. With a heavy, guilty heart, he closed the door and pressed his forehead against it. He used one hand to lock the door for the evening, while the other pulled out his D.D.D. The others didn't want him going after you, but a message couldn't hurt, right? He opened your contact and wrote out his text, "Hey MC. I'm sorry for how things happened tonight. Things got out of hand, and I'm sorry for not doing anything to stop that. I know you and the others are upset right now, but I was hoping that tomorrow, once we're all calm, you could come back home and we could talk about it?" Beel sat by the door for half an hour waiting for a response, but none ever came. He frowned and glanced up at the locked door handle before shaking his head. "Maybe they left it on silent for a bit," he mumbled to himself before picking up his phone once more. "Text me when you get to Purgatory Hall. You don't need to say anything else. I just want to know you're safe." With that, Beel headed towards the gym. He wasn't tired. He wasn't hungry. He just wanted you home, but he couldn't have that. So in the meantime, he'd stay awake until he at least knew you were safe.

Only the morning came and went, and there was no word from you. The brothers were starting to get concerned. No matter what was said last night, they still loved you. You all needed to talk, yes, and things needed to be worked out, but that didn't change how they felt for you. They would never want to see you hurt. Lucifer had reached out to Simeon, while Asmodeus contacted Solomon and Beel texted Luke. Only Beel received a response. "Never contact me again. If you come anywhere near Purgatory Hall, I will not hesitate to smite you in an instant, you foul fiend?" Satan read out loud as he passed the phone back to a very confused and worried Beel. "What in the world did you do to him?" "Nothing. At least, I don't think," he thought about for a second. "I've stolen his baked goods on occasion, but besides complaining about as I did it, he never seemed to hold a grudge." Lucifer frowned deeply. "This is clearly about MC. Luke has taken to them as though they're his older sibling."

Levi scowled and pressed a few buttons on his game. "Sure they aren't dating him too?" he yelped as Asmodeus smacked him on the back of the head. "Stop it," Asmodeus growled. "I know you're the Avatar of Envy, Levi, but MC was open and honest with us. They told us that they loved us all and that they wanted a relationship with all of us. We all listened to what they offered and agreed. You agreed to this!"

Levi huffed and put down his game. "Because it was better than not having them at all!" he sighed and put an arm over his face. "I know that they love me, and them being with a-all of us doesn't change that, but it's so hard sometimes. I-I-I just-" "Want 'em to yourself?" Mammon provided. Levi blushed and nodded in response. Mammon shrugged and sat down beside him. "We all understand that Levi. This is somethin' new for all of us. When I see MC bein' sweet with you guys I get this urge to just rip 'em off ya and hold 'em tight in my arms where ya guys can never touch 'em again," he sighed and put a hand on Levi's shoulder, "but then I see MC smile at me the same way they smile at Beel or you or Lucifer. I know that when I'm holdin' them, they're thinkin' of me and they're there with me because they treasure our time together. It's hard sometimes, and it hurts to admit, but you guys make MC happy, and I can't take that away from them." He nudged his younger brother gently, "Neither can you." Everyone sat quietly as they thought of Mammon's words. "They always bring me snacks after my workouts," Beel said with a small smile. "They always seem to know when I'm hungry and would just whip out snacks out of nowhere." Satan leaned onto his knees from where he sat on his chair. "They ordered me their favourite books from the human world on Akuzon. They wanted to do a trade. I'd read their favourites and they'd read mine. That way we could learn a bit about each other just by reading something that the other loved and would understand one another a little better." Belphie tiredly rubbed his eyes and leaned against Beel. "They wake me up after all class and before any meals," he chuckled softly at the memory. "No matter how much I snarled or insulted them, they'd just put their hands on their hips and patiently wait for me to wake up so that I wouldn't miss any of my classes or any meals."

Asmodeus giggled and smiled brightly. "That alone proves how much of an angel they are. Your demon side really shows when you're woken up." The others laughed as Belphegor stuck his tongue out at Asmo. "They would always give me their opinion on my outfits. I know it seems impossible, but even I get torn between which outfit I should bless the public with sometimes. MC would always be the voice of reason to help me choose," his eyes softened, "Though they always said at the end that the most beautiful thing about me was my heart, something no one could see but radiated from the outside-in." Lucifer sighed, closing his eyes as he put aside his pride, and spoke. "They check on me in the middle of the night. I swear they have an alarm. They'll come into my office to see if I'm still awake. If I am, so long as the work isn't truly urgent, they'll poke my cheek and play with my hair until I give in and go to bed."

Everyone turned to Levi. The otaku's face was bright red as he avoided everyone's gaze. "Your turn, Levi," Mammon ordered. "Come on. I know that MC's super gentle with ya. Ya have to have somethin' to add." Leviathan pouted before mumbling. "They'll hold my hand when we're in crowds and in public because they know how anxious it makes me. If I start to freak out, they'll just gently squeeze my hand and pull me along until they can find a quiet space where I can calm down a bit," he groans and glares at Mammon. "What's your point?"

"His point," Satan began calmly, "is that MC loves us all equally. They take special care to do the little things to ensure that we all know that we are loved by them." Mammon nodded and pointed and Satan. "Exactly!" Lucifer hummed in thought. "Though this doesn't fix the problem of MC having no regard for their own safety." Everyone winced. There was no denying that. You admitted it yourself. You were reckless, and in a place like the Devildom, that kind of behaviour would get you killed one day. What would happen if you weren't with them one day? Just like you currently weren't. Memories of your storm out swirled in all of their heads, and concern pooled heavily in their stomachs. "Has anyone heard from them yet?" Belphie asked, looking uncharacteristically nervous. But then again, he was always protective of you as he never wanted you to get hurt again, especially since he had been responsible for so much of your pain in the past. Beel opened his mouth to respond when Asmodeus's D.D.D. went off. Everyone eagerly stood, as Asmo pulled out the device and answered it without checking. "MC? Are you alright?" "Put it on speaker!" Levi snapped, crowding as close to his brother as he could. Asmodeus nodded and quickly did as told. The voice that answered wasn't you, as they had all hoped, but rather Solomon. "I'm afraid they're not," the brother's felt their blood freeze at Solomon's words, as time seemed to stand still around them. Solomon's voice was cold and stern, showing his obvious anger at the demons. "I apologize for not contacting you all sooner, but I was spending every last second of my time and energy on trying to keep MC from dying of blood loss. That, and Luke is quite determined to keep the lot of you as far from MC as possible. If it was up to him I wouldn't even be calling you all right now. I, however, figured that you should at least be made aware of their condition." None of them heard a thing after the words "dying from blood loss" reached their ears. Lucifer took the D.D.D. from Asmo's shaking hands. "What happened? The last we saw them they-" "Presumably walked away from a fight with all of you and was trying to come to us. Yes. I'm aware. I read Beelzebub's texts on MC's phone," everyone glanced at Beel. His brows narrowed as he kept his eyes fixed on the D.D.D. "To answer your question, MC didn't make it to Purgatory Hall last night. They were jumped by a group of three demons who seemed to think that human would make a delectable midnight snack. What do you think, Beelzebub? Is that true? Is the taste of human flesh, really so delicious? I think I've heard you comment as much once or twice before you all began your relationship," Solomon spat the words accusingly. Fury danced on his tongue as though he was Wrath himself. Beel winced back and put a hand on his stomach as flipped inside of him. Belphie growled at the mention in his defence. "Stop dancing around the subject and get to the point. What happened? Are they okay?" The demons were surprised to hear a snarl come from the other end. "I already told you, they aren't. Luke had opened a window to air out some of the kitchens after he failed a new recipe he was trying out when he heard their screams. By the time we got there one of them had eaten half of their right leg, while was one biting along their shoulder, and the other was trying to choke them to death. Simeon and I were able to get the heathens off of them and incinerated them on the spot, but MC was already unconscious. While we were fighting the demons, Luke was just barely able to cast enough healing spells to stop the bleeding and stabilize them. Simeon and I have been working ever since on using every spell, charm, and potion that we know to keep them alive and somehow attempt to heal their injuries." At the mention of MC's leg have been mostly eaten, Beel turned and threw up on the ground. No one moved to comfort him, as they were too distracted by their own states of shock. "A-Are-" Mammon began to choke out before clearing his throat. "Are they

alive? Please tell me they're alive." The answer hung just out of their grasp. Waving dangerously above them like a deadly knife held up by a string. No matter what the response would be, all the brothers felt as though they may faint. "They're alive. Simeon had to use all his power to bring their blood count levels up to a healthy level, and their shoulder was dislocated, they most likely have a concussion going off of their head injury, not to mention their right leg was unsalvagable and had to be amputated, but yes. They are, at the very least, alive." Mammon joined Beel. Satan stood still, though he had changed into his demon form and the aura of pure wrath filled every cranny of the room. Asmodeus held a hand over his mouth as tears streamed steadily down his face. Leviathan had stumbled away from the group and was in the beginning stages of a panic attack. Belphie stared at the phone with a bewildered expression, his eyes pricked with tears, as though he couldn't believe the words coming from Solomon's mouth.

Lucifer was doing everything he could not to hurl the phone across the room.

Solomon continued. "Luke is currently watching them and making sure that they remain stable, while Simeon and I rest. As such, you will have no luck if you try to see them right now. I'll text you when I wake up and then you can come to see them," with that, Solomon hung up. Anxiety, grief, and remorse clung to each of the brothers like a new skin. Earlier they were arguing that all of them had your love, and because of that, all of them had nearly lost you. ***Duh duh duh!!! Part three to come. Part three will probably be the final part, but I don't know. Haven't quite figured out how this is going to end yet. Though a heads up, a may fill out another request before pt. 3 is up just to give me a break from the heavy angst. Thank you all so much for supporting me! And thank you to @millenniumofpain for the request!***

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writemywaytoyourheart · 4 years ago

Text

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 2: Push and Pull

Pairing: hitman!jk x female reader

Genre: E2L, romance, drama, angst

WC: 8.2k

Warnings for this chapter: stalking, alcohol consumption, a gun, attempted murder, language (jk has a potty mouth) pls let me know if there's anything I should add!

Tag list; @hopekookies @moonchild1 @barbellastyles98 @teresaisla @ggukkieland @mwitsmejk @scuzmunkie @jaebeomsblackgf @sugaslittlekookies

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn't sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn't his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Previous → Next

Jungkook blinks up at his ceiling, his eyes dry from keeping them open for so long. The light of the sun is starting to peek through his blinds, signaling that morning has officially come. He finally looks away from his ceiling to look at the window where the light is creeping in.

Jungkook sighs and sits up, running a hand through his hair and mussing it up. He's not sure he even got a wink of sleep last night. There's something about this case that's apparently keeping him up at night, and he's barely even started.

He can't help but wonder what this girl did to make herself a target. He's not questioning whether he should go through with it, no, that's not even a question. The money on this girl's head has to be at least three if not four times as much as his previous hits.

Jungkook just wants to know what he's getting himself into, that's what's bugging him the most. He doesn't like walking into situations and not knowing everything that's going on.

He looks around his tiny studio apartment, his eyes blurry. Then, he starts to laugh to himself quietly. With a job that pays this much, he's worrying an awful lot about things that don't matter.

After another minute of delaying the inevitable, Jungkook forces himself to get up and get dressed before grabbing an apple to eat on the way.

As he locks his apartment door behind him, the neighbor's door opens and Jungkook sees a familiar face smiling brightly at him.

"Good morning, Jungkook!"

"Hi, Hoseok. How are you this morning?" Jungkook asks politely.

The older boy smiles even brighter if that's possible as he holds up a rolled-up paper, "I'm great since I've got a new paper to read. Thanks for leaving it, Kook."

Jungkook smiles, "No problem. I was getting one anyway, thought I might as well grab an extra."

Hoseok nods, "Where are you off to? I thought you didn't work at the coffee shop on Tuesdays?"

"Oh, I'm going job hunting," Jungkook responds lightly. "I'm tired of working at the coffee shop." He laughs as Hoseok pouts.

"I haven't even gotten to visit you while you work! Darn." Hoseok snaps his fingers in disappointment. "Oh well, good luck on the job hunt!"

"Thanks, Hoseok." Jungkook smiles and turns to leave, only relaxing when he hears his neighbor's door shut. That's something he doesn't like about having a friendly neighbor, he hates lying to people that seem to actually care about him.

Hoseok was always saying he wanted to visit Jungkook and get some discounted coffee. Jungkook doesn't have the heart to tell him that it was all a lie. In fact, everything he knows about him is a lie.

That's why he doesn't involve a lot of people in his life and he plans to keep it that way.

Jungkook shakes his head to clear it. He's been getting too emotional lately and his head isn't in his work.

"That stops here and now," Jungkook vows to himself as he waits at a crosswalk, watching the cars drive by.

A few minutes later, he arrives at Sunshine Kindergarten.

Jungkook is caught off guard when he sees the girl immediately. He had expected to have to wait for her arrival again today. She's sitting outside the school on the steps, a book in her hands that's long forgotten as she looks up at the sky. It looks like she's talking to someone, but when Jungkook looks around, there's no one else anywhere near her.

The girl cocks her head to the side, then starts to rock back and forth a little as she continues to talk to no one. Too curious for his own good, Jungkook crosses the street to get closer. Maybe if he gets close enough, he can hear what she's saying.

"I th-think...maybe s-sandwiches would be a good idea."

The hell?

Jungkook glances at her as he pretends to just stroll by. She's definitely talking to herself.

"No, no no no. I had a s-sandwich for l-lunch yesterday..." She bites the fingernail on her right thumb as she seems to contemplate something. She takes no notice of Jungkook while she continues to look at her book, then the sky.

"Mm, maybe tt-tteokbokki?"

Jungkook fights the urge to look at her like she's insane and just continues to walk by until he's safe to turn and keep an eye on her.

"Oooh, tteokbokki sounds y-yummy." The girl says with finality. Then she glances at her phone, notices the time, and starts putting her book in her cupcake and cookie decorated bag. A minute later, she's walking into the school and leaving his line of sight.

"What the hell..." Jungkook mutters to himself.

Who even is this girl?

_____________

Today, as Jungkook follows behind the girl as she walks home, she stops several times to talk to babies, dogs, and even a bird.

Jungkook just follows behind in disbelief.

This has to be some kind of an act.

Yeah, that's definitely what it is. This girl is better than he thought, she's got her whole act planned out to throw anyone off her track. She's going to have to do better than acting like some innocent school teacher to throw him off though.

This time, instead of heading straight home, the girl goes to an arcade. When Jungkook walks into the arcade a minute later, he spots her in the same white skirt and chunky tennis shoes, a light blue cardigan around her shoulders.

She's playing one of the games by herself, her face set into one of pure determination. Jungkook goes to a game where he can still see her and starts to play. He's more focused on making sure she doesn't leave, so he ends up losing that first round.

He doesn't really care though, he watches her carefully as she shouts in triumph. A few tickets come out of her little machine and she snags them, running to the front to trade them in for a tiny stuffie.

The girl ends up staying at the arcade for another two hours, collecting enough tickets to trade in for an octopus stuffie that's almost the size of her to go along with the tiny starfish one she got earlier.

She looks laughable as she carries her prizes out the front door and down the street, clutching the giant octopus like her life depends on it. The little starfish rides along safely in her bag.

One more stop is made as the girl gets a little cup of ice cream from a man selling it on the side of the street. The second he asked her if she wanted to buy some, it was like she couldn't say no as she hurriedly agreed and bought one scoop of ice cream. When she leaves, Jungkook goes up to the man and buys a scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream to eat while he follows her.

He hasn't had a decent meal all day and he's starving.

It's starting to get dark by the time Jungkook recognizes the streets they're on and realizes she's finally heading home. Weirdly enough, the girl turns and walks down a dark alley, even though the streetlamp near it is flickering on and off.

Doesn't she have any sense of self-preservation? Jungkook thinks to himself.

It might not be good for her, but it's definitely something that could help him out immensely. He'll have to keep tailing her for a few more days to make sure, but if she continues to use this dark alley as a shortcut, then she's practically doing his job for him.

Sure enough, they end up a lot closer to her apartment by the time they're out of the alley. So, it's a shortcut she probably uses quite often. Then Jungkook notices that she hasn't turned around to look at her surroundings this entire time.

She's making this too easy.

He could have this job over with by the end of the week if luck stays on his side. It's always a relief when it doesn't take him long to get a job done.

He's really had nothing to worry about, why was he worrying so much? It isn't his business why this girl is a target, it's his job to carry out his end of the deal, that's all.

It feels like a weight has lifted off of his shoulders as he climbs the stairs to his apartment that night. He says hello to Hoseok, who's sitting outside and reading, before making his way inside.

The first thing he does is jump in the shower, then when he's finished, he makes himself some ramen.

Jungkook sits alone at his little dining table, gently blowing on the noodles in-between his chopsticks. His hair is still damp from his shower, but he's cozy in his sweats with something close enough to a real meal than he's had all day. He gets up once to grab some kimchi and soju from the fridge, then he stays at the dining table until he's downed two bottles.

This happens every time he gets a new job. It feels good at the moment, but he knows he's going to regret it in the morning. That's the only thought that stops him from grabbing a third bottle.

By the time he's settled into bed, he's forgotten what was worrying him so much the past few days. He smiles to himself, relieved that he'll be getting that money in a week at most. He'll have to come up with a plan when he isn't hammered like he is now. That's the last thought to pass through his mind before he's out like a light.

______________

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping.

Not real birds, just the sound that you chose for your alarm. Something you're grateful that Mina helped you do. The other alarm sounds just give you anxiety when they go off.

You don't notice it at first, but by the time you've become aware of your surroundings, you realize that your legs are all tangled up with the tentacles of a giant octopus stuffie. The small starfish stuffie is laying by your head. The events of last night, you getting enough tickets to get your new little friends, makes their way into your brain.

You laugh and snuggle into it more.

No wonder you slept so soundly last night; you had something to cuddle!

You breathe deeply, after a few minutes you're awake enough to sit up and rub your eyes. Smiling to yourself at the sight of the beautiful golden light seeping in through your blinds, you sigh happily. Normally you don't like waking up, but today feels different. There's something that's shifted, but you can't tell what it is.

Maybe it's because you slept so well last night. The nightmares that usually plague your dreams, were absent. You smile at the giant octopus in your arms, "Y-You chased away all the b-bad dreams!" You exclaim, hugging it tightly to your chest, "Thanks, C-Cookie!"

You named the stuffie last night, the starfish also got a name, Smiley, due to the tiny smile stitched into its adorable little face.

You sit in bed for another minute or so, just staring into space and thinking about random things. Then you slip out of bed and hurry to the bathroom to get a quick shower. As the water pours down your head and shoulders, you start to sing a song that's been stuck in your head for a few days. Your voice cracks as you try to hit the higher notes, but you pay it no mind and keep singing your heart out.

With your hair wrapped up in a towel on top of your head, you pour yourself a bowl of your favorite cereal. You play your favorite songs as you eat and hum along to them, your mind wandering. When you're finished, you move to your room to get dressed.

Opening your closet, you stand there and scan the limited amount of clothing you have as if you had millions of choices to pick from. "One, two, three, four..." You count lowly to yourself, pointing at each shirt, skirt, and pants hanging in your closet. After a minute of debating, you decide to wear your light blue flowy skirt today instead of your favorite white one. You pull it on, then grab a white blouse along with some frilly white socks.

Mina texted you earlier to tell you how sorry she was, but she couldn't drive you today. Her work wanted her in at six o'clock sharp. You didn't need to be at work until seven. You reassured her that you would be totally fine walking. You love to walk in the mornings anyway, the fresh air always smells so nice and all the birds seem to be braver as they are out more in the morning. The whole world is just so quiet and beautiful as it wakes up.

You hum to yourself as you pull on your favorite tennis shoes. It takes you a few tries to get the laces done, but you manage.

"What should I eat f-for lunch today?" You ask yourself as you scan your fridge. You really want to try making some kimbap, but the last time you tried that without Mina's help, you ended up with a burned finger and almost lost another finger trying to cut the veggies.

So, you decide to make yourself another simple sandwich today, cheese this time. When you're done putting it together, you get out your cookie cutters and get to work. You have to contain your excitement at the heart-shaped sandwiches sitting on the counter after you're finished.

You stick to letting yourself jump around for a second to let the giddiness out, then you force yourself to calm down enough to grab a container and gently put the little sandwiches in. You grab a few more little snacky things to put in your lunch bag, then you zip it all up.

Finally, you're ready to go!

You grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder, then you snag your lunch and clutch it tightly in your fist as you make your way out of your apartment, remembering to lock the door this time.

Mina would be proud of you.

The crisp June morning air hits your nose and you breathe in deeply, a smile spreading on your face as you descend the stairs.

You make good time this morning, seeing as there isn't much to catch your attention today. You arrive at the school twenty minutes before the bell is going to ring, so you decide to sit on the steps again today like you did yesterday. It's just too nice out here to be all closed up in your classroom before your kids even get here.

You pull out your drawing pad from your bag and get comfortable on the front steps. Next, you take out your colored pencils as you scan the area, trying to figure out what you should draw today.

You see something across the street, the kind old man that runs the paper stand. Maybe you could draw him and give it to him as a present when it's all finished! You nod in excitement and get to work, your nose soon buried in your drawing pad.

______________

Jungkook had decided this morning that he would follow the girl from her home. If he was lucky and she was going to walk today it would be a perfect chance to see if she always uses the alleyway or if she had just used it by chance last night.

The girl comes out of her place around six-twenty, in a light blue skirt this time. Jungkook smirks, so she does own something that isn't just that one white skirt.

Her hair is a little messed up as if she forgot to brush it before leaving. She's got a scrunchie on her wrist, but it appears that she has no intention of using it.

Jungkook follows a little ways behind her, as he has been these past few days. With how distracted this girl gets, he could walk right behind her and she'd never notice him.

Surprisingly, she doesn't stop much on the way to the school. She skips a little, probably to the beat of the song she's listening to in her headphones. A few people, Jungkook notices, give her odd looks.

He later finds out when he hears her, that it's probably because she's talking to herself as she looks at the sky, then down to her shoes as she watches herself walk.

He shakes his head, seriously wanting to know what the story is behind this target.

She deserves an oscar, Jungkook thinks in amusement.

Then he notices that she doesn't use the alley, she just passes by it.

Maybe she'll use it again tonight, he thinks hopefully.

At one point, the girl trips over a crack in the sidewalk and lurches forward. He isn't sure why, but he finds himself stepping closer, his hands out to catch her before he realizes what he's doing. Jungkook steps back and clears his throat, watching as she catches herself anyway, and continues to skip down the sidewalk.

When they get close to the school, Jungkook crosses the street and heads over to buy a paper from the old man before finding a bench and settling down on it. He looks over the paper, expecting the girl to just go inside, but instead, she sits on the steps again.

He watches as she pulls a notebook out of her childish bag, then she pulls out a little box. Out of the little box, she takes some colored pencils. She looks across the street and he can tell she's decided to draw the old man at the paper stand.

Huh.

This girl is undoubtedly strange.

She sits and draws in concentration for a good ten minutes, then she gathers up her things and heads inside. She must be too excited about her picture because as she's skipping in she yet again trips on the last step and stumbles. The girl catches herself and continues in as if she's used to tripping over everything.

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, then just shakes his head again and goes back to reading the paper. He's got some time to kill before school is over.

It turns out, he would see the girl before the last bell.

Jungkook thanks the man at the food stand and heads to his little bench to sit down and eat his lunch, grateful that he's going to be eating actual meals today.

He digs into the tteokbokki and fish cakes immediately. It's as delicious as he expected it to be and he tries not to groan in satisfaction at the taste of something that isn't just instant ramen noodles. But what he doesn't expect, is to see the girl coming out from the school.

Jungkook chokes on a rice cake as he scrambles to grab his paper and flip it open, covering his face. He settles his breathing enough to be able to swallow the bite that almost killed him, his eyes closed in annoyance. When he slowly peeks over the top, he sees her sitting on the front steps again, a little pink lunch sack in her lap. She moves her legs so her skirt doesn't ride up and expose anything, then she opens the lunch bag.

Jungkook watches in mounting disbelief as she pulls out what looks to be a heart-shaped sandwich.

How much weirder can this girl get?

She says something to herself before taking a big bite of the sandwich, her cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk that stuffed one too many nuts in his mouth.

He shakes his head and stabs a little rice cake before shoving it in his mouth. He isn't sure why this girl is starting to annoy the crap out of him, but she is. Jungkook looks up again when he hears a loud laugh ring out from across the street. A couple that was walking look at the girl like she's insane, but she doesn't seem to notice.

She just covers her mouth with her hand and snorts as she looks at something on her phone. Jungkook scoffs and goes back to his paper, the annoyance seeping off of him.

How can someone be so annoyingly happy all the time? Damn.

It's like she knows she's got everything she's ever wanted and she couldn't care less about anyone else's problems.

Jungkook despises people like that.

It's as if a switch goes off in him and he's suddenly really freaking pissed off. People like her think that life is so easy all the damn time. Do they ever struggle with anything?

He snaps his paper to straighten it out, trying to calm himself down before he goes into that nasty hole of becoming envious of those more fortunate than him.

Against his better judgment, Jungkook looks over the paper at her again, his chest only burning with more hatred as she starts to count the stupid little carrot sticks in the container on her lap.

Fucking annoying.

By the time Jungkook looks up again, the girl is gone. A second later, the bell signaling the end of lunch rings loudly.

Jungkook sits on the bench in a funk until the end of school bell rings. When he finally sees the target coming out of the school, he stands up and starts to follow her. The same routine he's been doing since Monday. Jungkook mulls over a few things in his head as he watches her stop at several food stands until she's got a cup of rice cakes, a scoop of ice cream, a fish cake skewer, and a mochi that's bigger than usual. He doesn't know how she is able to carry all that, but she manages.

She walks around a bit, looking into the windows of shops, her forehead pressing against the glass as she stares at a gaudy red dress. She stuffs another bite of mochi in her mouth, chewing sadly as she reluctantly drags herself away from the store window.

Jungkook looks at the dress in distaste; it's hideous. He can't imagine someone actually buying that thing, besides, it's probably way overpriced anyway.

He turns from it to keep following her, seeing that she's stopped now at a window where a few puppies are running around and playing with each other. The girl smiles at them and puts her hand up to the glass. A tiny brown puppy inches close to her hand and licks the glass that separates them.

She giggles delightedly.

Jungkook watches, emotionless.

When is she going to head home?

Finally, after what feels like hours, the girl starts taking the streets that lead back to her apartment. Jungkook sighs in relief, then he gets another nice surprise when she turns to head into the alley by her house.

A smirk spreads on his face as he enters the alley behind her. He knows what he's going to do.

_______________

The next day passes just like they have been this past week. Jungkook trails the girl from her apartment to the school, from the school back to her apartment. It's a relief to find that whenever she walks, she takes the alley by her house on the way home.

Now, Jungkook is sure what his plan is going to be.

It'll be sure to draw attention when this girl is dead, there's no doubt about it. No one is going to suspect her of being anything other than a school teacher, so why would someone kill her?

Jungkook has thought through it all. This is what he does for a living, of course he isn't going to be sloppy about it. He'll be done with this by Sunday and no one will suspect anything other than a robbery gone wrong.

He happened to overhear the conversation between the target and her friend that drives the black car. The friend will be gone by Saturday morning, out of the picture and none the wiser.

Jungkook needs to be careful today though. He also overheard them this morning talking about how they are going to be meeting up at the girl's apartment tonight. Something about doing girl shit before the friend leaves tomorrow.

So, Jungkook decides to take the day off. He heads back home, not about to be caught by this friend that's probably a lot smarter than the target.

He'll just come to her apartment tomorrow morning and the plan will be over by tomorrow night.

______________

When you see Mina's car parked out in front of the school, you start running outside excitedly, your bag bouncing as you bound down the front steps.

"M-Mina!"

She has a huge smile on her face when you open the passenger door and climb in. "Hey, girl!" Mina shouts, yanking you over to hug you. "Aren't you excited it's Friday??"

You nod, "Yes, b-but...I am g-gonna miss you." You pout.

Mina shakes her head, "Nuh-uh. Tonight we party, there shall be no tears!"

You laugh as you buckle yourself in, "Ok, I p-promise I won't cry. W-What are we going to do tonight?"

Mina smirks sneakily and nudges your arm, "Oh you'll see~"

_______________

You clap in excitement when you see what Mina has planned for you two. After you unlocked your apartment door and let her in, she had set down a few bags, then instructed you to open them.

Inside one, you found a tub of ice cream, a box of cookies, and a few bags of your favorite types of chips. In the other, there were two blankets, two pairs of fuzzy socks, and a couple different movies.

"We g-get to have m-movie night?" You jump up and down as Mina nods happily.

"Yes! Now you have to pick which movie you want to watch. Should we do romance or comedy?" She starts pulling the stuff out of the bags as you mull over the different choices.

You have a hard time deciding things a lot of the time, that's why Mina usually has you make the choice. She wants you to get some practice making decisions.

After she's set everything up, she turns back to see you on your knees, leaning over the movies that you've laid out on the ground. You're biting the nail on your thumb as you appear concerned, looking at the movies.

Your best friend laughs and moves to crouch next to you. She looks at you and speaks softly, "Do you want to laugh tonight, or do you want to get the butterflies in your tummy?"

You turn to her and a shy smile spreads on your face, "Ok, l-let's do romance!"

A few minutes later, you're cuddled up next to your best friend. You both have fuzzy socks on and blankets, keeping you warm. You each also have a spoon, scooping out the ice cream as your eyes are glued onto one of your favorite romance movies of all time.

Not even three hours have passed when you're both dead asleep on your couch. Soft snores leave Mina's mouth, both of your legs tangled up with each other. The second movie is playing in the background, long forgotten after you both fell asleep not even halfway through.

The next morning, you wake up on the couch groggily. You look around in confusion, forgetting for a minute why you're on the couch. Then you remember and you laugh to yourself as you rub your eyes. Then you look around again.

Mina isn't anywhere and you think for a moment that she's left without saying goodbye. You hang your head, trying not to cry. Then you hear the toilet flush and the water run in the bathroom. You sigh in relief and wait patiently for her to come out.

When she does, you instantly stand up, "Want s-some breakfast?" You offer. She smiles sadly, "I wish I could stay for breakfast. But I have to leave now. I still have to grab my luggage and head to the airport. My flight is at ten."

You look at your phone and see that it's eight o'clock.

"Oh," You say sadly.

Mina walks over and hugs you, "Don't worry, ___. I'll be back before you know it! And I'll call you whenever I'm not working, okay?"

You nod and smile at her to reassure her that you're okay.

She leaves a few minutes later and you find yourself alone in your quiet apartment once again. Your nose twitches as you try not to tear up, then you move to the kitchen to get yourself some of your favorite cereal to cheer yourself up.

You'll have to plan some fun things for you to do while she's gone, or you might just go crazy.

______________

Jungkook has been outside the girl's apartment since eight this morning. He saw the friend leaving a little after he got there. He recognized her shoulder-length black hair immediately and he knew it was the driver.

He had smiled to himself when he saw her get into her car and drive away. He honestly can't believe the luck he's had on this job so far. This is going to be the easiest he's ever had it.

But now, he's sitting on a bench in complete and utter boredom as he waits for the girl to leave her house. It turns out, she doesn't leave her house until almost lunchtime.

By the time he sees a flash of black and grey, he's almost fallen asleep on the bench. But he jerks up the second he sees the girl hurrying down her stairs. She looks totally different today...

Jungkook is surprised to see the girl is in grey sweatpants and a long black t-shirt. A black bucket hat is on her head, seemingly hiding her bed head if the knotted bits of the hair he can see tell anything.

She's usually more put together, but then again, it is the weekend. Not everyone should be expected to go all out to look decent when they aren't working.

But there is one thing that hasn't changed; the girl is still simple as hell looking.

She doesn't have a bit of make-up on as she rubs her eyes.

He gets up to follow her once she's about two blocks away.

Jungkook shakes his head when he sees that even though her outfit is completely devoid of color today, she still has that damned bag covered in colorful treats.

It seems like today this girl is on a mission. She walks briskly and not a single thing distracts her. She only stops once, to get a small bite of lunch from a food stand. Jungkook realizes where they're headed a second before the girl stops.

She looks into the window of the store and waves at the brown puppy. It wags its tail at her and she smiles for the first time that Jungkook's seen today.

The girl goes into the store and Jungkook follows a minute later.

He sees her talking to a woman at the front. She points at the dogs in the front window and the woman nods with a smile. A minute later, the girl has the brown puppy in her arms as she's sitting in one of the little places with a bench and walls to keep the dogs that are being held from getting out.

"Can I help you, sir?"

Jungkook flinches and turns to see the woman that helped the girl looking at him with a smile. "Oh, uh...I, uh..." Jungkook looks around frantically, then he points at a little black kitten that's sitting in a big cage, staring at him.

"Can I uh...hold that kitten?"

Why the hell is he so awkward??

The woman smiles brighter and nods, "Of course! Come with me."

Jungkook tries not to groan in frustration as he follows her to the kitten's cage. This wasn't part of the plan, but whatever.

The little ball of fluff mewls when the woman takes it out and hands it to a very stressed Jungkook.

Damn it.

He flinches when the kitten licks his nose. The woman laughs, "Looks like he's finally found someone he likes. No one that's ever come in here to hold him has ever had him more than a few seconds before he freaked out."

Jungkook forces himself to smile at the employee. Then, he turns to keep an eye on the girl, pretending like he's just talking to the kitten.

"Hi, little guy." He speaks softly, his eyes shifting to see the girl hugging the puppy close to her chest.

After a few minutes, the girl reluctantly hands the puppy back to the store employee, her eyes watering as she talks to the little dog.

"I p-promise I'll come back and b-buy you next t-time, okay?" Then she hurries out of the store, making Jungkook hand the kitten to a random employee. "I might get him another time." He says in a rush before hurrying out after her.

The day is spent much like it is after she gets off work every day. The girl gets some steamed buns and walks through the park, humming along to whatever song is playing in her headphones. Jungkook strolls along behind her, going through the plan over and over again in his head to make sure he isn't missing anything.

He's pretty sure he's got it all down to the last detail, nothing should go wrong tonight. This target is quite predictable, but there's always that chance that they pull something that you don't expect. Jungkook doubts that'll happen with this girl, but he can't be positive. After all, if she is acting, then she could turn it on him in an instant.

Jungkook watches the girl doubtfully as she tries to stuff more steamed bun into her mouth than it can take.

Geez.

Then the girl suddenly plops down on the ground. Jungkook stops and sits on a nearby bench to watch her. She sets her paper bag of remaining steamed buns on the grass next to her, then pulls out the drawing notebook that Jungkook has seen her use several times this week.

The girl gets right to work, her nose stuffed into the notebook as she scribbles madly. Jungkook fights the urge to get up and look over her shoulder at what she's drawing. He used to love to draw when he was younger. When the world wasn't such a brutal place to live in and be accepted.

Jungkook leans back on the bench and tilts his head up to the sky as he closes his eyes. He gets the feeling that they're going to be here for a while. Besides, he can still hear her drawing, no need to keep an eye on her. The feeling of the warm sun on his skin makes some distant memories try and sneak their way into his brain, but Jungkook immediately blocks them out.

He takes a deep breath of the fresh June air through his nose, then blows it out through his mouth slowly. Hell, he's exhausted.

Jungkook reaches a hand up to snatch his black baseball cap off and sets it in his lap. Then he starts to massage the back of his neck, his eyes still closed. He feels like he hasn't had nearly enough sleep this week, the stress of just wanting to get this blasted job done keeping him up at night.

The sound of the girl drawing and mumbling to herself reaches Jungkook's ears as he continues to massage his neck. Then he moves down and starts to rub the tense part of his shoulder close to his neck. After that, Jungkook moves his hands to start massaging his face. He rubs his eyes and temples, moving down to his cheeks.

"Hello, mister."

Jungkook flinches at the tiny voice and his eyes fly open as he yanks his hands from his face.

There's a very very small girl standing in front of him, her long black hair in two braids on either side of her face. Her huge dark eyes stare into Jungkook's as he calms his breathing.

Fucking hell. Scared the shit out of me.

"What do you-"

Jungkook cuts himself off when the little girl steps even closer until she's standing in between his spread legs. He leans back, one of his eyebrows rising in confusion.

The hell does this girl want?

Jungkook looks around to see if he can find her mother or father. When he looks back at her, she's smiling shyly, her wide eyes still staring straight into his soul.

"What do you need?" He snaps.

She doesn't react to his sharp tone, she just reaches out and snags his baseball cap. Jungkook tries to protest but she places it on her head anyway. She looks even tinier if that's possible, his hat looking positively massive on her small head. "My name is Mi-Rah." She whispers.

Jungkook feels a twist in his stomach. This innocent child shouldn't be anywhere near someone like him. He kills people for a living.

Where on earth are her parents? Have they taught her nothing about stranger danger?

Then Mi-Rah reaches into her pocket and pulls out a piece of candy in a very crumpled wrapper. She takes Jungkook's large hand and places it into his open palm. "You look very sad, mister. Sometimes all we need to feel happy is something sweet, no matter how small."

Jungkook tears his eyes away from the little candy and looks at the tiny girl in disbelief. How old is she?

"Uh...thank you-"

"You don't have to thank me, mister. Maybe just...make someone else smile today. Give someone else a chance to be happy." The little girl says simply. Then she takes his hat off her head and places it back onto his own before turning and running off.

What the hell.

That girl spoke like an adult, but she couldn't have been any older than seven. Jungkook shakes his head, then glances at the candy. It has a bit of lint on it, there's no way in hell he's gonna eat that. So, without thinking, he stuffs it into his pocket, then his eyes shift over to where the girl is drawing.

Except she isn't there.

"Fuck." Jungkook jumps up and whips his head around, scanning the park. When he doesn't see a single sign of her, a growl leaves his throat and he starts walking. If that kid hadn't distracted him, this wouldn't have happened.

Jungkook walks around for a good two hours, but he hasn't seen the girl once. Now he's starting to panic. The sun will start going down soon.

What if she already went home?

His plan would be ruined.

Crap.

Jungkook takes his cap off and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He doesn't want to have to wait another day to get this over with.

One more hour passes as Jungkook frantically walks around the city. He even goes to the girl's apartment to see if he can tell if she went home, but all the lights inside are off so she probably isn't in there.

After another hour, the sun is down.

Jungkook curses and kicks at a little stone on the sidewalk, watching it roll into the grass. He fucked up. He got distracted and now he's going to have to do this all over again tomorrow if he's even lucky enough that the girl will go out and stay out all day tomorrow.

After all these years, he's never lost a target before. He feels like an idiot. Out of all the hits he's had, every single one, this weird-ass kindergarten teacher is the one he loses. All because he let some kid come and distract him for a second.

He curses again and resists the urge to throw a punch at something, anything.

Jungkook turns around, ready to head home and curse himself until the day he dies. But he stops short when he sees a familiar figure walking down the street. A bucket hat covers their face, but the unmistakably ridiculous bag is hanging from her shoulder.

"Fucking hell." Jungkook sighs in relief as he watches the girl make her way towards the alley. His luck is back! The second the girl turns into the dark and desolate walkway, Jungkook follows her in.

She's singing softly to herself as she walks slowly, taking her time. As if there isn't a killer looming right behind her.

Jungkook pulls the gun he grabbed from his safe earlier out of his back pocket. The girl stops, then crouches to pick something up as Jungkook switches the safety off his gun.

He raises it slowly.

A tiny laugh slips out of the girl's mouth as she messes with something on the ground, her smaller figure crouched on the dirty cement of the alley.

Jungkook aims carefully, he's got a perfect target.

He can do it.

He can be done with this.

So, why isn't he pulling the trigger?

Jungkook shakes his head and raises the gun again.

Fuck.

The girl stands up again and starts to walk quickly.

Shit, shit, shit Jungkook scrambles after her, almost tripping on the trash piled in the alley. She happens to be the one to trip on it first. Her arms flail out and a tiny shriek leaves her mouth as she tumbles to the ground. "Ow." He hears her whimper quietly. "Owie." She pulls her right knee out from under her and pulls her sweats up enough to see the small cut on it. Ok, enough dilly-dallying Jungkook. Get it done. Jungkook raises the gun once more as the girl gets to her feet and starts to walk away. He's about to call out and get her attention so he can get her from the front. Make it look like a robbery gone bad. That's when he sees the papers on the ground that had fallen out of her bag when she fell. He doesn't know what possesses him to look closer, but he does. Shock courses through him at the drawings he sees. They're fucking terrible. They look like a four-year-old drew them, the coloring not even in the lines she drew. What the hell even is that? A fucking bird? There's something that looks kind of like an apple tree next to the deformed-looking bird thing. Another picture shows an awfully drawn lollipop. Who messes up a lollipop? Jungkook looks up at the girl, who has stopped to look at her phone. "Give someone else a chance to be happy." The tiny girl's words suddenly ring through his mind and Jungkook swallows thickly. He lowers the gun, his arm hanging limply at his side. "Damn it." The girl swivels when she hears the voice of a man behind her, but when she turns there's no one there. She glances at the dumpsters and trash bags and listens intently. When she doesn't hear anything, she quickly turns and runs out of the alley. She runs the rest of the way home, only stopping when she's gotten inside and locked her door. ________________

"Fucking stupid!" Jungkook screams and throws the gun onto his bed. Why the hell did he hesitate? He never hesitates. He's shot dozens of people dead and he never blinked an eye. Why? Why now? This is the most paying job he's ever gotten and now he's fucked it up! He got distracted. That's all. If he hadn't spoken to that kid today or seen those stupid drawings, he wouldn't have messed up. "Ok, that's it," Jungkook growls and stomps over to the file sitting on his coffee table. It's been sitting there since Sunday a week ago. He grabs it and opens it angrily, a few papers spilling out and onto the floor. He doesn't bother cleaning them up. He just grabs the last one, the folded picture of the target. Jungkook unfolds it and glares at the image of the smiling girl. "I don't give a fuck why you're a target. I'm going to fucking kill you on Monday and that's it!" Then he tears the picture in half. He tosses it onto the coffee table and slumps down onto his couch, mentally exhausted. _______________ Jungkook spends Sunday holed up in his apartment. He's never been so pissed at himself before. No more distractions. If he doesn't get this done tomorrow, he doesn't know what he'll do. This hit is driving him insane. The only time he leaves his apartment is when Hoseok knocks and asks him to come over for dinner. As much as he would rather do anything but that, he agrees with a plastered smile. Jungkook sits at Hoseok's dining table awkwardly as his neighbor plates up the fried rice he made and hands a plate to him. "Thank you." Jungkook takes it and his stomach growls the second he smells the food. This is the first homecooked meal he's had in...well as long as he can remember. Suddenly, there's a knock on the door, and Hoseok laughs, "Oh, I almost forgot! I hope you don't mind, I invited some more of my friends over." Jungkook shakes his head, "I don't mind at all." When Hoseok opens the door, Jungkook sees a tall handsome man with broad shoulders and black hair walk in. He's taken by surprise by the man's beauty for a split second before he snaps out of it and sees another man walk in. This one is shorter and his hair is bleached blonde. The first man has a huge smile on his face and the second looks like his face has been set into a permanent look of uninterest. "Hi! You must be Jungkook!" The taller man says happily, reaching a hand out to shake Jungkook's. The younger man nods, "Yes, I am." "I'm Seokjin! And this is Yoongi." The handsome man turns and points at the blonde. Yoongi nods and sends Jungkook a small smile. "Nice to meet you," Jungkook responds politely, trying not to be awkward as hell. The only person he's really spoken to as an acquaintance for years is Hoseok, and he's only known him a little less than a year. Dinner goes by rather smoothly and the food is delicious, but Jungkook is grateful when he finally steps back into his own apartment. He's usually good at faking with people, part of his job is to charm people and put all suspicion off of himself. Tonight was different though, he felt exposed and like he couldn't put up a facade with those men. He takes a long hot shower, trying to wash away all the stress from the past week. When he's out of the shower and in his shorts, Jungkook crawls into bed and turns out the light. He blankly stares into the darkness for a while, trying not to let his brain run rampid so he can sleep. But he thinks back to the dinner a little while ago, anyway. Seokjin and Yoongi were nice, and Hoseok has always been kind to him. But, Jungkook feels uncomfortable, he feels off. He just isn't cut out for friends. He's a killer. That's all he is and that's all he'll ever be. And killers are meant to be alone. ______________ Jungkook sighs as he sits on the bench in front of the school. Hopefully, this will be the last day he has to do this. The girl had already gone into the kindergarten hours ago, it's nearing the end of the school day. All he has to do is tough it out until tonight. If the girl doesn't stay out till dark, he'll just have to lure her out of her apartment later somehow. He'll figure that out when he comes to it. The bell rings and Jungkook gets up to buy a paper from the old man that he's become quite acquainted with this past week. The two of them chat it up a bit as Jungkook watches the school doors. Eventually, he sees the girl leading a long line of kids out the front doors and down into the grass to wait to be picked up. It takes a little longer than usual, but finally, all the kids are gone and the girl goes back inside. When she comes out and starts walking down the street, Jungkook follows on the other side. As he walks he keeps an eye on her, but that means he isn't looking ahead. "Umph!" Jungkook jumps back in surprise when he sees a little old woman glaring at him after he ran into her. "Oh, sorry. I'm sorry." Jungkook bows his head in apology and the old woman nods curtly before walking around him. He looks back across the street, only to groan at seeing the girl is nowhere to be seen. "Not again." Jungkook moans in dismay. Then he jumps a mile high when he feels someone tap his shoulder. "Excuse m-me, sir." Jungkook turns and his heart stops in his chest when he sees the wide eyes of a horribly familiar girl staring up at him. She's clutching a piece of paper in her hands as a smile spreads on her face when she looks at him closer. Jungkook blinks a few times, the rest of him frozen in horror at being caught. "Th-This is for you." She holds out the paper. Jungkook takes it limply, his eyes never leaving hers. When the initial shock leaves his body, Jungkook tears his eyes away from the girl and looks down at what she gave him. He squints in confusion at what he sees. Then he looks back up at his target. What the hell is this?

_____________________________

a/n: I hope you guys like this one. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it at first. Let me know what you think <3

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

Text

I live in the neighbourhood - Part 3

What happened to the cycling classes after work and the occasional drinks with coworkers? Now it was flying to Italy to vacation for the December holidays with Harry and his family and friends.

Ok part 3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and the final part of ilitn i believe! let me know what you think! plssss! Not proofread, but your support means the most and it means the world to see your thoughts, literally anything about it, and this little harry I always have to remember that’s the simp your honor ^ right there! anyway happy reading!

Read Part 1 | 2

Word Count: 10.9k | Warnings: swearing, smut! (finally) - oral (m+f receiving, dirty talk, choking? i can’t remember ngl there might not be, sloppy sex, outdoors by the pooldeck just btw, christmas, idk but hopefully nothing I missed, feelings! happy ending (possibly rushed

“You’re really flying to Italy and then traipsing around the Italian countryside for three weeks with Harry and his family? I cannot believe you’re leaving me behind.”

“You’re gonna kill me for saying this, but he had said I could invite a friend or two if I wanted. But I thought it’d be weird with his family so you literally can’t be mad at me!”

“Fine. I’ll move past it, but how did you move past the whole panic attack? Like you barely spoke to him for a month and then he’s on your doorstep and you’re kissing and agreeing to a Roman Holiday?”

“It’s Harry,” she sighs, laying down on her couch. “How could I not, I got scared because he was gone, but once he was back, nothing else mattered.”

“I guess,” Cate mumbles.

“Oof, sorry Cate I have another call, I’ve got to go…”

By the time she tries to pick up the other line has gone to a message and she’s left to listen to her boss over a voicemail:

“Hey Y/N, I know your holidays have just begun, but I wanted to inform you that you’ll be getting a new client in the new year. Big artist! Anyway, just wanted to inform you that I’ll be emailing over some of their paperwork. Feel free to ignore it until the new year! Have a nice trip.”

She sighs. “Interesting...but will definitely be waiting for the new year to even think about work,” she says to herself.

She throws her phone to the side. Tired of all the phone tag and messages she had begun to have to deal with as the Holiday season dawned more and more upon her. She had more important things to think about. Most important being the suitcase laid out before her and the flight she was bound to be taking in less than 24 hours. This time, she wouldn’t be picking Harry up from the airport. No, this time they were flying out of London Heathrow together.

Together together? She wasn’t sure. The kiss on her doorstep and plea of Italian holiday meant a lot to her, but did it scream committed relationship? She had no idea when it came to Harry. Maybe it was better not to ask and just wait until he told her. Wondering had gotten her in a pit last time and she never wanted to feel the way she had over the last month while he had been gone.

She sleeps in her bed for one last night before leaving for a month. Harry had managed to convince the airline to allow Rori to ride with them in first class, so she wouldn’t have to leave her dog in a kennel or with friends during the holidays. She was grateful for that and she just didn’t understand how she had gotten so lucky as to have someone like Harry in her life.

They fly first class and while Harry had secured her ticket last minute, she insisted that he take her money to pay for the ticket. She was determined to not lose herself in this process. She would happily go along with Harry’s crazy life as long as she maintained her constitution. And paying for her own ticket was one of her ways of doing that.

The flight is short, a quick jaunt compared to the arduous trips across the Atlantic, both her and Harry were quite used to from their work and family lives. He smiles at her throughout the journey, coming across the aisle often to check on her and pet Rori. He would make little jokes that wouldn’t make anyone else laugh but them and he would grab the airpod she would take out and play whatever she had been listening to and offer a dance. His little dances were so sweet, if strange and awkward in the small flight cabin.

She wore grey marbled leggings and a matching thick strapped tank top beneath a nondescript hoodie. Harry’s dressed quite nice for traveling, she presumes in case he’s papped. Linen trousers, a collared coat, and some beaded necklaces he had taken to wearing over the last few months - each month seemed to add on another necklace, but she wasn’t counting.

He had reminded her to bring large sunglasses for the airport.

He had said “I don’t care if we’re seen together, but it’s more for your comfort. I hate when my friend’s lives are put on display for the whole world. You’re not the one who signed up for this.”

She had been appreciative and grabbed her largest pair of sunglasses because truthfully she didn’t want to be seen with Harry. She didn’t want the whole world knowing her or her business, it wasn’t who she was. No, not at all. So when they step off the plane and head to baggage claim after customs, she feels aware of her surroundings in a way she never has been. It reminds her of the way Jeff, Charlotte, and Mitch had conducted themselves in the bar that one time. Extremely alert. Watching people’s eye movements and considering whether they recognized her companion. She trails behind him a fair amount, three paces at least. Harry glances back every few moments, checking in to make sure she’s still with him as they move through the bustling airport.

They make it to baggage claim with no stops, but sadly Harry’s luggage seems to give him away. That or just his presence, he was a 6 foot tall and extremely broad man who gave off this energy that couldn’t help but turn eyes. And all it took was one of those eyes to recognize the fluff of hair, the olive-y skin, the peaking bird tattoos and colorful necklaces to alert the world of just where he was.

He doesn’t get stopped for any pictures, but she feels the number of eyes on him grow. She also watches as Harry doesn’t shrink from the growing attention. If anything, it simply makes him move quicker, but only slightly. He glances at her once to see her hood up and big green glasses covering up half her face. Rori has left his carrier and is covering the other half as she pushes a cart in front of her. He makes a nondescript nod and then sets off towards the exit, she follows behind easily.

By the time they’re in the car that was waiting to drive them to Harry’s villa, he’s gotten buzzed by Jeff just to check-in since a few photos have been uploaded of him at the airport. People were so fast. She shook her head in disbelief as she looked up Harry Styles on twitter and saw the scene she had just been apart of minutes ago on her screen now. She’s unrecognizable in the photos she happens to appear in and to everyone else she looks like another traveler instead of Harry’s companion or whatever she was to him. Instead of his friend.

Harry calls Jeff as they’re driven to his lovely sprawling home near Lake Como. He informs him they’re fine - he is quick to ensure that Y/N is well after asking her himself once they had gotten into the confines of the small car. She thinks it’s sweet especially because she was sure that Jeff really was more focused on Harry and his well-being since he was both his friend and his client while she was just an extra. The two men talk about the flight and customs and what Jeff will be doing with his holiday since he had turned down Harry’s invitation to come out to Italy as well. This leaves her to stare out the window at the passing scenery. She and Rori are completely content with this as they watch the tranquil life around them as they pass by little forests and towns over cobblestoned ground.

The colors seem brighter throughout Italy compared to the sad and gloomy winter of London. The dreary scape traded for something far more picturesque. Italy growing ever more beautiful the closer they drive to Harry’s home. Everything was so radiant, from the sun shining above her head to the little dew drops still pooled on the perfectly green leaves of plants she knew not the names of.

The car pulls up to the long driveway to Harry’s place which he insisted was just a house, but she knew better. The driveway felt like half a mile of perfect cobblestones, seemingly handpicked to make the smoothest drive. Outside the house sat a gorgeous little convertible that was in between steel and cream and sparkled in the sun. The top was currently up, but she could tell the interior was just as nice as the exterior. Harry had a thing for cars and she suspected that no matter where he was, he managed to keep his cars in perfect condition.

The house was breathtaking due to its simultaneous simplicity and intricacy. It’s coloring was variations of cream and gold and some terra cotta. But it sprawled into the hillside behind it and wrapped around the nature to the side of it and the pool to the back right of it. There also was a little separate shed like thing that also seemed to be a residence. Harry insisted it was just an extra bedroom, but it looked like almost another house to her.

As she stepped out of the car, she thought that she might get lost in that house if she was left to wander around it by herself. A feeling she feared to get accustomed to.

The door of the house was a dark green that seemed oddly familiar to her as she walked through it. And when Harry looked back to make sure she had gotten in the house alright she recognized it. His door somehow matched the color of his eyes in dark lighting. A green that was timeless and ancient at the same time. A green that was unnerving yet inviting. A green that was Harry. She never thought she had a favorite color, but in that moment she was sure it was his eyes.

Harry calls her name and she realizes he’s been saying it for awhile.

“Sorry?”

He smiles fondly at her confused face and leans towards her as if he might kiss her. She stops breathing in that moment, wanting more than anything for that to be his next move. His chest brushes against hers, his warmth invading her space. His face is a mere milimeter from hers and she can count every speck of stubble on his jaw. But his lips don’t brush gently over hers in a way that she knew was addicting. Instead, his strong hand reaches past her and shuts the entrancing green door gently.

His eyes flicker back to her face when he pulls back, taking a single step backwards to allow for a comfortable space between them. Still close, but not like he’s about to embrace her expecting frame and kiss her.

“I asked if you wanted a tour of the house? Or if you just wanted me to pick your room.” His eyes are crinkled at the corner, a smile on his face even though his mouth is hung open in a lingering question.

She blinks her eyes and twitches her head to glance around the rest of her surroundings. Rori had run off the moment they had gotten in the door. The hallway Harry and she found themselves was narrow and simple, a single painting right behind Harry’s head was the sole decoration and a tapestry style rug beneath their feet. She nods after a moment, feeling all her words caught somewhere in her throat for no reason at all.

“Good,” he nods and gives her a funny look, trying to understand her quiet demeanor. “Just drop your stuff here for now,” he adds.

His hand encircles her wrist, as it had grown accustomed to, to lead her through the house. She bites her lower lip to muffle the little giggle that somehow escapes her as he tugs her playfully down and through the house.

He goes on about almost every piece of art and trinket he has hung and placed throughout the house. Each thing has its story and Harry waxes eloquent on every single one. He shows her each room in the house and then leads her outside through the single door of the master bedroom on the second floor. The door takes them onto a small balcony that overlooks the center of the estate which included the pool and then a garden to the left of the converted poolhouse - what Harry insisted it be called when Y/N had told him it was a mini house.

His hand has traveled down to intertwine with hers as the tour had drawn on. So as he leads her down the little spiral staircase to the ground floor, she hums at the warmth his thumb rubs into her skin ever so softly. His eyes flicker to her face and hold her gaze for a moment as he watches her descend the last two stairs.

She smiles at him, her cheeks rosy from the air outside. They walk between the garden and the pool to reach the “converted pool house” and she stops for a moment to dance her fingers through the perfectly clean pool water - he must have had a housekeeper who came by recently to open everything up and clean it all.

“This is truly amazing, Harry,” she sighs as she stares out at the entire house from the single stone upstep to the little cottage. It gave her a view of the entire place besides the front of the house. It was gorgeous.

Harry nods, tucking his head to his chest slightly, possibly feeling a little bashful. Behind the successful man that stood before her was a young boy with a dream that had made this possible and he never forgot that.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely and unlocks the door of the cottage, a similar green is painted on this door as well.

She goes ahead of him at his request and he watches her fingers on the green paint, caressing it softly, each finger never wishing to leave it as they slowly depart its surface. This place is just a microcosm of the house they had just been. A kitchenette, a living area, a bedroom, and a full bath - including a freestanding tub.

She all but runs around the place, fingers running over the countless spines of books that Harry mindlessly chose to store there in ceiling high bookshelves and eyes taking in prints of personal photography he had been too nervous to store anywhere but here. There were larger poster sized prints as well as smaller ones, all black and white, of different scenes on the walls of the living area. Some were portraits of loved ones, others were landscapes of cities and countryside alike, and some were of past lovers with their hair swept behind them as they looked back at Harry in some beautiful place. She smiled at these obviously film photographs and turned to Harry after a moment, almost mirroring the people in the more personal pictures.

“When’s the last time you used your camera?” She asks.

Harry’s figure is perched in the door, his body slightly slumped on the frame while he rolls his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. He hums, thinking back to the last time he took out his camera.

“Last tour...I think. I got film back with Camille in it and I just didn’t feel like putting more in it after that,” he rasps out and clears his throat at the end, clearly unnerved by the topic.

“Well, these are beautiful, you have a smart eye for catching precious moments,” she smiles softly, understanding Harry’s apprehension.

“Thanks,” his voice still a bit deeper than usual, “I still use my Super8 pretty regularly when I’m doing things for work. Like when I shoot music videos, I usually bring it along to get my own footage for later.”

She only nods and watches him enter the room, moving closer to her to gaze at the images more up close as well.

“I like to have something to remember it by. Just in case, someday,” he starts and sighs, eyes trained on the wall of memories, “My mind isn’t what it once was.”

She watches him delicately place his hand on the couch behind them to brace himself and she notices the slight fear in his face as he says it. She blinks at the scene in front of her. A man in an amazing moment in his life fearful that it might all disappear from his vision someday. A horrible thought that seems to plague him more often than one would expect.

She nudges closer to him immediately. Her shoulder brushes his arm as she presses her head to his own shoulder and stays there firmly.

“Thank you,” she whispers and his head drops down to look at her face now radiating warmth against him. “For sharing this with me.”

His hand on the couch moves to wrap around her shoulders and pull her closer. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around his waist and he rests his head atop of hers. He stays silent but places a chaste kiss in her hair. She squeezes harder, telling him everything is alright and all he had to be with her was himself.

He switches his gaze between the girl wrapped up in him and the pictures of the rest of his life in front of him and he takes it all in. He feels safe, a comfort he was hard pressed to find with his life always on the move. The bustling change felt eons away while he was wrapped up in her. She was constant and kind. Understanding. She took him as he was, no expectations. That realization has him melting further into her, his head dropping down to her shoulder and nosing into her hair. His hands cusping at the back of her neck and the small of her back. And he presses firmly yet gently.

They stand there, swaying slightly to an unknown tune that played only in their private world of just them two.

A branch sways too and breaks them out of their reverie when it taps against the French doors that lead out to somewhere else in Harry’s estate.

“I think I’d like to stay here, if that’s alright,” she says, pulling back from him only slightly.

His hands migrate from their embrace around her back and neck and slide to her hip and her shoulder separately. Her hands both rest on his chest and she feels his consistent heartbeat that she had been listening to for the last few minutes against her ear.

His eyes sparkle at her suggestion. “Really? There’s plenty of spots in the main house,” he rushes.

“No, I love this place,” she glances around once more, soaking in the cozy room that housed Harry’s art. “Plus, your family will be here tomorrow and you should all be together under one roof for the holidays. I know how rare that can be.”

He nods in agreement and twists a tendril of her hair around one of his fingers slowly. She doesn’t notice until he makes an experimental and playful tug on it. Her lips purse at the feeling and her eyes narrow.

“You’re an evil little thing under all those layers of niceties and kind words, Mr. Styles,” she says as she pulls away from him.

Now that it was decided on where she would be staying for the next few weeks, she wanted to get her things settled and take a shower possibly. She also needed to check in on Rori and see what he had gotten up to while they had been wandering.

Harry laughs, filled with an unmatched glee as he follows her out of the cottage and back into the main house, “I can show you evil if that’s what you want, dove. I’ll give you anything you want.”

And while she knows he’s saying this in jest, she knows he’s also telling the truth. He’d give her just about anything she wanted, all she had to do was ask.

After settling the house a bit, finding where Rori wanted to sleep - he chose inside the main house, and some showers, she and Harry both felt refreshed.

She walked out of the front door of the cottage and crossed to the French doors at the middle point of the house. They had them open to get fresh air in the house and she walked right through and into the kitchen where she found Harry and her dog happily perched on the countertop.

Rori batted at Harry’s hands and nuzzled into his scratches as Harry cradled him to his chest. It was criminally sweet and she knocked on the door frame to pull Harry’s attention away from her furry friend.

“You look nice,” Harry smiles.

She glances down at her outfit; a cashmere olive colored sweater and high waisted cream corduroys along with her sneakers of choice. She thought it was casual, but she appreciated the compliment nonetheless. She murmurs a thanks and a quick “you too”, she didn’t even need to look at what he was wearing, he always looked good. Her head tilts to rest on the door frame as well, her eyes trained on Harry’s face.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” He inquires as he places Rori back on the ground.

The dog scampers to her side for a moment before running off to do his own thing. Her lips quirk up on the sides and her eyes narrow slightly. He’s looking at her with a quiet confidence set in his jaw that she doesn’t quite understand.

His smile makes her bite her lip, slightly unnerved by the energy he was giving off. Maybe it was because they were completely alone - not something new to them since that’s how they interacted almost solely, but something about being in Italy seemed to have shifted the dynamic. Something in the water or whatever that saying was.

“Do I get to drive?” She stands from her leaning position and crosses in front of him.

His laugh comes out quickly and heartily. “No chance, dove.”

She groans and pushes at his shoulder.

“Trust me, you’ll like it better. Can just enjoy the scenery, don’t have to focus on the road.”

He wraps a hand around her waist and then scoots her towards the door that would lead them out of the house. She giggles at the contact and she feels him watching her. It felt nice, felt simply theirs.

He drove her down the driveway and onto a country road until it merged into a road by the lake. He brought the top down so the wind rushed around them, blustering about as he drove at a quick yet somehow leisurely pace. She glanced at the scenery and took a few pictures, but something else kept demanding her attention.

Harry. He was a quiet kind of handsome in this moment. It wasn’t in your face, it was just how each curve of his skin seemed perfectly placed. Every pore was clear and every mole had a reason. His tattoos peeking from his collar and shirt sleeves were that perfect inky black that remained smooth. It was consistent, the way his hair fell over his forehead and he would smooth it back without even thinking. His eyes were focused and bright, yet slightly stormier than normal. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. And she wondered what she had done to be beside him at that moment. Wondered what it was that she had done to be cared for by Harry.

His hand on her leg brings her out of her mind once again. His looks always seemed to get her lost in thought. He was just that special. No one else had ever caused any similar reaction. His fingers splay on her thigh, no rings on them today. He rubs his thumb back and forth softly and she leans closer to him to whisper in his ear. They were completely alone, but it felt like something even the wind didn’t deserve to hear.

He tilts his head to her, eyes flickering to her movement for a moment and then back to the road. His hand on her thigh slips upwards with how she moves.

“I’m the most lucky girl in the world,” she says, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she says the words.

She pulls back and stares at him, her hand going down to her thigh to play with his lovingly. He looks at her again and sees her serious expression. This causes him to pull over on the side of the road by the water. He rubs at her thigh again with his thumb and she shifts in her seat.

“And why’s that?” His voice low as he asks and shifts the car into park.

“Because I’m here, with you. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything in this world.”

He hums in response and licks at his lips when her sweater happens to fall off her shoulder. She notices the slip, but doesn’t bother to fix it since she also saw how Harry’s eyes danced over the newly exposed skin.

“I wouldn’t trade this either” the words dance slowly off the tip of his tongue. His accent fuller as he says the last word. “Let’s walk around,” Harry suggests when he sees her eyes flicker between his and his lips.

They explore the grassy area that lives just before the dip of the water at Harry’s request. He guides her along with his hand entwined with hers. Her eyes stay on only him still, the scenery unable to compare to the beauty of him that she was just fully realizing how bad she wanted to be enveloped in. His profile is illuminated by the sun shining above them and she swears he’s sparkling under the light.

The fear of what they were and all of the things that came along with labels were the furthest away thoughts. The man who had been the quirky neighbour had transformed into the man she was pretty sure she was in love with. Too afraid to say those three words, she decided the best thing she could do was to show rather than tell.

“Harry,” she calls and he stops his wandering, turning to face her instead.

A hand reaches up to trace over his strong cheekbone and caresses down the side of his face and cradles his slightly stubbled jaw. Her thumb rubs over the place where his dimple often showed up. He sighs into her touch and says her name back. His voice fails him as he gazes down at her, everything he means to say dies in his throat, for once at a loss for words.

She purses her lips and reaches up to connect their lips, having missed his sweet lips touch. They were meant to press against hers. Harry seems to forget how to breathe, her initiating the kiss between them, something foreign to him, but not unwelcome. He leans down to make it easier on her and she glows in his reciprocation. His hand shifts to cradle the back of her head as the kiss continues. Their lips dance, brushing back and forth, tongues slightly licking into one another’s mouths ever so delicately, playfully even.

A specific clash of teeth as the kiss continues leads to a breathless laugh from her as Harry presses himself closer to her. His other hand pressing her waist safely into him. She happily obliges, sinking one hand to rest over his backside which makes him smile.

“Naughty,” he mumbles against her brightening lips, eyebrows bobbing over his closed eyes.

She laughs now, her head tilting up for a moment, eyes opening to look at his face, yet up so close it's just his eyes and upper cheeks. His eyes are extra large from this angle and the grey green they had been dancing between had merged into a darkening seafoam green that was rather rare for them. She wanted to take an inventory of every color his eyes managed to be, but she was sure the list would never end.

“You like it,” she quips back, a peck sneaked at the corner of his mouth. That little love touch leads to more minutes of making out. Her supple and soft chest against his strong one, hands roaming the other’s body searching for purchase. Soft sighs and gentle moans leave Harry’s mouth when she nibbles at his ear and leaves loving kisses to his neck and collarbone. She makes similar sounds when he laves his tongue over the hollow of her neck and mouths happily on her neck.

The sight of them is two lovers enthralled in each other’s mouths and bodies in a meadow beside a lake. The sounds of nature are only overtaken by their happiness with each other.

When he ruts his hips against her body and she writhes against him with eagerness previously not seen, Harry realizes just how in public they are and he pulls away. A whine of discontent falling from her lips before she can control herself.

“We should…” He falters again, staring down at his neighbour he had begun to want more than anything else in the world, “Should head back.”

“Right,” she nods curtly.

Hands falling back to her sides, but Harry grabs one of them and intertwine their fingers as they had them before. She smiles so wide her eyes crinkle at the corners and he can’t help himself to peck at the left side of her temple.

They drive back to the house and Harry suggests a dip in the pool which Y/N agrees to easily. Something to cool them off from the heavy makeout session they had partaken in down by the water.

“Everyone else is arriving tomorrow,” Harry says after he surfaces from his expert dive into the deep end. He treads water lightly and drifts towards her.

She’s floating on her back a little ways from him. Her hair was shimmery all wet again and the skin of her face glowed with tiny droplets. Her eyes were closed as she moved her hands back and forth through the comfortable water.

She feels his eyes on her, burning into her, waiting for a response. She peaks open one eye and looks at him. His cheeks pinken quickly from the slight embarrassment of being caught, but he doesn’t look away.

“It’s going to be really fun, Harry,” she rights herself and swims closer to him causing him to smile happily. “I’m really happy to be here.”

“It won’t be just us anymore,” he says, swimming backwards and creating a slight chase for her as she follows after him.

She narrows her eyes at his tactics, but still follows as he swims to the edge of the pool where they could both stand.

“Nope, but we’re gonna really get the holiday spirit flowing. Family dinners and games, shopping for gifts...this really is one of my favorite times of the season,” she smiles back at him and puts her hand against the edge of the pool, her chest emerging from beneath the cooling water.

Droplets roll down her chest, racing down her body and in between her cleavage. Harry’s eyes follow the water droplets disappearing beneath her bright red tied bikini top. He gets distracted when the air pebbles her nippls beneath the thin wet fabric, his tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight. The round of her breast was especially full in the thin fabric. He had never seen this much of her despite their friendship lasting for many months now. It was...mouthwatering and his eyes stayed trained on her breasts as they rhythmically moved up and down with her breathing. It was like a spell.

That he was brought out of when a splash of water flicks at his face. She gives him an obvious look saying she had caught him staring and then she rolls her eyes at his smirk obviously not embarrassed by his latest fixation.

“We won’t be alone like this,” he steps closer to her, his own chest running with water droplets. His hair messy and wet atop his head as he pushes it off his forehead. “Possibly at all for the next three weeks,” he continues and hears her breath catch as he moves even closer. His body hovers a moment away from hers as he stares down at her. His nose almost brushes hers as he starts to lean down. She stays almost completely still. Her head moves though to allow Harry access to where his mouth seems to be headed, the side of her neck.

“After today,” he whispers before smudging an open mouthed kiss just below her ear.

A small gasp escapes her at his hot breath and a searing kiss against her chilled skin. She feels his smirk on her skin as he continues down her neck, leaving spongy eager kisses down the column.

“Well, I don’t think that’s a problem,” she tries to remain composure, feeling the burn inside of her pitch back up. The fire had dulled from the kissing by the lake once they had swam, but here he was pressing into her once again. Suddenly more eager and forward than he had ever been. Her breathing is hard to regulate with his expert hands running along her naked sides below the water and his legs backing her into the edge of the pool while his lips make love to her neck.

“Oh?” Harry hums, moving a hand up to fiddle with a strap of her top, the wet nylon twisting easily and then he lets it snap back softly. Her arousal only grows from the tiny smack. “Not a problem, eh?” His lips travel down between her breasts and she gasps in anticipation.

“Won’t be able to make you feel this good anytime you want,” he breathes and then ghosts over her covered pebbled nipple.

“You’re a tease, Harry,” she grips at his shoulders that are hunched to allow him to kiss on her. Her eyes having the perfect view of his curved neck and spine, the skin an expanse of clear perfect flesh, no tattoos in sight from this angle. The little curls at the nape of his neck trickling with spare droplets as he sucks on her own skin.

“Hmm…” his lips travel back up to the underside of her jaw causing her to tilt her head back and her stimulated chest to press into Harry’s. A chuckle passes against her skin as he feels her two points press into him.

Then, suddenly, he pulls back and grips at the back of her head to make her look at him. His eyes are deep and dark as the day starts to wear on, the sun beginning to set off in the distance.

“Maybe I need to demonstrate just what you’ll be missing out on?” He tilts his head at his suggestion and the glimmer in his eyes shows that he knows exactly what he has to say to get his friend - and soon to be lover - riled up.

Her chest heaves once, longing for the warm touch of Harry’s lips again. “What are you getting at?”

“Wanna make you feel so good you’re begging me to call my family up and tell them to not bother coming because we won’t be leaving your bed for the next few weeks.”

A breathless laugh leaves her, in disbelief, but also in wanton need. Her desire for him grew tenfold in the last ten minutes. His last sentence leaves her itching with longing. For his touch as he promised it.

“Give me the best you got then,” she challenges, her conviction never wavering despite her needy state.

That little sentence is what sets Harry’s eyes ablaze and has him gripping her waist and picking her up and setting her on the edge of the pool.

A quick press of his lips against hers and a “wait here” before he’s pulling himself from the water and shuffling to grab one of the towels he had laid out. She watches him curiously, confused why he had just promised to ravage her but was pausing to towel off.

He comes back with the towel and lays it behind her.

“Harry, what are -”

A finger presses to her swollen lips as his other hand goes to her shoulder and lays her back.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

She nods, eyes wide and glassy as she stares up at him kneeling over her, his body between her bent knees. He leans down to press another kiss to her lips and then begins his decent.

“Gonna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Down her throat that he had happily been sucking on. His lips ghost over her still hard nipples and his hot breath has her arching off the ground immediately. A whine leaving her lips when he mouths between her two breasts in the valley just above the tie of suit. His fingers dance around on her skin, playing with her swimsuit fabric and she wants to scream at him to just untie it and really touch her, but she refrains. He continues his assault down her body. His hands grip at her knees when his lips travel below her navel. Her breaths have grown more strained as he’s gotten closer and closer to her heat. The cold wet fabric that covered her was a poor substitute to what she wanted to rub against her.

“Please,” she begs in a sigh as Harry’s lips skip where she wants him, instead traveling to her upper inner thigh.

He spreads her legs wider with his arms and her back arches further, her body just about fully on display for Harry. His eyes flicker up to her face that was staring right back down at him, watching his every move.

The cheeky bottoms left little to the imagination and the ties on the sides were so enticing Harry’s fingers smoothed up her thighs and began to toy with them. His face now hovering over her clothed center. His breath fanning the flames of her arousal just below the cherry fabric.

“See,” he smirks, eyes back on her face, “I haven’t even touched you yet, but you’re already begging.

“You’re an ass,” she grits out, trying to not be bothered by how easily he has gotten her in this position.

He clicks his tongue and tugs experimentally at one of the bottoms ties, “S’not a very nice thing to say to the man who’s about to stick his tongue in ya’?”

She gasps and slaps at his right shoulder at his crudeness. “You’re dirty!”

“And you’re wet,” he says confidently, smirking up from between her legs.

His fingers finally tug the ties undone and pull the fabric away from her center. The red bikini bottom falls limply to the ground and Harry’s eyes train on her glistening mound. Wet with the pool water as well as her arousal. To add to the cool air ghosting over her newly exposed skin, Harry blows his own breath over her. She writhes at the sensation, she bites at her lip to hold back any possible moans.

He glances at her face again and settles one arm to be wrapped around her leg and pressing down on her left hip. His other hand snakes between his face and her body and lightly drags between her folds. She bucks her body again, completely in need of some friction after all of the build up and teasing of today. Every nerve down there was electrified at the possibility of Harry finally touching her like this.

His finger pulls back and a string of arousal clings to him, a testament to the filthy thoughts she had about her neighbour. Thoughts she had pushed away for so long until recently. Thoughts she only indulged in in the dead of night, when she was exhausted but her mind insisted on wandering to the green sharp eyes that might stare at her if he ever were to delve into her depths. Her hands would travel to where he was now and rub out a triumphant shake of her thighs and heaving chest all in hopes that maybe he would bring her to that euphoria himself one day. Well that day was today.

He filthily takes that finger into his mouth and grins. “So wet,” he corrects.

His eyes disappear from view as he launches into his work. His drying curls flop over his forehead and tickle at her lower stomach slightly. He flattens his tongue and licks a strong stripe between her folds. The wet from her weeping hole spreads to her lips and around her clit as his finishes the lick with a little swirl. He uses his free hand to spread apart her lips a little more and takes the new angle to suck on the little puffy nub that is already throbbing. She gasps audibly when he pulls off of it with a squelching sound.

“Fuck,” he sighs and goes back to eating her out, happily pressing his tongue into her.

His hand on her hip travels to grope at one of her breasts and he deftly pulls at the top’s tie and grips onto her skin underneath the fabric. The strong grip mixed with his expert work between her thighs has her moaning loudly and her body writhing as he builds her up.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he rasps, thumb on her nipple flicking happily back and forth. “Scream it out,” he says into her quivering center, “Nobody around to hear you, be as loud as you want.”

She moans louder at his words, her hands gripping harder into his hair. The thought of this scene turns her on even more. In all honesty, if someone did hear them she’d kind of like it. If someone walked in and saw her stretched out next to the pool with their wet bodies writhing against each other in pleasure. Harry’s head buried between her thighs making her feel better than she ever has, her breasts falling out of their top as he massages them harshly.

“Taste so sweet,” he groans, lapping at her tight hole, the muscle contracting against his tongue’s invasion.

She liked how messy he got with it, not that she really had much coherent thoughts in this moment. But his hot tongue swiping up and down and back and forth over her glistening lips and sucking on her clit left her breathless. Her juices and his saliva were making a mess of her thighs and the towel below her. When Harry felt her getting closer he’d back off and pay attention to another part of her and then go back to sucking and nipping perfectly into her.

She was eventually stuttering out, “I’m going to cum, Harry.” Breathing becoming uneven as she was about to tip over the edge. He nods, sucking harder at her clit one last time before taking his tongue and pushing it in and out of her hole, one of his thumbs traveling to rub over her clit in quick succession.

“Cum for me, dove,” he mumbles quickly before going back to making her feel good.

She grips her own nipple now with one hand and Harry’s hair with the other, her hips pushing up into Harry’s face over and over again. And then she’s hitting her climax and tipping over the edge, a moan ripping from her throat and freezing on her face as Harry eats her out through it. His tongue licking over her quivering pussy. His thumb rubbing comforting circles around her clit until she stopped shaking. Her breathing slowing down, eyes fluttering open eventually. They lazily stare at the man below her who’s lips and chin are slick with her juices as he grins up at her.

“Do you want me to call my mum now or wait until you’re fully back on earth,” he says slyly and kisses the inside of her thigh once more. Eyes lovingly staying on her pleasured out face.

“Seriously talking about your mom while you’re still between my thighs,” she breathes out, completely in disbelief. Harry and her had never gone that far before and it was life changing. He had been right, even if she didn’t want to admit it, she wasn’t sure if she could go three weeks without that again.

He sits up and begins to gently pull back on her swim bottoms and tie them back up. She lays there watching him work.

“How about now?” He asks with a smirk, moving to sit beside her and help her sit up when her bottoms have been readjusted. The fabric against her newly sensitive area was definitely interesting, but she couldn’t care with Harry beside her. She ties off her top on her own, even though Harry gestured that he could do it.

“Shut up,” she laughs and takes a hand to caress at his cheek.

He nuzzles into her touch.

“You forget I’m staying in the cottage...separate from everyone else,” she winks at him.

“Think they’ll still be able to hear ya’ from in there, dove. You’re a loud one,” he bites the inside of his cheek as he teases her.

She huffs and drops her hand, “I was gonna return the favor, but now I don’t think so.”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh and reach out to her face, he pulls her face close to his, bringing her eyes level with his. “I’m just teasing. Plus, you don’t need to return the favor, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

A laugh bubbles from her lips at the thought of Harry wanting her as much as she wanted him and she pecks at his lips. She grimaces only a little, tasting herself on him still.

“We’ll just have to be sneaky,” she pulls back and rests her forehead against his.

“Yeah,” Harry breaths out. His breath hitches when he feels her hand begin to trail down his chest and fiddle with the hem of his shorts. Her eyes are trained on his, expressionless like she wasn’t beginning to palm his hardened length over his sticky swim shorts.

“I told you,” he musters, “You don’t have to.”

“But,” she rasps, finally. “I want to,” she licks her lips with determination, “Want to make you feel good, too.”

He hums as her soft fingers go back up to the hem of his shorts and he helps her pull them down as he gives a nod of approval to her watching eyes.

Her eyes widen when his length is finally revealed and its bright red tip stands tall and strong against Harry’s stomach, placing itself slightly just below one of the ferns. Harry watches her lick at her hand and then places it between his thighs, her body positioned right next to him. On her knees, she makes an experimental first pump, seeing how his body responded. Her eyes mainly watch his face and an open mouthed smirk twitches onto his face when he notices her gaze. She pumps him again, twisting her wrist this time and swiping at the precum leaking from his tip. A groan leaves Harry’s mouth at that and his stomach flexes, the skin beneath his many tattoos hardening.

“Feel good?” She inquires.

“Great,” he breathes out as she leans forward on her knees and attaches her mouth over his head.

She slowly moves her head down and attempts to fit his entire length into her mouth, but despite her best efforts, she can’t quite get her throat to open up for his entirety yet. After holding him there for a moment, his head scratching at the back of her throat, she pulls off. Heaving a sigh and continuing to work him with her hand, her now glassy eyes look at him. Saliva gathers at her mouth and Harry can’t help himself but reach one of his hands from behind him to her lips. He swipes at it and presses the wet to her lips which she sucks at eagerly, a whine hidden beneath the action.

When his hand pulls away she says, “You’re quite girthy.”

“Girthy?” He sputters, both at the funny comment but also that she’s said it while still jacking him off.

“Mhmm,” she nods seriously, “Couldn’t get you all in.”

“That’s alright,” he starts, but falters on a specifically masterful tug. She grins, knowing what she's doing to him. “You seem to excel, no matter the setbacks.”

“I’ll get it eventually,” she begins to speed up her strokes, “Just need a bit of practice.”

Then her lips are pressing back onto Harry’s prick. She sucks solely at his head and Harry moans out as he gets more sensitive. Then she slides down further and bops her head vigorously. She wants Harry to come undone for her just like she had for him. Make him feel like she had moments ago. And within a few more minutes of enthusiastic sucking and pumping of her hands, even some fondling of his balls which Harry had been extremely receptive to, she has him stuttering beneath her.

One hand gripping at her hair, while the other keeps him upright, Harry’s head is thrown back on his shoulders as he tries to keep his eyes open and trained on the girl taking him so well down her lovely little throat.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart,” he pants, his hips bucking up once as he begins to lose control.

This only spurs her forward, spit drooling down his cock every time she pulls back from his slightly. Her ass is high in the air now as she arches over his length, trying to get him to unload.

“Taking me so well,” Harry praises. “Fuck,” he exclaims at another squeeze of his balls.

She swirls her tongue around his runny head and then hollows her cheeks and sucks on him with everything she’s got. This has Harry cursing and repeating her name, his load spurting into her mouth as she stays still. His chest now covered in beads of sweat as he tries to catch his breath after tipping over the edge himself. His eyes are trained on her. She keeps her lips diligently around his cock, wanting to swallow everything he’s just expended. When he’s done, she pulls back and sits on her legs, swallowing quickly and staring at Harry as she does it.

His eyes bug at the sight. She was the hottest woman in the world and she’d just sucked him off so well that he’s pretty sure he saw stars. Then she made eye contact as she swallowed his cum with her pretty little bikini barely covering her anymore, as she seemed to shift slightly uncomfortable in her drying bottoms. God, he was fucked.

“Shit,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re an absolute angel.”

Harry’s family arrives the next day and the pair have a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. She doesn’t know why they decide to start this little game where they pretend like they don’t want to jump each other’s bones each minute of the day. But as the days go by, they maintain to his family and chosen family that they are only neighbours who became friends. Anne gives a knowing look to Gemma every so often and Gemma’s boyfriend whispers in her ear sometimes, but for the most part they buy it.

No one notices that some nights Harry’s or Y/N’s beds are vacant sometimes. They don’t see him descend his spiral staircase at midnight or see her scamper next to the pool and slip into her cottage in the wee hours of the morning.

In the nights, it’s Harry’s soft lips pressed against her hot skin, panting praise and leaving little bite marks that can’t be seen with clothes on. Her lips mouth at his shoulder when fills her up and she exhales a breath that feels like she’s been waiting to let go for her entire life. They make each other feel good and they don’t talk about it but the secrecy of it makes it all the more enticing.

At least that’s what she thinks. Harry had been completely ready to tell his family about him and Y/N, at least that things were new between them, but when she introduced herself to his mum and Gemma she had said she was a friend. Harry had gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing hard, taking in the change of direction and agreeing with Y/N immediately. “Just a friend” he confirmed with a nod of his head and glance at her. She had smiled wide and given a hug to the other most important women in his life like she’d known them forever.

He didn’t understand why she wanted it this way, but his objections would be forgotten when night fell and she’d do the things he’d only dreamt of. Her breathy whimpers and pliant body would all but wipe his mind of any other thoughts but her and then he had no complaints, just a wish for the night to never end.

Y/N doesn’t even tell Cate when she calls her a week into the trip. It’s just something she wants to keep to herself and Harry. Their own private world.

It’s Christmas Eve when that bubble pops. The Champagne has been flowing for hours non stop - well only stopping when a different drink is in their hands, whether that be red or white wine or a mixed drink Harry has decided to concoct.

In the big Italian house, he’s free of prying eyes and he’s able to truly spend quality time with his loved ones. They have fancy dinners at private restaurants, go on gorgeous hikes, swim, and relax. They have a good time with playing holiday games, which they do most nights when they stay in.

Tonight’s the first night that Harry and Y/N haven’t ended up on the same team. He fears that most times he cheats it by swapping a paper or two, but tonight the alcohol has fizzed his brain and he forgot. This shouldn’t be a problem, not really. Except that everyone in the house has learned over the past week and a half that besides being perfectly matched in almost everything else, Harry and her are both equally and extremely competitive. Being on the same team has both advantages and avoids squabbles like the one the house has found themselves in at half past 11.

Harry’s arguing that his team got the last question before the buzzer went off, but she won’t back down. She is sure that Gemma had said the correct answer, but after the timer had run out. Everyone else was too sauced to care, but Harry and her were adamant and passionate about game play. As the argument heats up, Anne gives Gemma another one of those looks.

Y/N has stood up and crossed the short distance to Harry. She’s a breath away from him and he puffs up his chest, his eyes dark and serious as he’s ready to fight for this win all night.

“The time was out,” she says simply, but her eyes are beginning to glower.

“No. It was not.” He states back.

His eyes narrow at her as she stares right back at him.

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

They go back and forth, rapid fire as the alcohol in their veins flows straight to their mind and hearts.

“Children please!” Gemma exclaims, finally growing tired of the bickering. “It’s Christmas. Harry show some spirit and let your guest have the final say.”

They think she’s done but then adds, “Or else she might never want to come back here.”

Harry exhales harshly through his nose as his gaze flickers to his older sister and listens to her scolding. Handing over the timer to Y/N, which had been what kept them from moving on, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.

“Oh gosh,” Y/N says after a moment, her frazzled mind processing that Harry’s leaving has something to do with her. A hand goes to her lips for a moment, a ghost of his warm breath still there, but gone too soon.

“I’ll...I’ll be right back,” she confirms and exits the room, following Harry’s footsteps.

She finds him on his front porch step, his breath misting in the cold air, much like it would back in London when they’d walk the neighbourhood streets together.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she says, placing a hand on his left shoulder to really get his attention.

He turns from looking out at the clear night sky, his nose and cheeks already pinkened from the night breeze. His eyes are still dark out here, but there’s no malice or anger behind them. His lips tilt up on one side for a forgiving half smile, but there’s also some pain mixed in there.

“You wouldn’t not come back, right?” He asks helplessly, his smile faltering.

She swallows, taken aback by the question, both unsure of where it came from but also how exactly her drunk brain was supposed to respond with the double negatives.

“I’d come back next Christmas and the Christmas after that, Harry,” she whispers, “If you wanted me to of course.”

“Of course I’d want you to. I want you, sweetheart. All the time.” His voice isn’t slurred, but it’s raspy, a slight dry mouth from all the alcohol consumed tonight.

“Okay,” she confirms, “Then I’ll come back.”

They stand on the porch silently for a few minutes, eyes on one another, but no movement towards anything. It’s not a profound moment for their hazy minds, despite the meaning behind their words. It’s not quite clicking for them, but maybe tomorrow when they wake up with massive headaches it will register.

“I really am sorry,” she repeats when she sees little goosebumps begin to prick at his skin.

He had forgotten a jacket. And while his drunk blanket makes him immune to the feelings, her brain still registers that she doesn’t want him to get sick.

“S’alright. For what it’s worth, I was being a little childish. So, m’sorry too.” He says sincerely, maybe a little slurring of words slipping in.

He reaches a hand out of his pocket to touch at her upper arm. She can feel his warmth from beneath her thin long sleeve. They smile at one another and turn to reenter the house, feeling the giggly tide of alcohol wash over them again. Euphoria on their mind rather than family game malice.

Just as they’re about to open the door to the house. The two of them at the precipice of a house, a place they often find themselves, Gemma swings it open face and with little care for its heaviness. She glances between her brother and his “friend” and then up to the top of the door.

The top of the door? Why was she looking at the top of the door? Mistletoe.

“Mistletoe!” Gemma exclaims, pointing between the two of them. “You’re beneath the mistletoe, go on!”

Harry shakes his head in protest, falling onto the sword of friendship again. But then Y/N is grabbing at the back of Harry’s neck and pressing her lips to his. It’s a little sloppy, but Harry can’t help but enjoy the taste of her against him. They slot together like they usually do, but this time his sister is watching them, which is a little odd, but his muddled mind quickly forgets that fact. Her tongue is the deciding factor as it licks into his mouth and he licks back, pulling her closer by the waist. They get lost in the kiss and only pull apart when they hear a cough.

Gemma is now accompanied by the rest of the household watching them in disbelief. Everyone’s eyebrows are raised and even Rori is standing with the group, confused that the humans didn’t know they were doing this.

“Erm…” Harry has no idea what to say, shifting to face his family more fully.

Y/N blushes and shrinks into Harry’s chest, feeling like a teenager caught in the closet with her crush.

“That’s not how friend’s kiss one another,” someone murmurs.

There’s a few “I knew it”s mixed in as well with the rest of the chatter.

“Well…” She finally musters and throws a hand out to her side in a ta-da motion,

“Happy Christmas!”

After the revelation on Christmas Eve, everyone won’t stop teasing Harry and Y/N. The two laugh it off but something always nags at the back of their head. What they were to the other person. The status of this relationship. This friendship that had taken a turn to something else entirely.

It’s another Eve of a holiday when Harry finally musters up the courage to ask her directly. They learned from Christmas day that they couldn’t drink as much as they once did for multiple reasons. So on New Year’s Eve, they both choose to only consume a couple glasses of Champagne.

It starts with “Can we talk about us?” right after midnight. Right after Harry’s just started the New Year with her lips on his. She hears his question and takes it in, her stomach twisting with nerves and possibly excitement as well, and nods.

They slink off to his bedroom, but not for the activity everyone else was certain they were engaging in.

He sits them on the edge of the bed, both her hands clasped in one of his. He’s been quiet all day, she just realizes as he stays silent another moment longer.

“I love you,” he says in his dimly lit room.

Her jaw drops slightly, not quite expecting those three words yet.

“You don’t, don’t have to say anything yet. I just wanted you to know that,” he continues. “And that I want to be with you.”

“Harry,” she starts, breathless at his words.

“No,” he stops her again, “I felt something draw me to you the day you moved in across from me on Sherwood, like I was meant to know you or something. Then I met you and you made me feel so comfortable, all I wanted to do was be with you and that month when you didn’t really talk to me...dove, those weeks were wretched. But when I came back, it was like nothing happened and I was so happy because I couldn’t fathom life going back to the way it was before you. When we kissed, I felt overjoyed, I was so happy that you liked me like that because every time you called me friend...felt like a knife in me. I don’t want to be just your friend,” he pauses to say her name again, “I don’t want to be just your lover, I want to be your boyfriend or whatever they call it now - If you’ll have me.”

He takes a deep breath and blinks away the little well up of water that had grown in his eyes. He had forgotten to blink for a moment he realized.

His stare had been intense as he’d confessed all of his feelings to her, but she didn’t feel intimidated, his gaze had warmed her with its sincerity. It had strengthened his confession.

She sighed, her own eyes not as strong as his, unable to hold his gaze as she herself said her own confession.

His hand rests between them on the bed, steadying himself upright with it. She places her own hand over it and their fingers slightly intertwine. She feels him begin to fiddle with her fingers like usual. Like normal.

“Thank you,” she starts, “Of course I’ll have you. All the time, Harry.” She repeats his words from Christmas Eve back to him.

He starts to interject, the rambling thing, but she tugs at his pointer finger and he takes it as a sign to be quiet.

“I want to be your partner, too. I want it all with you, lover,” she gazes at him now, his free hand reaching up to caress her cheek in that moment. “Want it all,” she repeats in a whisper before he’s kissing her again.

Kissing her and kissing her. Over and over again. Because she was his. And he was hers. And it was a happy beginning. A happy new year and a happy new beginning of a relationship that was bound in friendship, born out of proximity, and nurtured by two kindred souls.

And it all started with her parents making her take her dog. Harry really needed to thank that dog for being the best wing man to ever run around on four legs.

Who knows who that new client of Y/N’s might be...

674 notes · View notes

stuff-from-the-void-matron · 4 years ago

Text

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (3)

(c!technoblade x fem!reader)

(some people liked chapter 2 so here’s chapter 3. whether or not there’s a chapter 4 is dependent on if this one gets any comments/reblogs.)

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

You’re not exactly sure when your plans for a house shifted from ‘maybe a two story house’ into ‘some kinda roman temple/shrine type building’ instead.

Probably after the third time you had to tear down what you were building because it just didn’t look right. You’d initially not been able to go anywhere with the white quartz (you’d made a base but it looked stupid so you’d tossed it) so you’d switched it with a birch wood. That was where the problems started. First you’d tried your hand at making a cute little cottagecore house, but it just didn’t look cute to you and instead came out kinda frumpy? So you scrapped it, even though it pained you.

“Hours wasted.”

Then you tried making another house, this one taller and with dark wood. But it ended up looking like some kind of Viking home, no matter how much you tweaked it, which totally clashed with the vibrant floral scenery around you. It would work better in a snowy biome. So you’d scrapped that one too, none too happy either.

“Why do I suck?”

Then you’d tried your hand at making a cute mushroom house! But…. it was awful. No matter what you did it just didn’t look right?? You tried making the stem ‘natural’ like it would look in minecraft but then it looked too artificial to you. Then you tried making it look more normal but then it just ended up looking wonky. Long story short.. you hated it. You scrapped it, maybe a little more angry than the previous two times. That was when you’d gone back to the white quartz blocks.

And you started with a huge square, then that sorta morphed into a circle. Or as ‘circular’ as this world’s building blocks could get. Then it just sorta.. went from there? Before you knew it you had a circular white temple/shrine with a domed and tiered ceiling and four tall stained glass windows with star and sky designs. You’d gotten into the construction as it had begun to be more fun. You’d even hung lanterns by chains from the ceiling in symmetrical points and it gave the whole place a nice vibe you think. Especially when it started raining outside.

Once it was all done to your satisfaction you just sat in the middle of the quartz floor and gazed up at the gently swaying lanterns. You’re glad you’d ended up with this place, it looks pretty and has a calm vibe you can resonate with.

It would be dawn soon so you decided since you were done you’d go to bed since you had nothing else to do at the moment. Or well that had been the plan until you placed down your bed and couldn’t help but notice how utterly ridiculous a single bed in the corner of this huge temple looked. It actually made you snort before deciding then and there you needed a bed that somewhat matched the temple aesthetic you guessed you were going for now.

-0-

You ended up making this huge canopy bed with curtains and a platform you had to walk up a step to get to the three beds you’d put on it to look right. Under normal circumstances you’d not like such an overly lavish bed but it certainly fit the almost regal aesthetic your new temple home had. Which was just fine you supposed, it’s not like you were opposed to it. Just not what you’d planned to do from the get go.

Only problem now was.. the place still looked weirdly empty of life. Like one of those barren ‘minimalism’ nightmare homes rich people get off to. So you went through the inventory and started looking for stuff to decorate with. On the wall to the left of the entrance you set up an area for a brewing stand and cauldron as well as an ender chest, mostly just because it looked cool with the purple particles. You also hung up some item frames on the wall by the quartz counters you set up and picked out a bunch of pretty colored potions to hang in them.

Then on the opposite wall you made a little library with an alcove in the middle for an enchantment table. With a lantern on top of the bookshelf next to the crafting table and clay pots of flowers on the uppermost bookshelves to give the area a nicer look. You even added some fluffy carpet in front of the area to enhance the comfiness. And when you went over to the front door and then turned to look at the whole space you smiled because it really did look good. Larger than you’d intended, sure, but also very comfy now too.

You think you’re done with the inside until you look up at the bare walls between the stained glass windows. They were a little… naked. So you tried hanging up some paintings but… they looked terrible. The ‘round’ angle of the windows kept the options for what paintings you could put up pretty narrow. So you forgot that idea and instead tried putting up item frames! But you put some up and disliked it almost immediately. It felt way too busy so you got rid of those too.

You were getting tired of decorating so you just grabbed a random banner (purple because why not?) and then you grabbed a handful of different colored dyes before pulling out a loom. You tried a bunch of different designs, threw out most of them because they either ended up with ugly clashing colors or looking way too busy. But you finally settled on one that was a purple banner with an orange gradient coming up from the bottom and finally a gold sun right in the middle. It looked very pretty, like a sunset!

Once you were happy you hung a couple inside then on a whim you even hung a couple outside your door on either side. It made the outside look prettier in your opinion so once you were done (for real this time) you went and just flopped into bed, not feeling more than a touch tired but with nothing else to do at the moment. So you snuggled into your big cozy bed and drifted off to sleep~

-0-

Days passed since you built your home and you kept up work around the village, planting bamboo and berry bushes in a wall around it in a circle as a form of defense against the Illagers. They were kinda jerks and seemed to only want to kill villagers. Which wasn’t cool. And yeah you could have dug a moat or pit around it instead you guessed but you didn’t want any of the villagers falling in and you felt like they would…

So a wall of bamboo and prickly berry bushes it was. And it works! And looks dope. So win/win.

And it was as you were on your way to put some lights at the bottoms of the ponds and rivers that you noticed it from the corner of your eye. One of your sunset banners! But it was hanging up outside of the weaponsmith’s place instead of on your temple home where you knew you left it. But then you noticed another one hanging up outside the stonemason’s workshop…

You look over at your home up on the hill and see your banners still in place. And you know none of them trudged all the way up there just to steal one from the inside so you decide to investigate more in the village. And the further you walk in the more banners with your pattern on them you see. Actually every building you pass has at least one hung up somewhere near the door. You blinked before chuckling a little and thinking to yourself,

‘Oh! They all must have seen the banner I made and liked it! So they made their own to hang up. That’s actually pretty cute. I’m glad they like it.’

You were blissfully ignorant to the fact that the villagers have started to see you as their saint of sorts. Their goddess of prosperity and kindness. Without whom they would still be lost and living in pathetic huts and with no drive to acquire a skill and better themselves. They honestly look back on those times as such a dark period of their lives. When they were ignorant of their own abilities without your blessing to guide them. They owed you their lives and they wanted to show their thanks to you.

So when they saw you put up your sunset banners on your temple they quickly went to the shepherd and asked him to make them some just like it! And the shepherd, with his skill being a master thanks to your wonderful trading help, was easily able to craft such banners. Every villager had at least one by the time the sun was going down, all of them proudly being hung on the outsides of their homes and work buildings to show their allegiance to you!

But it wouldn’t stop there. The villagers wanted to give back even a fraction of what you have given to them.

-0-

In the following weeks you definitely noticed the villagers acting… odd. It started small at first, with them each coming to you and giving you gifts. The shepherd gave you a pair of blankets that were beautifully crocheted with this fluffy wool yarn, one that’d been dyed a soft baby pink while the other was a soothing sea foam color. You thanked him with a smile three times over and he seemed endlessly happy you liked them. You took them home and laid them across your bed and liked the pop of color they provided your space.

Though after that the farmer and leatherworker both met you at the entrance to your temple and each gifted you some things they thought you’d like. The farmer happily handed over a full basket of freshly baked bread along with another basket containing a bushel of golden carrots and almost a full melon’s worth of glistering melon slices. While the leatherworker offered up a pair of dainty leather sandals that looked like they would lace up your legs to just below your knees. And also what looked like a prettily crafted leather utility belt! It had lotus details and golden studs and buckles on the front and back. And one large pocket, one medium zipper pocket, and two smaller pockets. You loved all of their gifts and thanked them both over and over while safely putting the food away (and maybe eating some bread right then) and putting the slippers and belt on.

You were beyond grateful and thought that was the end of that.

You… were wrong.

-0-

As the days turned into weeks you were lavished with more and more offerings. It took you a while to realize that’s what they were; offerings. You got a little uncomfortable with all the gifts after a bit but when you started to refuse them the villagers looked so sad so you began to accept them again. Especially after they tried to make ‘better’ stuff for you after your initial refusal, under the impression the last ones weren’t good enough for you or something. It started to get hard to take in all the gifts, because sometimes you weren’t available in the village (you still liked to explore) or because you were working on something and they couldn’t reach you. So as a solution you set up a double chest outside your temple for them to put the gifts in.

They eagerly adapted to that and each night you’d clean out the chest, putting away practical gifts and discreetly getting rid of ones you had WAY too many of. Like the food. You had a full double chest of food and you didn’t need anymore, but saying so would probably hurt their feelings. So this was the easiest way. Plus a lot of the gifts you actually DID like. Like the sandals, hip pocket belt, and the pretty white dress you were currently wearing. The under part of it was just a simple white sleeveless mini dress that went above your knees (you’re not sure it was that shirt when you first tried it on..) and the over part of the dress was a sheer white maxi dress with loose ruffled sleeved that hung off your shoulders, and a slit on each side that helped with ease of movement.

You’d taken to wearing the dress, the hip pocket belt, and sandals every day. They were all comfortable and looked pretty good on you now that you think about it. Not to mention the fabric was light and breathable too, which helped keep you from getting too hot. You’re not sure what kind of fabric it’s made of, but whatever it is it’s light enough to not make you sweat but it’s also heavy enough to keep you from getting cold when it’s windy. Regardless, it’s your go-to outfit these days.

But aside from the offerings and stuff, you had to sit down and really examine your current position. You really took the time to pay attention to how the villagers were treating you. And you eventually came to the conclusion that they were treating you like some kind of saint or deity. They gave you the best of their wares as offerings, they took on your banner as their own (presumably as a show of loyalty), and they almost seemed to worship the ground you walked on. This isn’t even mentioning the statues that they’d put up of you… Like, they were good! Very well done and made of polished white quartz but.. it was still strange. Though like everything else you can’t say you weren’t getting used to it all.

You sighed and rolled with it.

-0-

You realized one day you’d never been to the Nether. And you wondered if the rules here (like mobs not bothering you) was also true there? You couldn’t deny you were sorta excited to go see, but also scared. You HATED the freaking Hoglins when you played Minecraft before this place. They were always so aggressive and you can’t count how many times they’d killed you, the bastards. But your curiosity won out over your anxiety so you grabbed the enchanted diamond pickaxe you’d been given and then paused while grabbing a stack of gold bars.

“Wait I need to wear gold right? Or the Piglins will be all mad,” you said as you grabbed a gold helmet from your inventory.

You thoughtlessly went to put it on but jerked the helmet back when it clanged against something hard. Something hard that made you wince as a small shock of pain went through your skull. A curse left your lips as you asked out loud what the fuck THAT was about. You were in the middle of trying to come up with an explanation when you reached up with your free hand and flinched when it came into contact with something on your head. Something that 200% was NOT your hair or skull. Panic bubbled inside you and your stomach sank into your feet as you whipped the gold helmet up to look into its polished surface to see yourself.

Horns? Little blunt horns… On your head.

With a shaky hand you reached up, sort of hoping this was just a dream. But when your fingertips brushed against the soft velvety texture of the horns your breathing grew faster and you pulled your hand away like you’d been burned. You dropped the helmet, not even hearing it clatter against the floor as you stumbled back, nearly tripping over the step that led up to the platform your bed was on, but you somehow managed to get to the bed and sit down.

Before you knew it you’d burst into tears and buried your face into your hands, sobbing and unable to cope with this new fuckery.

You’ve had to deal with so much weird insane shit since ending up here, wherever the fuck HERE was. You were honestly so tired. You’ve done your best to stay calm, stay sane, and just keep going. And for the most part you have! You focused on surviving, building, and dealing with the villagers. You’d probably feel silly for breaking down over some dumb horns later, especially after you’d barely batted an eye over your weird ears, teeth, and EYES. But the breakdown was probably more to do with life deciding to give you another slice of bullshit despite your overflowing plate. At least that’s what the logical part of your mind was thinking.

But the illogical part, the emotional part, was just so done. So you cried and cried and cried your very soul out until no sound was leaving you anymore. And then, once you were cried out and exhausted you weakly crawled onto the pillows and just passed out.

You’d deal with this new shit later.

-0-

Far on the outskirts of the opposite side of the village from your temple a young boy with golden hair stumbled across the entrance to said village.

He’d never seen this village before and was curious. He’d have gladly stormed in and started going through villager chests for loot but it was getting close to dusk and his older brother said he needed to get back asap. Now usually he’d shrug off his brother’s bossy nature but he’d sounded worried so he decided to hurry and get back before it got too late.

But before he turned and left he marked down this village’s coordinates so he could get back to it later..

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

tag list:

@salinesoot @lady-bee-fechin @kacchasu @putridjoy @lunawritesstories @galaxypankitty3030 @paradigmax @zachariethememerie @killmewithafanfic @trinity-1002107

#technoblade x reader #technoblade #dsmp #dream smp #mcyt x reader #tommyinnit #tommyinit mcyt #c!techno #c!tommy

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hangezoeenthusiast · 4 years ago

Text

Minecraft

m!reader

pronouns:he/him

fluff

person: sapnap (im not going to use his real name, since he is uncomfy with people using it)

words: 1530

warnings: cursing, yelling

you were at sapnap's house on his bed, watching him stream and play minecraft. he was trying to speedrun minecraft. "hey babe, what'cha doing?" he asked. "just watching you." you replied.

"you wanna come over here?"

"but what about the face cam."

"chat could give less of a shit, or i too."

"ok then babe, let me just get some water."

you went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, then went back to the room. you grabbed one of sapnap's extra chairs and sat next to him. "hey chat, how you doing." chat spammed y/n so many times, you could barely see anything else in there.

"hey my boyfriend, how you doing." a dono said

"im doing good y/nismyboyfriend, good name btw, how are you?"

"heyyyy, your MY boyfriend." sapnap whined. "it's ok baby, im yours and your mine." chat spammed simp, then sapnap buried his head in your heck. "y/nn, make chat stop bullying me." "chat stop bullying my WONDERFUL boyfriend." you emphasized.

after that little situation, you just sat in your chair, zoned out, and just watched. "babe, hey babe, baby are you ok?" sapnap asked. you jumped at the sound of his voice, "sorry, i zoned out, what were you saying." "damn, im not that important to you then that you zoned out." sapnap pouted. "oh shut up you big baby."

"excuse me, don't make me fight you bitch." "sapnap, do you realize i took karate as a kid right?" "that was years ago." "so sapnap, i can still beat your ass with a blindfold." he looked shocked and amazed at the same time. "ok then." he said shyly.

you looked content (like this face 😏), "so what you needed sapnap?' "oh yeahhh, do you want to play minecraft on here?" you were absolutely shit at minecraft, you already tried once, you weren't going to try again. (flashback to the conversation you had with sapnap the first time you ever played minecraft)

"sapnap, how do you move on this thing, this is so complicated" "it's just because your a boomer y/nnn, here, its wasd." "EXCUSE ME SIR IM NOT A BOOMER, APOLOGIZE RIGHT NOW." "NO I WON'T APOLOGIZE, YOU APOLOGIZE." "WHY DO I HAVE TO SAY SORRY, YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WRONGED ME." "AHHHHHH" you guys are so weird :/ /j

"no, im not, im shit at it, you made fun of me plenty of times, no, no times infinity." "come on baby, that was what, like 1 time." "YEAH, ONE TIME TO MANY." "pwease, for me." he whispered. you looked at his pouty face and didn't crack (MOMMA DIDNT RAISE NO SOFTY /j). "ok then, but the second you make fun of me, i will beat you up so bad that-" sapnap interrupted you, "THANK YOU SO MUCH BABE, but i wont guarantee that i won't make fun of you." he got up, put you in his chair, and standed behind you. "now y/n, the last time you played, you sucked absolute balls, so NOW i will guide you through everything, yaknow, be your sensei." you made a straight face, and looked behind you, seeing him look at you as well.

you had a staring contest. both eyes were locked, eyes squinting, trying to withstand the others. his blinked first, "YES I WON, WHAT'CHA GONNA DO SNAPCHAT, WHAT'CHA GONNA DO?"

"just forget everything that happened in the last 10 seconds, let's do this thing." he guided you towards everything, like moving around, crafting, fighting zombies and skeletons, and even breaking blocks. you were doing fairly well, but there was one, no two, no three things you absolutely sucked shit at that you HAD to master. one was mlg watering, two was building a nether portal, and the last was fighting the ender dragon.

you goal was to beat the game and make new records ;), well, you did, but not without some challenges.

1. mlg water

you crafted a bucket and went to the nearest river/sea. you filled up the water bucket. "hey sapnap, what do we do next?" "next, my darling y/n, we shalt try to mlg." "so what do we do?" "we first, tower up." you pulled out your stacks of blocks, and stacked all the way up to the sky. "so what do i do next?"

"so pull out your water bucket, and then when you almost hit the ground, place the water on you." you jumped of the tower, and failed mlg. it was so ridiculously bad, that goddamn satan wouldn't let you in hell for that little stunt. "NOOO, WHAT THE FUCK, I PLACED IT BELOW ME." "You didn't do it good enough." "SHUT THE FUCK UP SAPNAP."

2. nether portal

obviously if you failed mlg, you would SUCK at making nether portals. "since you fucking sucked at mlg, lets try making a nether portal, it's kinda easier, but still hard. so what you do is make that shape there" "oh no, do it there." "nooo y/n, you're doing it wrong, do it that way."

you made a nether portal, but you obviously messed up, there was cobblestone everywhere. you pickaxed it, but that didn't come with a good thing. "NOOOO, FUCK, WHY WAS THERE LAVA." yeah, that's right, under the cobblestone was lava, and you fell in it, barely salvaging any of your items. well that attempt went horribly

3. ender dragon

after getting to the nether, getting blaze rods and converting them into blaze powder, trading with hoglins to get ender pearls, not having enough ender pearls from the hoglins, killing endermen and dying from them while getting ender pearls, crafting eye of enders, finding the stronghold, placing the eye of enders in the stronghold frame, while dying along the way, you finally got into the end.

finally all this suffering and mocking from sapnap would end, and you would finally beat the game. but, obviously, with you having little to no minecraft skills, it came with A BUNCH of problems, like destroying the crystals, making sure you wouldn't anger endermen, avoiding the dragon of dealing damage to you, and flying into the void.

1. destroying the crystals

sapnap ordered you, "use your bow to destroy the crystals." you aren't and weren't no minecraft god, so you couldn't destroy all the crystals, but you did one of them tho 👍

so he gave you another try, to use blocks to climb the side of the pillars, and destroy the crystals that way. you died, to put it shortly and bluntly. "AHHHH," you screamed. you got exploded by the crystals. that happened with EVERY. SINGLE. CRYSTAL you happened to try to destroy.

but eventually, you destroyed all the crystals.

2. endermen

after you destroyed the crystals, you had the task off not angering the endermen by eye contact. that went horribly wrong. sapnap had the courage to tell you that you couldn't look them in the eyes, and that you would anger them if you would. "WHY ARE THEY CHASING ME," you shouted. "y/nn calm down, just kill the ones that are angry at you."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ALMOST ALL OF THEM ARE CHASING ME." you overaggerated. "no, it's almost 3 dude, just kill them."

you killed them, and then you had the task of the dragon.

3. the dragon dealing damage

sapnap took control of shooting the dragon in the air with the bow and arrows. when the dragon would come down to the middle, you would hit their head (im doing the enderdragon as nonbinary, yaknow, they are a lesbian, nonbinary lesbians are vaild :D).

4. the void

the last thing you had trouble with in the end was the void. the darkless pit that leads to nothing except death. the dragon was throwing you around like a little puppet, you doing nothing except being flung around the place. "FUCK, FUCK YOU DRAGON," you screeched. the dragon was getting on your last nerve.

after all the trouble,and death, you finally beat the dragon. "YESSS, YESS, FUCK YOUR DRAGON, SUCK ON MY 10 IINCH DICK." sapnap cheered you on through your little victory speech. "bye chat, imma stop streaming now, since it has been 6 hours, we need to go to sleep." "bye, chat, love you guys."

you and sapnap ended the stream, feeling exhausted. you went to do your skin care routine, and found sapnap waiting for you in bed. "how was the stream y/n, did you enjoy it?" "yeah, i enjoyed it, only the dying part i hated."

"it's ok, babe, we can try it another time, maybe next time you won't die as much, at least you made a new record."

"what record sap?"

"the record of dying the most in minecraft." you slapped him around his head, not finding his joke funny. "hey, don't hit me, i'm fragile."

"sorry you big baby." you responded. you both got under the blanket, and snuggled (i don't know why, but the word snuggled is enchanting), huddling together, and basking in each others warmth. even if you died 4,234 times in minecraft, at least you had your favorite person at your side while doing it.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt #dream smp #dream smp x reader #dsmp #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x you #dream smp x y/n #sapnap #sapnap fluff #sapnap x reader #sapnap x you #sapnap x y/n #louistommosnesquickmilk writes #louistommosnesquickmilk

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tatooedlaura-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Fancy Paper Napkins

because doesn’t everybody eat their fancy meals with fancy paper napkins ...

Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own Chapter 7: Fancy Paper Napkins @today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

He actually slept, his mind calm, until he heard her whispering in his ear, “what are you cooking and when will it be ready?”

Opening his eyes, he saw hers staring at him, awake and bright, “what?”

“I’m hungry and I saw the crockpot plugged in.”

He broke into a grin, more from her proximity than anything else and forcing himself not to look at her mouth, not to think of that kiss, “mushrooms. Garlicy, buttery mushrooms that have been slow cooking in the crockpot,” looking over her head at the clock, “for four hours.” Sitting up quickly, “shit. I have to go stir them.”

Rolling off the bed, he disappeared down the hall, Scully close behind, “they won’t burn.”

“I’ll feel better when I see for myself.” Finally in the kitchen, he opened the crockpot, stirred with the big spoon, and glad to see the mushrooms soft and unburned, offered Scully a taste. Refusing with an, ‘I’d like to wait for dinner,’ he nodded towards the fridge, “go grab the steak, would you?”

They ate like civilized people, at the kitchen table, forks, knives, fancy paper napkins …

… “I refuse to use cloth ones because they’re too damn hard to clean.”

… “Did I say anything?”

… “No.”

… “Then why are you arguing at me?”

and a bottle of not-so-cheap wine Mulder found in his travels through Scully’s cupboards.

“I shouldn’t drink this.”

“Will it lower your inhibitions? Will you sweep off the coffee table and dance on it if I wave a bunch of ones at you? Will you tell me all your secrets?”

She couldn’t keep her hand from shaking as she poured them both glasses, “mostly I’m thinking that it’ll make me fall asleep even early that I probably would have already.”

Ignoring the tremor, “as long as you stay awake enough for ice cream.”

“I will do my best.”

She made it through half the steak, a bowl of mushroom, and three spoons of mashed potatoes, before finally giving in, trading her plate for Mulder’s empty, who continued to eat without pause. Watching him, she had to smile, “thank you.”

“For finishing your food? No problem.”

Not able to articulate at that particular moment that she was actually thanking him for a thousand things at once, she simply agreed, wondering if he’d figure it out on his own, “yeah, I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

Giving her a grin, he finished her food, then stood, “give me ten minutes to do dishes and put everything away, then we’ll argue about movies.”

“Let me load the dishwasher, at least. You won’t do it right and I’ll just have to redo it when you’re not looking.” Standing as well, she bumped hips with him as she walked past, “save me the trouble.”

Twisting up his leg, he hit her on the butt with his stocking foot, “smartass.”

They finally settled on several movies but still sitting on the couch, facing a blank TV and a window with a sunset just beginning to tint the room pink, Mulder gently poked her in the side, “how’re you doing?”

Feeling the urge to move, to take advantage of feeling okay for the moment, “I think I’d like to go for a walk.”

Up immediately, he leaned in, kissing the tip of her nose, “any destination in mind?”

“Just … around.”

“Around it is.”

&&&&&&&&&

Warm enough to wander without jackets, they headed out her front door and turned left, bare arm brushing bare arm as they walked. They didn’t say much, commenting on scurrying squirrels here, a cute cat in the window there, Mulder catching a waywardly stumbling child tripping past, “geez, if I had known we were going to be experiencing a Norman Rockwell painting, I would have combed my hair and put on a clean shirt.”

Her laughter hit his ears like his favorite song and reaching over, he took her hand, never asking, never letting go as they circled and turned, ambled and veered. She didn’t argue, her thin, cool fingers enjoying his warmth.

But even on her best days lately, she gave in quicker than she’d have liked, 45 being the magic number of minutes she lasted until, “I think I’m ready for some ice cream.”

Giving her hand a squeeze, “ice cream it is. What kind should we start with?”

Discussion ensued and by the time they were in their pajamas, they’d settled on dark fudge and peanut butter swirl to begin with. Two spoons dove in, two spoons sampled, occasionally Scully would pull her loaded spoon out and looking at Mulder, found his mouth wide open, waiting expectantly.

And by God, she fed him.

The first time felt a little weird but by the third time he did it, she was laughing, “can you not feed yourself fast enough?”

“Nope.”

That was good enough for her.

Once the gorging finished, they’d had at least one spoonful out of each carton Mulder had bought, six in all, the flavors running the gambit and Scully full and happy and sleepy. “Are you going to be able to sleep with all that sugar in your system?”

Mulder grinned, chocolate rimming his lips, “if not, I’ll have a TV to keep me company while you drool all over your pillow.” A relieved sigh, one she didn’t know she was holding, escaped, and Mulder cocked his head, suddenly worried, “y’a’right?”?”

And deciding there was no reason not to tell him, “I think I was nervous you were going to go home tonight and,” another sigh, this one embarrassed, “it’s been a really nice day and if you went home, it would be over and,” slight wobbly smile appearing, “I don’t want it to be over just yet.”

Knowing something funny was in order, he raised an eyebrow in her direction, “is that some veiled attempt at asking me to move in here?”

Her smile steadied, “just go start the movie.”

&&&&&&&&&

Midnight rolled around and even though Scully had given in and gone to bed, Mulder was still awake and indeed watching TV, some cooking show he’d never admit to enjoying but enjoyed nonetheless. The sound was off and suddenly, the quiet of the darkened apartment was broken by Scully calling from the bedroom, “Mulder?”

It didn’t sound like a nightmare which, in his mind, could only mean she needed help. Jogging down the hall, he was in her doorway a second later, “yeah? You okay?”

Still laying down, she met his nervous gaze, her own a unique brand of terrified confusion, “am I still here?”

Immediately walking to the other side of the bed, he crawled under the covers, his hand meeting her cheek after she rolled over to face him, “yeah. You’re right here, in your bed.” When her terror didn’t fade, he continued, quieter, moving to meet her forehead with his, “you’re with me, in your apartment,” hand moving to the back of her neck, “whatever you dreamt wasn’t real.”

“It will be.” Feeling the bed shake as she hitched a silent sob, she managed a cracked whisper, “I don’t want to die.” Her fingers ran over his cheek, his ear, “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

The tear escaped before he could blink it away but he kept the others in, reservoir full but holding, “we’re gonna beat this. I guarantee it.”

She couldn’t bring herself to believe him anymore and she couldn’t keep up the lie at this hour, “you don’t know that.”

“But I choose to believe it.” Hand in her hair by now, he pulled her close enough that their noses were smushed together and eyelashes tangled, “I need to believe it.”

Maybe she could pretend a little more after all, “do you believe enough for both of us?”

“I believe enough for this whole damn world. You should know that by now.”

She could only nod against him, bringing their mouths to millimeter distances but refraining, crippling fear not a good enough reason to cross the line between them, “can you stay right here with me, tonight?”

He crossed it for them, a quick brush of lips, a quick nuzzle of noses, “I won’t move until you do.”

“I don’t want you to leave me alone.”

Both knew the translation of that:

I don’t want to die alone.

&&&&&&&&

The next morning, Scully opened her eyes to find Mulder still sharing her pillow, not touching anymore but close enough to have him blurry in front of her instead of clear. For five seconds, she forgot her world and felt warm fuzzies chasing through her, up and down her spine, settling low.

Then, reality set in with a resounding thud.

Pulling back, she sat up, turning quickly so he wouldn’t see the tears racing down her face. Neither could ignore the echoing sob, however and Mulder, already half-awake, sat up, confusion clearing in a heartbeat as he slid across the mattress, arm around her front, hugging her back to his chest. Kissing her neck and that hated, fucking scar, “we’re gonna win. I swear to God, we’re gonna win.”

And they cried together.

#msr #cancer arc #my writing #MulderNScully #xfiles fanfic #xfiles #Our Moments series #we're gonna win #I swear to God #xf fanfic #and reality set in #with a resounding thud

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ballerinaroy · 3 years ago

Text

a is for (not an) anniversary

On Ao3 here.

Ron knew he shouldn’t be the least bit excited about this day. And he wasn’t. He’d rather it be any other day, could feel the sadness and grief spilling out from the day meant to memorialize it. May 2nd. Only one year since. Yet, as he woke before dawn and showered and dressed, all the while watching Harry from the corner of his eye for any sudden outburst, Ron found a part of him (no matter how hard he tried to suppress it) looking forward to this day.

“Ready?” Harry asked of him, speaking his first word of the day.

It was early. Too early, for their arrival but somehow Ron didn’t think anyone would say anything to them. He nodded, taking a good look at his best mate, and fought against asking him the stupid question of if he was alright.

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, and together they rose from the dining room table, leaving behind their half-drunk cups of tea, and followed him out towards the fireplace.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley” McGonagall greeted them.

It was even darker this far north, at least the morning rays of sun had started to illuminate their flat’s kitchen, but McGonagall looked just as sleepless as they, sitting at the Headmaster’s desk, a quill in hand.

“Sorry to bother you so early,” Ron excused them both.

She forgave them with a quick shake of her head. “It’s no trouble, I expect you two won’t be the first to arrive ahead of schedule. The Great Hall is open if you care for something to eat.”

They hesitated, and Ron didn’t want to be the one to ask.

“And Remembrance might be the word you’re looking for should you happen to wander elsewhere.”

She gave them a sly smile, a look Ron was still quite unused to on his Professors face.

“Thank you, Professor,” they said in tandem and as she looked back down at her papers, they turned away, avoiding the prying eyes of the prior Headmaster and Headmistresses.

They’d been back to the castle of course, spent half the summer repairing bricks and desks, but it had been a year since they’d last taken this particular journey. He could remember the exhaustion acutely, his body finally shutting down as they, at last, journeyed towards the promise of a hot shower and a long nap. Well, a several days sleep in fact.

Just as a year ago, they did not share a word, silent in their companionship with only their echoing footsteps and distant chirping of birds to fill their ears. Within no time they found themselves outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, looking regal and alert.

“I’d hoped you’d visit,” she said to them.

“Anyone left yet?” Harry asked of her.

She shook her head, “No, all’s been quiet.”

The portrait swung open and Ron followed Harry through the hole, dropping down on the other side to an empty room. Ron frowned, looking around. He, as well as Harry, had hoped, really….

A lamp flickered on to the right of them and they both spun around to find Hermione sitting there, her legs crossed and a sly look on her face. Ron immediately grinned, the shadow of her surprising them in this very way in their first year, entering his mind.

“I was wondering when you’d get here,” she said, standing up and then, giving up all pretense, threw herself at them both, the three of them caught in a hug.

It had been a long time since they’d clung to one another so desperately. Ron had hoped they wouldn’t have to again, never the less it felt right to be here, with them. Several minutes might have passed when at last they gave signals of detangling, though Ron didn’t let his position of an arm around Hermione go, sneaking in a quick peck as Harry pulled away.

“Is Ginny-“

“Should be down any moment,” Hermione told him, studying him.

Ron could feel the question on her lips and didn’t think if very wise for her—or anyone really—to ask and set about distracting her.

“And here you say you don’t throw yourself at people,” he teased her.

“How should I hug you then?” Hermione demanded, taking his bait.

“Oh, no I’m not complaining, just pointing out that you have this habit of throwing yourself at me,” Ron said.

She blushed, a healthy color he’d been worried about not seeing today, and shook her head. He bent down, giving up all pretense, and gave her a proper greeting. Beside them, Harry turned away tactfully, though Ron caught his annoyance as he did so and they only pulled apart when the thundering footsteps of another interrupted the quiet him of the common room. They turned as the door to the girl’s dormitory opened and there stood Ginny.

She sighed, giving an amused smile at the sight of them, “Well, you were right Hermione, guess they do manage to get up when it matters.”

She turned to Harry, her smile turning brilliant. “I swear I was going to be your greeting committee.”

“Well, I still need greeted,” he replied, the closest expression Ron had ever seen on his face to cocky and Ginny rolled her eyes at him even as she closed the distance and Ron had to look away from their reunion for his own sanity.

“All been well?” Hermione asked of him quietly, reaching up to pick some imaginary lint from his shoulder.

“Better now that I’m with you,” he tried but Hermione merely laughed, allowing him only to kiss her cheek. “It’s been fine, just, don’t ask, alright?”

Hermione didn’t look too happy with his analysis but accepted it with a reluctant nod.

“I’m fine,” he told her, trying to put as much conviction in his voice as he could muster. He didn’t know who his request for her not to ask would benefit more, he or Harry who’d been on an alarmingly short fuse all week. “How about you?”

Her smile faltered a little and worry infected him.

“It’s the same,” Hermione answered, not meeting his eyes. “As the summer, it’ll always be the same nightmares I think.”

Ron pulled her in closer and kissed her forehead, wishing that she wasn’t so far away. Perhaps this would be easier to talk about if the moments they were with one another weren’t so fleeting.

“I’m starved,” Ginny announced and they looked up. “Practice ran through dinner last night.”

“You say that like you’re not the captain,” Ron argued and Ginny grinned at him. “Why on earth would you make them miss a meal?”

“You don’t become school champions by giving up just because you’re cold,” Ginny shook her head. “Our match is next week, do they think it’ll be hot by then?”

It was funny how easily they slipped back into it. And for the walk down to the great hall, it was easy to forget why they were there, who they were. For that moment they were merely school children, teasing and laughing, emotions that for the rest of the day would be considered inappropriate. Ron cherished every second of it that he could. God, he wished it were a different day.

“Feels like we’re back in school,” Ron muttered, leaning back in his chair to catch Harry’s ear.

He gave him a smilier, bored, and slightly exasperated expression. “Who knew we’d be getting a lecture on the recovery of international potion trading?”

“They’re lobbying you know,” Hermione whispered all without taking her eyes off the podium turned lectern.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her.

“Lobbying to who?” Ron exclaimed as quietly as he could.

“To everyone,” Hermione answered. “This might be the most important gathering this year.”

“They shouldn’t be,” Harry said, suddenly angry. “It shouldn’t be about that, not today.”

Hermione glanced over at them at last, worried but Ginny beat them all to it, squeezing Harry’s hand. “No, they shouldn’t, of course not.”

Harry let out a sigh and Ron felt them all tense.

“Do you wanna go?” Ron asked after another minute.

He could feel Harry considering it but at last shook his head, checking his watch. “No, it’d make too much of a scene. Though I wouldn’t say no to taking our lunch outside.”

“Did you bring the cloak?” Ginny asked him. “Or I could sneak in-"

“We should just ask one of the house-elves,” Ron offered and Harry nodded. He felt him relax and it felt safe enough to look over at Hermione who was wearing a funny smile. “What?”

She didn’t say anything, just giving him that smile that made something inside him swell and he put his arm around her chair as she leaned into him.

It felt wrong, to be smitten in such a place. Though Ron reasoned, he’d spent years waiting for the right time. If he just kept waiting around he might never get to feel so lucky.

They weren’t alone for long. It had been nice, sitting on the banks of the black lake, hearing the sounds of the forest and watching the clouds drift overhead.

But as the lunch hour trickled on it seemed others had the same idea as they. Groups of two or three, walked out the doors, the same annoyed look on their face, same quietly seething rage that Ron had felt in flashes. And then they would draw closer and spot them and someone would give them a wave over and that anger, that exhaustion would ease. First Neville and Luna, Dean and Seamus.

Before Ron knew it the whole of Dumbledore’s Army had found their way to their previously private spot.

“Did you know Collin almost got expelled?” Dennis pipped up from the far end of the circle. Heads turned as Seamus finished telling his tale of Umbridge’s interrogation of him.

“No,” Ginny said, shaking her head, “you’re lying.”

Dennis shook his head, grinning like he had this great secret. “Cross my heart.”

He was a good storyteller, Ron realized, holding the tension until the most penitent moment.

“He’d been doing magic all his life you know. But of course, we didn’t know. Little things, funny tricks. Could never keep still, if I didn’t know better he’d learned to apparate before even coming to Hogwarts, you’d blink and he’d go from one side of the room to the other.”

They all chuckled, shaking their heads.

“So, he’s been doing these little spells all his life, and then he gets a name for it, comes to school, learns even more of it and then they just send him home with a slip saying he had to stop it all, bit cruel really, he just wanted to show us.”

Beside Ron, he heard Harry snort commiseratingly.

“The first one was on purpose, when you’re twelve and they tell you they’re watching you you have to test the rules a little, figure out if they’re lying and they weren’t.” Dennis said, “He’s sitting there, making papers fly around the room when an owl swoops in and drops a letter in his lap, gave me and dad quite a fright, though I’m still not used to owls dropping things in my lap, really, we’ve had centuries to figure out how to get letters without the chance of dung falling in your porridge.”

He looked over at Padma who blushed scarlet and laughter rang out. A joke that Ron did not know, but did not feel outside of.

“And Collin, so excited to be getting a letter, I don’t think he even saw the ministry seal, just ripped it open, expecting it to be a letter from a friend and I swear, I’ve never seen his face change so quickly. Straight from bursting with excitement to no color at all to threatening to put all over the table.”

“So he put it away, locked up his wand, and cried because you couldn’t take that away from him, magic. He’d never loved something more.” Dennis’s face wavered and grief passed over them all. He sniffled and gave a watery smile. “Summer goes on,” he continued, eyes wet, “Goes full muggle with me. Telling me everything that had happened and God was I happy to have my brother back. And for a few weeks, everything is fine, sure he’s acting out stories every chance he gets but it’s not real magic….exactly.”

“The second letter comes in the middle of the afternoon. We’d gone out to the creek and he’s telling me about quidditch, jumping over rocks and branches, acting it out, when, there it is again, from nowhere an owl swoops in. Now, we’d gotten used to them. But it was always the same owls he was writing through. This time, however, Collin hesitated.

“I wasn’t even doing anything wrong, he said, and he wasn’t. Just making jumps higher than any child could. So he opens it and there it is again Second infraction. We couldn’t figure out what he’d even done and now he’s paranoid. He couldn’t get kicked out of school, not with only one year, not with a whole life….” Dennis paused again, and the grief rippled out, “Not with a with a whole lifetime of magic ahead of him.”

There was no stopping it this time, he covered his eyes with his hands, falling forward and beside him, Seamus reached out, laying a gentle hand on his back. Hermione reached for Ron’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“But remember what I said,” Dennis burst out, tears rolling down his face and Ron could see he was trying to smile through them. “Collin had been doing magic his whole life, he didn’t need a wand. It was something deep within him, little spells, little bursts of-“

Ron felt his own eyes mist as Dennis dissolved completely. This was how it was supposed to feel, Ron thought. Sadness, yes, but filled with laughter and stories of the fallen. A day in their memory.

It went on and on. The speeches and the handshaking and the tearful thank yous. All of it, Ron knew was supposed to mean something but after their picnic by the lake, it felt so…so disingenuous. He found he wanted to be anywhere else, talking about anything else, dreading the next person to approach them or the next person to get up or even whisper his name.

He knew he was being unfair. It had been all of their war. But he wasn’t crying, and he’d been through the worst of it. Somehow he managed to keep it under control, to listen to the tearful stories, to allow his mother to fuss over him.

It was near sunset when they made their next escape. Dinner finished people, beginning to trickle out of the castle and towards Hogsmeade where the memorial was promised to continue. They’d gotten separated from Harry and Ginny. His sister he spotted across the room, sitting with Angelina and George and another handful of older Gryffindors he only recognized on-site, but the former.

Ron scanned the crowd for his best mate, worry beginning to infect him. He didn’t like not knowing where Harry was, particularly not today when a year ago-

“Come with me,” said a voice in his ear, and relief coursed through him. At once they stood, leading the way out of the great hall and up the stone steps. Last year, when they’d made this journey, glass had crunched beneath their feet but in its proper place, the decorative glass made pretty patterns on the floor.

Once out of sight Harry whipped off the cloak, his hair ruffled and exhaustion tinting his eyes.

“Where to?” Hermione asked, sounding as relieved as Ron felt.

They all sort of looked at one another for a moment before Ron suggested, “Astronomy tower?” and they set off without a word of protest.

It felt good, moving. Not used to the many Hogwarts staircases, Ron found his legs burning a little by the time they reached their destination.

It was beautiful, up here. They could see nearly the entire grounds, the black lake golden and the treetops of the forbidden forest painted red by the dying sun. In the distance, he spotted Hagrid lumbering back to his hut as if it had been any other day and he was retiring. It was strangely comforting, seeing something so mundane as the gamekeeper returning to the home that a year ago had not existed.

Suddenly, a lump conjured itself in his throat and it was very hard to swallow. Ron glanced over at Harry and wether by Hagrid of another stimuli he found him just as affected, his jaw working as he rested his elbows on the railing.

A year. Only a year since they’d been here. Sometimes Ron felt the war was still on their doorstep threatening to burst through.

Hermione sniffled, moving closer and he couldn’t bear to look at her without crying out himself. She tucked herself against his chest, his arms wrapping around her without thought, holding her close as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

The sun bathed them in red and then gold and still they did not utter a word. Did not need to. It was enough just being there, the three of them, knowing there were two others who felt exactly the same tight feeling, the same grief, the selfish joy of being here today when there were so many others that couldn’t be.

If they had asked, at that moment, Ron would have been able to say he was fine, contentment in his bones, spreading with every squeeze of Hermione’s arms around him. With every little breath of Harry’s proving, he was still there, still breathing. They were alive. It was a gift enough.

“I think I’m going to take a walk,” said Harry when the last few rays of light shone over the tips of the trees, making the forbidden forest look as magical as Ron had ever known it.

Ron nodded, for the first time that week not afraid to watch his best mate leave the room. “Alright, see you in a bit.”

They watched his retreating form down the stairs and back into the lamp-lit castle.

“Is he going to be alright?” Hermione asked once certain he was out of earshot.

“Yeah,” Ron told her, tugging on her hand so she turned to face him. “As much of any of us will be.”

She turned her eyes away and onto him. It was their first moment alone, Ron realized, as she put her arms around his neck and stared up at him. He braced himself for her to ask how he was, not wanting to lie, not sure he could even conjure the truth but she merely stated, “Today’s been harder than I thought.”

The tension inside him released and he let out a long breath, nodding.

“I’ve felt it all week,” Hermione went on as he put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer. “Been short with everyone, I keep dreaming about-“

“Yeah,” he said as tears dotted her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hermione thought for a moment and then shook her head defiantly. “No, I don’t….do you?”

“No,” he agreed, “I just want to enjoy being here, with you.”

That smile that made his heart swell was back and the worry eased from her face.

“I miss you,” Hermione agreed. “A stupid amount really.”

He ducked his head, kissing her cheek, a slow kiss, and felt her cheek twitch with delight, and then it was her turn, inching closer to his, soft and tender.

“Do you miss me?” she murmured, her lips brushing against the corner of his mouth.

He pulled back long enough to look her in the eye, to show his sincerity when he told her. “Terribly.”

It was sometime before either of them spoke another word.

“It’s been a year,” Hermione pointed out in a hesitant tone as they descended back down towards the great hall in search of Harry.

“Oh, has it?” Ron teased.

“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes, “I mean since we-“

“Since you threw yourself at me?” Ron went on and before she could say _did not! _In that squeaky huff, “And I quite literally swept you off your feet.”

Hermione blushed, closing her mouth, and then said, “Yes, that you did.”

They stopped and he let go of her hand so he could put his arm around her before continuing.

“It’s too morbid,” Hermione went on, pondering. “To call it our anniversary.”

“Perhaps,” Ron told her. He’d thought about it quite a bit. Wavering back and forth. Whenever they told the story everyone agreed it’d been terribly romantic, but to say it outright felt a bit crass. “But I’m glad we did, that we didn’t wait any longer.”

They slowed and Hermione didn’t meet his eye. “I thought I was going to die that night, I was prepared to and I…”

“Hey,” he said, waiting for her to look up. “You didn’t, I didn’t. We’re still here, Hermione.”

She nodded, “And we’re happy.”

He agreed with a grin. “And we’re happy.”

“And we’ve been happy,” Hermione continued. “For a whole year.”

“Well…” he teased and she nudged him. “Yeah, we’ve been happy for a whole year.”

“I love you,” she said tenderly.

He couldn’t help but say it back. “I love you too.”

#roywrites #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #weeks late but still

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enochianribs · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 2 of the Cabin AU is up now!

Read on Ao3 here, or under the cut.

(Reblogs appreciated!)

The roof had a leak. Dean woke up to a growing wet spot on the pillow next to his. He laid still, eyes crossing as he stared at the ceiling, watching the bead of water run across one of the unfinished boards, suspending itself for an entire minute until it plopped right next to his head. Slowly, his mind pulled itself out of his dream, though the haze lingered. The roof had a leak. Dean woke up to a growing wet spot on the pillow next to his. He laid still, eyes crossing as he stared at the ceiling, watching the bead of water run across one of the unfinished boards, suspending itself for an entire minute until it plopped right next to his head. Slowly, his mind pulled itself out of his dream, though the haze lingered.

“Mmm...great.” Another item on his to-do list.

Dean was willing to bet there were more leaks in the living room.

For a moment he debated allowing himself to be lulled back to sleep. It was all too easy to slip back to that dream again: blurry hands, soft mouths, quiet murmurs, everything he missed and everything he’d never had. Not really.

Rain gently pattered against the outside of the cabin, the storm grinding in from the East and then settling its haunches right over the hills to stay for the night. The sun was rising, and the pink sky cast shadows from the drops on the window pane, little spots phantom dripping down his sheets.

It was the first morning since he’d gotten to the cabin that he’d slept in past sunrise. Sluggishly, he sat up, diggin the heel of his hand into his eyes as a yawn fought its way out of his chest. He turned his head, and reached out with a hand to wake his companion, before reality caught up with him and his hand fell to the mattress, going through the ghost.

That’s right , he thought. His mouth tasted like ash.

If he laid there any longer his chest would become heavy, and his breaths ragged, so he tossed the covers off, and trudged over to the shower. The cold water bit through the fog better than anything else could, and he leaned his temple against the glass door waiting for it to heat up and fill the room with steam.

Normally, he’d air dry, but it was chilly and an urgency hung around him. He grabbed the bleach-spotted towel hanging sadly by the door towelled off quickly.

He wandered idly, picking his daily morning tasks up and dropping them before he’d complete them. Something pulled him around the house. He was forgetting something.

Dean was midway through folding the quilt and draping it on the sofa arm when they caught his eye.

Two large feathers sat in the middle of the massive dining table (he still wondered who had built and what they’d been thinking— the thing could seat the knights of the round table if necessary). Tugging the fridge door with one hand he reached blindly for the pot of coffee he kept iced, and nudged it closed with his knee, never taking his eyes off them.

They were captivating. He continued to stare as he poured himself a cup, spilling some of the coffee onto the counter. He’d forget to clean it up, and it would stain, but that was okay. If they asked, he was experimenting with wood staining.

Dean could examine them once he made himself some kind of breakfast. Those were the rules: remember to feed yourself, and then you can do whatever you want to with your day. Breakfast ended up being toast and jam, and he plopped it down at the end seat of the table, and reached for the feathers before he took a bite.

The color on the first one was so dark it looked heavy, but it was as light in his hand as any feather should be. He held it up and squinted, twisting his wrist back and forth. It caught the light and reflected a shimmering oil slick back at him. The colors shifted, hues iridescent.

At first glance it could be a raven’s, but it was at least four times bigger than that.

The second one was more muted, the black towards the base of it dappled into a brown and white, and it was downy soft where the other was sharp and precise. Yesterday he’d thought it was grey but better light proved that it was a grey-brown.

He’d assumed that it was from the same bird— creature , but now he wasn’t so sure. Dean didn’t know the first thing about birds. However, he knew several people who did.

▵▿▵

“Hey, Bobby. Can I talk to Rufus?”

“He’s kinda in the middle of some’in’, Dean.” The roll of his eyes was audible, as someone yelped in the muffled background. “Can I call you back?”

“Please?” Dean asked, grinning cheekily even though he wasn’t there to warm Bobby over in person.

Bobby made a disgruntled noise and paused, before sighing. “You’re doing the face aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Fine. You never want to talk to me .”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Hm.” Bobby replied. Out of spite, he kept the phone next to his face as he shouted for his attention. “Rufus! It’s Dean.”

Ouch , Dean mouthed wincing at the volume, as he listened to the sound of two old men grumbling at each other before fabric shifted, and Rufus picked up the phone.

“He lives.”

A smile burst its way through Dean’s concentration. “Hey Ruf, gotta question for you.”

“Coulda called us sooner. We were beginning to wonder if you’d sold the cabin and moved somewhere warmer with pink flamingos.”

The image made Dean snort. Him at the beach? Unlikely.

“Nope.” Dean quipped. “Still here and freezing my ass off. You guys ever think about installing a damn heater?”

“And pay that bill? Hell no. We added a fireplace, what more do you want from us.”

Good ol’ crabby Rufus. “What do you know about birds?”

“A lot.” As per usual, he was being obtuse.

“Know of any big enough to leave behind two foot feathers?”

Rufus whistled. “Not in North America, unless you’ve got ostriches running around.”

“That’d be a negatory. So there’s nothing you can think of?”

“Nope. Did you find something, kid?”

“Holding one right now.”

“No shit.” He could hear the bewildered tone of his voice over the shitty connection. “Well, I guess keep an eye out. It’d be real hard for something that big to hide, and even harder for it to sit comfortable in those pine trees with the branches so dense. I’d say you’re about to make the biggest zoological discovery in North America in the past century. Keep us posted?”

“Will do.” Dean said, and he heard Rufus handing the phone back over to Bobby.

“Hope everything’s okay up there, Dean.”

“Everything’s peachy, honestly. Anyways—” He checked the clock on the stove. 8:30. The hardware store would be open in a half hour. “I’ve got some errands to run, so I’ll leave you to whatever it is a couple of old farts do in retirement.”

“Hey—”

Dean grinned to himself. “See ya, Bobby.”

“Take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

The line went silent, and Dean shoved his phone back into his pocket, bobbing his head to the side in thought. Though he didn’t get a definitive answer, at least the call had eliminated the options of native fauna.

▵▿▵

At nine in the morning, Dean was usually one of a small line of people waiting outside Lafitte’s Goods to needle Benny’s brain for fixes and tools of the trade. Pamela was waiting against the brick wall, hand shielding the summer morning sun from her eyes, reading a 99 cent paper back with interest.

“Hey, Pamela.”

“Dean-o. Call me Pammy.”

“Really?”

“No, of course not. But Pam works. I’m not your mother.”

“You call your mom by her first name?”

“Fair point. What’re you here for?” She nodded her head and bounced off the wall, as Benny unlocked the doors. A couple of grizzled old men shuffled in ahead of them, beelining it for the plywood.

Porch season.

“Roof’s got a leak.”

“Leak season.”

“Apparently. This is the third one since I got here.”

She squinted at him, like he was omitting something important, and popped the bubble of gum in her mouth. Dean started to itch under her scrutiny. He hated being studied like a lab rat.

What was the woman? A witch? Why was she peeling back layers of his get-up without warning.

Dean coughed, and used Benny’s presence as an excuse to wiggle out from under her gaze. “Gotta— yeah, see you.” Turning on his heel he fled towards the adhesives, face contorting with embarrassment.

Holy fuck, somehow he’d gotten even more awkward.

Dear god, help me.

Benny never pried unless Dean seemed interested in offering up information, and for that Dean was actually incredibly grateful. Most days he didn’t want to talk about anything, certainly not his past, but Benny and his bushy beard and warm eyes had managed to wiggle through his walls, just a little.

“Benny.”

Benny stared at him from behind the register, inquisitive expression considerably easier to cope with than Barnes' hungry expression. A friendly smile danced across his face as he assessed Dean’s no-doubt rosey cheeks.

“She’s got her claws in you, huh.”

Dean ducked his head, glancing sideways at the brunette woman still looking at the different kinds of rope. A tramp stamp peeked out from under the bottom edge of her tank top. Dean tapped his fingers on the pock-marked wood counter and turned his attention back to his friend. “Is she always like that?”

“Sure is,” Benny drawled, ringing up everything Dean had haphazardly shoved onto the counter in his escape. “You just happen to be the newest, prettiest , plaything in Pringle.” The burly man winked.

Pink crawled up Dean’s neck from his collarbones and spread into his cheeks once again. Christ, there was no escape from these people. Still stammering, Dean practically ran back to the Impala.

▵▿▵

The phone vibrated in his back pocket. By the third ring, Dean had parked Baby in her usual spot, and he struggled to tug it out of his pocket, checking the Caller ID.

California.

He pumped the window down, the air getting warm inside the car, and he flipped the phone open, inhaling sharply. He should have called before now. Shouldn’t have let so much time pass. In the fall, he’d be too busy to take any of Dean’s calls anyways.

“Hello?”

“Dean?”

“Sammy.”

Several seconds of too-long silence passed between them.

“Where have you been?”

Dean swallowed, thick, guilt permeating the small space.

“Sorry, I just—” He didn’t have an excuse. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“You still could’ve picked up the phone. I tried to call you about six times. You don’t always need to have something to say, y’know… It just would’ve been nice to know you’re still breathing.” His brother’s voice was basically a whisper at the end.

“I know.” Dean closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing shakily. “I know.”

“I had to hear it from Bobby. Dean—” Sam’s voice pitched up to that octave it always did when he was upset. “Dad’s gone again.”

Fuck.

“And that’s fine. It’s not like I’m ten and incapable of caring for myself but I thought— I thought he’d be back by now. It’s been a couple of weeks.”

“Shit, Sammy.”

“I think he’s fine. He sent a vague text a couple of days ago, it’s just with school starting in two months I get worried. Not even for him, just for us. I can’t pay for school myself, and I can’t afford to miss anything because of Dad. If my grades drop, I’m out.”

“I know.” God, Dean knew.

Sam was a late bloomer for college. The kid was brilliant, but he’d been dealt a bad hand, and it was a miracle Rufus and Bobby had invested in a saving fund for the two of them decades ago. At twenty-two, Dean knew that he’d already had trouble securing the scholarships. Stanford wanted the best and brightest, not the kid with seven schools on his high school transcript and an overabundance of unexcused absences.

The guilt piled up and perched itself on his shoulders until he sagged into his seat under the heaviness. It was his job to keep John out of trouble, not Sammy’s. And instead he’d run away from that responsibility.

The repair materials sat in the backseat, and his heart twisted in his chest. The meadow sat peacefully in the late afternoon sun, just across the short distance of woods, and it still kept its secret. He didn’t want to go back. Not yet. Not until he’d had his fill of independence.

“Look,” He could kick himself for how his voice cracked. “If John doesn’t turn up by the end of the week, I’ll come back. I’ll help. Promise.”

For what it was worth, a facet of his brother’s relieved sigh sounded apologetic.“Thank you, Dean. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

“Okay then.”

“Bye.”

“Talk to you soon, Sammy.” Dean’s jaw clenched involuntarily, as he flipped the phone closed and tossed it against the passenger door. His frustrated shout echoed between him and the trees, but he didn’t feel better.

Always this .

Historically, John would do something stupid and irresponsible and Dean would drop everythign to clean up the mess and no one would thank him. Not really. That was fine.

Family was supposed to break your heart.

▵▿▵

The leak proved to be an easy fix.

Dean fought the attic door that led to the roof, following the small staircase up until he was on the balls of his feet, head sticking out as he pulled himself onto it. The shingles were rough, cracked and damaged from the winters, and he scrapped the length of his arm against it.

The source of the leak took only a minute to find. Five or so shingles were missing, leaving nothing but the wood underneath, which did nothing but absorb any and all precipitation. The rubber sealant smelled terrible, and he gagged dramatically, almost dropping the metal can in the process. Done applying, he plopped his ass down, determined to see it dry properly before he went back inside.

Half assing things had always resulted in a stern talking to in the least, and it had been something he’d struggled with growing up, his mind yanking him a thousand directions until his head was spinning and John was disappointed.

Dean grit his teeth, purposefully dragging the raw scrape against the rough roofing, the burn biting through the thought, bringing him back down from that far off place he so frequently wandered to. He didn’t even know how he got there, but he found himself lost, shrunk down, smaller than the hand-me-down leather jacket he tried to fill.

From the roof he could see almost everything. It turned out that Rufus and Bobby’s cabin foundation was built onto a gentle slope.

The rain clouds had dissipated, migrating to the flat plains further south, and it left a crisp atmosphere behind. The sun poked through the remaining gargantuan cumulonimbus clouds, sunbeams gently caressing the grass. Grey mist rose from where the creek beds greedily absorbed the heat. It reminded him of the paintings of cowboys, sitting on a stallion, bathed in golden light, their backs to the audience, all the edges illuminated and throwing everything else into stark purple shadows.

The burn of the scrape subsided as a sense of peace settled Dean, his body melting into the shingles. An hour passed before his stomach growled, and he climbed back down for lunch.

▵▿▵

Tapping.

Tapping at the window pane only inches from his face.

Groggy and only slightly encrusted (gross) Dean opened his eyes and was met by dark blue ones, a tawny human hand pressed up against the glass.

Dean’s soul evaporated out of his body, back pressed to the headboard as he scrabbled for the small knife he kept under his pillow. Before he could look again, it was gone.He launched himself out of bed, so very entirely grateful that he’d had enough sense to go to sleep in his boxers and his worn-out threadbare Kansas shirt.

Holy hell.

Fingers trembling, he opened the window, leaning almost all the way out, hovering a few feet above the ground.A single feather slowly came to rest soundlessly on the pine-needle carpet. The view from the window remained unyieldingly motionless.

Black-eyed susans had begun to sprout in the shade, despite themselves, and now they quivered where they grew between the pine-roots even though the morning wind had not pierced through the woods yet.

Craning his neck, he glanced up, half expecting the last thing he’d ever see to be a terrifying bird man staring down at him like he was lunch. Nothing.

Dean practically fell out of his room, chanting under his breath in a poor attempt to calm himself down as he stumbled down the short hall to the living room.

It’s human.

“No,” Dean spoke to the picture frames on the walls. He had no idea what he was denying, but the situation begged to be denied. He paced back and forth in the living room, no doubt wearing the floor down despite the fact that he was wearing socks— the ones with the holes in the heel. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Oh my God, it was so very not okay.

Suddenly, the couch seemed like the perfect place to suffocate himself to unconsciousness. Someone else could deal with this.

No , he thought. You wanted this to happen, you dirty liar. Stop panicking and deal with it.

Wings was human- or at least partially human. He looked like a man. Dean’s thin eyelids fluttered closed, and the image was painted on the backside of them with crystal clarity. Square jawline, arrow-straight nose, curiously arched eyebrows… and the eyes . They were so blue. And they had been looking right at him. Watching him.

It was entirely ridiculous that his eyes overshadowed the massive lurking darkness behind him, of what had to have been his wings.

A human with wings.

This was crazy. Everything was crazy.

The way he saw it, there were two directions this could go: he could pretend he hadn’t seen anything, and this would be tucked away into the delusion box that he kept under lock and key at the back of his mind and he could grow old being none the wiser of whatever breach of reality this was, or he could go find it.

The first option was sounding real nice. Normal. Well adjusted.

He was well adjusted.

Besides, Dean wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t a dream. this entire thing was a fever dream and he was in some hospital bed back in Lawrence, stuck in a coma. Dean pinched himself, viciously and stared at the white marks left on his forearm, helpless.

Nope.

“Okay.” He barked out a laugh.

He should call Jo.

After a few more minutes of pacing and hyperventilating, he decided against it. He would tell her— of course he would! —but when it came up.

The Harvelle’s were good people and they’d shown him nothing but kindness.

The situation had to be broached with care, or the small home he’d built in the life he wanted to live would topple in on itself, and the rubble and dust would drown him.

Trust issues were a problem of his, and he’d been aware of them since high school, when he’d had too many secrets to keep and any semblance of a support system was states away.

God, he knew the way he clammed up was obvious, but sometimes he surprised even himself. If he was being honest, there was a lot more to it than a strong need for privacy. Didn’t matter though. In the end, after all the nit-picking and self beratement, it boiled down to fear.

Jo could keep her mouth closed, but there was always a chance she’d accidentally tell someone, and there was a high chance it would be the wrong person. If he let it slip that this thing existed, who knew what would come packing. And he knew sooner or later, someone would bring the heat. Words got around easily in a small town like Pringle and he knew everyone would be at his door, wanting a chance to see the freak of the week.

Which… was a thing that existed. A human with wings, that called the small clearing his home.

His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He felt protective over the man, almost ferociously so.

The day’s hunting trip wasn’t happening— now Dean was paranoid.

What if he accidently shot him? Or scared him off permanently?

His stomach churned, acid and bile climbing their way up his throat. The burn was familiar. Half his childhood had been spent subsiding panic attacks and anxiety, calming down Dad or Sam or both at the same time.

▵▿▵

The tin echo of a gunshot managed to penetrate through the thick log walls of the cabin.In a heartbeat, he was scrambling for the ancient shotgun. The front door swung open, the little voice in his head told him to close it behind him, but his feet carried him quicker than his mind and so he left it swinging on its hinges at his back.

An anguished scream gargled its way from somewhere deeper into the woods, due south of the cabin. Rocks dashed the soles of Dean’s feat and he swore out loud, having forgotten his boots at the door.

Shit shit shit.

Someone was nearby, and they were ballsy enough to fire a weapon despite the illegality of hunting on private property. His mind raced at the same speed he ran towards it, a limp skewing his gate every few steps. Stray branches caught the sleeves of his shirt, tearing through the fabric as he refused to slow down.

It’s just a deer.

He knew better.

They’re just after a deer, or a bison that wandered away from the heard or an elk or something—

Another blood curdling scream erupted from amongst the pine, this one loud enough to rattle the crows out of their nests. They cawed, the sound of dozens of pairs of wings taking flight muting the pained groans.

He knew better.

Please— please. Not Wings.

He faltered over a boulder, panic overtaking muscle memory and skidded to a halt at the crest of a ledge. The scene below knocked the breath out of his chest, leaving a vacuum in its wake.

Campbell, one of the more elderly hunters of the area was standing over another tawny body. Giant black wings sprawled out, twisting and twitching in the dirt and mud, feathers slightly splayed underneath his back.

Campbell’s face distorted in pain, a tense moment passing before his wild eyes landed on Dean, the whites of his too visible, even from ten yards away. Blood pumped out from a wound on his neck, and he had a hand clamped down onto it, slick with red, he held a shotgun limply in his left hand, the butt of it dropped heavily to the ground.

Semi-satisfied that Campbell didn’t seem interested in shooting again, Dean fixated every ounce of attention on Wings and his breath hitched. Smeared across his mouth and chin was a copious amount of blood. He’d bitten Campbell. Dean’s heart swelled with pride.

Good .

His short encounter with Campbell prior had proved that the man was a bag of dicks, cocky and far too keen on the killing aspect of hunting. It skeeved Dean out then, and it certainly did now. Campbell was still looking at Wings like he was prey. Though no component of the scene begged to differ: the man was naked, teeth bared, but he was incapable of escaping, the gunshot wound in his abdomen bleeding him dry.

Dean leveled the end of his shotgun at Campbell’s head. “Get the fuck away from him.”

Campbell backed away from Wings, the muscles in his right arm tensed, like he wanted to put it up defensively, but it was necessary he kept pressure on the wound. It looked like Wings had gone for the jugular. “It attacked me, Winchester.”

“And?”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

Dean would put money on the fact that he looked the part, he could feel his chest heaving, something akin to dull rage pumping through his veins. He prayed the tremor in his hand didn’t betray his hesitation. “I said move .”

Obeying his orders, Campbell stepped back, never taking his eyes off of the strange man. Agony flashed across his face where he laid in the dirt.In his hands, he held a silver blade. Wings looked from Campbell to Dean, expression visibly softening.

“Give me your coat.” Dean didn’t have much time, glancing at Wings, he saw that a red gleam of blood was starting to trickle from the corner of his mouth and his eyes moved frantically. He slid down the slope and went to take off his jacket and remembered his was only in his boxers. “ NOW .”

Campbell shirked it off and threw it at Dean, staying exactly where he was. Moving quickly, Dean pressed the thick fabric to the wound, moving his other hand to the back side to see where the bullet went. There was no opening there, and he was thankful that Wings was naked. He could skip the sometimes detrimental process of removing his clothes to assess the wound better.

He tied the jacket around him and slid one arm under his legs and the other across his shoulder blades, lifting him up carefully. Dean had to get him back to his house immediately, before Wings lost too much blood.

One last time, he regarded Campbell. He felt the sneer tug his lip up, his voice like acid trying to eat through the other man’s bones until he was nothing. “Get the fuck off my property. And don’t tell anyone about this. He’ll be fine, not that you care. But you won’t be if I see you here again, or if I hear about this from anyone. Do I make myself clear?”

Samuel’s eyes darkened clearly at war with Dean’s threat, but his skin was taking on a pallor akin to lethal blood loss. He nodded curtly, acknowledging the agreement, at least for the moment.

Reasonably satisfied that Campbell wouldn’t shoot them in the back, Dean turned and left, the body draped over his shoulder too warm.Dean’s hand wrapped around, hand feathering over his taut side, avoiding the wound. He could feel his fingers wet with blood.

Wings was whispering something feverishly, though Dean couldn’t catch a word of it, his eyes glazed over with pain, searching the sky for something with a fervor of a religious man with hell hounds on his heels.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Dean murmured, straining to carry the both of them the distance to the cabin. “I’ve got you.”

Wing’s head lolled to the side, and his body went slack. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but Dean couldn’t afford to cry now. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to get them inside safely. He swallowed the terror. He ducked and wove through the undergrowth, fearing that the drooping wings would catch on a branch or boulder.

The time it took until he could lay Wings down on his dining room table felt like hell had manifested on Earth, keenly able to feel life slipping away in his arms.

Once Dean managed to put Wings on the table without his head smacking the wood, he tore the kitchen apart for salt and a bowl of water and some clean washcloths, and sprinted to the bathroom, yanking the drawers out and emptying their contents onto the counter and sink until his eyes landed on the tweezers and isopropyl alcohol.

It wasn’t a perfect med kit, but there was no other choice. It had to do.

Dean approached the table cautiously, worried that too much movement would set him off. The dark wingspan spread out almost three feet on either side of the table and Dean swallowed a stone.

He had no idea what to do next, not really. The closest experience he’d had to being a doctor had been treating John’s stab wound when he was thirteen and John had come home more beaten than usual.

He stared helplessly down at Wings.

“He...help.” Wings voice was like a ghost’s, he barely heard it, and he was standing right next to him. He looked up at the cobwebbed chandelier lighting like it was something holy and mesmerizing and Dean realized he was losing him.

“Shhh… it’s okay.” His forehead was sticky with sweat and drying blood, and Dean pushed some of the unruly black wisps from his eyes, humming low. “I’m gonna help you.”

Wings hand shook, following the edge of the table, feverishly searching for something to hold onto. Tentatively, Dean slid his fingers between his, feeling his calloused palm against his own. “Wings. Wings, you gotta listen to me. Wings, please . You have to lay still.”

He had no idea if the man understood a single word he was saying, but it seemed to do the trick. Over the span of a terrible minute, his breathing slowed down, and his grip on Dean’s hand went from frail to almost bone crushingly alive.

Wings’ blue eyes were on him, flickering a little in the low light. Dean waited, untrained, unable and unwilling to play operation on him while he was still conscious, eyes desperate to look at anything but the daunting task before him.

Eventually, he passed out, his painful grimace replaced by a soft one, and Dean began to remove the shrapnel bullet, praying to anyone who was listening that it had not shredded his insides beyond repair.

▵▿▵

At some point in the night, Dean had gotten up to draw the curtains and lock the door, willing to sacrifice only a moment to seal them away from the rest of the world.

Now, sunlight pierced through the cracks, illuminating them both in thin lines of white light. He watched Wings toss and turn, his face gnarling into pain each time he moved.

What if Dean had fucked it up? What if the next breath he drew was his last? His mind raced, punishing him for every moment’s hesitation that could very well lead to his death.

Dean caught himself following Wings jawline, examining the stark contours of his face like he would never see them again. Please, just please make it out alive.

“Don’t die on me, Wings.” The words slipped out subconsciously. “Please, God, don’t die on me.”

Dean had the decency to cover him up with the quilt. The two’s hands were still tightly entwined long after the heartbeat in Wing’s wrist lulled Dean into sleep, tumbling heart over head.

#honestly i think i'm gonna reverse the title #I HATE TITLES what kinda corny ass things i come up with lmao #but for now.#that's what its called #cabin au #*#mine

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stubbychaos · 4 years ago

Text

Something I Can Never Have

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4

Chapter 5 of Saviin’ika

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: After days pass without you seeing your blue Mandalorian, you force yourself to make a promise that will ultimately strip you of your happiness, though you find it hard to stay true to your word. In the process, you also meet an unlikely companion that will teach you that not everything on Nevarro is ugly.

Rating: M for darker themes pertaining to abuse, animal neglect/fur trading, unresolved sexual tension.

Word Count: 10,000 (at least there’s finally plot lol)

Warnings: This chapter definitely starts off very dark and has descriptions of intense injuries. There’s pretty graphic descriptions of manipulation and abuse (I tried to keep all actual descriptions of the father actually abusing saviin’ika very non-detailed, but still, please read with caution if such topics make you upset and DM me if you want a safe summary of the chapter <3). There’s also a brief mention of animal neglect, but again, nothing descriptive at all!

A/N will be at end of the chapter!

“You know everything I do is for your own good, right? To make you stronger?”

You force yourself to nod when a crooked finger presses cruelly against the small gash at your hairline and you find yourself desperately missing the much softer touch of your Mandalorian; a few droplets of blood trickle past your brow and into the soft divot of your eyelid.

“Then why do you never learn?”

“I... I don’t know,” You whisper weakly, your body limp and weak against the uncomfortable cot, “I am sorry.”

“I only hurt you because I care about you--because I want you to be better. Do you understand that? If you just did your fucking job and listened to what I say, I wouldn’t have to hurt you all the time,” Your father informs you, though you’re certain he’s trying to rationalize his own actions so he can sleep at night, rather than actually comforting you, “I don’t want you wasting your time on someone who doesn’t care about you, not when you’re needed here and nowhere else. How long has it been since you’ve seen him? Two or three weeks?”

Your chest aches at his cruel words.

Sixteen days.

It’s been sixteen days since you’ve seen him and you’re certain it’s your own fault he stopped showing up without a word as to why.

After your companion had taken you to see the waterfalls, your father had been utterly infuriated upon seeing you with the Beskar-clad warrior, lengthening your shifts from easier twelve hour days to shifts that nearly lasted twenty hours. After finally emerging from the infirmary nearly twenty hours after he’d taken you to watch the sunrise, you had been absolutely heartbroken to find that your blue Mandalorian had not been waiting for you in the wee hours of the morning. After nearly half an hour of standing around, you had shrugged it off and slowly made your way home; you honestly wouldn’t expect anyone to wait for you that long and figured you would see him at some point later.

But then he’s not there the next day when you get off at a somewhat reasonable time--or the night after that.

Thinking that perhaps an emergency had arose in his tribe, you find yourself waiting against his usual spot the following nights when you are finally released from your agonizingly long shifts.

Still, he does not show up and while your faith in the Mandalorian is slightly shaken, it is not completely broken and hope still flickers in your chest like a tiny spark.

“It has been however many fucking days and you think he’s going to come back for an incompetent girl? He’s probably already forgotten about you. Why did the Maker curse me by having you as my last living blood?”

Your eyelids slip shut at the same time a tear trickles along the bridge of your nose and lands somewhere on the stiff cot that you physically cannot lift yourself from; you think you’ve heard him utter those words more times than he’s ever said ‘I love you’ or, ‘I’m proud of you’. You try to think of the last time he’s said something kind or encouraging to you, but your mind is foggy and the room around you is spinning wildly, breaths leaving your lungs in erratic little patterns that you have no control over.

You can’t even remember the last time he attempted a small smile in your direction, let alone a reassuring sentiment.

You’re certain that at least one of your ribs is fractured or broken and you vaguely remember patching up your blue Mandalorian upon your initial meeting, though that moment seems so far away and out of reach. You swear you can still feel how scalding his skin had been underneath your skilled hands and how the muscles in his abdomen had contracted and tensed upon feeling you rubbing that salve against sore ribs.

Your dry throat constricts and you force a sob away when you remember that night he had carried you home and tenderly treated your wounds while you were in and out of sleep, going so far to even take out your braids and massage your tender scalp.

You ponder what he would say or think upon seeing your current state--curled up on your own medical cot, bruised and battered and unable to work. Even if he found you to be pitiful, you’re certain he would manage to make you feel better and you hate that the ache in your chest is worse than the one in your bruised ribs.

“Look at me when I speak to you,” He furiously demands and you reluctantly crack your eyelids open, your head aching from the fluorescent lighting that assaults your sensitive eyes; you think you must be concussed, “You’re wasting your time with the Mandalorian, you know that deep down, don’t you? Do you even realize what they would do to a weak woman like yourself? His people are known to be ruthless and unforgiving towards outsiders. He’s going to turn his back on you or take advantage of--”

You tune him out after that.

Partially because you don’t wish to listen to the lies that he spits like venom and also because the ringing in your ears makes it hard to hear much of anything; you don’t want to hear what kind of torture he believes that the Mandalorians would ever inflict upon people like you when you know it to be false. It actually upsets you to the point of nausea--that another man who has hurt you so badly could attempt to convince you that the only man who’s ever shown you kindness and that you are absolutely infatuated with was against you--that he only wishes to harm you in the cruelest way possible.

Your Mandalorian--cruel?

Impossible.

You think you know your selfless, caring Mandalorian better than you know the back of your own hand and the horrific assumptions your father implies causes a terrible ache to form in the pit of your stomach--a disgusting feeling that makes you want to retaliate, though you force yourself to calm down. You truly do not want to intensify his anger; not when your ribs are aching something awful and the pounding in the back of your skull throbs more achingly the more he spews insults.

Ignoring the anger that quells deep in the pit of your belly, you let your eyes slip shut again and think of blue Beskar instead, or how lovely you think his visor looks in the moonlight, despite not being able to see what he truly looks like underneath his helmet. Though he threatened the life of the very man who hurt you so badly that you currently can’t even move, you think him to have the kindest soul you’ve ever known and you pray that he isn’t too upset when you see him again.

If you see him again.

As your father continues to remind you that you don't deserve the little happy moments that the Mandalorian has gifted you with in such a short amount of time, you try to ignore the fact your companion lied to you. You’re almost certain that it’s not his fault--that something complicated must have developed within his beloved tribe and though you worry for him, you also can’t help but to let your father’s venomous words manipulate your mind into briefly thinking that he’s completely abandoned you.

Usually your injuries are easy to hide with the long sleeves of your dress or longer leggings, but you can feel the contusion that's currently forming around your eye, as well as the blood that's starting to dry and grow crusty at your hairline. You’re only slightly grateful he hasn’t been there for you the past few days, knowing he would absolutely loathe to see what’s become of you and how messy and tangled your usually soft mane has become--

How you haven’t even bothered to decorate your messy braids with vibrant flowers because you no longer feel joy upon wearing them.

You think the skin that's visible must resemble your Mandalorian's dark blue armor and you find the irony of the realization sick and cruel; it’s unfair because you’ve always thought his scuffed up armor to be beautiful, but there’s nothing beautiful about your current state.

If you possessed even a fraction of the Mandalorian’s strength, you would not be in this painful position and you wished you were somewhere so far away where your father's violent nature was nothing more than a distant, faded memory. You think of the planet your Mando had described to you just weeks ago--Felucia--and vibrant flora that towers over the heavy-infantry warrior; you wonder if he had been making the story up to cheer you up, though you know him to be an honest man.

“Maybe one day I will have the chance to take you there, mesh’la.”

The mere thought of traveling among the stars with the warrior is enough to subdue the pain that’s coursing through your bruised body and your lips barely stretch into a tiny smile; you know it’s something that will most likely come to fruition, but perhaps if you get lucky, it will come to you in the form of a lovely dream one night.

“Clean yourself and get up,” Your father grunts upon realizing that you’ve been ignoring his deprecating speech, “You have a long shift today.”

“My head though,” You grimace when his fingers curl into fists, tears burning something fierce in your eyes at the thought of simply moving, let alone working a full shift in your current state, “I--I think I’m concussed.”

“If you have the energy to complain, then you have the energy to work,” He hisses and you let out a pained yelp when he roughly grabs your elbow and yanks you into a sitting position; the room spins around you and bile rises in your esophagus, “You should be thanking me for not breaking anything important, like your hands or legs. You gonna thank me? Or you gonna keep being an ungrateful bitch all the time?”

You clench your jaw and swallow the lump in your throat, feeling absolutely pathetic as you speak through your teeth, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” He spats and you cringe when you smell the alcohol and spice on his breath, “I will not have you disrespecting me when I’ve done so much for you. You’re going to stop seeing the Mandalorian if he shows back up again, okay? I don’t need him filling your head with such foolish fantasies and thoughts, especially when he’s distracting you from your job so much.”

“Father, please,” You beg, no longer caring about sounding so feeble because nothing leaves you feeling more bereft of all hope than the thought of not seeing your kindhearted Mandalorian if he chooses to ever come back “I promise I’ll be better and I’ll stop talking back all the time! Please, don’t make me do this. I’ll be a better daughter if you just--”

“If I just what?” He scoffs, sounding disgusted and you think his next words are probably the most heart-shattering words he’s ever uttered, “There is nothing I could do--nothing you could do--to ever make you be a better daughter.”

Tears trickle down your bruised cheeks as you force yourself not to sob, “Please don’t take him away from me.”

“Your Mandalorian has already given up on you, yet you try to defend him? If he truly cared, he would have been here for you days ago. Your cowardly warrior does not care for you like I do,” Your tears don’t affect him--they never have--and he almost seems amused as he wraps his dirty fingers around your wrist, squeezing until you cry out from the pain, “Don’t make me break your hands, little one,” He warns and you ponder how someone could be so cruel as to rob you of two of the only things that bring you the most joy, “They may bring in a lot of credits for me, but I would not be sad about breaking one or two fingers.”

It hurts to breathe, let alone cry, and you somehow manage to subdue your tears, though you have not felt such devastation in years. The pain in your ribs and the back of your skull is nothing more than a flicker of a thought as you contemplate what it is he wants you to give up. The anger you felt earlier upon hearing him talk so horrifically about your Mandalorian is nothing to the flames that currently dance wildly in your belly, making you feel absolutely feral and resentful towards your only living family.

“Don’t worry,” He coos when you sniffle and struggle to force your sobs away, “It wouldn’t be enough to keep you from doing your job, just enough to get the point across.”

Your body shakes with breathless, silent sobs that cause your ribs burn and throb in absolute agony, though you think your father’s words hurt far worse.

“No, mesh’la,” You remember your companion’s response upon hearing how you insisted that your father was family and didn’t deserve to be harmed, “He is a monster that deserves to feel shame for what he’s done to his own blood.”

“You really are a monster,” You speak the realization out loud, as if all the past abuse hadn’t been a clear indicator of that, “How could you be so cruel to your own daughter?”

He scoffs and finally releases your wrist from his painful grip, “I don’t have a daughter, just an incompetent nurse who can’t properly do her job because she’s too busy daydreaming about a future she’ll never have. Forget the Mandalorian and focus on your job, or else I’ll really make things far more miserable for the two of you and make sure you never help another fucking patient for the rest of your life.”

“You may be able to do this to me, but he would not let you lay a hand on him.”

“I can hurt him in other ways,” The cruel man reassures you, something dark and ruthless glimmering in his dark eyes; you wonder how a man can be filled with so much hatred and disgust towards their only blood, “If he cares for you as much as you think he does, then I think he wouldn’t be too happy if you suddenly disappeared, if he thought you ran away. Shit, perhaps he just wouldn’t care at all.”

You’re certain it’s a threat against your life, but the way he says it so nonchalantly fills you with utter resentment towards him and your chest heaves. You think back to when the infirmary had been robbed a couple months ago and how the bandit threatening your life had held a blaster to your forehead, but that seems like nothing compared to your father’s violent promise. Though you haven’t seen your Mandalorian in over two weeks and there’s a chance that he’s already tired himself of you, the thought of him showing up one night to simply find out that you ‘ran away’--well, you’re certain he wouldn’t believe a word that comes out of your father’s mouth.

He wouldn’t, right?

...Right?

You’re not sure what thought is worse, your Mandalorian feeling betrayed at the thought you would simply take off without a word or his reaction upon finding your lifeless body wherever your father would dump it, should he be the one to discover it.

“He would kill you,” You weakly inform him, though you feel that you have already lost this fight, “He already wants to.”

“I have connections too, little one,” He refutes easily and you know he’s only telling the truth by the way he smirks, “Ones much more powerful than a coward who chooses to live a life hidden in the shadows.”

Your fingers loosely curl into a fist at the insult, but you remain silent when you see his own hands form into much tighter fists.

“Forget him,” The cruel man repeats in a hushed growl and you refuse to meet his angry glare, “Or else you will both regret it.”

The words hurt more than his fists and you loathe that your voice cracks when you speak in a broken whisper, “Yes father.”

“Now, get up and get to work--you look like a damn mess.”

You weakly nod and tiredly wipe a hand down your face as your father leaves your office with the slam of a door, making you flinch at the aggressive action. You wince upon feeling the new bruises splayed across your skin and carefully slide off the medical cot, gripping the metal railing with stiff fingers and pressing your other hand to your aching ribs. Wearily, you make your way to the mirror that sits on your desk and squeeze your eyes shut upon seeing purple and blue bruises covering nearly half of your face, along with your neck and jaw.

You think you look just as bad as you feel.

After washing your hands and retrieving your suture kit, you slowly sink into your chair and begin the painful process of cleaning and stitching the gash at your hairline. The pain that comes with the horrific sensation of a long, hooked needle piercing your skin and tugging bloodied skin back together is pretty intense, it’s nothing compared to the agony that threatens to rip you apart when it dawns on you that your father truly expects you to forget the Mandalorian, as though he’s some sort of toy that you’ve outgrown.

“Why me?” You question nobody in particular, or perhaps the Maker that has cruelly elected you to such a painful life, “Stars... why me?”

Even though your vision blurs with tears and the throbbing pain in the back of your skull is damn near incapacitating, you continue to stitch and treat your own wounds, and you grow bitter upon realizing you’re your own patient. This is not what you envisioned when your mother decided to teach you everything she knew, hoping that someday you would have the same skills she possessed, though she was far more of a talented nurse than you could ever hope to be.

You don’t remember much of your mother, nor her soft voice and kindhearted touch, but as you finish tending to your wounds and force yourself to forget the blue Mandalorian that never truly leaves your mind, you focus on the patients that slowly trickle in and out of the infirmary for the next twenty hours or so. You’re far too injured to be working and even though your vision is doubled and speckled by black dots, you force yourself to focus and do your job. Only a few mention your new wounds, but when you insist that you were simply mugged the night before, they promptly drop the subject and you continue with your day as best as you’re physically able to.

As you find yourself thinking of your Mandalorian’s deep baritone and how he would hold you like it was pure instinct, you realize now what the warrior truly meant when he spoke of you feeling homesick for a home you had never even known.

You think the warmth and safety of the blue Mandalorian’s arms are the closest you’ll ever know to having a home and it is the only think that gets you through the most painful shift of your life.

When your shift ends eighteen hours later, black spots dot your vision and you can barely breathe with the intense, agonizing pain in your side.

You only make it a few buildings past the infirmary, nearly passing the dirty cantina you’ve known a few of your scummy regulars to frequent when you hear it.

It starts off as a high-pitched whine that eventually dissolves into pained whimpers that wrack your heart and pique your undying curiosity.

Despite the exhaustion that bleeds into every single one of your senses, the painfully heart wrenching noises of a creature beckoning for you to help it overpowers any other rational thought that your concussed mind can possibly conjure.

You know how absolutely dangerous the village is at this hour, but something about the hopeless whimpers combined with the fluorescent red eyes that seem to reflect underneath the moonlight absolutely haunts you. Though it’s difficult to make out anything in the dark, you’re very much aware of how desperate the strange creature sounds like it’s being tortured and despite the traumatizing events of the day you’ve just experienced, your natural instincts have you making your way to the helpless animal.

As you get closer, it reluctantly emerges from the safety of the dark corner it has been hiding in and you gasp out loud at the strange, yet astonishing sight in front of you.

The ethereal moonlight seems to reflect off of the creature’s gorgeous crystalline coat and you press the back of your hand to your mouth when you realize the poor animal is tied up to a kriffing dumpster on the outside of a disgusting cantina.

How could anyone tether something so absolutely beautiful to something so dirty?

You nearly sob and your heart aches something fierce as you cautiously make your way over to the whimpering creature, it’s bright crimson eyes seeming to glow in the darkness of the night and you hesitate when it lets out a shrill noise as it moves in a way that must cause intense pain.

The tiny cub shakes its beautiful coat and you startle a little when you hear the soft clinking of crystals jangling against one another, its coat seeming to be clad with some sort of stunning, reflective mineral. You’ve never seen something so ghostly or intangible and you raise your brows when the creature politely sits on its hind legs and stares up at you, its front paw lifted off the ground and you realize it must be injured if it refuses to support any weight on the wounded appendage.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” You coo, utterly entranced, but determined to help what seems to be such an innocent, beautiful creature; despite the horrific pain in your own ribs, you slowly sink to your knees and hold a soft hand out for the cute cub to sniff, “I only want to help you.”

The cub tilts its head to the side and you nearly giggle at how big its ears seem compared to its little head; the peaks of the crystalline ears look dangerously sharp and you remind yourself that this is a feral animal that could easily deal some serious damage upon feeling threatened. Keeping that in mind, you slowly reach into the pouch at your hip where you think you still have some sort of sustenance left over from your meek lunch.

Clumsily, the beautiful creature hobbles forward and eagerly accepts the piece of jerky you’re offering. For the first time since parting ways with your Mandalorian sixteen days ago, you find yourself grinning when the fox-like creature makes a hacking noise, as if it expects some sort of luxurious cuisine, rather than dried out meat.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” You murmur, earning a curious tilt of the head from the clearly neglected animal, and your grin melts into a sad frown as you move to untie the thick rope that’s wrapped like a vice around its neck; it flinches severely and you think you understand its fear all too well, “It’s okay, I’m going to get you back to the infirmary and fix up that leg. I only wish to help, I promise.”

Something about the soft determination laced in your quiet voice must resonate with the creature, because it’s soulful, crimson eyes blink slowly up at youas it plops down and heaves a tired sigh. Using the vibroblade the blue Mandalorian had given you over a month ago, you carefully cut through the thick rope and your heart breaks when you realize the pale flesh underneath is absolutely rubbed raw and slightly bloody.

“Shh, it’s okay,” You coo when it lets out a little whine as you inspect the extent of its injuries, though they seem fairly minor, “I’m going to take care of you, I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You smile sympathetically and lean forward to carefully pick up the cub, marveling at how tiny the creature is and loathing that you can feel its ribs, even underneath its rocky coat. Slowly, you rise with the strange animal cradled cozily in your arms and ignore the pain in your ribs as you gently scratch its rocky chin. You’re met with the pleasant sound of a happy little shriek and you can’t stop yourself from giggling, not even noticing the sound of shuffling from behind you, nor the soft click of a weapon pointed in your direction.

“Drop the vulptex right now.”

You turn around so fast that you nearly knock yourself off balance, gasping when you realize the source of the voice belongs to a Trandoshan that towers over you by more than a foot; you tremble at how terrifying the reptilian species is. He’s pointing a rusty blaster right between your brows and you think that this day can’t possibly get any worse, what with your injuries, your father’s haunting words, and your Mandalorian’s continuous absence.

As if it senses your fear and sadness, along with the severity of the situation, the creature in your arms--the vulptex--whines a little and tucks its wet snout against the crook of your neck.

“Drop the mutt,” The Trandoshan hisses, his Basic a little choppy and slurred as he staggers closer until the cold barrel of his weapon is pressed firmly against your forehead; you’re shocked that you manage to not tear up from fear alone as you stare into his emotionless yellow eyes.

“I would not surrender this abused creature so easily--not when your intentions are cruel,” You whisper, grunting a little when he shoves the blaster against you and urges you backwards into the stone wall, the back of your already aching skull colliding against the unforgiving surface, “Why would you own such a beautiful animal, only to harm it?”

“You think I actually care about the damn noisy thing?” He scoffs, eyes darting down to the shaking creature that you hold so protectively to your chest, “Her coat right now could easily earn me over two thousand credits; I don’t give a shit if she’s hurt or not, I only care about the pretty reward she will bring me.”

You glare fiercely at him, hating that your eyes fill with tears simply from the thought of the precious creature being bred and born for no other purpose than the cruel intentions of a sick man. Unconsciously, you hold the vulptex tighter against you, hating the little squeaks and whimpers she lets out, as though she’s aware of the torture she will endure if she ends up in the hands of this monster.

“Hand it over and I won’t hurt you,” He steps closer until his scaly body is pressed against yours and it all feels wrong and gross and you force your mind to go anywhere else than the wall of a dirty cantina, “Though I don’t think I would mind seeing you with more bruises, little one--seems like I’m not the first one you’ve manage to piss off today.”

For the umpteenth time that day, anger swells like a grave wound in the pit of your stomach and you hate that it only makes your tears burn hotter in your eyes, leaving a trail of scorching fire down your cheek. You cringe when the Trandoshan reaches forward to grab your bruised face and you’re hasty and panicked as you speak up before he can do anymore damage to your already wounded skin.

“Put the blaster down and I’ll give her back, I swear!”

He makes a strange hissing noise and grips your bruised cheeks harder, making you cry out in pain, “This is not a negotiation, little one. Just hand over the fucking mutt and I might let you leave in one piece.”

Though your voice shakes, you somehow steel your nerves and stand your ground, “I will give you your animal once you put down the blaster. How do I know you won’t just shoot me dead as soon as I hand her over?” You question, realizing that the confusion in your voice must affect him severely and when you speak up again, your voice is filled with fury.

“Put. It. Down.”

“Only because your anger is amusing.”

The Trandoshan clicks his tongue angrily at you and lets out the most vicious growl you’ve ever heard, though you must be convincing enough because he finally eases his body off of your much smaller one. Your heart pounds frantically in your chest as you watch him bend down a little to holster the unforgiving weapon and you remember what your Mandalorian had once told you in regards to defending yourself against enemies larger than you.

Without really thinking of the consequences, you promptly bring your knee up into the enormous Trandoshan’s groin, cringing at the loud yelp the man lets out and you further the damage by swinging your calf upwards when he nearly collapses, your ankle colliding with what you’re sure is his most sensitive appendage.

The fox-like creature in your arms whines and squeaks profusely as you take advantage of the situation by sprinting to the end of the alleyway where you know you can make a quick escape into the infirmary that’s just a few buildings away from your current location.

Your feet move before your mind even registers your actions and all that you know is that your cruel attacker is bent down at the waist, nearly on his knees and crying out in pain as you quickly sprint as fast as your aching legs will allow you to. Pain is radiating throughout your entire body, but you ignore it as you focus your entire being on getting out of a dangerous situation in one piece.

You think you’re safe and in the clear when a massive arm wraps tightly around your waist and tugs you close to them, causing you to cry out in pain and desperation as you angrily kick your legs about. In a furious rage, you shriek and thrash against the impossibly tight grasp your new attacker has on you and it fills you with utter fury; it’s the third time today that someone’s hurt you and something about the realization fills you with resentment and grief.

Barely registering the familiar baritone that attempts to calm you in a softer, exasperated tone, you thrash wildly against the arm that holds you to an unyielding chest. It’s familiar, but you’re certain that your mind is playing cruel tricks on you and you are not willing to give in so easily to your captor.

“Let me go!” You shriek, absolutely blinded by fear and terror to register that the one holding you to his chest is your only other companion--the only man you’ve ever trusted. His arm is wrapped around the worst of your bruising and you feel as though you're being crushed so heavily by the weight of your own consequences, more so than his armor.

"Shh, It's me," The familiar voice shushes you and you feel shame that you didn't recognize it earlier, that you didn’t even realize it was Beskar digging into your broken body, "I've got you--you're safe. Please don’t… don’t cry, mesh’la. Shit, please don’t cry--it’s just me."

‘It’s just me.’

He says it like you haven’t been waiting for him every night for weeks and you nearly sob at how unconcerned he sounds when you spent so much time terrified that he had simply abandoned you or had gotten gravely injured.

Before you can even think about weakly asking him why he didn't show up all those nights ago, another voice--a much angrier one--echoes from down the sidewalk. You're not sure whether your shakiness is from fear or adrenaline, but the warrior doesn't lessen his grip and holds your back tightly to his Beskar-clad chest. You’re grateful when he removes his arm from around your tender ribs, deciding that just above your chest seems like a better option and if you weren’t so shaken up, you’d blush upon feeling his fingers gently squeeze your shoulder in a comforting way.

"You fucking little--"

Immediately, your attacker’s angry tone dies down as he realizes that someone new has entered the altercation, immediately spotting the irritated Mandalorian that’s holding you and the ethereal creature securely with one arm, his other stretched past your head as he steadily aims a long blaster in the Trandoshan's direction. Though the intimidating criminal stands just as tall as the blue heavy-infantry warrior, you're certain that he's not nearly as broad or as intimidating.

Definitely not as skilled in his drunken stupor.

Your attacker's eyes widen just a fraction upon realizing who's currently holding you and your breath catches in your throat when he refuses to lower his blaster--would he really be so foolish to challenge someone who was trained from childhood to be a skilled warrior? You feel the Mandalorian fist the material of your dress that covers your shoulder and if you weren't so focused on the tense situation, you would have complained about the burning pain that shoots through your side at how closely he holds you to him to his Beskar chest. Swiftly and not unkindly in the slightest, the warrior gently urges you behind him and you’re quick to let out a deep exhale that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in since he initially grabbed you.

"I don't want any trouble, Mando," The Trandoshan's voice drops, as though he can sense the anger rolling off of your Mandalorian's Beskar, "I just want the vulptex back--the girl is a thief and I want my reward."

“Thief, huh?” The blue warrior cocks his head to the side, like he's amused by the thought of you committing any sort of crime, "Seems to me like you're the thief. Vulptices only reside on Crait and are protected by law, even in the Outer Rim. I’m sure you already know that though."

“Since when do Mandalorians have morals?”

Your Mandalorian doesn’t say anything in response and you think that his silence is far more fearful than whatever else he could have said in retaliation. His leather-clad hand slowly reaches behind him and your cheeks burn something painfully fierce when you realize he’s reaching out for you, as though he’s worried that you’ve somehow vanished or that your visible injuries are because of the Trandoshan.

Despite the promise you made to your father earlier, you’re unable to resist the urge to reach out for him as well. As your fingers intertwine with his and you give them a gentle squeeze, your father’s words haunt you and tears fill your eyes when you remember you’re going to have to break off the tender relationship you’ve somehow formed with him in such a short amount of time. You thought that nothing would hurt worse than convincing your father that you would simply focus on work, rather than your Mandalorian, but now that he’s actually there and holding your hand like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever held?

You’re absolutely terrified that your heart is going to break into hundreds of piercing shards and somehow hurt him, even with the protection of his precious Beskar armor.

Upon realizing that the heavy-infantry Mandalorian isn’t going to relent, your attacker seems to falter and finally lowers his blaster upon hearing the warrior’s next words.

“I’m sure a fur-trader like yourself would have a pretty big bounty on their head,” A squeeze of your own hand fills you with warmth and reassurance as he argues with the cruel man that holds such ill intentions for such a beautiful creature, "I would not mind handing you over to a bounty hunter and seeing how much I could make off of someone like yourself."

“You really don’t want to do this, Mando,” The Trandoshan hisses and you realize that he’s trying to convince your Mandalorian to hand you and your newest companion over, “They’re not worth it--I promise.”

Thick fingers curl tightly around yours and you hate that your heart skips a little when you realize he’s silently reassuring you that you are worth all this trouble, a notion that’s difficult for you to truly believe after the past few weeks. You want to be upset with him for disappearing without a word, but you’re certain that he must have a reasonable explanation and fear churns in the pit of your belly when you remind yourself of the promise you’d made to your father earlier.

“I think he wouldn’t be too happy if you suddenly disappeared, if he thought you ran away…”

Tears burn painfully in your eyes as the Trandoshan relents with a furious growl, sending you one last glare as he angrily makes his way back into the cantina. The Mandalorian stands deathly still as he continues to stare at the spot where your attacker had previously occupied and you think that he must be collecting his thoughts before he speaks out loud. You’re certain that this isn’t how he expected your reunion to go--you pissing off a Trandoshan that rivals his own strength and having to yank you out of a bad situation--but as he slowly turns to regard you and the creature you cradle so closely to your chest, you think he’s not angry with you.

“Seems like you’ve had quite the day, saviin’ika,” He observes with a cocked helmet, his hand slowly moving to the underside of your jaw so he can tilt your head back to get a better view of your newest injuries; judging by the tension laced in his baritone, along with the way his chest heaves, you must appear as awful as you feel, “Not a good one, at that.”

The weight of his grave words fill your eyes with tears and you squeeze your eyes shut when the cold leather covering his calloused thumb ghosts along the apple of your bruised cheek; it brings you back to when he carried you to your hut and tended to your wounds. Somehow, his touch seems far gentler right now than it had that night, despite him wearing his gloves and it only makes you want to cry harder for the tender warrior.

“Y-You weren’t...” You force yourself not to sob, as you feel you’ve cried far too much for one day, “Where did you go? I-I waited, just like I promised. I know it was so late the first day, but after that I kept waiting and y-you never showed up and I thought you--”

Your voice cracks and you think from the way he slumps forward a little he must feel the pain that’s so prevalent in your broken words; he raises his hands in a pleading gesture as your tears burst like a kriffing dam. You’re certain it’s just the events of the day, combined with being concussed and absolutely exhausted that’’s making you so emotional, but you don’t care anymore and let it all out.

“I… I am sorry I have not been here for you,” He sounds ashamed as he leans down to tenderly press his Beskar-clad forehead against your bare one, taking great care to not bump into your stitches, “There were problems in the tribe that needed to be taken care of. I did not intend for it to last this long.”

You hesitate to open your eyes and peer up at him, though when you do, you find that the sight of his scuffed up helmet and visor bring you more comfort than what you’ve felt since his absence, “Are your people okay? I could help if someone is injured or--”

“No, mesh’la,” He still sounds pained as his fingers graze the edges of the bandage that covers the stitches at your hairline, “Everyone is okay, but thank you for your concern. It was just a dangerous mission that our bounty hunter needed help with and some negotiating with the tribe that I needed to be there for. I did not want to be away from you for this long--it was not my intentions--but I know that one day soon you will understand. Please don’t cry, I’m sorry.”

“No, I just... there is nothing to forgive. Your tribe should always come first,” You shake your head as you viciously wipe the tears from your cheeks, “It’s been a long day and I’m just being... I’m just tired--I’m exhausted and hurt.”

“Then let me take care of you, little nurse.”

“You… you should not be here; you should be with your own people,” You force out in a tiny whisper, though he does not seem afraid by your words in the slightest, “This is--what we have..” You hate that your expression crumbles and your voice breaks, because he immediately tilts his helmet, as though he already sees right through your lies, “It is wrong.”

He scoffs and you’re barely aware of the way he gently curls his fingers around your hip, pushing you up against the infirmary you had somehow made it to in your hysteria. Judging by the way he shakes his helmet at you and easily backs you up until you're pressed to the brick wall of the broken down place you work at, you think he must not believe your words at all. You feel as though you do not have the strength to explain what is going on as he cockily rests a forearm right next to your cheek against the brick wall of the infirmary that he’s successfully trapped you against.

“This is wrong, mesh’la?” He questions softly--desperately--and you think your heart might combust at how gentle his modulated baritone is, “Is it so wrong that I couldn’t stop thinking of your eyes and smile every night I was away from you? Is it wrong that I dream of how soft your hair feels when I take off my gloves or that I only wish to hold you when I am alone in my bed at night? Would you really be so cruel to me after I traveled so long just to see your pretty face?"

“Was it not cruel of you to be away for so long without me knowing why? I thought you might have...” Your gaze lowers to his cuirass in embarrassment and shame, “I thought you were injured or that maybe you just didn’t... you didn’t want me anymore.”

He tenses, back straightening as he makes a strange choking noise, “I always want you--I always will. It pained me to not be able to see you in person, but you were in my dreams whenever I actually managed to get sleep. Do you really not want this anymore? Did I hurt you that badly?” He suddenly sounds fearful and your heart absolutely aches in your chest, “I would get on my knees and ask for forgiveness if that is what you wished for.”

“I would not allow your big ego to take that big of a hit,” You jokingly whisper--a poor attempt to lighten the situation, though it stops him right before he can fall to his knees, “This is--it’s just something that cannot go on any longer.”

“You are making no sense to me, mesh’la.”

You release a small sigh when his fingers drift up to the remnants of dried blood that have crusted into your roots, “I am not a cruel woman, Mandalorian, I am tired and I would not let you feel the same pain I have felt,” You whisper the last part as he gently nudges his forehead against yours, “I would not wish it upon anyone, especially you.”

“You think your father could hurt me?” The Mandalorian’s thumb is rubbing soothing circles into your hip as he tilts his helmet, forehead still pressed to yours and you force your expression not to crumble when you remember your father’s words from earlier, “He wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on me--he wouldn’t be able to even think about it before I’d have him in ashes at your feet.”

“Must you make everything so difficult?” You inquire lips trembling because he does not realize the true extent of the kind of pain your father it able to inflict on the fearless warrior without even laying a finger on him, “You should leave. P-Please, you do not understand what he is--what he can do to you.”

“What did he say to you? Please tell me he did not get inside that pretty head of yours,” He taps the underside of your chin and urges you to peer up at his visor and you fear that he’ll see the despair and agony burning something fierce in your shimmering eyes, “Is that really what you wish for, mesh’la? You gonna break my heart like this?”

“You know what I wish for, yet it is something I can never have, Mandalorian.”

“Don’t do this to me, to us,” He sounds just as devastated as you feel and it only complicates the situation more than you could ever hope to anticipate as he continues to speak in the same tone, “Don’t take this away from me--not when it’s the only good thing we’ve both had in so long and I... please let me help you.”

He sounds so despondent and the graveness of it causes your heart to ache terribly as you shake your head frantically, tears streaming down your cheeks and into the leather covering his fingers.

“Let me take you away from here.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and rest the back of your head against the wall he has you trapped to; all confidence you had in your attempts to break things off with the Mandalorian dissipates the very moment you feel the cool leather of his thumb kiss the corner of your mouth. He cocks his helmet to the side when you turn your head further against his hand and slowly let your eyelids slip shut when your lips meet the palm of his black glove; you long for the warmth of his rough skin instead.

You simultaneously loathe and love that he has this effect on you--that he holds your heart so protectively in his palm--and you know you're playing a dangerous game as your free hand comes up to press against his much bigger one. You trap the cold leather close to your face and don’t care when you force him to apply the tiniest pressure to the blue and purple bruises covering half of your face.

You’re barely aware of the way he raises his fingers, so he causes you no pain.

He lets out a deep, dreamy sigh when you press a firm kiss to his palm and all thoughts pertaining to the promise you’d previously made to your father disappear as he tenderly strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“I have to tend to her wounds, Mandalorian,” You murmur when the vulptex cub lets out an irritated whine and you feel emptier when he reluctantly pulls his hand away from your face, though he keeps your hand trapped firmly in his.

“Then I will tend to yours after, mesh’la.”

“They really aren’t that bad,” You insist, though the ache in your ribs and the throbbing in the back of your skull reminds you otherwise, “They look a lot worse than they feel.”

“You are a terrible liar,” He sighs again and gently squeezes your hand as you lead him into the infirmary, taking great caution to lock the entrance behind you, “I can tell by the way you are breathing that your ribs are injured. Let me--just, please let me take care of you."

You should tell him to leave, your father's threat lingering in the back of your mind, but the temptation of your Mandalorian's bare touch outweighs any rational thought you might have had. So, you relent with hardly any fuss, giving the stubborn man a small nod as you tiredly guide him into your office and turn on the lights.

"I do not want you to see my body like this," You warn him as you tenderly lay the wounded creature in the center of your medical cot, "I am ashamed of my bruises and scars."

You barely glance at the warrior as he lazily removes his heavy cannon, as well as the jetpack that's attached to the huge weapon. He freezes upon hearing your meek words and shakes his helmet as you begin to disinfect your tiny patient’s minor wounds, earning you soft squeaks and whines in the process.

"That shame belongs to him, mesh'la," Your Mandalorian reassures you in a firm tone that makes you think he's upset, "Never feel ashamed for the cruelty of others, especially when you did nothing to deserve any of this. As for the scars, there is nothing embarrassing about the stories that tell your survival."

“Do you have many?” You question, not able to meet his emotionless visor, though something about how terse he sounds makes you think he’s not as stoic as he always tries to appear to be, “I know when I stitched you up a couple of months ago you, I just didn’t see many scars.”

“The armor doesn’t always hold up,” He quietly admits and you finally turn your head to peer up at the dents in his helmet; dread pumps through your veins when you realize the scars on his Beskar must have been a result of a powerful blaster shot and you wonder if the bare skin beneath is scarred as well, “I have many scars as well. Some I’ve gotten from fights I’m not so proud of, but they are still a part of me and tell the story of who I am today.”

You contemplate his words carefully, observing all the scuffs and dents in his dull blue armor before collecting your thoughts, “I am not a warrior like you and I did not get these scars from fighting in battles. There is no honor behind my story--behind learning how to take beatings and keeping my mouth shut so I won’t be hurt worse. This is not a battle, it’s just learning to live with it.”

You turn away from him when you fear that you won’t be able to hold your composure any longer, tensing a little when the Mandalorian speaks in a low, deeper baritone, “Maybe it is not a battle you’re fighting, but that doesn’t make you any less of a warrior, mesh’la. You’re far braver than anyone in this damn village and I’ll keep telling you that until you finally believe it.”

“And what if I never believe it? What will you do then?”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to keep saying it until the day I die.”

You smile sadly and not knowing how to respond, you simply fall into a thoughtful silence as you check the cub for any broken bones or wounds that might not be visible; after confirming nothing is broken, you spin around in your chair to face the Mandalorian. He’s leaning against your desk, wood creaking underneath the weight of his body as he stares right back at you with his bare hands resting on his hips. Just the way he stands when he’s in a relaxed environment screams confidence and power and you think it to be amazing that someone can consistently exude that kind of energy, even to someone like you--someone who’s seen him grow shy and even sometimes vulnerable.

“Would you please hand me the antibacterial cream?” You politely ask as you situate yourself in the most comfortable position that your bruised ribs will allow you to sit, offering him a tiny smile when he nods and turns around to reach up to the top shelf bolted to the wall, “Thank you.”

“Sure,” He hums as he makes his way over to you in two wide strides, seeming to be unbothered by you ordering him around, “All this trouble over a vulptex that looks like a little runt?”

“All creatures matter the same to me, Mandalorian,” You gratefully accept the little jar he holds out for you to take and you scoop out the white cream on two fingers, “No matter how big or small they are, they all deserve basic medical attention.”

“You’re something else, saviin’ika,” He informs you, sounding amused as he holds a hand out for the cub to sniff, though the ethereal creature merely turns its nose away and blinks slowly at you; the Mandalorian shakes his helmet with a grunt and turns his attention to you as he leans against the back of your chair.

“Do you know much of this species?”

The Mandalorian hums as he lazily wraps his fingers around the top of the backrest of your chair, seeming entirely comfortable to be this close to you, “I know they’re native to the planet of Crait, but other than that, I don’t know much else outside of the fur trade and them being smuggled and slaughtered for their crystal coats.”

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach and you hate that tears immediately burn your eyes as you stare at the precious little creature and her soulful crimson eyes, “S-Slaughtered?”

“It is best not to think about it, little nurse, especially when your heart is so soft compared to everyone else’s,” He sighs and he must be mentally kicking himself in the back of his scuffed up blue helmet for exposing you to such terrible news, “You did a good thing--saving this little runt. Her fate would have been… unfavorable, to say the least.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as he gently thumbs your braids that lack their usual vibrant flowers; they had all fallen out upon the beating you’d taken earlier and it felt so wrong to be without them, “Do you think her family--her mother--?”

“I don’t know,” He answers honestly, dutifully stroking the unruly baby hairs away from your forehead as you continue to wonder what kind of trauma this beautiful creature must have gone through, “Like I said, it is best to not think about it.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop thinking about what that man would have done to this poor animal,” You confess in a meek whisper as he smooths a calloused hand over your braids in a comforting manner, “How can people be so…?”

Your question hangs heavily in the air like a dark gray cloud and the Mandalorian makes a small noise in response, wordlessly answering that he doesn’t know why people are capable of acting so cruelly to those who don’t deserve it.

“That Trandoshan… did he do anything to you? I could go back and--”

“Always so ready to fight,” You smile sadly, watching as the cub slowly falls asleep underneath your tender hands and the soothing sensation that your homemade cream bestows upon its burning wounds, “He did not hurt me. If anything, I hurt him.”

You continue when he makes a questioning hum from the back of his throat, “I kind of uh, kicked him between his legs… twice?”

You blush fiercely when he makes a choked sound and reaches out to gently squeeze your nape, he sounds like he’s trying not to laugh when he speaks, “You kicked a man in the balls? A Trandoshan?”

“I was left with no other choice and did what I needed to.”

“You are much braver than you believe,” You think you hear a twinge of admiration in his cool baritone and shake your head a little at the sentiment, refusing to believe his words “I mean it. Not many with no fighting experience would have the courage to take on someone so much bigger to protect something so little, especially when you’re already hurt. You should feel proud.”

“Th-Thank you,” You whisper, shuddering when his hand slowly travels down your neck and settles on the space between your shoulder blades, rubbing the tension away from your aching muscle; your fingers fumble with the roll of gauze as you slowly finish wrapping it around the cub’s raw neck, “You are… you’re distracting me from my work, Mandalorian.”

“I would prefer to distract you in other ways, mesh’la,” That slight cockiness is back in his modulated voice and when you try so desperately to think of some sort of witty comeback, you find that your mind is full of thoughts of what other distractions he could possibly mean. His hand slowly trails up your back and around the slope of your shoulder, eventually stopping at the base of your throat and urging your head backwards so the back of your skull is gently pressed against his armored-clad abdomen and you’re peering up at him with wide, inquisitive eyes. He barely uses any pressure to control you and it’s then that you realize it’s not dominance he seeks, but more so your trust in him, and knowing that he would never harm you with ill intent.

“I have a patient to treat.”

“So do I.”

“I’m still upset with you.”

He releases the gentle, barely-there grip on your throat at your weak words and you exhale a long, deep sigh as you finish wrapping up the vulptex’s sprained paw with a small splint and a tight layer of gauze to keep the bones from shifting. Grabbing the thin pillow from the top of the medical cot, you slowly rise from your chair, fully aware of your Mandalorian’s attention on you as you place the pillow in a safe corner of the room before retrieving a small, metal dish that you would typically use to discard debris into upon treating injured patients. Instead, you fill it with water before placing some dried meat into a smaller dish, just in case your newest companion becomes hungry at some point throughout the night.

Once you settle the healing creature near its water and food bowls, you hesitantly turn to the Mandalorian that now occupies your chair, legs splayed wide, as though he doesn’t give a damn about how much space he takes up in your little office. As you approach him after making sure the cub is sound asleep and comfortable in her cozy corner, you find that you don't mind his hulking stature in the slightest and place a gentle hand on the spot between his pauldron and the lip of his helmet.

“Mesh’la,” He greets you in a quiet huff as you slowly lower yourself onto the cot with a pained expression etched upon your features; his hand moves to your thigh and carefully tugs you closer to him, “Your wounds?"

"I've done all that I can already," You inform him weakly, putting up no fight when he gently guides you into a laying position on your side by placing a firm hand on your shoulder, "I don't have anything for fractured ribs."

"I do," He begins to pull a familiar jar from the pouch at his hip and you shake your head a little upon realizing it's the bacta salve you gave him two months ago, "Please, let me take care of you the same way you take care of everyone else."

“I’m not used to--”You swallow the lump in your throat and eventually nod your consent, melting into the stiff cot when he gently wraps his fingers around your bare calf and you speak in a weak whisper, "Okay, just please be careful, the bruising is--it's pretty bad."

"I would never--" His chest heaves and his head tilts as his visor lands on your face, "I'll always be gentle with you, mesh'la."

You nod and fully relax against the mattress, peering at his scuffed up helmet as his fingers curl into the hem of your dress; you think his hesitation is endearing because most men would not have the same reaction, "It is okay, I'm wearing shorts."

"How unfortunate."

So much for hesitation.

Your face grows so hot that you feel it spread to your earlobes and you shake your head at the man who's determined to be your own nurse. You think it’s ironic that you’re in the same position he had once been in during your initial meeting and you now understand why he had become so tense upon touching his warm skin. He’s barely touched you and your heart is beating harder than a war drum before battle; you briefly wonder if this is what he had in mind when he inquired about treating your wounds and you think he must enjoy watching you squirm a little.

Yet, you know his intentions are pure and he only wishes to help you.

"Do you flirt this way with everyone?"

"No," He sounds utterly amused by your exasperation and shy disposition, "Just pretty nurses who go around picking fights with Trandoshans."

You scoff at that, fully aware of what kind of game he’s playing with you, “It seems as though you are the nurse and I am your patient now, though.”

“I... uh, yes, it does seem that way, mesh’la.”

You roll your eyes at him, though a small smile threatens to break your stoic features, "It is not professional to flirt with your patients, Mandalorian."

He huffs a little, risking a cursory glance at your face before carefully sliding your dress up your thighs and stomach so he can get a good look at your ribs. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his calloused knuckles graze the outside of your bare thigh and you force your mind out of the gutter, reminding yourself that he’s doing this to tend to your wounds.

"Oh, saviin'ika," You hear him sigh gravely as he lightly drapes your dress just underneath your bust, exposing your severely bruised skin to him, "He… he did all of this to you? Wh-Why? Maker--how could anyone--?"

You flinch a little when he cautiously lays a warm hand near the darkest of the bruises and he’s astoundingly quick to yank his hand away, as though you’re the one that’s caused him such pain and you shake your head a little. You reach out to grab his warm hand in your colder one and guide it back to your bruised skin, longing to feel any sort of tender touch after the rough, violent week you’ve had.

"He caught me daydreaming instead of working. I should have--"

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this," He breathes, a twinge of devastation clear as day in his crackly voice, "Nobody deserves this kind of torture except for him and him only. I wish you would--" He sounds like he's in even more pain than you and your heart shatters upon realizing you've unintentionally reduced him to such a state, "I wish you would let me kill him for you. I could even make it fast so you wouldn't think me to be as cruel as him. Please, mesh--"

"I want to continue to be a nurse, Mandalorian," You weakly remind him, remembering your father’s threat as your own nurse glides a cautious thumb along your tender skin, remaining diligent in not applying any pressure, “I could not keep helping others if you killed him--the infirmary would close down and I would be left without a job.”

The Mandalorian shakes his head and you watch as his rough fingers collect a generous scoop out of the jar that looks just as filled as the night he’d carried you home and tended to your wounds then. You wonder if it’s simply an instinct for him to take care of others and you give him an encouraging smile when he begins to rub the warm gel against the worst of your bruises with far more tenderness than you’ve ever experienced. You can tell he’s utterly afraid of causing you further pain and you watch as he keeps his visor trained on his massive hand that’s currently soothing your wounds.

“What if you could though? What if there was a way you could continue to help others and not have to fear him?”

You force yourself not to ponder his words too much, knowing such wistful thinking will only end in more pain.

“I would think it to be a fairytale,” You finally murmur, eyes slipping shut as he continues to slowly and carefully soothe your bruises with a ghost of a touch; the bacta salve is pleasantly numbing and you’re suddenly grateful for the unexpected medical attention, “And I have never believed in fairytales, Mandalorian.”

He simply hums and doesn’t say anything else as he finishes rubbing the numbing salve against your tender skin; though the dull ache still lingers, you’re certain the pain will be minimal come morning. You think he’s finished when he kindly fixes your gray dress so the hem is settled against just above your knees once again, but then he’s standing up and you barely lift your head when you hear water running from the small sink that’s adjacent from where you lay. The Mandalorian seems like a man on a mission as he keeps his back to you and goes through a few drawers and cupboards before finding what it is he’s searching for.

You make a small questioning hum as he makes his way over to a little sink that you'd normally wash your hands in, "What are you doing?"

He barely turns his head to you as he harshly wrings out a soaking rag in the sink, "I am cleaning you up. You have blood in your hair."

"You don't--" Your heart swells at the gesture; you hadn't really had much time earlier to thoroughly clean yourself up and had felt the dried up blood crusted into your hairline all day, "Th-Thank you. That's really sweet of you."

He merely grunts as he shuts off the water and makes his way back to the cot you currently occupy and you blink in surprise when he gently slides a hand underneath your head and urges you to sit up just a little. It takes you a second to realize what he's doing and you carefully lean up on an elbow so he can carefully shift himself behind you on the cot and your face grows warm at the thought of him yearning to be so close to you.

As he settles behind you and moves you up into more of a seated position between his splayed thighs, carefully wrapping his thick fingers around your biceps to pull you up further against his chest, you completely forget your father's foreboding threat. Now, you're focused solely on the way he curls himself around you to get a better look at the dried blood matted to your scalp.

"Nurses don't typically treat their patients like this, Mandalorian."

He lets out another grunt and firmly keeps his hand cupped to the underside of your jaw so he can tilt your head backwards, “I just wanted to be close to you after not seeing you for so long. Besides, I don’t hear you complaining at all, mesh’la,” He lowers his helmet a little as he gently dabs at the small section of matted, crusty hair, “Are you going to tell me the real reason why you tried to get me to leave you tonight?”

Your eyelids slip shut as he soothingly rubs your jaw with his thumb and you wish he wasn’t wearing his cuirass so you could melt against him easier, “This is dangerous for both of us."

The scratchy material of the cloth tugs at your skin a little, but it's nowhere near painful as he continues to dutifully clean the blood from your scalp, "What did he say to you?"

Tiredly, you rest your hands on top of his armor-clad thighs and lean further against his chest as you force yourself to lie to the only man you’ve ever admired, “Only the truth--that I need to stop getting distracted so much. I-I have a job to do.”

“That does not mean you shouldn’t be allowed to be happy,” He breathes and you keep your eyes closed when he moves to tend to the bruises; you don’t have the heart to tell him that your happiness would end with your demise, “You can still help people and... and be with me.”

Your brows furrow and your chest heaves as he affectionately rubs the soothing salve against your cheek before dutifully moving to the black and blue skin around your eye. You think of earlier when he spoke of your strength and scars and how you insisted you were no warrior, but as the Mandalorian drops his helmet until the chin of it is resting on your shoulder, you realize you are at war with yourself.

How could you possibly deny this man anything?

Even when the bacta is absorbed into your pleasantly numbed skin, he keeps caressing your cheeks, nose, and lips and you slowly turn your head until your nose bumps against his visor; if he weren’t so close to you, his next words would have been inaudible.

“I wish I could kiss you right now, mesh’la.”

His thumb barely parts your lips and you feel his other hand come up to feel the frenzied pulse at the hollow of your throat, seeming all too content to touch you anywhere you’d allow him to. You feel utterly warm and helpless when his thumb gently pulls at your bottom lip and a desperate noise somehow passes through his modulator.

“The things I would do for you,” He groans upon feeling the warm saliva on the inside of your lip, “The things you do to me...”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you speak, your words a weak promise that he doesn’t realize to be true in that moment, his mind only focused on the way your tongue barely grazes the rough pad of his thumb to register the weight of your statement.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Mandalorian.”

Saviin’ika= Little Violet

Mesh’la= Beautiful

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst (as always, please let me know if I missed anyone!!)

Author’s note: SO I literally say it every single chapter, but you guys are absolutely amazing and I’m so grateful for all the sweet words and support y’all have given me. When I started writing the first chapter, I only intended on it being 3-5 chapters at the most, but I literally adore these two lovebirds and now I’m over here planning out a whole ass novel for them lmao.

Also if I take a long time to reply to your kind replies/reblogs/asks, please forgive me!! My dumb self gets so overwhelmed in such a good way and I never know how to respond :( I definitely see every like, every reply and reblog and ask you guys send me and I adore all of you <3

#paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla x reader #mandalorian x reader #Paz vizsla x you #paz vizla x you #idk if it's vizla or vizsla anymore so im using both to be safe lmao #mandalorian fanfic #my writing #LORD THIS CHAPTER TOOK SO MUCH OUT OF ME #AT FIRST HE WASNT EVEN GONNA BE IN IT AND THEN I JUST COULDNT STOP MYSELF #AGHHH

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brittledame · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Shirabu Kenjirou/Reader

Warnings: Explicit, Cursing, Hair-pulling, Name-Calling, Hate Sex, Spanking, Slight degradation, Panty stealing, Table sex

Word Count: 7.6K

Summary: A school project brings together two academic rivals, where their dislike for one another reaches a whole new level. You and Shirabu constantly duke it out for the top grade, where it becomes an everyday occurrence to see the two scowling at and insulting one another. The tension between you two finally reaches a boiling point one afternoon when an argument breaks out.

Series: Part 1 of 3 (Part 2 & Part 3)

Shiratorizawa was a private school full to the brim of prestige and practically screams ‘money’. Inside of the sleek modern exterior, each extracurricular club ranging from calligraphy to kyūdō possessed state-of-the-art facilities. Basically, you name it and there was most likely already a club for it, with each one allocated a ridiculous amount of funding. It did help that a lot of old and new money sent their kids to the school, which unfortunately leads to uppity pricks with uptight attitudes flaunting their wealth at the drop of a hat festering the hallways.

One such uppity prick went by the name of Shirabu Kenjirou and he was the bane of your existence. He came from an affluent background, old money resulting from smart trades in property stock way back before the global telecommunications were even conceptualised. You could smell the money oozing from his pores in the form of some ridiculously over-priced Giorgio Armani cologne, topped off with his neatly pressed uniform and copper-toned hair perfectly sleek.

The part that pissed you off the most about the male, and has led to your open dislike for the asshole, was the fact that he got into Shiratorizawa solely by his phenomenal grades, never once relying on daddy’s money to get in, like most of your cohort. Meanwhile, you made every single second count when studying, not a moment wasted between school and sleep, just to hope to qualify for the academic scholarship. For a while your parents fretted that you were studying too much just to pass some school’s entrance exams, where their platitudes of ‘you’re already plenty intelligent enough, honey’ and ‘you could ace it this very moment’ weren’t enough to soothe your stressed mind.

Not even three months later, you sat the exam and low and behold, you did ace it, much to your amazement. It was a beautiful moment, witnessing your name on their admittance board not even a month later, tears of relief gathering in your eyes. The only thing that ruined your moment was the name that ranked just above yours, taking in first place: Shirabu Kenjirou. So, your well-known rivalry with the copper-tinged blonde asshole started one-sided and quickly evolved into something much greater than you could’ve ever imagined.

For both your first and second year, you shared the same class as Shirabu. It was to be expected since you were both in the same grade average bracket, but still a girl could dream, right? Much to your ever-growing annoyance you were placed in the same third year class as well. Evidently you were unable to escape his prickly attitude.

Every task, assignment and exam became a silent challenge between the two of you. Each and every time, you’d throw yourself into your studies just to wipe the smug look he gives you every time he pulls through with the top mark.

The worst part of all this was the fact that he consistently pulled high marks while balancing a sport on top of his studies. You’d have to give it to him, you honestly don’t know when he manages to fit in eating and sleeping in that hectic schedule of his.

Now to place two head-strong individuals together was just begging for trouble, especially when your little competition has reached infamy around the sprawling campus. Turn out trouble is exactly what your science teacher was looking for when she placed the two of you together for the physic unit’s partner research report about their topic of choice. You looked at her like she’d lost her goddamn mind, not sparing the equally shocked Shirabu a glance. You didn’t even bother to argue with her, knowing it would’ve ended up worse somehow if you did.

“Fuck.” You muttered, hoping four the next six weeks to pass quickly

As soon as the Ms. Nakamura dismissed the class, you marched over to his desk. Stopping directly in front of him, you perched your hands on your hips and gave him a disdainful look.

“Look, for the course of this project I am willing to be civil with you.” You place a genial hand over your chest to complete your saintly sacrifice. Looking up, Shirabu gives you a blank look, before returning to annotating his textbook with bright sticky notes.

‘What a fucking dick,’ You silently seethe.

“Whatever. Just pick a topic and I’ll start on it.” His monotone voice serves to piss you off more. You curl your hands into tight fists, resisting the glorious thought of punching his pretty face.

“Um, I think not. We’ll pick the topic out together and we’ll equally distribute the work. I don’t want to hear you bitching to your hot teammates that I’m slacking.”

Grabbing a vacant chair near his desk, you spin it around and sit on it backwards, ignoring his disgruntled look. Tapping on your phone, you open a new contact and start filling it out.

“What’s your number, dickhead?” Shirabu’s head shot up at the insult and you grin at him, shaking your phone in front of his face.

“None of your fucking business, bitch.” He bites out, forehead creasing as he glares at you, completing his signature expression.

“Well, asshole, if you somehow managed to forget already, let me remind you. We need to collaborate on this and to do that, we need a line of communication. Texting is the easiest option.” You reason. You weren’t fond of the idea of Shirabu having your number either, the ass will probably write it in the boy’s changeroom as retribution for some misdeed you’ve done.

Deliberating, Shirabu’s pen stops its furious scribbling. Heaving a great sigh, he concludes that unfortunately you were correct, but that didn’t mean he had to explicitly admit that.

Snatching your phone, he ignores your indignant shout as he taps out his phone number and tosses the phone back at you.

“Great, thanks for being a team player, sport.” You say, as you clean the screen off on the bottom of your uniform top.

As you get up and return the chair to its correct place, you trudge over to your desk whilst starting to conjuring up some topic ideas to suggest.

Peeking from under his uneven fringe, Shirabu watches your skirt sway as you walk. He loves it whenever you walk away from him, leaving him to both think in peace and admire the way your hypnotising hips move as you walk. The short purple plaid Shiratorizawa skirt left little to his imagination whenever you bent over, or a strong breeze came through. Shirabu briefly wondered how the hell you evaded the school’s disciplinary committee’s strict uniform coding monitors in the hallway because he’s sure that you’re breaking at least two of them on any given day.

The next day, you texted Shirabu the list of thesis concepts you wrote up. You were surprised when your phone vibrated in your hand, delivering his speedy reply.

Shithead: Sure.

What the fuck were you meant to do with that dry ass reply?

Now angry that he wasn’t taking you seriously, you texted him back to pick a god damn topic before you went over to his practice and caused a scene. And just like that he stopped being obstinate and picked the one you were secretly hoping he would choose; it was the one focusing on Einstein’s thought experiments how his process was adapted into modern-day quantum research.

After a few back and forth texts by that afternoon you had both scheduled a few meetups over the next few weeks for the more challenging components, such as devising a solid thesis and finding some credible academic papers to back-up your statements.

A week later found you waiting in the library, going through your homework as you wait for Shirabu’s team practice to end, hoping to make good use of some of your free time.

By the time Shirabu swept into the room, you had already gotten a good head start in the assignment. Dressed in his neatly pressed uniform and not a hair out of place, you almost suspected that he made up the excuse of volleyball practice to get out of spending anymore time than necessary with you. The asshole breezes past you, not even offering an apology or reason as to why he was late, but you could at least deduct that practice was at fault – that is if he even went.

“Well since you decided to keep me waiting for –“ You glance down at your phone, “forty-five minutes, I already started it. I’ve written both the study’s aim and objective and began devising the outline for what needs to be addressed in the introduction.” You say shortly, not waiting for him to seat himself and set up before you push your laptop across the desk and into his personal space.

Shirabu rolls his eyes at your accusing tone and started to read what you’ve written up in the shared word document. Kenjirou was mildly impressed at how much you accomplished in such a short amount of time, but he tried not to show that outwardly though, afraid your already inflated ego would grow. Grunting in agreement, Shirabu slid the laptop back over to you.

“That’s fine. I’ll start pulling some sources for the statements you outlined and start writing them up. Why don’t you start researching any recent projects detailing new discoveries and start collecting data to include?”

That last part was less of a question and more of a demand, but his usual flat tone made it hard to distinguish between the two. The lack of inflection in his voice could just about put anyone to sleep, and after sitting here for almost an hour in the calming atmosphere of the library, you were ready to start dozing off.

A sharp kick to your shin ripped you out of your thoughts, causing to to yelp and rub at the sore spot. A quick look at Shirabu’s smug face illuminated by his screen was enough to rid the last of your daze, begrudgingly returning to your work.

Two hours had passed, filled by the tap-tapping abuse of your keyboards and the occasional groan released by you at another paywall obstructing an article containing some nice data. Other than that, Shirabu was a quiet as a graveyard. You’d assume he had spontaneously passed away if not for the typing and blinking, the fucker didn’t even look like he was breathing.

What a completely boring guy with a nasty attitude. The most interesting thing about him was his unfortunate fringe, looking like he got mugged in an alleyway by a guy with no fine motor skills wielding a pair of scissors.

Plainly coloured hair, irises almost an identical shade of almost blonde but not quite there. He was of average stature, maybe a little below for the volleyball team. He was completely normal, nothing you would normally give a second glance while passing by, and yet…

You mentally shake away the unwanted thoughts conjured by the sight of his hands, or the slight flexing of his arm under the thin fabric of the uniform shirt.

Dirty little fantasies of Shirabu just snapping one day after one too many insults, throwing you over his lap and just going to town on your ass with the same hand that scored so many serving points for the elite team filled your head incessantly. The force would jostle you forward, tears in your eyes as you beg him – for what you don’t know, but you would beg and he’d wrap his strong hand around your throat, the threat of cutting off your blood flow to your brain was enough to stop your breathless begs.

Wrapped up in your raunchy thoughts, your typing ceases and your eyebrows furrow as you’re faced with the horrible realisation that you actually have feelings other than hate for the up-tight prick. The feelings were far from romantic, more likely resting somewhere between hate and dislike, but it was still the principle of the matter. Acknowledging those feelings alone felt like you ceded your part in a game that you two had unofficially started.

Fuck.

The next few weeks were going to be hell. You internally groaned at the thought.

You had no idea just how right you were, as the next few Friday sessions were almost unbearable for you since that day. After that dreadful meet up, one could slice the tension that brewed between the two of you with their bare hand, even though it was solely emanating from you.

As most horrific diseases start, it was all innocuous at the beginning. The session all started the same: witty quips and digging barbs swapped at the beginning of your sessions before silently coming to the unanimous agreement to not speak another word to one another unless it was absolutely necessary. Even then, you could feel the migraine pulsating threateningly behind your eyes at how effortlessly hot he was. The headache was quite literally the physical manifestation of the vexation you felt towards the irritating copper-haired male.

It turned out that your exasperation was mutual, Kenjirou thought if he had to sit through another session with your loud breathing or deafening clacking of your keyboard, he was going to start ripping out hair. He was at his wit’s end and he had no reason as to why you set him off so easily. Not even the over-exuberant Goshiki could elicit such a nasty comment so quickly from him, even on his worst days.

The tension mounting between you two from previous sessions hung heavy in the air, but neither of you were willing to acknowledge the elephant stampeding through the small and rarely used study room.

The irritating sound of your long, trimmed nails typing, no more like smashing, on your keyboard cut through the tension. It was enough to put Kenjirou on edge faster than any other assignment meet up. He’s had a hell of a week and while he didn’t have grueling practice today, spending it alone with you was the cherry on top.

Usually the silent and calming ambiance of the library never failed to soothe him when he’s tense and anxious, but his irritation was hitting a whole new level he’s never experienced before.

“I swear if you keep smashing at your keyboard like that, I’ll rip them off and shove them up your ass.” He seethes, hands curling into fists where they rested on the table.

Looking up, you give him an incredulous look before opening your mouth. God what Shirabu wouldn’t give to get that stupid mouth of yours to not ever open again. He’d be saving the world from one less idiot spreading their stupidity.

“That’s kinky Shirabu. This is a library, keep it in your pants and save it for the bedroom.” You tease, fluttering your long eyelashes at him paired with a plastic grin.

At the murderous look his gives you, you throw back your head and laugh quietly. You weren’t willing to face the librarian’s wrath if you broke the rules, even if you were situated on the deserted top floor in a room furthest from her station at the entrance.

Conversation stalls from there on out, with only the clacking of your keyboard’s once again filling the air, although you do take greater care when typing now, not that the asshole thanked you for your consideration.

Kenjirou watches you from his periphery as you brush your glossy hair over you your shoulder, ponytail bouncing with added weight. That stupid ass hair style that made Kenjirou want to reach over and yank –

“I know you lost a couple of brain cells playing volleyball but come on, are you really that slow?” You raised your eyebrow at him, glancing at the unfinished excel charts Kenjirou had elected to do.

Giving you an unimpressed look, he chooses not to bite, thinking he’s already wasted enough time acknowledging your existence. Kenjirou hadn’t even noticed you talking to him, he was just that used to tuning you out and hearing your annoying voice as background noise.

“Can you add a trendline to the data, so that the upward trend we mention in the discussion is clearly evident in the chart?” You carefully enunciate each word to him.

Your demeaning tone and slow talking really pissed Shirabu off this time, he clenches his jaw and expels an exasperated breath through his nose.

“I’d appreciate it if you don't address me like that ever again. A trendline on the data we collected is pointless, just a pretty line. If we generated the data ourselves, then maybe, but the studies these numbers are sourced off of don’t even have trendlines.” His reasoning is rock-solid, but he was a prick about it, so you rolled your eyes and moved on to the next section of the paper that needed sorting.

“Fine, I acquiesce. A trendline here would be rather inappropriate.” He scoffs at your formal language. This was coming from the same girl that he heard on many occasions say obscenities so vulgar it’d make a seasoned soldier blush.

Tense silence fills the void between you both. You brushed of the strange sensation of being on edge. It is true that Shirabu seems even more pissy than usual, but you’ve been dealing with his shit for weeks now, you could put up with two more sessions with the unbearable prick. Hopefully.

Focusing back on the shared document open before you, you stare blankly as you try to decipher his nonsense tables. Concerned, you quickly scroll through the rest of the discussion he had begrudgingly volunteered to complete. To your absolute horror, you noticed that your format of your portion of the discussion was utterly incongruous with his formatting.

Well shit.

While grammar mistakes and sentence structure could be tweaked and fixed within a day’s work, it would take you both at least a good day's to make the report’s content flow freely and have a singular format. Thankfully, you guys have the time to fix up his – and maybe some of your – mistakes.

“Could you not?” You say shortly, tacking on a sharp glare aimed at the bane of your existence.

“Could I not what? Use your big girl words.” He bites back, not even trying to hide his annoyance with you anymore.

“Could you please stop fucking up our assignment. I don’t know about you, daddy’s money, but I’d really like to get full marks for this.” You shoot back, angry that he had the gall to be annoyed at you when he was the one fucking up the format of the assignment.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m doing everything that we outlined in our past sessions.” Kenjirou fumed. He swears to fucking god, if he has to argue with you over the (lack of) importance of a trend line for this data set again he’s going to scream.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you miss the way his eyes quickly flit down. Kenjirou hates himself for the way his dick twitched at the sight of you inadvertently pressing your breasts together. Licking his lips, he allows you to stew over his words and watches as you reluctantly accept his logic.

It was true, you guys didn’t really decide on a true format in the initial planning phases, it seemed like a far-off issue to worry about at that moment. Well the future is now and that issue was just going to compound by the day if it didn’t get sorted out soon. It didn’t help that you hated editing papers with a passion.

At your silence, he rolled his eyes so hard you were scared they may get stuck – although he deserves at least that much for all the shit he’s given you over the past three years. He turned back to his work and went back to ignoring you.

Oh well, two can play at that game. You didn’t want, nor need, to talk to the prick anyway.

Shifting your restless legs under the table, you accidentally kick Shirabu in the shin, earning you a dirty look. Enjoying the ugly look of his face, you give him a sickly-sweet smile.

“Oops, my bad, Shirabu. I’ll sure to be more cautious next time!” Topping off your act with some obnoxious batting of your eyelashes.

“Do it again and I’ll wipe that look off your face real fast.” He sneered back at you.

Ignoring all common sense, you played with the idea of what exactly he meant by his threat. Most likely nothing sexual and most definitely involving a punch. But that doesn’t stop you from briefly entertaining a short sexual fantasy involving the two of you fucking in his chair.

Damn, these thoughts have been getting more frequent and out-of-hand recently. If they became anymore of an issue, you may just have to see the on-campus therapist about your obvious undiagnosed nymphomania.

True to your nature, you decide to grab the metaphorical bull by the horn to see how hard he bucks. Adjusting your posture again, you lean your elbows on the table as you uncross your legs and again hit his leg stretched out under the table.

You could practically hear Shirabu’s restraint snap, a dark expression taking over his face. He jerks up and out of his chair and proceeds stalks towards you, a dangerous glint in his ochre eyes.

‘Oh shit, I might have actually overdone it this time. He’s going to fucking kill me.’ You were frozen in place, not even breathing as he towers over your seated form. You mentally said your goodbye’s to family and friends. They wouldn’t be shocked to find out that you met your end due to pure pettiness.

You were expecting at least a slap, maybe even a gut punch, so when he grabbed your arms and hoisted you onto your feet, you assumed the absolute worst. Unexpectedly, he backed your body against the table, his hips pinning yours against the hard edge, making it dig harshly into your back.

You gasp as a calloused hand grabs the back of your exposed neck, the other moving to your waist. He pulls himself incredibly close to you. You're sure there isn’t an atom of space left between the two of you now, feeling every inch of his body pressed up against yours.

He bends down and breathes softly into your ear words that set off a blaze within you.

“I warned you not to try me today and yet you kept on pushing me.” His low tone sent shivers down your spine.

Hands flat on the table, you shove yourself up against his hard chest even more, meeting his dark expression head-on.

“I figured you were all bark and no bite, so what’s the harm?” Ignoring the sharp edge of his previous words, you kept making digs at him. You already made peace with the fact that you may die at the hands of the unfairly attractive man before you.

Snapping, Shirabu grabs you by your tie, pulling you upwards and meeting your lips in a fierce kiss. It honestly was more teeth than lips, but you’d take whatever he would give you. Lust quickly replaced shock as you reciprocated the kiss, giving back as much as he gave you.

Never one to be one-upped, you both furiously made out against the table. Eventually you reluctantly conceded to him, pulling away gasping for breath to fill your aching lungs. While he didn't look as effected as you, he still panted as he caught his breath.

Lips kiss-swollen from the hard kiss he gave you, he gulped at the mussed up look of your uniform from the short make-out session. The sight alone was enough to spur him back into action. You met his lips half-way, hands flying up to bury themselves into surprisingly soft hair.

The kiss was more than just that, it was a battle of wills. It was another challenge set before you both, another one added to the extensive list of trials. It tested who had the guts to resolve the unresolved sexual tension building between you both.

Fingers digging into your soft flesh, he easily hoisted you up onto the table, slotting himself between the space made between your open legs. The kiss picks up intensity as he throws in a few nips at your bottom lip, while you lightly bite at his tongue invading your mouth.

You gasp at a particularly harsh bite at your bottom lip, drawing back to give the self-satisified male a scowl.

“Oh? Is this the reason why you’ve always been so short with me. It’s cute that you don’t know how to act around your crush.” Your teasing words make the male between your legs tense up.

“I’d rather bite off my own tongue than date you, bitch.” He goes to kiss you again. It was the only thing that got you to shut up, which he very enjoyed.

“Who said anything about dating, dearest? My, my, so you have been thinking of me.” You laughed and gave him a belittling look.

“The only thoughts I’ve had about you involve either shutting you up or fucking you senseless, so make of that what you will.” He grits out between clenched teeth, not willing to give you that inch he threw out to you like a lifeline.

If he was going to go through with this, he at least wanted you to know exactly what he wanted to get out of it. Nothing more, nothing less.

You consider him under hooded eyelids, gaze sweeping up and down his clothed torso. Well at least he wanted the same thing that’s been haunting your waking thoughts for the past month. You weren’t going to look this gift horse in the mouth that's for sure.

“Sure, I mean you could try, but I doubt that you could even a moan out of me.” You said languidly, setting up another challenge. Now all he had to do was pick up the gauntlet.

Words igniting a fire within him, his lips tipped into a lopsided smirk. You had no idea what you just started and he was more than happy to show you the consequences of your bold actions.

“Oh, I assure you, I’m not going to stop until I hear you screaming.”

The room you occupied was situated on the top floor, at the end of a long corridor of empty study rooms exactly like this one. It was highly unlikely that the elderly librarian at the entrance would hear what was about to go down. It was also unlikely any snooping students would come across your study room on the neglected floor.

You fully expected him to pull you into another bruising kiss before fucking you but it seemed that the stupidly hot bastard was just full of surprises today. Instead, he pulled you off the table and turned you to face the chair he had previously occupied. With the hand placed at the nape of your neck, the other moving to your opposite side of your waist, he pushed you down to lie against the cold tabletop. Though definitely not for your benefit, he pushed aside any stray bits of paper out of your way to prevent them from creasing.

You gasp as the pressure he applies onto you forces the breath out of your lungs, pressing you hard against the unforgiving surface. Hands scrabbling for a purchase to help you establish a counter force to push up against him, he bends down and breathes softly into your ear.

“Look at you so pliant for me, I could get used to this.” His smug tone made your blood boil. That bastard was going to milk this situation for all it has and you have no ground to stand on to refute him when you were planning on doing the exact same.

“You know, your nasty attitude destroys that pretty boy stereotype you have going on.” You retort. You weren’t going to take his bullshit laying down – metaphorically speaking.

Fed up with you running your mouth, always talking but never saying anything of substance, he hastily loosens his tie. Without warning, he shoves a bundle of fabric into your mouth, quickly moving his fingers away from teeth that would gladly bite down onto his precious setting tools.

Trying to voice your anger, you squirm in his grasp with muffled nonsensical words leaving your mouth.

Kenjirou marvels at the sight of your stuffed mouth, words finally muted and wide eyes that were angry at his action. If he knew this is all he had to do to get you to shut up for more than two seconds then he’d gladly do it again.

Kenjirou couldn’t help but wonder if your cheeks would also look like that if he’s shoved his dick between your plush pink lips but he saves that thought for another day. After all, he had at least half a year left to put up with your bullshit.

Pressing his hips against your ass, he revels at the feeling of finally having you under him, squirming and all. Deciding not to draw this out anymore than he already has, he smoothly grinds his slowly growing erection into the cleft of your ass obscured by ugly purple plaid.

Unsatisfied with the lack of friction, he flips up your skirt to reveal lacy panties. He thought it was a bit risqué to wear them at school but who was he to complain about the lovely gift.

You gave a muffled shout when he snapped against the waist band against your hip. Tempted, you considered trying to kick him in the shin again somehow in your position. The thought dissolved into nothing as he lightly smacks your ass, causing you to jolt forward more in surprise than in pain.

With the absence of any complaints or irritating whinging, Kenjirou weighed the plump flesh in his hand, grinning to himself when he hears you moan at his curious squeezing. He wondered what other delicious noises you’ll make under him.

Well there was only way to find out.

Winding his hand back, his hand came down with a loud ringing smack, hard enough to leave his hand pleasantly tingling. The pink imprint of his hand on your ass was going to be burned into his mind for a long time, a wave a heat rolling through him and coalescing in his groin.

Again, you jolt forward at the impact, nails scratching at the acrylic lacquer of the tabletop, unable to find purchase. While you could feel the poor skin pulse dully with pain, pure arousal flashed hot and bright within you. If you had ever thought spanking would be something you were into, you’re pretty sure Shirabu was one of the worst people to discover along with, always the one to abuse any situation.

The next time his hand came down on your ass, you mistakenly tensed, causing the pain to shoot through you ten-fold. You wince at the sensation of him hitting the exact same spot over and over again. You were sure the spot would be rouge red by this point, but the pain didn’t take away from the pleasure you derived from his rough treatment.

Mixing things up, Kenjirou bites his lip as he aims a smack right at the apex of your thighs, close enough to your core that the vibrations of the hit ripped a lewd moan from your lips, much louder than the rest. Blood rushing down to his already engorged cock at your noises, he knows that he could easily get addicted to your bent form. You enjoying the spanking was just a fun bonus for him.

“I should’ve guessed you were into spanking. It fits the ‘good school girl’ façade you’ve got going on,” Shirabu hums, throwing the words back into your face. Leaning down, he breathes into your ear, “I could really get used to you like this beneath me. I have such big plans for you.”

Shivering at his low tone, your mind whirled chaotically with half-baked ideas of what exactly he had in plan for you. Honestly, as long as it ended up with his dick inside of you, you don’t care about the rest. You were always opposed to the saying ‘It’s not the destination, it’s all about the journey.’ And this situation was no different to you.

Kenjirou slides your panties over your ass and down your legs, half tempted to chuck them across the room just to see you panicking over locating them after this. On second thought… He shoves the offending piece of lace into his back pocket, as a present for himself putting up with you.

His hands bracket you bottoms of your ass and smooths his thumbs over the soft pink flesh. Kenjirou watching them slightly jiggle in the palms of his hand, admiring the rosy tinge he painted them. Kenjirou firmly decided that the flesh looked much prettier painted pink by the very hand that slammed balls over the side of the net with shocking force.

Fingers gliding over the cheeks and trailing downward, he makes contact with your wet lips. Mildly surprised, he runs a slender finer between them, gathering your juices.

“Look at how wet you are for me. I bet I won't even have to prep you, your greedy hole will probably just suck me in.” He states, rubbing his finger slowly -torturously - over the entrance of your hole.

You whine through your makeshift gag and buck your hips against his fingertips, hoping for them to dip in deeper. The pad of his crooked index finger dipped shallowly into you a few times from your efforts. Kenjirou was greatly amused at your efforts, deciding to hold his fingers in place for you to try and fail to fuck into yourself.

“Look at how desperate you are, it’s honestly pathetic. I expected so much more from you.” He tutted.

The flash of anger fizzled and died before it took root, much too distracted by him inserting his entire index finger in without warning. While you had explored yourself on more than a few occasions, mapping out sensitive flesh with your fingers, the feeling of his much longer and slightly thicker finger inside of you was incredible.

You whimper at the slick feeling of him moving his finger in and out of you, occasionally curling against the spongy tissue, seeking for the bundle of nerves that will make you scream. Slotting in another finger and him twisting them simultaneously had you panting and clenching your eyes at the full feeling from just the two.

Feeling your walls tighten and quiver around his finger as he crooked them a few times, he doubled down to find your erogenous zone before he fucks you. It only took another finger and few moments of scissoring them deep inside of you, indicated by your abrupt gasping jerk.

Licking his lips, he rubs his fingers harshly against the soft area, committing to memory the muffled breathy moans and whimpers that dropped from your panting mouth. Dick twitching, hard and painful within his tight slacks draws him out of his mind. He withdraws his saturated fingers from your sopping hole, briefly abandoning the sensitive spot for now.

Slumping, you simultaneously miss and despise his fingers fucking into you, hating that he found your G-spot quicker than you’d anticipated. The prick was too smart for his own good, the asshole probably knew more about female anatomy and orgasms than you did with biology being his best class.

The rustle of his pants being undone pulls you back to reality. Oh god this is really happening. Your breath picks up, anticipating the next move the bitter setter will make next.

The sensation of something long, hot and rigid, his dick you assumed, rests between your still stinging cheeks. His fingers dip back between your lips and gather more liquid arousal. Kenjirou ignores your groan at the odd feeling, preoccupied with smearing your slick over his dick, taking his sweet time.

One hand on his cock, guiding the tip to sit at your entrance, with the other placed for support on your hip. Tense, you waited for him to just slam on in, not anticipating him to draw out the moment. You hated the way that you squirmed at the thought of his dick being so close but so far away from where you wanted it most.

“You better hold onto the desk. Once I start, I’m not going to stop until I hear you screaming.” He said, smug tone and all ringing loud and clear.

You huff indignantly at his statement, as if to say: ‘Sure, whatever you say, asshole.’

Rolling his eyes, he tightens his grip as he starts to insert himself inside of you. Obviously taking pity on you, he graciously chooses to glide in at a decent pace. The breath was punched out of your lungs as he completely sheathed himself inside you, hot and throbbing. You try not to violently shiver around him because you couldn’t bare the thought of inflating his already unhealthily enlarged ego.

Dropping the niceties, as if there were any with Shirabu involved, he slid out not a moment later and slammed back on in, loving the sound of his skin smacking against yours. Sloppy sounds of your fucking fill the air and frankly you’d be pretty grossed right now if your brain didn’t reside in your pussy that very moment.

Fucking you from behind, Kenjirou grabs a fistful of shiny hair and harshly rips back your head, hot breath cascading over perspiring skin.

“You take me so well, like you were made for me. Maybe I should fuck this hole of yours again sometime.”

In retribution, you clench down as hard as feasibly possible, hoping to knock him off of that high horse of his. The grunt that rings in your ears pacifies your ire, but the unexpected resistance doesn't stop him from trying to fuck up into you even harder.

Pardoning his attitude, you loosen up for him, more so for your own pleasure than his. He doesn’t hesitate to pick up his unforgiving pace, pumping in and out of you like a sex-crazed mad-man. Eyes rolling into your head, you felt the tip of his thick dick kiss the entrance of your cervix, which paired fantastically with the friction his thick cock made against your quivering walls.

Moaning around the tie as he furiously fucks you from behind, you can feel the piece of fabric become saturated with your drool. He seemed to appreciate the sounds you made, hands tightening around your hips and starts to seek out the highly sensitive spot hidden somewhere inside of you.

Every time he slid out, he’d readjust his angle with only the tip still in before slamming back on into, waiting for the moment he found his target. The pain of the table cutting into your stomach is buried underneath the pleasure Kenjirou relentlessly delivered to you.

An idea flashed in Kenjirou’s mind, a cruel one, but not too cruel as revenge for all the shit you’ve put him through. Unknowing of the feral grin on his face, you continued to moan as his dick fills you so perfectly, suddenly jolting when you feel his warm lips against your throat. You let out a squeal and clenched down hard around his length when you feel his teeth bury into the soft skin. Manicured nails scratching small divots into the desk as he sucks the bruise deep into your skin.

You grit your teeth when you feel him release your skin, the spot already feeling sore at the rough treatment. You could tell from the position that it was too high for the uniform’s collar to hide and wearing a scarf in this summer weather was way too suspicious. That motherfucker probably planned that; you silently fume as he smirks against your perspiring flesh.

The worst part though was when all conspiring thoughts of retribution were wiped clean from you mind as your entire nervous system is struck by lightning. You cry out loudly at the sensation, to which Kenjirou huffed under his breath, muttering out a quiet ‘Thank fuck’ that went unacknowledged by you as you tried to recuperate from him hitting your G-spot with the force of a tank.

Kenjirou greedily ate up each cry leaving your lips as he continued to hit the sensitive nerves with deadly precision. The sight of you writhing underneath him was enough payment for the annoyance he’d suffered through at your hands the past month. But it was the feel of your walls clutching at him tightly and your delicious moans that was the true reward for all his patience.

The wet squelching noises of your furious fucking was enough to make you blush, which was hilarious thinking about it. Not even four weeks ago you were ready to jump the table and non-sexually choke him out with your tie – and now he was railing you with his tie as a makeshift gag.

Ah, fate truly was a bitch.

Thrusts becoming frantic, you knew that Kenjirou was nearing his end and you would swear bloody vengeance if he finished and left you high and dry. It turns that promise would be for naught. Shirabu reaches around you with his still slick covered fingers and rubs furiously at your clit, giving it a few good squeezes, rightfully assuming you loved the rough treatment. And that you did, you bucked wildly in his grasp, moans hitting a whole new pitch as you unravel quickly under his dual ministrations.

The arousal that had been sitting hot inside of you, seemed to snap and unleashed upon you an orgasm that had stars sear into your eyelids, eyes clenched tightly as the sensation threatened to drown you in it. What felt like pure electricity coursed through your veins, feeling as if Shirabu’s dick had just sent you to a new dimension, brain liquefying inside of your skull.

Behind you, Kenjirou seizes up as he feels you tighten up considerably around him, delivering him to his peak as well. His pace slows as his hips stutter, unleashing his load within you. Even completely incoherent, you shivered at the feeling of him feeling at you, not able to muster up and ounce of disgust at the feeling. That should’ve been the moment that you knew that you were truly fucked; you were completely wrapped around Shirabu’s long pretty fingers.

Limbs trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm, you laid there limply as he pulled out. You felt a bead of sweat drop down your brow as you weakly collect yourself together, drawing yourself up on shaky arms. The sensation of thick globules of Shirabu’s cum slipping out of you was enough of a distraction to brush of the intense stare Shirabu aimed at your leaking hole.

Leaning back, Kenjirou fights down the flush on his cheeks from watching his cum slowly dripping out of you, feeling hot under the collar from both the sight and from the mind-blowing orgasm. Shuffling back, he cleans himself off with a clean tissue in his shirt pocket before tucking himself back into his boxer briefs and pulling up his pants.

Slumped against the table, you felt like a wreck, both inside and out. Dick rearranging your insides aside, you were happy that Shirabu deigned for you to orgasm instead of leaving you a begging mess, which was a very likely move for the bastard.

Your jaw felt sore from how full your mouth was with his tie crammed in. Pulling out the wet article, you tossed it onto the table in his general direction. Kenjirou looks at the crumpled fabric with disgust. Weirdly, he doesn't complain as he gathers some tissues from his bag to wrap the article in until he can get it cleaned.

Choosing not to question his sudden pacified attitude towards you, you pushed yourself up on weak arms. Kenjirou laughs at your struggle, not at all intimidated by your nasty glare.

“Asshole.” You mumble under your breath.

You make quick work of cleaning yourself up too, feeling weirdly exposed bent over and naked from the waist down whilst a fully clothed Shirabu almost looked bored, acting as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out.

Your skirt slides back into place as you stand upright, shortly followed by more of his load trickling out of you. Pinned underneath his burning stare, you refused to give him an inch and fought back the tremble that threatened to overtake your body at the odd sensation.

“Alright, now sit down. Let’s finish this project before I leave and you have to finish fixing up the format by yourself.”

You blink at him. “Really?”

It seems the bastard wouldn’t even let you properly clean up first before diving back into the assignment.

“Really. Now get your lazy ass up, you’re creasing our data sets.”

Not willing to reveal how flustered you were, you downplay your disgust at the feeling his cum drying on your thighs and stiffly walk over to your chair, trying to spy your panties somewhere on the ground, but ultimately found nothing. You could have sworn that Shirabu smirked at your searching looks, but a second glance showed you his normal bored expression.

Sticking your nose up in the air, you start discussing your plan on how to fix the minor issue of formatting. Shirabu gave lackluster nods at your prodding, clearly wanting nothing more than to leave. You did your best to push through the sensation of the sticky mess drying between your legs, internally fretting as to where your panties may lie. You're pretty sure that you'd perish on the spot if a staff member found them.

Thankfully, it took only half an hour before Shirabu beat a hasty retreat, quickly placing all his stuff neatly into his bag and intent on walking out of the room without another word. The fucker wasn’t even going to say goodbye to you.

Shifting in your seat, you start packing up. Eyes wildly darting around, you didn’t notice him pausing in the open doorway.

Glancing over his shoulder, shooting you a dastardly smirk, Kenjirou savours your infuriated expression before turning away and walking off. Slightly confused, you squint as you try to make out an odd-looking lump in his back pocket. At the sight of familiar lace peeking out of his slacks, your eyes widen in shock and indignant rage.

“That bastard.”

Edit: I fixed an incongruity with a bit in the end scene, sorry to anyone that picked it up!!

Notes: We need more Shirabu content so here I am delivering some extremely self-indulgent content. I made Shirabu a dick but I made reader a bitch towards him and he strikes me as the type to hate stuck up people. Hope you all enjoyed!

#shirabu kenjiro x reader #shirabu kenjirou #haikyuu!! x reader #x reader #Shirabu x you #haikyuu reader insert #shiratorizawa #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! fic #haikyu!! x reader #haikyu!!#shirabu kenjirou x reader

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