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synnthamonsugar · 3 years ago

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Savathun's Trip to the Last City

Now that we have a clearer picture of what’s going on with Savathun I decided to compile the last year’s worth of her POV lore pieces together.

This is super long, and has spoilers for Path of the Splicer VI / Beneath the Endless Night VII, so I’m putting it under a cut.

Credit to @xivuuarath for reading through this and adding some of their ideas! We talked about more beyond what’s posted here, but this is getting long, so maybe that would be better saved for a part two.

1. Traveler's Chosen (Season of Arrivals)

This piece is told from the POV of a narrator viewing the events through an "ossific den". Based on later lore pieces, I'm certain the narrator is Savathun. Given that ahamkara bones have been compromised by her, and that Shaxx has an ahamkara skull slung up in his station, it’s safe to assume this is Sav’s vantage point.

That said, I don't believe Savathun is observing Shaxx, but rather Zavala, struggling in the wake of the Darkness' encroachment on the system and his colleagues' refusals to evacuate to safety. She seems pleased to find Zavala in a desperate state, and watches as he has a silent conversation with the Traveler. Of note is that she's waiting for it to respond.

He waits for a response and I do as well, tense, curious. [ . . . ] It is no time at all for me, but for him, the hours creep by in silence.

I am ready to choke the voice of his Traveler if it answers him, but there is nothing.

2. Harbinger Mission (Season of the Hunt)

Thank you to @xivuuarath for pointing this out since I didn’t include it the first time around. During the Harbinger mission Savathun’s forces are attempting to secure a Shard of the Traveler in the EDZ. Of note is that they aren’t trying to destroy it, but rather siphon the Light from it.

Given that the Shard of the Traveler is what allowed our Guardian to jumpstart their Light when they lost it during the Red War, and is what allowed Uldren Sov to break into the Dreaming City during the events of Forsaken, we can assume it’s useful to lightbearers and mortals alike. Make note of this, because it becomes potentially relevant later on.

2.5. Hawkmoon (Season of the Hunt)

From an unknown vantage point, Savathun watches The Guardian and Crow celebrate their defeat of her Taken at the Shard of the Traveler. Unlike Zavala, she can find no weak points in Crow or the Guardian, only happiness. This awakens something in her.

What is this feeling? I did not ask for it. I do not understand it. I do not want it.

Which gets repeated throughout the lore piece. This is our first glimpse of Savathun having feelings that don't fall into the range of "malevolence" or "plotting". She yearns for her youth with her siblings and the warmth of her old life, and feels burgeoning regret for the people she betrayed.

There is a growing kinship here. Against better judgment.

This is ambiguous enough to be a comment on Crow’s and The Guardian’s relationship, or herself and The Guardian and/or Crow. She's called us her friend before but this might be the first time she's actually had friendly feelings for us.

3. Books of Sorrow: New Verse (Season of the Hunt)

This hasn't actually been posted on Ishtar Collective and I'm too lazy to track down a transcript online, so pardon the source. There's a lot to unpack here.

I walk in a city made of delicate hopes.

Savathun has moved beyond occupying ahamkara bones and is actually physically present.

I hear my name everywhere. [. . .] The sound is nourishment.

Imbaru machine on-line?

I am more than I ever was, and less than I will ever be.

Make note of this line.

I am many and none. I'm a man who sits alone in a cavernous office counting my failures. I'm a woman looking at a silent god. I'm a lost soul on a cold moon. I'm a broken mirror of a man who tries to steer the ship.

Comparing (?) herself to Zavala, Ikora, Eris, and back to Zavala again?

I'm a familiar stranger, flitting between them all, hiding my face.

Again, I think she's speaking literally here.

The people here are small krill dwarfed by the enormity of oblivion.

A neat little comparison of humanity with the krill, who we established in her last appearance she's beginning to feel regret for.

4. Retrofuturist (Season of the Chosen)

Savathun watches a Crucible match, and judges Guardians for being reckless with the gift of immortality. The tone of this piece reinforces the idea she is actually out and about in a corporeal form.

I'm mostly interested in her perspective on Ghosts here. She calls them "A perfect being", and describes their ability to revive the dead as miraculous. She isn't happy that the spectators don't appreciate the gravity of this. Weird sentiment for a hive but ok.

I look up into the blank white face. I feel its Light on my cheeks. It no longer burns me.

The Hive are repelled by the Light. Savathun has grown to tolerate it. Something has changed in her metaphysical composition.

@xivuuarath made the excellent observation that she might have been at least partially successful in the Harbinger mission - that she may have secured enough Light to build up an immunity, allowing her to be physically present in the City without being hurt by the Traveler.

Each revival is a choice. I know what to do.

Tuck this away for a moment.

5. Beneath the Endless Night: VII - Ripe (Season of the Splicer)

Okay this whole page is insane so excuse the massive infodump here.

I walk through the City on broken legs. I am conspicuous, but the people here grant me many affordances. I chose this form well.

Confirmation that our girl is actually bumping about in a human-form.

I open my eyes and search the faces of the people around me for familiarity. I did not mean to. I twist inwardly with disgust.

She's sympathizing with the humans of the City. She does not like this, but she is!

When they first reached for me, I reached back in acid mockery, and they opened themselves to me in stupid, naked innocence. I was giddy. My fingers raked their minds. I forced my will through them using only words and met no resistance.

Now I reach as often as they do, and when they reach back, I am thankful. I speak with them. I seek their company. Their companionship.

In case it wasn’t obvious already, Savathun has been running a psy-op on the residents of the Last City, which may explain some of the particularly erratic and troubling behavior from individuals / groups this season.

However the interesting thing is, while Sav used her powers of suggestion to manipulate, the humans unknowingly manipulated her in return. Not through any magic - simply through their kindness.

Savathun is doing more than observing the people of the Last City, she is living with them, getting to know them. Savathun is making friends and it’s literally changing her.

This is not pity, for I know pity. What is this—

A call back to the Hawkmoon lore with her trying to make sense of budding positive feelings.

I clench the gangling black mass that threatens to unspool recklessly from within this shell of flesh. My new arms are too thin, too weak. My new shell still bound with thick mucus. Not yet, I say.

I suspect that the “new shell” she talks about here is not her human-form, but rather something else growing inside it.

A man places his hands on me, on my shoulders, on my back. He asks if I am ill, and he sees my flat eyes, my teeth black with ripeness, and he prepares to scream. I let him keep his mind. I push breath up and through my ruined mouth and speak a simple lie. He stops, smiles, laughs. Shakes his head. He points a finger at me in mocking admonishment before walking away.

A few things to unpack here.

Savathun is physically deteriorating... badly. @xivuuarath pointed out that the body horror of this particular scene mirrors the Emissary’s description of a world with no darkness and creatures that are incapable of death even as they physically fall apart, and if you follow that line of thinking you may infer that she’s forcing herself to live through light alone.

She's approachable enough that some rando would see her in trouble and want to help her, reinforcing the point that she's been wandering about the City and vibing with its residents.

She could have done worse to the good samaritan but chooses not to. She does her mind trick and lets him go about his business. She’s showing mercy... which is something we know the hive absolutely must not do at the risk of being consumed by their worm.

Even here, basted in deception both ample and rich, the Worm cries ravenously. It has grown grotesque, skin taut, overfed, and still it howls for more. It commands me to keep it alive.

I look up, beyond the flickering net of darkness, and see what rests just beyond. Waiting for me. The Worm roars.

NOT DISCONCERTINGLY AMBIGUOUS AT ALL that we don't know if the worm is roaring in terror, pleading or triumph.

TL;DR of what I think is going on.

Savathun came to the City to destabilize it through manipulation, but could not be physically present until she hardened herself to the Light. Camouflaging herself in a human form, she spent time with the residents of the City, and found herself manipulated in return by their kindness. She's resisting the positive emotions, but they're there, which is something we've never seen between hive and humans before. You can't have a crisis of conscience if you don't have a conscience, and Savathun does.

I think Savathun is trying to shed her current form and be reborn in some capacity. I think she's going to try to use the Light to rid herself of the Worm and bootstrap herself into something new. If you'd asked me before reading this lore, I would have insisted that she wanted to become a thought-entity, but the cocoon-like imagery makes me second-guess this assumption.

There are outstanding questions at this point.

Why did she want to prevent Eris and/or The Guardian from communicating with the Darkness in Season of Arrivals? Is there a purpose to the Endless Night beyond eroding willpower and sowing division? Is she trying to save only herself, or attempt to undo the millennia-old injustice she inflicted on her people?

#destiny #destiny spoilers #savathun #hive #beneath the endless nightblogging #im glad ttp now has a challenger for lore pieces for me to obsess over.

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lovee-infected · 4 years ago

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When will it come out where Epel cut off MC I am still waiting until this day (I'm waiting) I'm not rushing you at all but I hope you are doing well 😢 (im sad)

“Apple of my eye”

(A/N): Sorry that it took so long! Hope you enjoy this anyway dears! ~ ♡

Ever since Epel decided to cut ties with you after learning the truth of you being a girl, his life has been nothing but an absolute nightmare. He's got his days filled with fear and his nights filled with regret, wishing there to be a way for both of you to forget. Forget all the times you made him laugh, and all the times he made you cry. He wanted there to be a way for the of you to move on with your lives as if you'd never hurt one another like now. But as it is for now, he is just one step far from being trapped inside this hell forever alone, because you're finally about to leave the twisted wonderland, forever.

Living in Night Raven college has brought you nothing but pain since the day Epel, your trusted best friend and the guy you once loved rejected you after learning the fact that you are a girl. Each and every second spent around all your friends and people you used to admire felt like a torture. How long? For how long are you going to wait until them too throw you away like Epel did? For how much longer can you pretend to be fine until everyone left around you turn their backs on you as well? Days? Weeks? Months? Or have they already given up on you?

You can't take it, it just hurts so much. Even when there's a friend around, it feels like you're ready to break down in tears and run away again and again; just like it happened with Epel. Why does it hurt you so much though? You were supposed to be strong. You were all on your own when you first came into twisted wonderland, you thought you'd be able to handle it again on your own from now on. But uh, how wrong you were. To think that you'd be as strong as you used to now that your dearest one has left you behind...

No wonder why you immediately agreed to Headmaster Crowley's offer when he argued that he might've found a way to send you back home by passing through the black mirror under 2 conclusions : 1) You'll never be able to make a return to twisted wonderland and 2)You won't remember anyone, or anything from this world. As if it has never existed.

At this point, forgetting Epel and everything about him forever seemed to be the only way of letting go of the pain... Now that you can't have him, best would be to never remember how much you once loved.

"(y/n)... is leaving?" Epel murmurs. Rook shakes his head as a yes, all he could do was to at least let Epel know after how things had gone between you and him lately.

Perhaps Rook was the only one who exactly knows happened that morning, the day Epel tainted each and every memory you once had beside him which you used to recall as your sweetest days of life.

Even as Rook was just sneak peaking behind the wall and all he could do was to listen to Epel shouting and you trying to calm him a bit, he's pretty certain that he heard the sound of your heart breaking the moment Epel mercilessly told you that he's cutting ties with you.

Young Epel really did have a hidden dark side all this time, didn't he...?

Lucky of him that Rook was the only one who saw that. Rook may not be that respective toward people's privacy, but he does know how to keep a friend's secret. As for now, he had to agree that your case was concerning. Not just for you but for Epel himself as well. It's pretty rare of him to feel so but he you can tell that he does care.

"In a few days or so, just enough of time for her to patch stuff up and, well, say goodbye to her friends,"

Friends, huh? To think that not so long ago Epel deserved to be reminded as your friend... How fast did it all change,right? Time is an absolutely terrifying thing, he thinks.

A moment of silence passes until Rook speaks up: "Aren't you going to say goodbye?"

'Say good bye',...This sentence keeps on being repeated inside Epel's head. Why would you even want to hear these words coming from him while Epel himself was the only reason that you have to leave? He hurt you and there was no way to undo what he did to you, even if he could one day be able to face that you, his best friend and at some point, the only friend ever since he stepped into night raven college are a girl, it was impossible to look into your eyes again like he hadn't done all the terrible works he did.

That is a fact, he can't fix a broken heart, neither his or yours. Yes, he was mad at you and is still mad. He felt so used to see that you of all people couldn't even trust him with such a simple thing like your gender. The fearful thought of you getting that close to him because he was nothing but a naïve boy who couldn't tell the difference between male and female. If so, were all the times you told Epel that you cared for him a lie? Did you just want to play him around because he was a lonely boy who didn't have any other friends to talk to? Did you too find him stupid...? Why (y/n)? Why..??

Epel bites his lower lip trying his best not to cry in front of Rook. He already cries enough every night in bed and doesn't need another audience watching him suffer.

"Epel?" Rook calls, making Epel realize that he hasn't yet answered his question.

No, he isn't going to walk up to you just to say goodbye. But if he refuses to do so, wouldn't it make that heartless "I'd rather cut ties with you" his very last sentence to you...?

Epel rolls over and his bed again again, another sleepless night. Though something made this night worse than the previous ones, tommorow would be the day that you'll quit his world forever, and he didn't even come to say his last goodbye...

When was the last time he Epel got a proper night sleep anyway? He can't remember. He's sure been a while that he wanted to take a second in peace, either through sleeping or through reality. When he was awake, he wanted to shut his eyes on life. When he tried to sleep, it either ended with him squirming in his surprisingly 'uncomfortable' bed all the time or waking up wet in sweat from another nightmare.

The only time he actually got to sleep for a minute at least was during classes. 'Hopelessly romantic boy', his classmates teasingly called him. Telling how those who're slowly falling in love would lose the track of their lives and become a total mess like Epel was. Epel never said a word in opposition as he didn't want to end up telling them the story of him recklessly breaking your heart after all you'd done for him, yet it was already obvious that he didn't like this term being used for him at all.

Hopelessly romantic boy...huh?

His insomnia issues were no joke, he couldn't concentrate during classes at all. His vision was all blurry and his eyes felt heavily sleepy. Teachers kept on talking and talking while Epel just stared at the mess of words forming enormous sentences in the books until his eyes went shut. There were a few times that even teachers ended up having to shake him after the class to wake him up before sending him to the headmaster's office right away.

"Young Felmier, are you okay? You've been looking very, uh,you know, different lately"

Is he okay? He's been asking himself the same question for a while.

"Yes, Headmaster"

'I, am not okay.'

He hasn't been okay for a long while, at least he's well aware of it. But there's no point in letting anyone else know, right? Perhaps the only one who might've understood how horrible he is feeling right now... was you. Epel drowns in thoughts and memories are brought back to him:

It's been months since then, but it feels like it was just a minute ago, that he had his head on your shoulder as his warm tears soaked your clothes and his warm breath brushed against your neck. It was probably one of his worse days ever. He ran off having tears in his eyes in front of enormous people, yet not a single soul cared to come after him but you. He was a total mess when you found him under the apple tree, his face was flushed and his diamond blue eyes were filled with pain and tears. You didn't even know him much but seeing him like that, in pain and tears, Epel was no more than a stranger but for some reason...it still hurt. You couldn't take it. Accepting hugs from strangers isn't really his thing, but to be comforted right as you need nothing more than an embrace to cry on, it felt...nice.

You've been always beside him from then on, he couldn't really tell why. He was neither too strong nor too smart, he wasn't any famous or rich either. He was nothing but a random country boy who got noticed by you, the mysterious student who got widely popular throughout the school because of their bravery and strength to fight against several overblots without having any magic after a rather short time.

He often felt proud of how lucky he was to have you. It wasn't just because of how famous and adored you later became, he could tell that there was something special about you from the very beginning. You probably didn't notice but when he first met you at the enterence ceremony, he didn't realize that he'd been keeping his eyes on you all the time. He didn't know why, what could the reason be? Curiosity? A childish interest? Or... something else than these?

From the day after, he couldn't take his eyes off you. It was strange, he doesn't usually get to see someone this much around, but you...you were always there. Right in front of him.

He couldn't help but to watch silently until you walked up to him and started to chat, he can't ever forget how silly his first conversation with you went. He was stressed out whether you'd realized the way he was staring at you all this time, could be that you were offended? He was honestly expecting this to be another trouble coming his way but to his surprise, it wasn't.

Though it took a rather long time for him to finally gain full trust on you, after a while spending time with you wasn't simply something he enjoyed doing. It became a part of his daily routine. No matter what, he wanted to see you, no, he needed to see you. Make sure that you're right, that everything between you is still the same, that he'd have you by his side for another the day he won't be left all alone if anything goes wrong.

You were his reason to keep his self-esteem built-up no matter how rough life could be, you were the only one who could give him a safe shoulder to cry on and and an embrace to close his eyes through and the thought of still having you was what gave him the purpose to keep on smiling through another rough day.

Epel nails the white bedsheets as he digs his wet face harder into the pillow, trying not to scream at the pain. What has he done? Why? Why??

How could he do this to you, the person he adored and cared for the most? Yes, you lied, but so did he. He never wanted to cut ties with you. He was furious and insecure, afraid that you might've never considered him any more than an emotional fool. It scared him, he didn't want to be the idiot you'd one say leave behind without caring to let him know that you never needed him back.

He couldn't let go of you as you'd became a part of Epel himself after all this time you've been together.

He was scared of what bigger things you might've hidden from him, including your true feelings for him. What if deep inside, all you saw through him was a helpless toy to use?

Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts,...they were driving him insane.

It hurt way too much to the point of thinking that he hated you. He never did, how could he? Even if he ever ends up hating everything and everyone including himself like he does now, there's no way that he'd you. You were his everything, his happiness, his hope, his wish, his angel.

'Hopelessly romantic boy'... What if his classmates were right about him though?

Oh lord, what is wrong with him? He can no longer deny the fact that he did fall in love with you while he thought it was nothing more than a simple friendship.

Only if he'd realized this sooner, only if he could've said that he loves you instead of asking you to get out of his life, only if he could've had a second chance to hug you one more time and tell you how he truly feels...

And now, it's too late to regret what he's done. You probably hate him now, and he knows that he deserves to be hated. He was the reason of your teary eyes and sleepless nights. And he and only him, was the reason of you wanting to leave all your of your friends and your memories with them behind by making a return to your own world.

As it's clear than he doesn't deserve you and your love, he decides to let his heart burn inside the flames Epel started on his own.

Let him suffer in the name of you, his one and only love, for eternity.

It's past noon yet Epel doesn't want to get out of bed. He doesn't want to look at the clock, though he's pretty sure that you've already left his world.

He wonders...where are you right now? Back to your own world? Next to the friends and family whom you love? You sure don't remember him anymore but...are you happy? Will you now live as the happy (y/n) he'll always love without him there to hurt you again?

"Sorry (y/n), sorry..." He whispers underneath his breath. Hot tears stream down Epel's face, and he squeezes his eyelids shut in the hope his tears would stop. He sat on his bed unmoving, with his choppy breathing and watery eyes remaining for quite a while. He was so lost through his pain and sorrow that didn't hear the knock on his door at first.

"Who there?-" Epel murmurs through his tear. It's probably Rook, wanting to see why he didn't make it to school today. His door continues to be knocked on, yet Epel doesn't care to answer thr sound. Doesn't matter who the hell is at the door, he doesn't want to talk right now.

He hides his face under the blanket, can't he just cry in peace? He hears the sound of his door sliding open, but doesn't bother getting the blanket off his head. He annoyedly wraps himself tighter in bed. 'Whoever you are, just leave me alone. Please, I don't want to-'

Takes a few seconds until he feels the blanket being pulled off him, he vaguely turns his head, ready to shout: "GET LOST" at whoever his interrupter is. He opens his mouth to yell but the sight of the person standing in front of him leaves him speechless.

Your bodies remain still as your eyes are locked, neither of you move a finger until you break the silence:

"Epel..." you whisper. He looks pretty different from the last time you saw him. His face looks much paler and thinner now, and from the swelling bags under his eyes you could tell that he hasn't really been sleeping well lately. The the rage and hatred you saw last time in his eyes is now replaced with emptiness and sorrow, a severe pain that makes your heart ache for him one more time. He looks so, so broken. So lost, so sad. It hurts a lot seeing him like this, though you'd sworn never to think of him the way you used to again.

"I, I came to say goodbye-" you say nervously. What is Epel having in mind now? How is he going to respond? From the way your last conversation went you could certainly tell that he held nothing else than for you now, but you, could you be the same?

Epel didn't show up to say goodbye which was another evidence of him not wanting to see your face ever again, but something deep inside your heart, something you couldn't let go of ever after he let you down told you to come to say your very last goodbye.

Epel's eyes widen in fascination. This time, he can't hold back his tears from falling. You won't stop surprising him until the very last second, will you?

Right at the moment you are expecting him to be mad and push you back again, he throws himself into your embrace. You are about to say a word, but all you can do is to let Epel feel your warm embrace and the torrent of his tears soak through your shirt. It is too painful to see him like this.

"Wh-why...Why-are you like this-? Why did you come? Why are you still being this kind?? Why can't you just hate me!?" he painfully screams through his tears. You can feel him clench his fists, as he pushes himself closer to you. You have your emotions mixed up, you can't tell wether you should be sad or happy. But here he is, crying into your embrace like he used to do before. For a second it feels like your paths had never been torn apart, that you never got separated and he never said those words which hurt you the most.

You let him rest his head on your shoulder and run your fingers through his hair, time and time again, in an attempt you calm the silent war within his mind.

For the hundredth time, you are reminded of how much he meant to you, from the very moment you were interested in getting to know about the pale lavender-haired guy who's been secretly watching you all the time.

You remember all the times he made you laugh and that sweet smile he always put on when he greeted you in the morning, you remember each and every time that he needed your embrace to either cry or feel a bit better after the hard they he might've gone through.

You remember all the times you silently cried in bed knowing that you were slowly falling for the young boy who you genuinely held dear, that he was slowly becoming the apple of your eye.

And there he was, walking in front of you, unaware of the feelings you, young (y/n) had for him and how he was truly, the one and only for you, the apple of your eye.

Before you know it, Epel is no longer the only one crying. You hold him tighter, pushing your head to his shoulder and letting your hot tears fall off your eyes, realizing how much you've missed him after all this time. Epel doesn't pull back, instead he follows and allows your bodies to come closer and closer, until there's no space left. At the moment your bodies are close enough to become one, he's got the rhythm of your chest raising and on his body and you've got his on yours. Warm breaths brushing against each other's face that it makes it almost hard to breathe.

For a second, it feels as if you and him are the only beings on the whole world and your world is skipped inside the warmth you're drowning through right now. There's no past, no future, no pain, no feelings at all. All you know is the present you're having with him, wishing that this moment would last forever.

"I...I love you," Epel whispers, only loud enough for you to hear him under your fascinated gaze. You let out silent gasp as your head's still on the back of his shoulder.

'What did he just say..?'

Those words...those 3 forbidden words you thought you'd never him Epel them back if you ever did. Yet you kept on loving him, totally aware that he might never develop such feelings for you back.

You were supposed to make a return to your own world by now, all you'd came for was a simple goodbye to someone you were supposed to consider your ex-best friend, but you know that it would be a lie. He wasn't just your best friend, he was once your everything: Your love, your smile, your tears, your hope. Even after he bitterly told you to cut ties with him, you couldn't let go of the feeling. You felt empty without him, a life without him was clueless and dark, you felt so lost, so empty, so brokenhearted. You'd lost Epel, and never thought that you'll ever get to have him close again, let alone hearing him say that he loves you back.

And now, it's all up to you. What are you going to do now? For the first time in a while, your future now relies on nothing but your very own choice. You're caught in the middle of the path, stuck between leaving the twisted wonderland for your very own sake or staying here with Epel, in a stranger world which you don't belong to, next to the guy you once appreciated the most.

With everything you've been going through all this time, what will you choose to do? How will this story come to an end? Choosing to go and leave all the pain together with all the happiness you've been experiencing next Epel all this time behind, or letting go of the past and giving him a second to maybe lead you through a life you once dreamed to have with him?

Epel has probably got a lot more to say other than that three words, knowing that you're probably running out of time if you're going to return to your own world, next to the family and beloved ones you haven't met in forever, are you still going to stay here with Epel and allow him to talk? With all the things that he did to you and made you have a severe mental breakdown afterwards, are you still to give him your attention and love, and let him have a chance to be the apple of your eye again...?

#twisted wonderland #Twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #rook Hunt #epel felmier x reader #Apple of my eye #Pomefiore #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #epel felmier

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miracleonice87 · 4 years ago

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Magic in the Hamptons

a Mat Barzal song fic

a/n: this one has been a long while coming. very loosely based on the song Magic in the Hamptons by Social House (woo, Pittsburgh!) feat. Lil Yachty. obviously I don’t own any of this music/lyrics. mostly based on Matt Martin and Sydney Esiason’s wedding, which totally doesn’t make sense timing-wise since I mention the TikTok dance to this song, but we’re rolling with it!

summary: Mat Barzal and his girlfriend travel to the Hamptons for the Esiason/Martin wedding, where their relationship takes a big step, too.

warnings: alcohol. swearing. brief mentions of sex. cheesy singing and dancing. cotton candy fluff.

______

The New York state wedding of the year had finally arrived.

Matt Martin and Sydney Esiason, Mat’s teammate and his fiancé — who were both your close friends — were tying the knot at last, and you, Mat, and the boys were Southampton-bound to ring in the occasion. Mat had rented out a house for a group of you — Jordan and Lauren, Anders and Grace, and Tito, who had chosen to fly solo in hopes of wheeling a single girl at the reception. Other Islanders, both current and former, were staying either in their own Hamptons summer homes or in places they, too, had rented for the weekend, all within a short distance of each other, so the next few days were about to be quite the affair.

You and Mat had flown in on a red eye from Vancouver, and you were grateful that you’d actually caught a few hours of shuteye on the plane, because Mat was now absolutely buzzing with excitement about seeing so many of his past and present teammates in the middle of the summer, not to mention celebrating Marty and Sydney, who had taken the two of you under their wing, affectionately calling you “Baby Matt and Baby Syd.”

On the way from the airport to the property, Mat had stopped at a market to stock up on the essentials — namely, cases of beer, bottles of wine, handles of liquor, and, of course, plenty of champagne. Mat heaved it all into the SUV, and minutes later, the two of you were pulling into the driveway of the sprawling Cape Cod-style abode where you would be staying, the first portion of the crew to arrive.

The two of you unpacked the car, Mat insisting on carrying the majority of the load, and staked your claim on the master suite, which was sure to be something Mat’s older, married captain chirped him about later in the weekend. The two of you walked through each room of the house, soaking in the summer cottage vibes, before making your way back to the kitchen to set up shop.

After Mat poured two flutes of champagne and proposed a toast to Marty and Syd, the two of you sipped the bubbly and discussed plans for the rest of the day, including Mat accompanying Marty to pick up the wedding bands from the jeweler in town.

Soon, Mat found his way into the living room and spotted the stereo.

“Time to turn up, babe,” he announced, truly a frat boy at heart, pulling his phone from his pocket. When he finally finished fiddling with the Bluetooth sound system, Mat theatrically spun your way as you stocked the fridge with your enormous alcohol order. You smirked at him when you heard the first few beats of the song.

“C’mon,” Mat coaxed, nodding his head toward the open concept living room floor. “You gotta come dance with me to this song right now!”

You tipped your head back with a chuckle, shaking your head as you watched your clown of a boyfriend, who always made time to sing and dance because he loved the way you lit up when he did. As you left the grocery bags on the island and sauntered his way, he started to perform.

“Spot a little hottie when I flipped up the shades,” he began, giving you his best sexy eyes, making you snort and immediately cover your mouth with one hand. “Lookin' like a red ‘Rari sittin' in a driveway…” Mat continued, taking your hands and dancing around the room as you took turns feeding the lyrics to one another animatedly.

“Me and you should get a room right now,” you sang to him, pushing your chest up against his and watching his eyebrows quirk in that endearing way that made butterflies erupt within you. You toyed with his ever-present chain as you delivered the next lyric: “’Cause if it's gold, I'll throw it away, you're worth more than every single chain…”

With that, Mat spun you around, pulling you back into him and situating his lips right above your forehead as he said, “Best drink I take is when I sippin' you…”

Automatically, the two of you broke apart and launched into the TikTok dance for the chorus, mirroring each other as you tried to focus on each move without bursting into hysterics watching one other.

After you danced through the next verse, Mat pulled your back to his chest, hands gripping yours tightly as he said into a low voice into your ear, “…next trip I take is just me and you.” You turned your face toward him and smiled warmly, then both repeated the moves to the chorus that you’d learned together from the cool young kids on social media.

Mat tore up Lil Yachty’s rap verse as you danced in front of him, giggling.

“This is how I feel about you when I’m away…” Mat spoke before switching back to his rap persona, jokingly getting in your face, arms thrown behind him in a playful confrontation. “I'm tired of looking at your pictures, wanna be up in your face.”

You shook your head at his antics, laughing as he continued, spinning you around again and again with one hand like a ballerina. “I wanna dance with you, I wanna laugh, I wanna sing. Take you on the road, have you rockin' all my bling. Don't know if you're the one but if you are, you'll get a ring…”

Mat smirked at you as he said that particular word, throwing a flirtatious wink your way and causing your heart to flutter. You rolled your eyes and tried to play off how excited that statement coming from Mat’s lips made you, even if it was just a line in a goofy song.

Unbeknownst to you two, Tito had just stepped through the front door and lifted his sunglasses to rest atop his head when Mat delivered the final line with an amusing passion.

“And you look so classy, come through with that magic. You know that I'm ‘bout to smash it, it's true.” With that, Mat grabbed a generous handful of your asscheek and bit at your earlobe, your hands finding his face as you squealed, trying and failing to pry him away from you and stop his mischief.

“TMI,” you heard from the entryway, causing you to jump in Mat’s arms as he laughed at his friend’s statement, eyebrows high on his forehead. Tito walked over with a smirk, shaking his head, and Mat wrapped his arms around your waist tenderly.

“Oh, you two,” Tito teased, kissing your cheek and dapping up Mat as the three of you made your way to the kitchen for your second of what would prove to be many rounds of drinks that afternoon.

_____

Mat was content.

He sat beside you two days later in the breezy Southampton afternoon air, long arm wrapped easily around the back of your chair, fingers lightly caressing your shoulder as you listened to Matt and Sydney deliver their vows to one another. You’d been dabbing at the corners of your eyes with a handkerchief throughout the entire ceremony, Mat’s heart swelling at your evident love for Marty and Syd.

As you lifted the hankie once more to your face, Mat leaned in and delivered the most tender kiss to your temple, his eyes fluttering closed as he breathed in your scent and the pure sweetness of the moment. He felt you melt into his touch, your hand shifting from his thigh to grasp his hand tightly in your own, smoothing your thumb over his knuckles. That simplest of gestures intoxicated him, and despite the wedding going on before you, he couldn’t keep from telling you exactly what he was thinking.

“I love you,” he whispered into your ear, breath tickling your neck and sending goosebumps down your exposed arms. You hummed softly in appreciation, leaning further into his body, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I love you, Maty,” you whispered back, squeezing his hand.

As he looked down to your left hand, entwined with his as they lay in his lap, Mat smiled, thinking of the new addition that would soon adorn that one special finger.

And the best part?

You had no idea.

_____

You were feeling yourself.

It could be the alcohol, or the blue satin dress you donned that suited you so well, or the intense way Mat had been staring at you all night, or a combination of all three. You didn’t know for sure, but either way, you were feeling the best you had in a long time.

Which is why you didn’t hesitate to follow along when, as you stood next to Mat at the bar, his arm slung around your waist and hand resting teasingly just above your backside, Tito hustled up to you as London Bridge by Fergie began to flood the room and grabbed your hands, pulling you away from your boyfriend as he looked on with a pout.

“He,” Tito started, pointing at Mat, “can get you a drink. We,” he motioned between himself and you, “are gonna dance to this right now.”

You threw your head back in a laugh, tossing Mat a look that told him you were only slightly sorry, which quickly faded when you and Tito joined everyone on the dance floor. A crowd naturally circled around the two of you, a pair of the most fun-loving of the entire group, who often kept the others entertained at such events, along with Mat, who was currently enjoying just soaking it all in from afar.

Mat couldn’t keep his eyes off you as you mimicked Fergie’s drop-it-low moves from the now-vintage music video, watching how your hair — not to mention your perky butt and breasts — bounced each time you moved. What made him smile, though, wasn’t how gorgeous your body looked — it was the radiant glow on your face, in your eyes, as you goofed off with many of your closest friends. His closest friends. Though Mat loved you just as much on a rainy morning on the Island, wrapped in his sweats and makeup smeared across your face, these were the moments that made you shine the brightest, your love of life bubbling over onto everyone around you.

As Mat admired your magnetizing charm, Marty approached, playfully rubbing Mat’s shoulders like he was a prizefighter in a ring. Mat reached a hand up, which Marty firmly smacked and squeezed before settling his elbows back against the bar, watching his own love on the dance floor, only feet away from you as the two of you laughed together.

“She get suspicious at all the other day?” Marty inquired with a smirk, nodding gratefully at the bartender who knowingly poured another whisky for him and a fresh vodka cranberry for his bride, after setting down Mat’s beer and your rum ginger in front of him.

Mat couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Surprisingly, no,” he answered, chuckling. “She really bought it when I told her that Syd asked me to go to the jeweler with you to make sure you got the right rings.”

Marty threw a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “Your girl really must have no faith in me. Syd thought it was hilarious, honestly. And she’s so excited she can barely take it.” Mat nodded. “So... when you gonna do it?” Marty asked, nudging an elbow into Mat’s abdomen.

Mat looked down to his shoes bashfully, a flush spreading from beneath the collar of his dress shirt up to his cheeks.

“Soon,” he said firmly. “I’ve already talked to her parents, and I know her sister can barely keep it together, ever since she helped me design the ring,” Mat added with a grin. “Think I wanna plan a little getaway for just the two of us here in the next couple weeks or so. Do it then.”

Marty backhanded Mat’s bicep and let out an excited “whoop!”

“That’s awesome, buddy,” he told Mat. “I didn’t know you were popping the question so soon!”

Mat turned his gaze to you once more as he and Marty made their way back to the dance floor, drinks for themselves and their favorite women in hand. He smiled at Marty before making his final comment on the topic for the evening.

“Would’ve asked her day one if I had the guts.” Marty nodded in understanding and sent a wink Mat’s way before kissing Sydney’s cheek and handing off her drink, Syd squealing her thanks.

Mat did the same, and you were in a fit of giggles as you hooked one arm around his neck and accepted the glass with your other hand, the last strains of the song fading into another. Suddenly, your brows shot up as you gasped dramatically.

“Hot shit!” you exclaimed along with Nelly over the speakers. Mat laughed loudly at you, kissing you before you turned around, grinding against him slightly — had he told you today that you were pure evil, he wondered — and began dancing to the tune.

And there, swaying along with you to Country Grammar, Mat knew that he had chosen the right girl to dance with, tonight and for the rest of his life.

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what-the--curtains · 4 years ago

Text

Alliance

Chapter 2 – The Decision

(Mando x f!reader)

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Summary: The child taken, his ship destroyed the only one who can help him? A woman he sold into slavery several months earlier.

Notes: Wow wow wow! Thank all for the likes im glad ive gained some interest lets hope I can keep it! Comment or message to be added to the tagged list!

Tw: mentions of dubcon/sex, depictions of violence and coarse language

Tagged list: @crazycookiecrumbles

Word count: 3.7k

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

7 months later

Mandos POV

Using all his wits and a touch of charm the Mandalorian had managed to make his way to a nearby town. Once there he’d likely be able to hitch a ride or win some kind of ship in a game of cards. He didn’t need a good one, just something to get him to Navarro. He makes his way to a more upscale bar, hoping its clients would be more lucrative with their belongings. Scanning the gambling hall he chooses his target carefully, opting for a rich looking idiot who had been trying to impress the man next to him since the Mandalorian had walked in. He takes his seat at the round wooden table amongst a variety of lavishly dressed characters. He had to find the child as soon as possible. If he wasn’t with the empire yet there’s no doubt he would be soon.

“Deal me in” He says, taking a seat between an Iktotchi and an Ortolan.

“Not so fast, what's your buy in?” the dealer asks.

“How about that helmet?” The Ortolan pipes up.

“No.”

“The creature then?” the Falleen across the table ponders reaching out to touch Anya, who had been at his side when Grogu was taken and has refused to leave it since.

“No” he says, batting her hand away and tapping on his shoulder piece “Will this do?” The dealer nods and they begin. In the second hand he ends up winning a ship from his target who was seemingly unbothered by the loss as he nonchalantly tosses Mando the keys, before leaving the table.

Twirling the key on his index finger he makes his way to the bar, hoping to gain some insight on how to go about finding Grogu.

“Quite a game, didn’t know Mandalorians played cards.” The older humanoid bartender stated, shining off a glass. With no response he speaks up again. “Can I help you with something , give me something to tell the kids if I helped out a Mandalorian.”

“If someone was looking to find something lost where would he go?”

“You have any idea what this thing is?”

“Yes.”

“Any idea where it is?”

“No.”

“Tell you what, there was a woman, from a forest planet somewhere on the outer rim. Hair as white as snow, an old language on her body, a face that’s hard to forget. She helped me find my youngest after she was taken by smugglers.”

“Vryssa?” The Mandalorian says slowly, causing Anya to perk up.

“Aye that’s the place. You’ve been?” the barkeep ponders.

“Thank you, here” he says handing over a portion of the credits won in his game of cards to the speechless keeper.

Exiting the bar shaking his head in disbelief, of course the one person who could help him track the kid was someone with a personal vendetta against him. At least he knew who he had to find and where to start looking. Opening the doors to his new ship he gives it a quick once over. It was roomier than the razor crest, but not by much, too fancy for his liking in all honesty. Nicer amenities though and a decent sized bed which Anya had made her way onto, it would be a better place for when he gets the kid back. It had an armoury, but nothing in it, at least not yet. He closes it and makes his way up to the ship's cockpit. Decent enough system, more of a flashy ride than a functional one, made for a decently skilled pilot by the looks of it. Locking in the coordinates for Coruscant he begins his search.

For two weeks he attends black markets around the galaxy until one day he sees him, the man who had bought you. He follows him cornering him in a nearby alleyway.

“What do you want Mando?” The Kel Dor responds.

“I’m looking for a woman.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“She was bought by you a few months ago. Not jogging your memory? White hair, eternal blood.”

“Oh. Her difficult one, had to break her in a bit.” The choice of words was less than favourable to the Mandalorian, but in favor of time he brushed by it.

“What happened to her?”

“ Sold her.”

“ To who?” He says getting impatient

“Gladiatorial ring on Geonosis , she was a big hit, sold her for twice what I had paid, moved into the big arenas quickly. I’ll take you if you want.”

“No, give me the coordinates.” Mando says

“Should be easy enough for you to get her. She's been broken in well, nice and obedient if you know…” He knocks the guy out before he can finish the sentence.

R-16, Geonosis, Outer Rim Territories

Stepping out of the ship it doesn’t take long for him to figure out where you are. Large projections of posters with you line the street, apparently you were fighting today. The sounds of the arena increase as he gets closer, as does the crowd of people awaiting the show.

“A Mandalorian, you here to see the fight? Gonna be a good one. Fan favourite tonight the huntress.” A native geonosian exclaims.

“Is she the girl in the picture? The white haired one?”

“ Yes, and if you like what you see I’m sure a piece of that armour will get you a night with her, I’ve heard the trainer sells her off after fights.” The Mandalorian nods and heads off “How much for a ticket” he ask the seller,

“100 credits”

“For a fight?”

“For today’s fight? Yes.” Begrudgingly he pays the fee and enters into the dome. It is enormous, the revenue it brings in must be astronomical he thinks as he takes his seat.

Your POV

It hadn’t been an easy few months, but you were still alive. The handlers knew if they bled you all at once the value would decrease, and after having you fight and win over the fans, keeping you alive became more economically sound than killing you. Your most recent trainer, an older Duras named San Korliks, had gotten you into a slightly more dubious but very lucrative business. Turns out the rich love nothing more than spending the night with a victor. Between the fights and the suitors you’d have enough saved to live comfortably once you were out. Yes you were close to buying your freedom, 12 fights and a few more rich idiots and you’d be out of here. You’d find a planet with plenty of sand and water and settle down living out the rest of your days in peace. You could hear the crowd cheering from your cell, San would be here for you shortly. You stand up smoothing out the red tunic that had seen better days. It was shorter than you’d like and impractical for fighting, but your handler was right sex sells and it had kept you alive thus far. You move to the drawer of the cell, though tightly watched it was decently large and relatively comfortable. More wins meant better quarters. You pull out the gold plated armour clipping the chest plate, arm bands and shin guards into place before lacing up your worn down brown leather boots. Moving over to the small mirror you dip your hand into a bowl of burgundy paint smearing it down your face and onto your neck then around your well defined biceps. You're admiring your work when you hear a knock on your cell door.

“C’mon darling let’s give them a show” San says, he was nicer than your previous trainers, probably as you were bringing in the big bucks. You walk over to the cell door, he opens it and guides you to the enormous door that would soon open up to the arena.

“Try to let a little blood get spilled tonight, we need to sell some.” You nod, cracking your neck and stretching out your arms. “I also have some suitors lined up, high payers.”

“How many more till I’m out?” you question.

“ Just a few more darling, promise.” He says squeezing your shoulder. You hear the crowd chanting in the background as San leaves. You grab the spear left out for you, tossing it from hand to hand to gage its weight. You bounce up and down on your toes shaking out your body and calming your mind and preparing for whatever they were planning on throwing at you tonight. You repeat the number of days until you're free in your head. You could do this, you’d done it a hundred times now. Not that the killing gets any easier, but in order to survive you had to forgo morality. The doors open and the crowd erupts in applause as you enter waving to the adoring fans.

Mando’s POV

The loud speaker blares out over the crowd “ Tonight a special event, the huntress will take on not one, not two, but four opponents! Now to make it a fair fight, only one will be allowed to challenge at a time, but we have a lovely admixture of beasts and an extra special surprise for you all. The return of another fan favorite. Hang onto your seats folks, this is going to be a night you won’t soon forget” Four versus one, Mando thinks, as he watches you enter the arena, the odds definitely weren’t in your favour. He was prepared to jump in and get you out himself if he had too, you were his only chance at finding the kid after all. He hears a rumble of applause as a door across from you opens revealing a Rancor. He watches you closely, noticing how unphased you seemed by it. In no less than a minute he sees the spear fly from your hand hitting the creature right in its jugular killing it instantly. Not bad, he thinks, but it was just a Rangor, yes they were big, but they weren’t known for being strategic fighters. You pull the spear out of its neck, the crowd cheers seemingly alerting you to the presence of the Nexu that had appeared from the door behind you. It leaps towards you and he watches intently as you tuck and roll out of the way, spear still in hand, thrilling the crowd even more.

He wonders how much of the fight is a performance and how much of it was real. You and the Nexu circle each other, seeing you plant your feet he finds himself curious as to what your next move will be. You kick the dirt up causing the creature to charge again, as it leaps you take a knee lifting the top of the spear up, slicing the creature open causing its guts to fall down on you earning more zealous applause from the arena. He sees you stand up lifting your arms to get the crowd chanting, more showmanship. “What can you tell me about her?” he asks the couple sitting next to him. “Never lost a fight, and she’s beautiful, you need anything else?” They reply. He sees you wiping the creature's guts off your face when a door opens and a Terentatek appears, where the hell did they find one of those things the Mandalorian thinks. He sees your shoulders deflate, more so in annoyance, than fear based on the look on your face. It’s obvious you weren’t expecting a creature so large. After a few dodges and spear swipes the creature has you cornered, he sees you look side to side searching for an out, but there isn’t one, at least none he can see. Its mouth descends on you, seemingly engulfing you whole. The crowd is silent, it’s only then he notices he’s out of his seat. When had that happened? A glimmer suddenly appears from the creature's head as it gets brighter; he sees the spear had sliced through the Terentateks thick hide. The creature collapses and the skin on its head separates as you appear victorious. He sits back down observing you closely as you walk back towards the door from whence you came. The announcer's voice starts up again.

“Now for an extras special treat we’ve brought a fan favourite out of retirement, the demon slayer!” Just then the door opens and a Deveronian in head to toe black armour emerges wasting no time in launching his attack. He throws a dagger which catches you in the arm, the crowd erupts, the sight of your blood enticing them. He watches you intently as you bend over retrieving the knife off the floor and tossing it to the audience. Your opponent’s armour was thick, with very few openings in it. The crowd was getting excited, noticing that you had lost the spear to the Deveronian who had thrown it behind him.

You were the more skilled fighter, but the demon slayer was larger and stronger. He watches you try to make a pass. He thinks you’re in the clear but the opponent grabs you by the hair pulling you back into him as he brandishes another knife bringing it up to your throat. You bite down on his hand giving you just enough time to wrestle the knife from him no doubt slicing your hands open in the process. He doubts that this part of the fight was showmanship, both you and your competitor were evenly matched. It was anyone’s game. Your stunt had given you enough time to retrieve your spear. Just as he thinks you’ve gotten the upper hand he sees a mace extend out from one of the slayer’s sleeves, it sparks with electricity. If it so much as hit you, that would be it. The Mandalorian can feel his heart pounding finding himself wrapped up in the atmosphere of the arena as the creature approaches you swinging the mace. It wraps around your spear, the crowd is silent, they think it's all over, but looking at a nearby screen Mando makes out what appears to be a small smile on your face.

The mace wraps the spear and you pull back on it, hard, drawing the Deveronian in closer. As the electricity hits your arm you release the force from the pulling causing the spear to plunge up in-between the opening between the Devaronians chest plate and helmet killing him instantly. He sees you drop to your knees catching the falling opponent whispering something before laying him down on the floor. The crowd erupts in cheers, flowers and money are thrown to the ground, before picking it up he sees you circle back to each opponent kneeling on the ground for a few seconds before rising and moving on to the next.

“C’mon Mando” the people beside him say “blood auctions this way”. He follows them, but half the auditorium seemingly had the same idea and he was too far back to reach you. He sees you standing with your trainer as the blood spilled during the fight was sold to the highest bidder, the crowd intermittently grabbing at you. You’re quickly shuffled out the room. The Mandalorian exits through a back door, as he does he sees your trainer speaking to a Sephi. He hangs back, close enough to hear the conversation, but far enough away so as not to be noticed.

“Room 801. She’ll be ready for you in a half hour.”

“Perfect, makers, where will I go when she’s free? No one has ever compared to her” the client laughs.

“She’s not leaving, at least not for a while. Far too good for business at the moment. Hope’s what keeps her keen though. I oblige in her fantasies, so she can oblige yours ” The Duro gives the man the key and heads back into the arena. The man exits the alley bumping into the Mandalorian.

“Watch it Mando.” The Sephi says, pushing by him. As he pushes by, Mando snatches the key and makes his way up to room 801.

Your POV

“Hey San, how'd the rest of the auction go?” you ask, wiping off as much slime as you could in the small sink. “Good. I’ve put your cut in the bank for when you’re out. We have a client room 801, penthouse, he knows you apparently.”

“Half the galaxy knows me” you murmur “Do we have to tonight?” you ask, wanting to get out of your gear and go to sleep.

“C’mon he’s rich and not bad looking.”

“Fine” you sigh, not like you had a choice anyways. He chains your hands together and leads you up to the penthouse suite, at least you’d get to sleep in a large bed, maybe get a shower with decent water pressure. He unchains you and ushers you into the room, closing and locking the door behind you. You rub your wrists and crack you back stretching out your arms, you hear a cough. Weird, you think, clients were usually brought up after you’d had time to settle in. “I'm sorry I wasn’t expecting...” you say in your sweetest voice turning around. The tone is quickly dropped. The client was none other than the very person who had landed you in this situation.

“YOU” you shout, not thinking twice before charging at him, slipping a knife out from one of your arm bands and lunging for the Mandalorians neck. He grabs your wrists before they can make contact with him, bending them back causing you to drop the knife on the floor. He tries to restrain you causing you to panic accidentally using the force to throw him back against the wall. He crashed into the wall landing on the floor with a soft thud probably wondering what the hell’s just hit him. His hands quickly shoot up in the air, as you pick up the knife again pointing it at him.

“If you think for one second I’m going to sleep with you, you have another thing coming you stupid tin can, you’re lucky ...” you start but he cuts you off

“That’s not why I’m here.” He says quickly.

“ What?” you say, lowering your knife, but not your guard.

“ I’m here for your help.”

“ YOU want MY help? Makers you’re funny, you know I didn’t know Mandalorians could tell jokes.” you say sitting down on the bed across from him as he cautiously stands up, hands still in the air.

“I’m here to get you out” He offers.

“Why? what do you want from me?” you question

“Your help, the child he was taken I...” he pauses, you feel the sadness emanating off him, but you hold the knife true. “I need to find him before the others do, they’ll kill him.”

“Well should have thought about that before you lost him.” you say snarkily. Standing up you make your way to the door.

“Please, I can get you out of here.” He starts, you turn on your heel.

“Newsflash, I’m making my own way out of here just…”

“ ...a few more fights” he finishes for you. you look at him confused. “There never letting you out of here I heard your trainer he’s not letting you go. Something about being too good for business.” Was he telling you the truth? With the helmet covering his face it was hard to tell. From what your grandmother had told you, Mandalorians rarely lied, and deep down something was telling you to trust him.

“Bastard” you mutter moving away from the door. “Well i'll find my own way out.”

“Please” he says, taking a step towards you, causing you to lift the knife up again. “You wasted your money coming here, leave.”

“I didn’t pay”

“What?” you respond and he looks over to you . “You’re not the client?”

“No” he says dryly, as if the answer was obvious. The tension is cut by a sudden knock at the door.

“Shit, you have to hide” you say dropping the knife and pushing the Mandalorian in the direction of the bed.

“Where should I hide behind a curtain?” he deadpans

“I am not in the mood for jokes right now, get under the bed” you say lifting up the bed skirt.

“No”

“Yes” you say pointing ferociously under the bed.

“No”

“Fine, but you have to go somewhere or we're both screwed.” You say turning around to get the door. As you open it you start “look I can explain.”

“ Explain what?” The Sephi asks, pushing past you taking a seat on the bed. “You’re performance out there was almost as enticing as you” you turn back to close the door looking around the room in an attempt to locate the beskar clad man. “We’ve met before, remember?” he asked, as if you would.

“Hard to forget such a lovely night.” You lie, sitting down next to him realizing you were going to have to talk your way out of this one. “Listen, tonight’s been rough, and I want to be at my peak performance for you, we can reschedule for another night” you say stroking his cheek. The Sephi grabs your wrist, harshly. “ No, I paid for it now so I’ll get it now” . Just then you hear a blaster go off and the guy drops. The Mandalorian appears from behind the curtain

“Seriously.” you say, “I was going to deal with him”

“And I wasn’t going to sit and watch it happen,” he responds re-holstering the blaster.

“They’ll use this to keep me here forever” you say, more sad than angry.

“They were doing that anyway” the modulated voice says. “Come with me” he says reaching his arm out, “now or never”.

Standing up, you push past his hand and walk over to the dead client laying on the floor. Kneeling down you rummage around for his wallet before throwing it to the Mandalorian.

“Let’s get out of here” you say

“Here” he says, taking off his cape and offering it to you. You wrap it around yourself.

“I look like a goddamn Jawa” you say, making note of how long it looks on you.

“Come on before your handaler comes back” he says. The two of you make a swift exit, creeping through the back alleys until you reach his newly acquired ship.

#the mandolarian #mando x you #mando x reader #din dijarin x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #din dijarin x reader #Star Wars #star wars #Alliance #Chapter 2

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toovirgins · 3 years ago

Text

March, 1964

Summary: John and Paul (but mostly John) find studying their lines for A Hard Day's Night a drag. John finds other (PG?) ways to pass the time.

The air was still inside the cozy dressing room. A faint scent of cigarette smoke clung to the thick atmosphere, but not enough to ring unpleasant. John gazed at the cigarette as it dangled loosely from his fingers, and deciding against taking another drag, put it out in the ashtray beside him. He tugged at the neck of his black sweater—despite the chill of the winter air persisting outside the window, the room was quite warm. Without much thought, John lazily traced a finger along the window sill, feeling chills spread up his arm at the temperature shock.

It really looked more like an upscale office than a dressing room. Sure, there were four distinct mirrors and hairdresser chairs, as well as a rod near the doorway with an array of suits, sweaters, and trousers for the boys to rotate in and out of. But the room itself was decorated quite elegantly. A soft glow from the floor lamp mingled with the diminishing brightness of outside to coat the room in a honey-like aura. Deep red curtains framed the enormous window, grazing the velvety paisley-patterned rug that covered most area of the room. The rest of the floor was a deep hardwood, without the slightest trace of dust—an unfamiliar concept, John mused. This was much nicer than what they were used to. Immediately upon entering, he had thrown himself onto a long, floral-patterned couch by the window. Paul knew he fancied observing nature while they studied.

Paul was seated a few feet away from him, his long legs draped over the armrest as he slouched sideways over the enormous armchair. His body was facing John’s, and he could see his eyebrows knitting together in concentration as he studied his script. His lips moved wordlessly, repeating his lines to himself without speaking at all. He reached up mindlessly and tousled his hair, and John watched as the dark locks fell directly back into place. They had been sitting like this for over an hour now, and John was beginning to feel restless. He had turned his gaze to his friend once he figured he could not possibly watch the nothing going on outside the window for a second longer. Going over his script one more time was always an option, but the thought simply did not interest him. Despite being constantly begged not to do so, John figured he could improvise some lines if they fell blank on his mind. He had a quick wit, and knew that some of his lines would come off better (read: more authentic) than the portrait that the writers had painted of him. He didn’t know how Paul could concentrate for so long, especially seeing as the man had relatively few lines in the upcoming scene.

Almost as if hearing his name appear in John’s thoughts, Paul’s eyes jumped up to meet John’s. He swung his legs over the arm of the chair until he was sitting in an upright (albeit, poorly postured) position and set his script down on the quaint table between them. John pulled the ashtray a bit closer to himself, fearing the disaster that would ensue if he and Paul accidentally burned down the dressing room. They had had their fair share of slightly arsonist run-ins in their youth, and John was too tired to deal with the legal ramifications of an incident like that again.

Paul sighed loudly, bringing John back to present. He hoped this was a sign of his friend’s boredom and restlessness, so he could stop pretending like he was studying his own script. The younger man leaned forward and put his head in his hands, letting out a strained groan as he rubbed his eyes.

“I don’t think I can take any more of this studying, mate,” Paul muttered. “I close my eyes and all I see is ‘No, actually, we’re just good friends’. Why do I have to say that, like, a dozen times? It’s only hardly clever.”

“Quite the realistic portrait, then,” John replied lazily, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips when Paul shot him an irritated glance. “I’m bored. Let’s do something.”

Paul checked his wristwatch. “When do you think they’ll be back? I thought Ringo was just going to wander about the town. How long could that filming possibly take? It’s not even scripted. Plus, he’s got that massive hangover. I figured they’d be back around by now.”

John shrugged. George had gone along with Ringo to provide some moral support for the dreaded scene (every scene was dreaded for Ringo today, as Paul was right—he was sporting a massive hangover), leaving Paul and John behind to study for their next appearance. For Paul, it was out of necessity; the poor lad struggled with keeping up with his lines, a fact that made him irritated and anxious. Paul typically wasn’t poor at things. For John, the desertion was more punishment for disappearing on set the day before to explore the city a bit. He didn’t mind, though. It could be worse; Paul could have left him as well. At least he had some company.

“We could go to the pub we passed yesterday,” John observed. “I could use a quick drink. Or two.”

Paul frowned, but John could see him shake his head in slight amusement at his friend’s remarks. “No, we won’t be doing that. Could you imagine how much trouble you’d be in with Brian if you disappeared again? To drink, no less? Sometimes I don’t know what goes on in your daft mind.”

John chuckled at that. He quite enjoyed teasing his friend, pushing forth this Teddy-boy persona that he sported when they first met seven years prior. Though he had no intention of actually going to get drunk in the middle of a work day, he knew that the boy wouldn’t tell the difference. He was aware that his behavior gave Paul a bit of a superiority complex, the feeling of being “the good one”, and the thought of that amused him. The public had yet to see how mischievous Paul McCartney actually was, his puppy dog eyes betraying him at every turn.

Of course, John was one of the few people that saw past Paul’s angelic front. The times they’d shared together had proved that even Brian and George Martin were fooled, as John often fell victim to blame for things that Paul had done. He didn’t quite mind the dynamic, though. He was hardly in real trouble, and it felt nice to have a part of Paul that the others didn’t. He was so hard to read at first, so hard to get close to. The intimacy was welcome to John, in a comforting, familial way.

“What shall we do then?” John mused. He huffed as he struggled to pull himself into an upright position, his joints popping at the sudden movement after being a puddle of nothing for so long. “Go for a smoke? Go for a stroll? Go fetch a bird?” He winked at the last suggestion as heat rose into Paul’s cheeks. Last night, John had also unintentionally taken the blame for a girl that Paul had snuck into the dressing room. Paul had been mortified and profusely thanked him, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t have a little fun with the knowledge.

“Actually,” Paul replied, rubbing his temples, “I’m quite exhausted. Might have a go at a nap.”

“Paul,” John whined, feigned desperation in his voice, “You can’t. I’m so bored. If you leave, I’ll have nothing.”

“Oh, all right,” the boy sighed. “Then you think of something to do. My mind is strained. And,” he jumped, as John opened his mouth to say something, “we’re not going out. I feel like I’m responsible for you right now. Don’t make me put you in time out.” Paul slouched back as the chair engulfed his figure and closed his eyes, humming softly to himself as he let fatigue overtake him.

John’s stomach flipped Paul’s words, though he almost cocked an eyebrow at the absurdity of the feeling. He quickly shook it off, feeling sure it was nothing more than the delight of knowing he could pester Paul endlessly, now that he was aware how Paul felt of the situation. If he was John’s babysitter, then John would act… well, like a child.

John stretched his legs just far enough as to where he could kick the other man’s foot. Paul half-lidded eyes looked up at him with a slightly annoyed expression, but he was met only with the amusement that twinkled in John’s. This seemed to irritate him further, not feeling at all in the mood for physical banter. So John kicked him again.

Paul’s eyes flew open. “Christ, lad, would you knock it off? I’m not in the mood. If you won’t let me leave, at least let me rest here.”

“But I’m bored,” John whined again. “I want to do something.”

“Look over your script,” Paul muttered as he turned his back on him, shifting to curl up into the armchair. “I don’t want to have to deal with you going on about fish and finger pies again next take. I have enough to worry about with my own lines.”

“You don’t own me, Paul,” John shot back. “You’re not in charge.”

“I bloody might as well be,” came the muffled voice that now felt far away.

John fell back on the couch himself, defeated. He gazed out the window again, eyes following an adorable little bird that hopped from tree limb to tree limb. He felt for that bird, or rather, he felt the need to be that bird, happily hopping on without a care in the world. It was so simple and innocent. He wanted to reach his hand through the glass and stroke the little bird, with its enchantingly dark feathers. To John, it looked like midnight, when the sky was still and the world was quiet and there was nothing but yourself and the atmosphere, high above you. Was it a blackbird? A crow, maybe? Its tiny black eyes were empty, devoid of emotion, but not threatening or eerie. Just… there. Being. Existing. It lived only to live, not to please, or love, or conquer. Oh, to be the little bird.

John continued to marvel at it for a few more moments before it fluttered out of sight. He was left with nothing again, his mind grasping at something else to attend to. The script fell out of his hands onto the floor with a thick thud, making Paul twitch in his barely-there state of consciousness.

Paul! A wonderful thing to capture his attention. John nudged his foot against the chair, hoping to shift it just slightly. When that didn’t work, he pushed a bit harder, sending a croaking sound through the room as the chair leg slipped off the rug and onto the hardwood.

“Piss off, Lennon,” Paul growled, his voice thick with the beginnings of sleep. But John couldn’t let him drift asleep. He would be so dreadfully bored.

John got to his knees on the couch, facing Paul’s chair. He gently pushed the stand with the ashtray and Paul’s script out of the way, and leaned forward, interlacing his fingers on the arm of the couch and resting his chin atop them. He could see Paul’s side rising and falling rhythmically, the stiff fabric of his dress shirt crinkling with every inhale. He hadn’t changed out from earlier, and was still wearing the pressed white button down, black tie, and black trousers. The only thing he had removed was his suit jacket, which lay draped across the back of the chair. John assumed Paul had noticed the warm thickness of the air in the room as well.

Paul’s side stared back at him, open and inviting. He knew exactly what to do, to piss Paul off to the perfect degree while also keeping up the good spirits. He removed a hand from under his chin and stretched ever so slightly before jamming two fingers—hard—into Paul’s soft side.

Paul yelped in surprise and jerked awake and alert, trying to comprehend what had just happened. John watched him smugly as his brow furrowed in confusion, then annoyance. “For fuck’s sake, John, is it so hard to keep your hands to yourself? You’re a child.”

John said nothing, just watched in anticipation as Paul turned away again, muttering something under his breath. He was cranky now, and John wanted to push his limits. He had nothing better to do, anyway. He tentatively reached back over and, in one swift movement, pinched Paul’s side again and retreated into the far side of the couch.

Paul swung blindly, nearly missing contact with John’s extended forearm as he jumped back. John suppressed a giddy grin, knowing that he had succeeded in his mission. Paul was now wide awake and visibly frustrated, taking a moment to rub his tender side while muttering a string of unflattering curses.

“You wanker,” he shot at John, his eyes burning as he massaged his sore spot. Paul knew that John knew that’s where his weak spot was, his ticklish spot. He was only lucky that John had poked and pinched instead of lightly grazing and prodding. They shared a look, both of them well aware of that fact. John couldn’t help but cock a knowing eyebrow at him, as if to say, I could if I wanted to.

Suddenly, Paul’s eyes darkened. John’s breath caught in his throat as he watched a mischievous glint overtake Paul’s gaze. He watched Paul’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, running his tongue between his lips in anticipation. John wasn’t sure what the transformation was, but it couldn’t be good. He felt in a moment that he had lost control of the situation. He opened his mouth to speak, willing himself to come up with something spectacularly witty, until—

Paul had lurched on top of him in a matter of seconds, digging his fingers into John’s sides. John initially gasped as ticklish tremors ran through his body, the sounds of pure, unfiltered laughter soon filling the air. John twisted under Paul’s iron grip as tears began to spring to his eyes from the hysteria, gasping for breath and unable to keep himself from breaking into a fit of giggles every few seconds. He weakly attempted to reach up and grasp at Paul’s weak spots, trying to give himself the edge again, but Paul caught his wrist with one hand, pinning the other down with his knee. “Uh uh uh,” he chastised, pushing John’s wrist into the couch and underneath his other knee. He was straddling him on the couch, his knees trapping John’s hands at his sides while Paul’s hands were free to mercilessly attack John’s sides, stomach, and neck.

“P-please,” he wheezed, as Paul chuckled lightheartedly above him. “Please stop, I- I can’t breathe—”

“You asked for this,” Paul retorted, not ceasing the torturous movements. His tone was light and amused, sounding as though he found himself greatly enamored with the visual of John writhing helplessly beneath him. “Next time, keep your bloody hands to yourself.”

“I will, I will,” John gasped, a tear rolling down his cheek. Slowly, Paul ceased his assault, and rocked back on his heels, letting John’s hands free. He watched as the man caught his breath beneath him, reaching up to wipe away a tear that had fallen in the hysteria. “That was not funny,” John asserted in a mock-serious tone, secretly hoping that Paul would go at it again.

The thought pulled a frown to his face as he contemplated what had just popped into his head. He was “secretly hoping Paul would do that again”? Why? Why did he feel the need to keep it a secret? Why had Paul’s devilish fingers made John’s skin feel so… electric, and tingly? And most importantly, why was he now acutely aware that the man was sitting on John’s lap?

Paul let out an airy laugh and raised himself up off the sofa. John breathed a sigh of relief, concerned over the thoughts that spilled into his head. What the fuck was going on? This was Paul. He enjoyed spending time with him, teasing him, messing with him, pissing him off and making him laugh. Paul, his bandmate. His best friend. His suddenly strangely entrancing best—

Shut up, John begged his mind. He didn’t want to follow himself down a rabbit hole of that sort.

Paul was making his way back to the armchair. He plopped into it, looking as though he was the one who had just been tickled to death. He looked at John with a grin of satisfaction and power, and John knew that the man was about to go for a nap again knowing that John wouldn’t mess with him in that way again.

He liked to prove Paul wrong.

As soon as Paul’s eyes fluttered closed once more, and his breathing became steadier and deeper, John formulated another plan. One that, this time, he would surely be in control of. He watched Paul’s chest rise and fall for a few minutes, waiting for his eyelashes to stop twitching, willing the man to fall just enough asleep to where he would be slightly delirious upon a quick awakening. That way, he couldn’t catch John with surprise force as he executed the first step of his plan.

John waited the tiniest bit longer, until he was sure that his friend wasn’t just pretending, and went for it. In a quick movement, John jumped up and pulled at Paul’s wrists, thrusting him onto the floor forcefully but not painfully. The man blinked wildly as John held both his wrists over his head with one hand and began to aggressively tickle Paul’s exposed armpits. He jerked away from John’s touch, still in a faint haze about what was happening, before he began to come to his senses and bite back a cry of laughter. John knew that Paul was far more ticklish than he, and that the quick prodding and nudging wouldn’t drive him nearly as crazy as light, barely-there touches.

He began to cry out on the floor beside John, who was lying on his side, holding Paul’s hands with one arm and attacking him with the other. “Jesus, John, you bastard,” he wheezed, trying to force himself up but unable to do so. His wrists strained against John’s grip.

This struggle continued for a few more minutes, before John’s own stomach hurt from laughing so much. He released his friend and collapsed on the rug beside him, both of their laughter dying out softly as they caught their breath. A silence of about five minutes ensued, neither speaking but both acknowledging the comforting warmth of their shoulders pressed against one other.

After a long recovery, Paul tentatively lifted a leg and crossed it over, placing it in between John’s. Shooting his friend an inquisitive glance—not that this intertwining or personal touch was a strange posture for them, as they had had countless sleepovers in John’s far-too-tiny bed in his Mimi’s home growing up—John nudged Paul’s foot with his own to encourage him to speak what was on his mind.

“Thank you,” Paul said, the tint of laughter still coloring his voice.

“For what?” John replied noncommittedly. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, which was a rather putrid tile, almost like the ceilings in grade school—something that was jarring against the rather royal layout of the rest of the room. He trained his gaze on a particular patch of water damage shaped a bit like the bird he had watched earlier, through the window.

“I know you could have done worse in that little fight,” Paul mused. “I think I would have peed me self. Or died. Whichever came first.”

John hummed in response, now aware that the little leg movement was almost a thank you in and of itself. That simple search for physical contact, a gesture of appreciation, made John’s heart swell. He liked feeling appreciated. It was almost as if John was a girl, and Paul had reached down to interlace their fingers together and offer a quick squeeze, but John wasn’t a girl and instead Paul had thoughtlessly interlaced their legs. It was a nice feeling, one that spread warmth across John’s chest. As much as he wore Paul down, he was so thankful for him. It was a genuine admiration and appreciation (that he hoped was mutual), an experience that was rather foreign to him throughout life so far. He supposed much of that was brought on by himself—if he hadn’t been such a naughty child in school, if he’d been a bit better behaved for his parents, if he hadn’t been such a dick to the girlfriends he’d had. But with Paul, things were different. There were no expectations of being a son, a pupil, a lover. They could just be. Just like the bird.

John smiled to himself at the thought.

#the beatles #beatles fanfiction #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison (mentioned)#ringo starr (mentioned)#fluff? with hints of pg13 #a hard day's night #john and paul

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niall-the-churchboy · 4 years ago

Text

Just Like Family pt 4 ~ Harry Styles

In which she’s avoiding him

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 3.2k

A/n: Yay! Surprised you all didn't I? Well, honestly surprised myself too. Anyway, this is the last part to ‘Just Like Family’, even though I took my fair time I enjoyed writing this so much! From the bottom of my heart, thank you all and happy reading!

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3

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Y/n was completely shattered, her posture was slumped and her eyes were lost, her walking seemed vague and everything felt tasteless. Her heart swelled with pain and she no longer felt like reading or being her usual self.

Y/n was heartbroken to say the least.

Not only did she felt so much pain, but deep down she knew she was a moron and this was her price to pay. Once again, Y/n had let her fantasies get to her head, ideas of what-ifs and scenes taken from the many books and movies she had read and watched. The truth is, reality sucked. A hell lot.

How could she lie to herself so much? Dear God, how could she have believed that? No way in earth would Harry freaking Styles want to be her boyfriend-- her friend even -- but she had had reused to think otherwise and here she was.

At the end of the day, everything was as clear as water. Olympic Gods like Harry are meant to date Olympic Goddess like Sofia.

Sofia.

No matter how hard Y/n tried, her name would never sound hateful to Y/n. Besides, it was not Sofia’s fault Y/n had this nerve-wreaking crush on a boy for more than two years. But it would have been so much easier if Y/n hated her, blamed Sofia for her own stupidity and tried to move on.

Now, that seemed impossible. It was like every turned she made Harry was there waiting for her, to talk or ask her if she was fine. Y/n tried her best to avoid him, avoid the look on his eyes -- amazed and so in-love -- as he looked at Sofia, they fingers intertwined. Every little step Y/n made further, would take a single glance at them to push her two steps behind.

Three weeks since Harry and Sofia got back together and Y/n felt more broken than ever.

“Hey, Y/n?” Tracy waved her hand in-front of Y/n trying to gain her friend’s attention. She placed her fork back down and sighed, “Y/n, when are you going to be okay?”

Y/n felt guilt rushing through her veins, the sadness in Tracy’s eyes was so genuine she almost forgot about Harry for a second. Almost. Then he came rushing back in and Y/n could see herself hiding further behind her lunchbox.

“I’m trying Tracy...” Y/n’s sight was lost between the head of students. “It’s just harder than I thought” She was lying, Y/n wasn’t trying at all, she had given up two heartbreaks ago. She glanced back at Tracy, her friend was looking at her helplessly, Tracy’s eyes eyed her up and down as if she was trying to figure something out.

“I know, Y/n. I just wish you could see...”, Tracy turn her head around and allowed herself a small glimpse towards the table full of boys, “There’s plenty of fish in the sea, and you are such a pretty girl. It wouldn't be a surprise if a couple of boys liked you”.

Was she really pretty? Not like Sofia, at least.

Y/n sighed trying to clear her mind from those negative thoughts that would only ever bring her down, it was just that it was getting harder to get away from those thoughts when it seemed like it was the only thing she could think of. “I know, but... they are not like Harry.”

And it was true. They were not like Harry and they would never be. Harry could simply walk by and take her breath away, literally. He mesmerised her in every way possible, making her get lost in seas of green and memorising the way that rebel curl would differ itself from the other locks. The way his smiled shined and how the only sound she wanted to hear in repeat was his rough laugh.

Tracy wished she could understand her, she supported Y/n at least, but it was so difficult for Tracy to comprehend how someone could have such a strong crush. She knew Y/n wasn't lying, it was obvious by the way her friend’s cheeks would redden and how she stumbled on her words as she tried to express herself to Harry. But Tracy couldn’t believe how a feeling could be so intense, no boy had ever made Y/n feel this way.

Y/n was lost in Harry Styles’ spell and it seemed like she wasn’t going to get better anytime soon.

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Y/n L/n, Y/n, L/n, Y/n L/n... Y/N L/N!

Harry couldn't get her out of his mind, she was like a catchy song that would keep on playing on repeat until it became so tedious he had to find another one to fill in. The thing is, Sofia didn't seem to be doing the job just right.

Everything, somehow, had its way to connecting him back to Y/n, it wouldn't be as bad if she wasn't avoiding him. It started to seem as if the were playing cat and mice, and Y/n was a pretty good mice.

What had he done?

He asked himself the same question over and over. Harry knew he had done something wrong, he could see it in the way her eyes would get lost with pain, how she walked with no direction in particular, her back hunched down and her shoulders fallen.

Harry began thinking some girls were messing with her? He had noticed the way Y/n would look at her feet as soon as Sofia’s group passed by. If that was the case he would have a long talk with Sofia.

Regardless of what it was, something was bothering Y/n, and that seemed to bother him too. He had noticed this pattern a few weeks ago, somehow it was as if his and Y/n’s emotions were in some way connected. Y/n would feel angry, Harry would feel angry; Y/n felt happy, Harry felt happy; Y/n was confused, Harry was confused.

That’s probably the reason Harry was certain Y/n was feeling an enormous amount of pain. Because he was too. His chest felt empty and his stomach bloated, his mindset was completely lost and out of control and there was a certain swelling in his heart that would make his eyes prick annoyingly.

Whatever was going on, he had to fix it as soon as posible. For both their sakes.

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They were terrible terrible news.

How on earth was Y/n going to survive a second dinner with Harry by her side? She had barely survived last one and they weren't even friends, now, she was actually avoiding him and his weird questioning look. There was no way she was going to get away this time.

No way.

That’s what scared her, she barely had enough strength in herself to keep avoiding Harry. Oh god, how many times had she desired to run back to Harry’s opened arms. She knew well enough that the second she came back to him, Harry would be pleased as ever to have his friend back, maybe she wouldn't have to answer any questions and he would let himself live with the doubt of what had her distanced so much from him.

It seemed easier in a way. But she couldn't keep hurting herself in this absurd way, because at the end of the day, what did she win? Maybe third-wheeling with Harry and Sofia? That sounded awfully fun.

She had finally settled her mind in getting over her stupid crush on Harry, and her mother had come to ruin her plan.

With everything going around, Y/n had almost forgotten about the fact that her brother was dating Harry’s sister. That seemed to be the key problem that prevented her from achieving her goal. Well, that and the significant pair of green eyes.

Her hands were sweaty, extremely sweaty, she kept rubbing them on her jeans as she looked at herself in the mirror. Y/n didn't feel pretty. In fact, she felt awkward --her back hunched down, a rebellious straw of hair standing out and a smile that felt way too tight and fake. She thought that maybe she could come up with an excuse, say that Tracy needed her help or that an emergency had come up and avoid the night altogether.

But it was too late, and besides, when had she become so self-concerned?

“Y/n!”, her mom called, “the Styles are here! Come down, honey!”

That was her cue, and oh god how much had she wished it wasn’t.

“There she is!”, Y/n could barely hear anything as she descended, the stairs felt like they were moving and her grip on the railing was definitely not a soft one. She kept feeling her heart throbbing on her throat and an intense panic.

“Oh, look how beautiful you are!” she finally raised her head to catch Anne wrapping her tight in a warm hug, standing to the side both Gemma and Mason watched Y/n with a pleasant smile.

“Mom, let Y/n breathe, you are going to suffocate her”, it was funny how his voice would probably be the reason for Y/n’s suffocation given that her breathing seemed to stop every time he’s near.

“Oh, Harry, dear” Anne gave Y/n a final squeeze before setting her free, “you know how I am.” Everyone but Y/n laughed at this and soon enough Harry was approaching her too.

“Hello”, he said with probably the warmest of smiles as he leaned in to give her a quick hug, “how are you?”

“Great”, Y/n answered as they parted. The strange thing of it all was that it was the longest conversation they’ve had in weeks, well, of course it was given that Y/n’s had been avoiding Harry like a pro.

“Dinner is ready!”, Y/n’s father called followed by Robin as he held a big plate full of pasta. Chairs and plates were moved and soon enough everyone had sat down, Y/n had been oh so deeply blessed to have Harry right in front of her. Great. Now there was no way she could avoid interaction.

Fortunately, most of the dinner was focused on political matters, jobs and the two oldest children. Y/n’s dad had done a great job with the pasta, it was soft yet not overcooked, the salsa had just the right amount of spice, and a spoonful of pasta was enough to warm Y/n’s insides. She though that maybe, she could keep her head hung low and focus on eating.

Y/n wasn't oblivious to the fact that Harry’s eyes were stuck on her, what was he even doing? Examining her every move? The thought did break a sweat on her back neck.

“Y/n? How about you?”, suddenly every pair of eyes was on her and she felt like breaking into a run and completely dipping dinner. Anne was talking to her, what about? That, she didn't know.

She gulped down the pasta and cleaned her mouth with her fist, “hmm?”

Anne laughed kind-heartedly, “I asked you if you had a boyfriend?” That took Y/n completely by surprise, so much she coughed a few times as if trying to realise if Anne was in any sort of way joking.

Everyone looked at her expectantly.

She inhaled a huge lump of air. Where they for real, now? She tried to remember when did the once calm conversation took that unexpected turn. No way in hell was she answering that in front of everyone, in front of Harry. Oh how awkward!

Of course Harry already knew the answer. Y/n was as single as anybody could be. After all, who would want to date someone like her? Harry would most definitely not want to.

“I– em–”, she brought her hand to her throat that still hurled from the recent cough, “a boyfriend?”

That sent everyone into a fist of laughter. How dare they make fun of her? Y/n felt humiliated and dumb, ugly even. Everything was turning out so wrong, just like she predicted. How dare they make fun of her when she was the one who didn’t want to be here in the first place? She felt tears prickling her eyes.

“I’ll take that as a no”, Anne finally said, “I’m glad Harry isn’t the only one, then”

This made Y/n frown. Harry was not single. He was dating Sofia. Everyone knew that, they were together everywhere, held hands in the hallways, whispered things in each other’s ears, made out in classrooms.

Y/n had tried not to pay attention to it, but it was almost impossible given that it was the only thing the school could talk about.

How was Anne not aware of such thing? It was wrong, Y/n knew it was wrong, but it boiled her blood and raged her body. How had Harry not said anything? She had to suffer watching them everyday and he didn't even dare to tell his mother.

Y/n knew it wasn't her place, but it would feel good. Just a little bit of revenge.

“But Anne...”, she sounded confused, the right touch of innocence, “Harry is dating Sofia. They got back together weeks ago.”

Oh, how the tables had turned. Everyone was silent. Anne looked at her son confused, unsure as to why he would keep that a secret from her. And Y/n’s mother watched her daughter with uncertainty, why would she say that?

But Y/n didn’t feel bad at all, they all had mocked her, laughed at her and her absurdness. Why was it so wrong to fight back?

And then she looked at him. His eyes were fixed on her, a prominent frown on his face and a sad glow on his green eyes. Harry looked at her, up and down, trying to figure why in the world would she betray him. And that was enough to break something inside Y/n’s chest.

But it wasn't her heart. This time it was her pride and her morals that knew what was right and what was wrong.

And what she had done was completely wrong and out of place.

She had overstepped her boundaries and by doing so she had hurt someone she cared about. Someone she loved. And there weren't enough words to describe how much to pained her.

“Harry?”, Anne asked in a whisper.

It was all too much, too much for Y/n to handle and she could feel her cool crumbling down.

“I-”, Harry looked at his mother and then turned back to Y/n, “Why?”

Why?

Why had she said that? Why did she have to be so jealous and angry? Why did she have to love Harry? Why did it have to hurt so much?

Y/n once heard that love makes one blind. Right now, she could confirmed it.

“I... don’t know”, a single tear rolled down her cheek, “I’m sorry”

In a moment Y/n had stood up and hurried away from the table, a slam echoing through the house as she ran away.

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

Y/n was cold, her hands rubbing her bare arms due to the fact that in the hurry she hadn’t been able to grab a coat. It was dark, and single cars passed every minute or so through the otherwise empty street.

Now, long gone from the heat of the moment, she felt stupid. Everything. The way she acted, how she reacted, and the fact that she had runaway.

How embarrassing.

How was she able to go back to school on Monday? Go back home, even? There was no way. No way at all. She could take in the cold and stay here on the bench forever.

“Y/n?”

Y/n’s heart completely stopped for what felt like the third time in the night. No no no. She didn't need Harry right now, in fact, she needed to stay as far from him as possible.

Yet, why did it feel so right when she was near him? So mind-numbing? His eyes, his tugged smile, everything about him made Y/n want to open her arms and throw herself towards him.

Y/n looked up at him, remained quiet, and looked back down embracing her legs with both her arms as she rested her head on her knees. Harry watched her for a while, taking in the way she glowed with the light of the moon and the tear-stained cheeks, then, he walked towards her and sat in silence next to her.

The silence was comforting.

Even though both of them where well aware that there were many things to be talked and explained, they remained in silence, absorbing their surrounding and silently enjoying the peacefulness of each other’s company.

A fresh breeze touched their skins and Y/n gritted her teeth. Without second thought, Harry took off his jacket and placed it over her shoulders. His scent was reassuring, a hint of roses and rusty smoke. She wanted to remember it forever, engrave it on her mind for when he’s long gone and only her dreams keep her awake.

Surprisingly so, Y/n was the first one to talk.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice came out raspy yet with her usual softness. She looked at Harry straight in the eye, catching the way his green orbits moved from side to side examining every inch of her face.

He shook his head with a faint smile, “forget about it, Y/n. Everything's okay.” She nodded, and a faded gasp falling from her lips when Harry intertwined his fingers with her. They were warm, his hold gentle and in a strange way soothing.

“Y/n, me and Sofia aren’t dating. I know we were back together for sometime, but we weren't working, mostly because I lost interest on her a long time ago.” Y/n didn't know why, but it didn't surprise her at all, or concern her for the matter. It was simply okay.

Slowly, their surrounding began to blur away, and in a moment they were all alone. Two lonely hearts staring at one another.

“May I ask, why did you tell my mother?”, Harry’s hot breath reached Y/n’s lips. She breathed in, suddenly realising how close they both were, their noses barely inches apart.

“Because I love you. And that makes me selfish.”

The words rolled through her tongue without warning whatsoever, and before she could retract herself, Harry caught her lips.

His thumb rubbed her tinted cheeks and Y/n could feel herself loosing her mind slowly. The kiss was so much more than she had ever imagined. It was snug and warm, their soft lips against one another as it magically started heating their insides until the only remnant of the cold where the tips of their noses. The feeling was so incredibly heart fluttering, it made Y/n stomach twist and turn with excitement.

She let her hands roam through his hair, hooking her fingers on one of his curls and tug it softly. That made Harry react with a low moan, bringing Y/n closer until their noses brushed against each other.

When they finally pulled apart and Harry rested his forehead on hers, she smiled, a bright full smile that Harry hadn't seen in so long.

“I’m glad mom made me attend dinner”, Y/n said.

“I’m glad our siblings started dating.”

Y/n nodded, leaving one last tender kiss on his lips. After all, Y/n L/n and Harry Styles were just like family.

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

Okay, that’s it, I finished just as I promised, I hope you all enjoyed this mini series as much as I did. Love you all!

masterlist is here

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kewltie · 4 years ago

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i,,, had a thought what if izuku thought he couldn't give kasumi the best kind of future for her so when she had just turned two, izuku met up Katsuki's parents at their house and asked them to take care of her and quietly disappeared so katsuki ends up being a new up and coming hero with a baby girl on the side.

kasumi is raised in the Bakugou household and is love fiercely and spoiled atrociously her grandparents, daddy, and his friends. she got everything a girl can ask for but in the back of her head there's a fuzzy memory of green eyed man and his gentle low voice when he called out her name. she loves daddy above all even when he's being very annoying and overbearing because Kasumi is Daddy's precious princess and very very much like him as everyone says but when she looks in the mirror she sees blond hair, a perfect face and smile that resembles daddy but her eyes are the color of someone's else. Someone who is long gone from her memories, but they live in each breath she take. Live in the green hue of her eyes.

she doesnt know this person name but she know who he is. her other parent, the one who had abandoned her. she thinks he's a coward and weak for giving her up. she hates him so she wants to find him one day and yell at him and tell him that he's horrible HOW COULD HE LEAVE HER?? DIDNT HE LOVE HER?!

Izuku had carried kasumi in his body for ten months and he had her in his arms, giggling and crying, for only 2yrs but he loves her with all he has. when he had handed Kasumi to mitsuki it felt like he was giving away a part of himself because she is his, his most precious treasure. he broke down crying afterward, like he had just ripped out his heart and given it away but he knows katsuki and his family would give her a better future and a happier life than he could ever do. this is for her, he told himself, but it doesnt stop the agonizing pain he felt. the pain never truly stopped even though he had moved halfway across the country so he doesnt give in to the urge to race back and beg the Bakugou to give Kasumi back to him. he can only watch her grow up in the public eyes as the little princess of the new no. 1 hero, ground zero, like a bystander in her life.

kasumi grew up as the darling of the hero community because she was an enigma to the world. A BABY SUDDENLY appearing out of nowhere and to the HOTTEST upcoming hero?? and he had her while he was in high school?! and WHERE WAS THE OTHER PARENT?! a hero single parenting at his age is absurd. it got the nation scandalized and fixated on katsuki and his baby since day one so kasumi heavily grew up under the spotlight and in the public eye. it didn't help that she was terrifyingly clever, beautiful, blunt, and a natural hellraiser just by being bakugou katsuki's daughter.

the public adore her and she kinda mostly tolerate them back because it can't be help that she's so cute and smart that ppl want to pay attention to her (that bakugou’ss arrogance and confident coming out) lol. every move she make and say is always on the news, she doesnt mind it. really. sometimes when she lets herself think about it, she wonder if HE is watching her on TV somewhere in the world. does he see how much she had grown up now? does he love the dress she's wearing? is he proud of her? is he regretting HOW HE COULD LEAVE SUCH A PERFECT CHILD BEHIND? maybe all her achievements (the best in her class, athletics awards, ballet dancing and extracurricular activities she'd picked up and bested everyone else at) is her way of drawing attention to herself, maybe if she's SHOW EVERYONE SHE'S TRULY THE BEST,,, he'll come back to see her one day. the thing is kasumi is perfectly happy with her life. daddy is the best thing EVER and she loves him so, so much because that she never feels like she's a burden or lacking of anything but even his love isn't enough to fill that empty void in her, the 2yrs that she’d spent with that person.

all the while izuku tunes to the TV everyday in hope of getting a glimpse of her somehow, cut magazines and news clippings of her, and keeps track of her life through pieces of reporting because even if he isn't in her life, he wants to know what's going on in it and if she's happy at all. he'd built an entire shrine devoted to kasumi in his bedroom. there are pictures and news/magazine clippings of her on his walls. any mentions of her from katsuki or others, he'll watch the vid over and over again till his eyes are tired and he can repeat it word for word.

for several years he had watch her from afar, but on her seven birthday, five years since he'd let her go, he was so WEAK with longing that he bought a plane ticket just to see her. EVEN IF IT'S ONLY A GLIMPSE OF HER WILL DO, TO BREATH THE SAME AIR AND HE'LL LEAVE AGAIN. that's all he wanted. izuku in disguise had lurked around the bakugou's household with hundreds of fans and reporters because it's the birthday of the ground zero's most precious PRINCESS and everybody wants a piece of her. izuku should have been in there with kasumi and the bakugous celebrating her birthday instead of lurking outside like a creep but maybe that's true in another world. not now though.

in this world, he's just some weirdo stalker who obsessed with bakugou kasumi and her daddy as he waits outside to maybe see a glimpse of her at all. then he heard it, kasumi's boisterous giggles as she loudly proclaims she will magnanimously grace her fans with her presence.

"daddy, these people are obviously here for me," she scoffs, talking to an annoyed katsuki as they stroll out to the front yard. "I'll just say hi then i'll come back. stop worrying. you'll get even more grey hair and what will i do if you become uglier?" SHE'S SO BLUNT AND MEAN and izuku wanna cry because that's HIS BABY

he actually didn't even get to see her in person AT ALL because he ran the fuck away as soon as her heard her footsteps coming outside the bakugou's enormous home because he couldn't endure it. he knows if his eyes fall upon her person even once HE'LL BREAK DOWN AND never let her go again!

he can tell kasumi is lively, healthy, and clearly HAPPY with her life because katsuki had done right by her. izuku knew it was the right choice to leave kasumi to him and to hear that evidence so CLEARLY it was a relief and heartbreaking because it means that he was also right that he couldn't give her this. izuku quietly disappeared back to his life, never stop watching kasumi closely and once kasumi turned nine he decided it been long enough and she probably forgotten all about him and no longer caring about the disappointing parent who had abandoned her in a moment of weakness.

izuku moves closer to them. they're finally in the same city after seven years apart but it's not like kasumi nor katsuki knows that he is here at all. he tries to keep a low unassuming profile and promised to himself that he’ll never approach kasumi or katsuki at all. he manages to keep that promise for a year. then kasumi turns ten and HIJACKS katsuki's press conference to declares in front of hundred flashing cameras that, "my daddy is getting old and lonely and i cant be with him always so i'll be on the look out for good spouse for him :3c!" as katsuki roars in the background lol.

izuku was heartbroken in a diff kind of way compare to when he had given kasumi away because this is katsuki and kasumi, the two people he loves the most, finally moving on without him. katsuki will have a new mate and kasumi will have another parent that isn't HIM. he's happy but also very, very sad.

this is where like FATE OR SOME BULLSHIT because izuku managed to avoid the two of them for an entire year but ~things~ happens and he accidentally bumps into kasumi and KASUMI IS TOTALLY CHARMED by this strange quirkless nervous man who looks at her like she's his entire world. shes like ahh,,, maybe i should introduce him to daddy as a potential mate? not knowing that the man she feels an inexplicably drawn/attached to is actually her papa. bakudeku MEETING AGAIN AFTER 10 YEARS and yea, SHENANIGANS, MISUNDERSTANDING, SO MUCH DRAMA and also KASUMI lol

#bakudeku #not!fic #series: re:kasumi #if you're ever curious how re:kasumi came about it's bc of this

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frumfrumfroo · 4 years ago

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I wrote a thing (Leia and Ben reunion angst)

Lamentations

Leia Organa hadn't really planned on getting old.

Not that she’d particularly expected to die young, either. The possibility (even probability) was certainly very real considering her tireless campaign to put herself in the thick of imminent danger, but logical reasoning about the likely outcome was never any match for her ambitions in life. Sheer bravado and the arrogance of youth had always been more than adequate to the task of pushing the reality of death from her mind. Even when fear or doubt got a grip, she had taken for granted that her rude good health and unshakeable self-assurance would continue in perpetuity as long as she managed to survive.

She hadn’t counted on a day dawning when she could no longer take matters into her own hands if need be. When tenacity might not be enough.

Now, hobbling down a corridor with the cane she hated but couldn’t yet do without no matter what her pride said, finding it slightly hard to catch her breath, she felt the years like anchors on every limb. She felt the weight of her choices pressing her shoulders down from their habitual imperious uprightness into an aged stoop.

She was on her way to meet her own son for the first time as a grown man and the harm she had done him, her failures as a mother, trailed her like a colossal shadow. She sensed the cold presence of the past looming over her, its encroaching guilt nipping at her heels, and it made her feel more ancient than the deepest rivers of the Force. As if her bones were formed from brittle primordial rock, apt to shatter with a touch.

If Han were here he’d cut her down to size for thinking she was the one keeping the whole universe together, for trying to bear every burden, fight every good fight. He’d depreciate himself and distract her from her navel gazing, bounce her back into reality and remind her not everything depended on her. But small things did. Smaller things than she ever remembered to notice. He’d kiss her on the forehead and forgive her for her self-importance. Han had kept her human when single-minded, hotheaded determination threatened to turn her into some kind of overbearing political droid.

But he wasn’t here and never would be again.

When the girl, Rey, repeated her story of what had happened on Starkiller Base, this time after her sojourn on Ahch-to, and in much more detail than before… It was the first time Leia wondered if she ought to blame herself a lot more personally than she ever had, if it were her fears and hurts, her emotional retaining wall which created an opportunity for Snoke. Perhaps it wasn’t so inevitable, the enemy wasn’t so crafty, and she had simply abdicated her post as guardian. Every far-flung, bleeding heart responsibility she’d voluntarily taken on in her life- some she’d deliberately snatched out of other, more cautious hands- and she’d shunned the one which had the strongest, most natural claim on her. It was the one job she was worried she couldn’t do.

He’d been so small when she’d pulled his childish, clutching fingers away from the folds of her dress and pressed him firmly towards his uncle. He’d been only just as tall as her chest, gangly and skinny in the aftermath of his first growth spurt. His eyes had looked huge in his slim face, enormous and soulful pools of hazel gold and brown. Pleading. She remembered putting her hands on his shoulders and smoothing back his hair as she looked at him and tried not to notice the sheen of unshed tears, the trembling of his lower lip. She’d decided this was best for him and so she had turned a deaf ear to any potential entreaties, unwilling to be swayed from wisdom by sentiment. It had to be done. For his own good, she had to pretend this didn’t hurt. She couldn’t waver.

All her life she hadn’t had time for her sorrows, all her life she could ill-afford the luxury of indulging her feelings. When was it time? When had she fought for long enough?

When she won. That was always the answer. She’d rest, she’d have a life, when she had made a universe worth living in. When she’d made things right. What could be more important?

“There’s always some new crusade, though, isn’t there, sweetheart?”

Han’s voice, sharp on the endearment which he’d always used equally often in chastisement as in affection, laden with barely concealed hurt. She heard his pain, but she chose not to listen to it.

She’d thought there’d be time to make it up to him. She thought they would wait for her, her family, that her life would wait for her.

Her step faltered when she found herself standing outside the room in the med suite where Ben was recuperating. He was mobile now, his wounds were closed and his ribs were healing. He’d needed a lot of rest, more for mental and spiritual exhaustion than physical damage. He’d become a conduit in the Force the like of which was only heard of in legend and there had been some question if he would survive. She’d kept abreast of his condition since she’d been told of his arrival three days ago; he’d been in her every thought and breath and prayer, but she couldn’t visit. There was too much to do, too many people to oversee and decisions to make. She had plenty of excuses to keep avoiding the reckoning.

Reportedly Rey hadn’t left his bedside once, never further from him than the fresher in the corner of the room. Poe said she was like a wild animal with a cub, hovering protectively over his prone body and questioning anyone who wanted to get near him. She’d maintained a death grip on his hand which only loosened slightly when she fell asleep in her chair at his side. Her own injuries were tended by a droid, under protest and without anaesthetic.

Leia leaned against the corridor wall and tried for what felt like the latest in several trillion attempts to come to terms with what Rey had told her about Luke. About Ben.

And she knew she deserved to blame herself. She knew. If he’d thought he could come home, he would have, and who had made him think he couldn’t? Han had fought for him and she’d have to tell him that no matter how painful it was to admit, she’d have to make sure he understood it wasn’t his father’s idea that Anakin’s blood flowed with latent corruption- not until she’d convinced him it did. Not until her secret festering fears clouded over the dawning love and hope they’d sacrificed so much to have.

The supreme necessity of forgiveness, of giving it and receiving it both, had become the hardest lesson she would ever learn. Her famously indomitable righteous anger had perished with a whimper, suffocated itself in weariness and despair; it was only fear that lived forever. It was fear which chained love, shackled hope, and bound the soul in darkness. And forgiveness drove out fear.

If Ben could forgive her, it seemed a mere pittance to forgive him.

When she rounded the corner the kids were silent but clearly communicating, the power of their connection like a subtle crackle in the Force which raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Rey was sitting on the edge of his cot, their heads very close together and her hands clasping both of his. Leia absorbed Rey’s mood first because it didn’t hurt nearly so much to look at Rey. The smile on her lips and the contentment in her eyes spoke of a peace the girl had never shown before. There was a confidence about her now, a knowingness. Leia had sensed she was searching for something from the moment she’d first seen her, noticed the void she was trying to fill. Leia had an eye for pressure points in people. She’d made use of Rey’s in hope that it would help her reach Luke. There might be an apology owed in that quarter too, but all thoughts of Rey vanished when Ben noticed her presence.

His head turned towards her and his face froze in an expression between horror and anguish, his pleading eyes just as she remembered them. He had a lot of his father in him, so much that it was striking, and a stab of agony lodged itself between her ribs that felt like her heart being pierced. But there was also so much of her in those eyes, in the slope of his jaw and the shape of his chin that she almost felt as if she were looking into a kaleidoscope reflection of her younger self. The certain, unshakable self she still half expected to see in the mirror before she turned on the vanity lights. He was a perfect marriage of her features and Han’s, with his broad cheekbones and regal profile, his full mouth and deep set eyes.

It was probably because he seemed in that moment somehow both a mirror and the spitting image of her husband that it was the shame which hit her first. She couldn’t help but spin around and cover her mouth to try to swallow a cry.

There was a tiny gasping noise from behind her and then Rey’s voice murmuring something. She couldn’t focus on the words, couldn’t understand what was being said, but she knew the sound of pain was from Ben. He thought she couldn’t bear to look at him.

And she couldn’t, but not for the reasons he must be imagining.

She gathered her dignity and forced herself to look again. He was clutching his blankets where they pooled at his waist, his long black hair falling in soft waves which framed the drawn pallor of his face very starkly. He looked ill and frightened. Vulnerable, a child again.

“Ben,” she choked out. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, my darling boy. I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t know how long she’d been weeping into her hands when someone began to gently pry them away from her face, but her cheeks were wet and her eyes stung. She raised her gaze only to be confronted with a wide expanse of chest covered in the soft, oversized hospital smock which was standard issue for checked-in patients. She looked up, and up, and up to meet his eyes and couldn’t remember ever feeling so small in her life.

Leia was a short woman and used to fighting to get the world on her level, but this was her baby. She’d carried him in her belly, held him in her hands, she’d last seen him when she still had to crouch to speak to him eye to eye. His once little fingers now dwarfed her entire arm where he was holding her wrist and he towered over her to such an extent that the top of her head barely reached the middle of his sternum. Her baby was grown up and she hadn’t seen him in person since he was ten. Since their heights had been the inverse of this tableau. He’d become a man and she’d been there for none of it. She’d chosen not to be.

Ben was leaning down, studying her with trepidatious concern, and she couldn’t help but reach up and touch his face. She put his hair behind his ear and cradled his cheek in her palm, feeling the living warmth of his skin and the tickling sensation of a hot tear which rolled down from the corner of his eye and under her thumb.

“Look how beautiful you are,” she said, almost without meaning to.

He ducked towards her hand, hiding behind his hair.

She wrapped her arms around him and he folded into her, dropping nearly to his knees so he could hug her back, so tightly that it almost hurt. He was very strong, the harsh conditioning of a footsoldier obvious in the broad muscles of his back beneath her hands, and it hurt to think how badly he must have needed to be, how much he’d needed to rely on himself and his ability to fight. How he’d never been safe anywhere from the moment he was born.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. He sobbed hard into her shoulder, as if the words had broken a dam inside him. Deep, wracking sobs that shook his whole body and made her hold him as close as she could and whisper to him the way she had when he was a fussing infant, when the nightmares she never dared to tell her brother about had gripped him in their malingering claws. When the fear of darkness which ended up swallowing their little family encroached too close. “Shhsh, shhsh, it’s all right now.”

His voice cracked when he finally managed to tell her, “It’s me- I'm sorry; it’s me, it’s me, it’s me. How can you stand it, how can you stand it?”

Leia suddenly found herself meeting Rey’s penetrating gaze over his head. If there was judgement there, it was less harsh than it justly could have been.

“I should have protected you. I didn’t protect you.”

“Mother,” he croaked with enormous difficulty, “I killed him.”

Her stomach rolled over and her vision blurred with fresh tears, but she held him with her, gripping the fabric of his shirt with white-knuckle intensity. “He loved you. I love you. I’m so sorry.”

His face collapsed like wet linen and he slid to the floor at her feet, burying his head in her skirts. There was a mantra of apologies and self-recriminations amongst the desperate sobs and she lowered a shaking hand to stroke his hair.

“Ben, don’t. Please. Please don’t. Your father knew, he understood.”

Red eyes peeked up at her, his chin was trembling and those same fingers were clutching her skirts again and she wished she could go back to that day and tell herself her child needed her more than the galactic senate ever would. He needed honesty, his mother and his family, not a comfortable lie, a Jedi master or a carefully constrained destiny. She wished she’d seen him as clearly then as she did now, that she hadn’t been too afraid to look. She wished Han could be here to celebrate beating the odds one last time.

“If he could, he’d tell you this was the fairest trade he ever made.”

#basically a companion piece to my earlier fic #because fuck tros Leia didn't need to die and everyone killing her all the time is bullshit #this really isn't what I wanted? I don't know that the voice is right at all? idk angst because I'm mega depressed #is it cathartic at least?#fanfiction

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years ago

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Far From the Shallow

Day 31 of 2018′s 31 Days of Ficmas. Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for the list! Note: new for 2020. Credited as 2018 for organizational purposes, & back-filling the prompt.

Prompt: Midnight

Rating: General, with occasional strong language

Pairing: 12xRose, Human!AU, SuperStar!AU, vaguely A Star is Born!AU

Summary: In an effort to combat low ticket sales, Ian Noble’s record label insists he takes to the Times Square New Year’s Eve stage with the label’s newest pop princess - but it’s a backup singer that captures his attention.

2018 31 Days of Ficmas masterlist

AO3

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Resettling his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, Ian Noble paused for a deep breath before pushing into the practice room. He still wasn’t entirely clear on how his manager had convinced him to do this, but it was too late now to pull out and he’d just have to grin and bear it.

“Right, ready to start kiddies?”

His fleeting hope of finding a bunch of professionals on the other side of the door was quickly dashed. His band was ready, as always, but they were the only ones. His ‘partner’ was nowhere to be seen, her backup singers/dancers/hangers-on lazing around the room, laughing and joking. A few dancers were stretching at the barre, but that was it.

Shaking his head in disgust, he headed for his bandleader and dropped his bag at his feet. “All good?”

“We’re ready,” Craig confirmed. “She’s not here yet.”

“Of-fucking-course not.” ‘She’ was the current Pop Princess – Serenity Lake. Twenty-two years old, she was every bit the bubblegum-pink, super-sweet platinum blonde teeny-bopper he loathed above all else – except unprofessionalism. Though, it seemed, she was that as well. “Practice started when?”

“At three.”

“And it’s now?”

“Three-oh-five.”

“Can we start without her?”

Craig exchanged looks with their drummer, Rob. “I don’t think that would go over very well.”

Ian bit his tongue, hard. The sales for his last tour had been… not great (Clara, his manager, had used the word catastrophic), and it had been decided by PR people and good-for-nothing label execs that he needed to ‘reach new crowds’, even though the album itself had sold well. One of the arse-wipe suits had decided the perfect time and place was a duet with the label’s newest acquisition. On New Year’s Eve in Times Square, New York.

Perhaps Clara had made the right call by telling him over the phone while he was already on the plane under false pretenses.

“So we just wait then, til the fucking princess arrives?”

The band shrugged, and he shook his head in disgust before turning his back on them. The practice room was large, easily the size of a ballroom, with industrial-sized windows opposite a mirrored wall, complete with ballet barre. Two of the female dancers were still warming up, while another four sat around chatting up the men. Two backup singers were sprawled on mats, with no sign of the usual third.

“Is everyone else here at least?”

“Actually-”

Craig was interrupted by the door swinging open, a young blonde in workout clothes hurrying in with a tray of drinks from Starbucks. Rage ignited inside Ian, and before he consciously made the decision he strode across the room towards her.

“You! Blondie!”

She startled slightly, turning to face him. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Aren’t you supposed to be a professional? We’ve been waiting for you! You might be queen on your own fucking tour, but now you’re wasting my time, and my band’s time. I don’t like this arrangement any fucking more than you do, but it’s what the High fucking Council of Douchebags wants, so it’s what we’re going to do. Get over yourself, dig deep for some fucking work ethic, and let’s get through this so we can both get on with our fucking lives!”

Rant over, he settled his hands on his hips, still glaring at her. To his horror and disgust tears had welled in her eyes, though they hadn’t fallen yet. That just confirmed that she would be a flash in the pan; if she’d gotten this far without developing a thicker shell, she wouldn’t get much further. Maybe she had a bulldog manager that treated her like the fucking princess she thought she was; maybe she was shagging one of the label heads and used that to get what she wanted. He honestly didn’t care; he just wanted to get the show over with.

“Well are you going to say anything?” he snapped.

“I’m Rose,” she whispered.

“What?”

“I’m Rose, I’m Serenity- Miss Lake’s new backup singer. She texted me- well her assistant did- that they were stuck in traffic and had me go out to get some tea.”

He never would’ve been able to hear her, if the room wasn’t dead silent. No one seemed to be breathing; he sure as fuck wasn’t, as he realized the enormity of his mistake.

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” The girl sniffled, but kept up a brave face, glaring at him. “She should be here in just a minute.”

“I-” he grimaced, removing his sunglasses. Shit, shit, shit. “I’m very sorry, that was completely unprofessional. Erm, Ian Noble.”

“I know who you are.” Her lips twitched, not quite a smile, but she no longer looked so close to tears. “Big fan, actually.”

“Uh, thanks.” Ian blinked at her, at a loss. He was, ironically, saved by the real Serenity Lake.

“Hello, darlings!” The pop star strutted into the room, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Who’s ready to have some fun?”

Ian watched sourly as Serenity practiced her dance moves. They had one song, a duet he’d done when he was just starting out with a woman who’d long since disappeared from the spotlight so thoroughly he couldn’t remember her name, complete with a dance routine.

To her credit, she’d taken one look at his face and suggested he leave the dancing to her; he was so grateful, he didn’t even care if it was a dig about his age.

Happening to glance towards his left, he found the girl he’d yelled at standing next to him, guilt flooding through him. Watching her watch the dancing for a moment, he hesitated before speaking quietly. “I really am sorry.”

“Thank you.” Staring straight ahead she barely acknowledged him, though her shoulders untensed slightly.

“I don’t want to make excuses, but I really don’t want to be here, and I took it out on you.” He kept his focus on the dancers as well.

“Thank you,” Rose repeated.

“Um, you’re a backup singer?”

She shot him a confused, questioning look, but nodded hesitantly. “Yes. I came Stateside with Jo Shannon, who opened for Serenity on her last tour. When it ended Serenity offered to keep me on, and I accepted last week.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

Sticking his hands in his pockets he looked around awkwardly, but no one appeared to save him. His band was, of course, playing for the dancers, and the various assistants had disappeared, leaving them alone.

“Where’s Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum?”

“Beka and Margot went for a smoke break.” Rose’s lips twitched in amusement, but she kept her blank expression.

“You a song-writer?”

Her face lit up, saying it all, even though she tried to play it cool. “Sort of- I mean, I have ideas, I don’t know if they’re any good though.”

“If you want-” he had no idea where the offer was coming from, why he was taking an interest in this girl’s career. Maybe it was the fellow Brit in the room, or guilt over yelling at her. He tended not to care about the support, as he called them. Didn’t matter whether or not they were there, he hardly noticed them unless they fucked up.

She was different.

“Ian!” Serenity chirped. “We’re ready to run through now.”

“I’ll get Beka and Margot,” Rose volunteered, scurrying out the door and returning thirty seconds later with the other two. They lined up in the back across from the band, Ian and Serenity taking their spots front and center.

For no reason he could adequately explain, he spent more time watching her in the mirror than the star of the show.

After seven hours and a break for dinner, they finally called the rehearsal quits. Tomorrow was New Year’s Eve, and they’d only have one chance to get it right on live television. Most of the group packed up quickly, disappearing out the door amid bursts of laughter. Serenity was first out, oversized sunglasses dominating her face and only making her stand out more than she already did in a fluorescent pink sweatsuit and large handbag.

Ian lingered, taking his time packing up his notes and arrangements, barely acknowledging his band’s goodbyes and dismissing their offers of getting a drink. The girl, Rose, the one he couldn’t take his eyes off of, was lingering as well, and then suddenly they were the only two left.

Abandoning his things, he approached her when she made no move to leave. “Rose?”

She yelped, spinning, and putting a hand to her chest. “Shit! You scared me half to death. What?”

“Erm-” Shuffling his feet, he found it hard to meet her eye. “Listen, I’m sorry-”

“You’ve said that,” Rose cut him off with a sigh, before offering him a tentative smile. “And I accept your apology. It’s all good, really – you don’t need to keep saying it.”

“Right. Thanks.” He rocked back on his heels for a moment. “If you’re not busy, I thought… I mean, if you’d like an experienced professional’s opinion, maybe I could take a look at one of your songs?”

Her expression shuttered, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I highly doubt I’ve written anything worth stealing,” she said stiffly, shouldering her bag. “Thanks, though.”

“What? No! No no no. Really. Listen, you know Johnny Rotten?”

“I’m from London.”

“Right. Well, when I was just a kid starting out, and not knowing my arse from my head, I got five minutes alone with him in a limo – five minutes. He asked if I was a songwriter, I said I was, he told me to sing him something. The next day I was in front of suits from EMI. A week later I had my first contract.”

“That’s nice.” Rose folded her arms across her chest, turning to go, and in desperation he caught her arm.

“No, listen, my point is – you seem like a nice girl, and I was an utter bastard. Let me make it up to you.”

She looked down at his hand on her arm, which he promptly removed, then back up at him, steel in her eyes. “I want to succeed. I want to make it. I want it more than anything – except my dignity. I’ll make it on my singing. And if I don’t, I don’t, and I’ll figure something else out. But I will never trade sex for opportunity.”

“I would withdraw my offer if you tried,” he shrugged. “I don’t know what to say to convince you to trust me.”

Biting her lip Rose looked towards the door, the wheels turning in her mind. “D’you know a good place in this God-forsaken town to get chips?”

Thirty minutes later they were seated side by side on a bench overlooking the Hudson River. It was too dark to see much other than the occasional light, though the path itself was well-lit.

“So why are you such a surly bastard?” Rose carefully selected a chip before turning expectant, curious eyes on him.

Picking at his own paper basket, he glanced at her quickly before looking out over the water. “I’ve been in this business too long.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not…” he sighed heavily, trying to figure out how to put it into words without scaring her off her chosen career path. “It’s not about music. For others, I mean. To me, as long as I believe in what I’m singing, then hang the rest. I don’t care if it’s… a sold-out Shea Stadium or half-empty corner pub. The money, the trappings, the fame… it doesn’t matter. Well it does, but only so far as is required to keep playing the music I want to play, supporting my guys, you know? Yet everyone else is obsessed with all of it, far more than the music. To them, it’s just a way to make money.”

“Too much of a purist,” she teased gently, nudging his arm with her elbow. “I get it.”

“I’ve seen too many talented musicians ruined by the trappings,” Ian said quietly, staring down at his hands. “Money, fame, sex, drugs, alcohol. I don’t touch any of that shit.”

“You’ve made a lot of incredible music in your time. You still feel like you’ve got more to say?”

“Sometimes… sometimes I feel like there’s a black hole within me. That it’s just… waiting. For the right song, the right lyric, the right chords. That eventually I’ll write the perfect thing that fixes it.”

Rose nodded. “I think I know what you mean.”

They lapsed into silence. Putting his rubbish on the bench next to him, he leaned back and spread his arms, staring across the water. For late December in New York, it wasn’t too terribly cold out; at least, not enough to make him call it a night.

“Tell me something, boy,” she started to sing suddenly, a halting flow to the words. “Aren’t you tired tryin’ to fill that void?” Standing up, she wrapped her arms around her waist as she turned to face him. “Or do you need more?” Another pause. “Ain’t it hard keeping it so hardcore.”

Sitting up straight, Ian stared at her in surprise. “Did you just write that?”

Rose nodded shyly, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I’ve had the tune for a few days, but couldn’t figure out the right lyrics.”

“Almost sounds like it’s about me.”

“I don’t think there’s any life rights involved,” she said dryly, blushing. “Not that it’s much good, anyway.”

Ian considered it, already hearing the sample on a loop in his mind. “Actually, it’s brilliant. It deserves to be heard.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, before smiling reassuringly. “By you. It deserves to be heard from you. Thank you for sharing it.”

Her head ducked for a moment, and when it raised, she readjusted her scarf around her neck to try to hide her red cheeks. “This has been brilliant, and thank you for the chips and just… listening to me, but it’s getting late and tomorrow’s a long day, so-”

“Right, yeah.” Standing up, he brushed himself free of crumbs before gathering all the trash and tossing it in the nearest waste bin. “Can I give you a ride back to your hotel?”

The next day was a blur, full of interviews and strategy meetings over Skype with Clara. He’d been inspired when he got back to his room, staying up far too late scribbling out fragments of songs. It was seven by the time he was due at the staging area, and he spent an inordinate amount of time in hair and makeup, forced to watch the show on telly. The official kickoff was at eight, though he and Serenity weren’t scheduled until roughly eleven fifteen – with live TV, they had to be ready to go at any moment.

Throughout the evening he caught the occasional glimpse of Rose, each time looking more harried and panicked until he finally snagged her as she passed his dressing room, pulling her inside.

She yelped, trying to scramble away until she realized it was him. “Ian!”

“Sorry, sorry.” He got her steady before letting go, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. “What the hell’s going on?”

Rose licked her lips, glancing nervously towards the door. “Don’t freak.”

“Why would I freak?”

“No one’s seen Serenity since breakfast.”

A dull buzzing started in his ears, mind already whirling with alternatives and potential plans. “What’s being done?”

“We’ve been calling her, her boyfriend, her parents, everyone, but there’s no sign of her. Police are looking, but… it’s New Year’s Eve, they don’t exactly have the time for that right now.”

“We go on in half an hour,” Ian pointed out, eyes narrowing in thought. “What’s the plan?”

Rose shrugged helplessly. “Hope she shows?”

“Right. Well, you look busy, I won’t keep you.” He crossed his arms, gesturing towards the door.

Shoulders unhunching, she smiled shyly at him. “It’s okay. I like talking to you.”

Their eyes held, and for a moment, just a single heartbeat, he thought he saw something there, but then she blinked and it was gone. “Right! Gotta go, lots to do. See you out there, hopefully!”

Then she was gone in a whirlwind, leaving him with more questions than answers. One of the songs he had toyed with the night before came to him then, and grabbing his coat, he went in search of his band.

“Thirty seconds,” a producer barked in Ian’s earpiece, and he gave him a thumbs up across the stage. He was waiting in the wings, his band already on stage setting up while some pop star on the West Coast performed. The backup dancers and singers filed onto the stage then, and he caught Rose’s eye.

She shook her head and he nodded in return, before giving his bandleader the prearranged signal.

“Miss Lake isn’t here, so you’ll have to go on without her,” the aide at his side informed him. “The backup singers will handle her part, the dancers will stick to the routine, just… do as you rehearsed otherwise.”

“Actually, we’re going to do something different,” Ian informed him, giving him a grin before walking up onto the stage, not giving him a chance to argue. “Hello New York!”

The crowd went wild, though whether it was for him or in anticipation of Serenity he didn’t want to know.

“There’s been a bit of a change, and Miss Lake unfortunately won’t be joining us tonight,” he announced, relieved when no one booed, though a murmur rippled through the crowd. “Instead I’ll be doing a brand new duet with the lovely, talented Rose- well, Rose.” Belatedly he realized he’d never bothered to get her last name. Oops. “Rose?” He turned to look at where she was standing, frozen, at the mic, one of the other singers nudging her forward.

Eyes wide Rose did, coming up to his side and waving tentatively at the crowd.

“Now, Rose here is a talented songwriter, but you don’t have to take my word for it – you’re about to find out yourself.”

Covering the mic so only she would pick up his next words, he leaned in close. “I know I said I wouldn’t steal it, and I don’t consider what I’m about to do breaking that promise, but it’s not entirely keeping it either. Just trust me like I’m trusting you. This is your moment.”

“I don’t-” she started, but he thrust the live mic in her hands and she stopped. Nabbing his guitar from Craig and slipping the strap over his head, he readjusted his headset, praying the mic would pick up his voice.

He began picking out the melody he’d arranged overnight, took a deep breath and began to sing. “Tell me something, girl.” He met Rose’s eyes just as they widened, relieved when they didn’t seem to hold any sort of homicidal intent. “Are you happy in this modern world?” The crowd was silent, more so than he’d ever heard, and if he hadn’t been performing so long it would’ve been entirely unnerving. “Or do you need more? / Is there something else you’re searching for?” His heart leapt to his throat, and he wondered if she’d be able to see the truth in his next words. “I’m falling. / In all the good times I find myself longing for change. / And in the bad times I fear myself.”

The band behind him came in, softly at first, and he met Rose’s eye again and nodded. She came in perfectly on time, her voice seemingly more beautiful than it had the night before when she’d sung the very same lyrics. “Tell me something, boy. / Aren’t you tired trying to fill that void? / Or do you need more? / Ain’t it hard keepin’ it so hard core.” His heart stopped when she continued, mirroring his pre-chorus. The hesitation in her voice made him wonder if, possibly, it was the truth for her as well. “I’m falling. / In all the good times I find myself longing for change. / And in the bad times I fear myself.”

And then she went solo, singing the part she’d added in the car the previous night just before they reached her hotel. “I’m off the deep end / watch as I dive in / I’ll never meet the ground. / Crash through the surface, where they can’t hurt us / We’re far from the shallow now.”

Ian stumbled off the stage somewhat in shock. They’d made it through, Rose performing beautifully, a haunting vocalization in the middle of the song he was certain was already going viral online it was so damn good. He kept Rose pressed to his side, not letting her escape as he fought their way back to his dressing room, waving off the comments being thrown at him. The crowd had gone ballistic, a thunderous roar of approval so great it had been a veritable wall of noise. He didn’t want to know what anyone else thought until he’d heard from her, explained his side.

Slamming the door behind him, he finally let her go and turned to face her, braced for a slap. “I’m sorry I ambushed you, but I haven’t been able to get that fucking song out of my head. It’s incredible, Rose, and that reaction we just got? That was for you. You. As a singer and a songwriter. I mean, that- that-” he fell silent as she stared at him.

“You violated my trust,” she said quietly. “I shared that with you in confidence, and twenty-four hours later you gave it to the fucking world. I can’t- I’m sorry-” Rose darted forward, hand covering her mouth, and he could only watch, disappointed and angry with himself, as she ran away.

“Fuck!” He wanted to throw something, destroy something, but the small rational voice in the back of his head reigned him in. He was already on thin ice for going rogue; better not to ruin in all in a fit of rage. Slamming back a glass of water and wishing like hell he drank, he got himself together before heading for the inside viewing area where a party was raging.

Clara was going to kill him.

Sparkling water in hand, Ian sulked in the back of the room. The network hosting the concert had offered their nearby studios to the performers, hosts, and crew, most of whom were finished with their work and ready to party. Ninety seconds remained in the year, before it would finally be over and they could all pretend, if only for a little while, that everything would magically be better.

“Ian.”

Her voice sent a shiver racing down his spine, and he turned to face her, resigned to his fate. “Rose-”

“Thank you,” she interrupted. “The song was perfect. It was true to what I had written, and yet somehow so much better. That’s down to you.”

“How many offers did you get?” he asked after a moment, studying her face.

Her neutral expression melted into a grin. “Six different labels want to sign me. I haven’t made any decision yet. Not about that, at least.” She looked decidedly nervous, rubbing her palms on her skirt.

“Then what did you make a decision about?” His heart picked up pace, hoping for something he wasn’t willing to consider within the realm of possibility.

“I… I really liked talking to you,” Rose said quietly. “Something about it… I don’t know. I thought- I mean- maybe this is totally crazy, but-”

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” Everyone’s attention focused on the telly, where the ball was nearing the base.

As the countdown continued, things became clear in Ian’s mind. This girl, Rose, made him feel alive again in a way he hadn’t in a very long time. And, if he understood her stuttering correctly before they were interrupted, she was trying to say the same thing.

Eyes darting up, he spotted a spring hanging from the ceiling, and smiled. “Mistletoe.”

“New year’s about to start,” she replied, breathless, stepping closer. “Would hate to start it out with bad luck.”

“You just became an overnight sensation, you can’t risk it.”

“Four! Three! Two!”

“I am sensational overnight.” Eyes wide, she was definitely leaning in.

Hand coming up to cup her cheek, he closed the distance between them.

“One! Happy New Year!”

Their lips met, and the fireworks started.

We’re far from the shallow now.

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #31 Days of Ficmas #31 Days of Ficmas 2018 #ficandchips #Doctor Who #AU!12xRose #AU!Twelfth Doctor #Rose Tyler #Far From the Shallow #Human!AU #Superstar!AU #Musician!AU #slightly A Star is Born!AU #features song lyrics but is NOT a song!fic

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oh-theatre · 5 years ago

Text

Livin’ It Up: Chapter 1

Chapter title: An Abrupt Beginning

A/N: Me ? Hating every single thing I write?? BUT OFC GOD I HATE THIS SO MUCH IT SUCKS AHAHA. Im so frustrated, I couldnt get Logans end rant to work and its stupid and I just hate everything i hate this i hate my writing hnnng. Can you believe i took an ok concept and and FUCKED IT UP

words: 2614

summary: Roman throws yet another party, and his only true hope for the night is someone to show up. Patton finds himself disturbed, and Logan needs to stop drinking.

pairings: Eventual logicality, eventual prinxiety, eventual demus, eventual Moceit (Which then goes back to Logicality and Demus)

warnings: Swearing, alcohol, underage drinking, drinking, parties, kissing, throw up

Ao3 Link

“Thank you, for coming to this party with me” Virgil repeats once more, combing through his hair for the fifteenth time. Patton chuckles from his bed, neatly sitting as he flips through his book, writing down notes in his book. “Have I mentioned thank you?” Virgil jokes, Patton nods, biting his lip as he crosses through a difficult section.

“The golgi apparatus provides transportation-”

“Pat! Shouldn't you be getting ready?” Virgil turns to him, the cheerleader stops chewing the end of his pencil, a sweet smile as he shrugs. He closes his books, stacking them neatly on his shelf, everything organized. Once his homework is tucked away into the right folders and his pencils are safely back in his pencil case he moves to the mirror.

“I'm good to go” He says flopping back to his bed, Virgil scoffs. “Virge, these parties aren't anything formal. As long as you've got your phone, clothes and a swimsuit you're good” Patton assures, Virgil nods sitting on the bed, his shoes lacing as he hums. Patton adds his final bow, putting his boots comfortably on. “Ready?” He questions, Virgil sighs patting his jeans.

“I guess”

~~~

“Hey sorry Cindy you mind if i borrow Logan?” Roman taps on the girls shoulder, she sighs pulling away from Logan's mouth. He waves her off grumpily following Roman into the kitchen. “What's that? Third one tonight?” Roman teases, setting up the snacks

“Fourth” He corrects picking his teeth. “Carter, Fiona, Marty and Cindy” He sits on the stool, stirring his drink, the remaining ice clinking delicately. Roman wants to push but fears a drunken argument before his gathering so allows Logan to pour himself more of whatever murky drink he had been guzzling down. “Mm, why must we have these soirees” Logan mumbles, spinning around.

“Its a party Logan, i've been attending and hosting them for ages!” Roman argues, he sighs finally finishing his set up. “Look just dont make out with too many people, I don't need a million girls crying at me at the end of the night because they thought you were the one”

“They know im gay right?” He sips, adjusting his glasses.

“Do you know youre gay?” Roman retorts, a glare is his gift in return. “Why do you do it then?” Roman inquires, moving the pair through the already bustling house.

“Its fun” Logan shrugs, Roman pauses snickering as he carries the chips. “Not fun, but its something to do. Mind numbing and does not require actual intellect” Logan slumps on the couch almost instantly finding himself lip to lip with yet another poor and emotional victim. Roman rolls his eyes walking away from the mess. The door continues to open as more people file in, soon the familiar scent of alcohol and booze fill the air and Roman finds himself taking the tiniest sips from his own drink. With every creak of the door, the slightest hope lights up the man.

Come on

Just walk through the door

Please

~~~

“Do I drink, do I get a drink, what do I do? I got this” Virgil rambles, Patton chuckles, shaking his head. Closing the door behind him he guides Virgil into the kitchen, serving him a club soda. He takes it, almost finishing the entire thing, the sweat dripping his anxiousness for miles. “Thanks, ugh why am i here”

“Because I invited you” Roman chimes in, Virgil practically chokes back his drink, being rescued by Patton. “I'm really glad you're here Virge” Roman smirks, Virgil nods through his ever increasing reddened face. His eyes land on Patton, a slight regret but a neutral respect is shared with a nod.

“Ill be by the pool if you need me” Patton whispers, taking his leave, into the rioting house.

“How are you?” Virgil decides, Roman closes the door behind them chuckling as he closes the distance. “That's not an answer” His nerves seem to calm as his ‘radiant’ sarcasm takes place. Somehow his annoyance for Roman returned, his defenses lifted. “Nice house, mind giving me a tour?” He dances out from the ever closing gap Roman entraps him in, a slight scoff of amusement but the teen obliges.

“Well this is the kitchen, an original model and renovated around 5 years ago” Roman demonstrates, Virgil nods finding it actually quite interesting. A serenity falling over him as he takes this moment to breathe. “Over here is the hallway, leading into an assortment of rooms” He explains, Virgil identifies a name plastered on each. “You've got the bathroom, an office and our library still in its original condition from 1875” He hopes to impress the young teen. Knowing Logan, when he was still fresh, found the room the most enchanting thing.

“And where's your room?” Virgil teases, knowing this apartment was enormous in its own right.

“Upstairs” Roman replies, Virgil bites his tongue. Upstairs, god this apartment was huge. “And downstairs we have the pool and some storage. Nobody really uses the pool to be honest. Mostly people seem to hang out in the living room or-”

“The other living room?” Virgil points as they come into yet another opening, flashing lights, loud screeches and many drunken dancers. Roman and him share an amused laugh.

“Care for a dance?” Roman nudges, Virgil scoffs, taking yet another sip of his drink. Finding the teen to be serious he can't help but allow this to fuel his laughter more.

“Me? Dance? Oh that's not the issue...it's dancing with you..” Virgil carries on, Roman rolls his eyes dragging him onto the floor. Slow but upbeat movements take place and...what's this? Is Virgil having...fun?

~~~

The light splashes and ripples of waves as Patton let his feet dangle felt calming. No part of him missed the chaos upstairs, sure freshman year this kind of thing was at least slightly intriguing. But the parties and the drinking grew tiresome and well...annoying. At least now he knew his way around, no one went near the pool, it restricted them.

So, with his bubbling soda by his side, and his book in hand he just sat. It was almost peaceful, the moon found its way through the window, the muffled sounds of music were present and the water felt cool to the touch, reminding him he was there.

“Are you reading?” A slurred voice requests, Patton squints up watching Logan tumble into the space. His feet repeating a crass and heavy movement.

“Are you tap dancing?” Patton hides his giggle. Logan shrugs dropping what seems to be his hundredth red solo cup of the night. Roman makes it a point to never give him glass ones or anything fancier seeing as his tendency to well...destroy grows heavy.

“Trying to” he continues, practically falling over himself, the pool and him soon to become very familiar. “Why are you reading at a party, it's a party or a social gathering and while reading is generally an enjoyable activity it deems itself unsocial and a bore when surrounded by peers and other things to spark your brain” He rambles, Patton forgot how fast the teen could talk. Logan had not been to debate in awhile. “Captain of the cheerleading squad, I would presume this is exactly your type of event” Logan staggers forward a bit more.

“Observant” Patton mumbles, returning his focus to his book, flipping through the pages happily.

“I mean I did happen to notice some of your team was present” Logan continues, Patton nods.

“Yes, I saw you and Brianna grow very close, I think a spring wedding” Patton jokes, Logan furrows his brows clearly scanning his already jumbled brain for the person in question. “Red head, wearing the green sweater and jeans” Patton reminds, Logan snaps a flash of excitement.

“Ah yes! She was fun, well okay, better than most people I suppose.” He sighs, finally finding himself a ground, he breathes. “I want to swim, so with my capable body and sane mind I shall” He deems, Patton looks up catching Logan as he removes his shirt. Now Patton wasn't invisible and he wasn't one to deny that Logan was well...fit. Hearing the splash as Logan falls into the pool he returns to his book. The water makes a plethora of noises, moving around the pool growing close to Patton. “You're intelligent” Logan pops up, Patton's gaze moves to him. He's closer now, fiddling with the water around him.

“Thank you?” Patton wonders, its random but he thinks its a compliment.

“Straight A’s, you skipped your junior year” Logan lists, Patton knows all this but he hums along, no harm in listening. “Captain of the cheerleading squad, student council president and vice president to the drama cabinet” Logan moves closer, Patton finally understands.

“So this is how you do it?” Patton kicks a tiny bit, the water flicks melting back into the pool. “You root out their accomplishments, find yourself impressed and then suddenly head over heels for you” He laughs, Logan hates the weird sense that floods him as the delicate sound sweeps the room.

“Photographic memory” Logan shrugs, leaning back as his hair washes over, drooping with thick water. He advances, curious as Patton continues to neglect him and read his book. “Im not wrong am i?” Patton shrugs, his eyes averting Logans prominent gaze. “Why dont you get in the pool? Why come down to read and sit with your feet in the water when your body could be submerged, are you so bored?” Logan pushes

“Just here for a friend” Pattons short and quick responses bother Logan, something about their manner itches him. He moves closer, finding himself close enough to feel the warmth upon his tingling skin.

“What, may I ask, are you reading?” Logan inquires, peeking over. He attempts to take the book, the world was his to own, why should this book be any different. Patton pulls away and soon the pair commence in a playful game, Patton tugs his book away as Logan fears no boundaries and continues to close the space between them. Grabbing as fast as he can to try and see what might be so much more interesting then Logan himself. Finally it slows and the pair eyes lock, Pattons arms retire and his body relaxes allowing a mutual agreement to both move closer and lock lips with one another.

He couldn't deny that the hype is not valid, he was a good kisser.

But even with Logan's hands meeting his own, and the perfect way this felt…

This wasn't Patton.

He pulls away, resting his hand on Logan's chest. A tender but bittersweet look to a pouting Logan.

“Sorry Moreno, but I'm not going to be one of those girls or boys” He smirks. The shock runs from Logan's face quickly as he pretends to fall hurt back into the pool. Patton stands finding the clock has run its course, and the night comes to a close. Gathering his things, stepping over Logan's mess, with no looking back he makes his way upstairs.

~~~

“Did you atleast have a bit of fun?” Roman hopes, Virgil and him having reconvened in the kitchen.

“When you were not stepping on my feet?” Virgil teases, pouring himself a much needed glass of water. “Yeah I had fun.” He rests, giving a somewhat anxious Roman a reason to breathe. They seemed to keep their proximity to one another, Virgil leans comfortably on the counter.

“Well good…” Roman whispers, not really paying attention as hes much more focused on the small details placed around Virgil's face. The sweet dimple of his sarcastic smirk, the poorly hidden under bags sleeping below his stormy and ebony eyes. The soft yet controlled way he kissed him-

Hold on…

They pull away both utterly confused by how this night had proceeded.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that…” Roman fiddles with Virgil's hand, ignoring the sweat from both.

“Me too” He smiles under his gloom “I think we’re just drunk” Virgil searches for an excuse, he knows the reality. He's been around long enough.

“I'm not drunk, are you?” Romans voice remains soft, Virgil shakes his head. The only drink he had consumed was club soda and water, both becoming aware as they push on his bladder. “I've had a moderate amount of drinks” Roman cant talk apparently, his ability to communicate normally and with his typical charm had clearly left him. Disappointed at his failed attempts.

“I should go” He decides, Patton appearing in the doorway only furthering that choice. Roman pulls away, biting his lip as he nods. “Thanks for inviting me”

“Thanks for coming” He replies, turning to Patton “Both of you” Feeling Virgil slip away, joining Patton. With a timid smile and wave he watches them link arm, rest tired heads and disappear.

~~~

“Are you going to help clean up or sit there and threaten to throw up?” Roman bites, exhausted he organizes and cleans up the remains of his celebration. Logan groans, his head pounding wanting nothing less then to be useless and contain almost zero information.

“He was different, and I don't understand why or how but he was. He was witty and he said no.” Logan begins, Roman yawns knowing what course this was setting him upon. “But I like him and not just I need to win over him but truly like him. I don't like this feeling, but it wasn't a done deal” He speaks, his words making no sense worrying Roman. “I kissed him, kissed him, and I do that. I truly do. I find some brief and fulfilling satisfaction from performing such an action but when he decided against it I felt not..that” Roman nods, processing his vague and ranting words. “Its not that hes cliche and that hes different but it was, he didn't care, this wasnt a game to him or some quick fling or an experimentation it was nothing” He scrambles hard for an explanation, all this thinking hurting his frail state. “I don't know what I feel, I don't understand and I don't enjoy that. I like understanding, I do, I know things, I'm smart, I got it..” This was Romans cue as soon as the self-doubt and irrationality set in, Logan needed to shut down for the evening. “I don't know what I'm talking about, who was it...Patty? Marlene...maybe Connor” he ponders, his trail of thought gone.

“Your fathers coming home tomorrow, we should get you rested and ready for his meeting” Roman reminds, leading a hyper and ranting Logan to his room. He moans as he falls to the bed.

“I loathe the idea of my father returning, I wish not to see him or meet with him. Its the same thing as always, and I don't mind, I've accepted my path but why must I be continued to be reminded of my lack of freedom and set future. I don't care, I have no qualms but to have to constantly be pushed further sparks a rebellious thought in me and I wish-

“I will smother you with my pillow Logan” Roman interjects “Go to sleep, you'll be back to your normal, cold, and uncaring self in the morning” Logan rolls over, clutching to the pillow beside him “Nothing will matter and you'll have become familiar with at least three new people by noon” Roman decides

“Mm...I very much hope you are correct in your predicament” And with his final words Logan falls into a deep sleep. Roman after much cleaning, passes out in his own manner, sprawled on his bed, hating the night and the way it went.

#livin it up au #logicality #romantic prinxiety #prinxiety #demus #moceit #sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #writing #my writing #ao3 #archive of our own

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justformyheroacademia · 4 years ago

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Tamaki In The Bathroom

I swear I tried to write some fluff, but my brain is v tired made it angsty, sorry.

Contains description of a panic attack and social anxiety

Tamaki x F!Reader, Angst

He didn’t want to go to this party. People from every high school would fill the house to the brim. Tamaki remembered how his stomach dropped as Mirio went into significant detail about the party. While Tamaki would rather stay at the dorm with his three friends, you were over the moon about it. You asked endless questions—who was going to be there, where it was being held, when did it start and end—with sparkling eyes and an enormous grin.

Obviously you wanted to go. Free drinks, an endless supply of fun, people—who would want to miss it? For you, a social butterfly and a popular extrovert at UA, it was a dream come true! Tamaki, with his permanent bedhead, always wanted to relax at home with his close/only friends.

“I don’t know, Y/N…” He muttered to his friends as they walked from class to the dorms. “C’mon, Tama, it could be a lot of fun!” You began your default argument, which never worked on the introvert. Tamaki absentmindedly nodded along, making you think he was taking in and considering your words. This was a common occurrence between you two; Tamaki would be unsure, you would go on your spiel about how socialising is good, then he would make up an excuse not to go. It happened every time without fail.

Leaves of varying shades of red, orange, and yellow drifted through the perfect autumn breeze—not too warm, not too cold. Your voice was the only thing filling the silence. He wasn’t listening to your words. All he heard was your voice being carried by emotion. Every subtle shift in your tone when you thought you made an interesting point.

Before long, the both of you arrived at the dorm. You followed close behind, still monologuing, as the taller boy made his way inside. Nejire shouted a greeting to you from the kitchen as you both sat on the couch.

The blue-haired girl emerged from the kitchen holding a plate covered in fruit and holding a bottle of water. She sat on the chair to your right. “You say something about a party, Y/N?” She picked a perfectly sliced piece of watermelon and ate it. You nodded and recited Mirio’s words from your last class. Once she finished chewing, she responded, “Oh, cool. Is it okay if I invite some of Class 1-A?” You nodded again.

The hours dragged on. Now all the Big Three were home and—much to Tamaki’s demise—three-fourths of the house agreed on attending the friend-of-a-friend’s party.

He brutely rubbed his temples with the heels of his hands. Why did he have to have such extroverted friends? He swore as he paced around the compact dorm room. Back and forth. Approach his tidy study desk, turn, pace, almost run into his closet door, turn, pace, repeat. The mind-numbing process helped him mull over his options.

Option one; say he needs to study. No, he shakes his head out of frustration. They would immediately suspect he’s lying and force him out.

Option two; lie about helping a friend with schoolwork. A little easier than the former. But, unlike the first, he was unsure how much his friends knew. He couldn’t find someone at the last second to help him lie. Then there was another flaw—if he just named someone at random and they discovered the same person at the party. Tamaki threw his hands up to his face and groaned in frustration. Why couldn’t he be a normal person who could talk to people?

He threw himself onto his bed, hands now down at his sides. Maybe there was a third option.

Option three; go to the party. Your words seeped into his mind. Maybe it could be fun. Meet new people, experience a traditional high school party that he’s heard so much about. If he was there with people he knew, there was a possibility it could be enjoyable. Tamaki stared up at the bland white ceiling, contemplating his thoughts. Who knows, maybe he’d get some alcohol in his system and be able to muster up the courage to make his move on you, something his anxiety wouldn’t allow him to do in a million years soberly. Scenarios played in his mind of you and him, finally together after years of pinning after you.

Before he could go to far into fantasy, rapid knocking on the dorr broke him out of his head. Mirio, in usual fashion, waltzed into his room. The more confident of the two and, in Tamaki’s mind, more useful and powerful hero, began the usual talk about convincing him to come with the group out somewhere. In a moment of rare confidence, mid-lecture, Tamaki stood up. “No need, I wanna go.”

Mirio interchanged between sentences of praise for Tamaki’s willingness to attend a social event and of comfort if he gets overwhelmed by anything there on the way to the party. While on the walk, he learned that you and Nejire went along to the party and that the two boys would meet you both there. Butterflies were going rampant in his stomach and his legs felt as stable as Jello. The burst of confidence was rapidly draining out of his body. He just wanted to meet up with you again and maybe he would feel a little better.

The two entered the house, and it resembled some of Tamaki’s worst nightmares. Alcohol spilt onto the floor, attempting to glue his shoes to the disgusting floor permanently. Screaming of pop lyrics filled the air as the owners of the voices bumped into him, some spilling their drinks on his casual clothes. A fairly visible cloud of smoke stung his eyes and burnt his nose with its foul odor. He sputtered, not given a second to adjust to the unfamiliar environment as Mirio dragged him by his sleeve towards the backyard.

Outside of the house was a much more serene scene. Many were sitting on the patio in a variety of chairs, casually chatting and laughing. By an out-of-commission hot tub near the back of the yard was Nejire, talking with a small group of people he recognized from his classes. She excused herself from the group and greeted the two as they approached. Tamaki looked around, “Where’s Y/N?”

“Oh, she grabbed some drinks for when you guys got here. She should be in the kitchen somewhere, if you wanna drag her back out here,” she said as she pointed towards the visible kitchen. Tamaki nodded and, swallowing his emerging anxiety, made his way back into the war zone to find you.

The entire house had an open layout. The living room, now temporarily a mosh pit, connected to the kitchen where the party host included every form of food and liquid you could dream of. He glanced over every party guest’s head and didn’t spot you anywhere. Worry bubbled its way up his throat as he continued his search.

Living room, kitchen, hallway, upstairs—you were gone. Simple worry soon turned into ferocious panic. His heart quickened the pace as his vision tunneled. His legs became wobbler with each step. Sweat dripped down his forehead and soaked into his shirt collar. He knew what was happening. He was having a panic attack. Fuck. He knew he shouldn’t have come. If he didn’t, he would be fine. He’d be sitting in his room reading and not on the verge of a panic attack in a house full of people. Breaths turned into pants as he stumbled through the upstairs hallway, searching for a secluded place for him to relax.

Thankfully, luck was on his side that night. He twisted a doorknob leading to a bedroom. When he realised no one was using the room, he all but dove inside. He slid onto the carpeted floor, comfortingly hugging his knees tightly to his chest like a child would. God, he hated when he got like this. He felt so weak, so powerless. So useless. Tamaki shoved his face into his knees, ignoring the slight pain he would later regret.

What felt like barely a minute to Tamaki was in actuality an hour in the actual world. He muttered affirmations to himself, something he learned from you. When he finally felt ready and calm, the raven-haired boy rose to his shaky feet. He controlled his breathing and rubbed dried tears off of his face as he walked towards the attached bathroom.

Instinctively shutting the door behind him, the boy filled with anxiety studied himself in the mirror. Usually messy hair, now somehow more of a mess than ever. Black eyes swollen and red from how aggressively he rubbed them. He sighed as he turned on the faucet to wash his face.

Before he could leave the bathroom, Tamaki heard the door to the bedroom open and close. Mentally, he groaned at this, not wanting to deal with any more people. Socially drained from barely five minutes of this dumb party, he just wanted to go home. But, he was emotionally drained to where he didn’t care that he would disrupt this person from their activities. Or persons, as he could tell by the quiet giggling of a man and a woman. Whatever, he silently murmured. He’d just walk out of the bathroom, apologize to the couple, and leave to find his friends. So simple, right? Wrong.

Thinking no further, Tamaki walked out of the bathroom. He opened his mouth to apologize to the couple trying to enjoy themselves before he felt his throat close up. There you were, pinned on a random strangers bed, groping and kissing, laughing and enjoying yourself with someone who wasn’t him.

He stood outside of the bathroom door, while he had you in his arms. Your lips were attached to his, not Tamaki’s. Your hands weren’t tangled in his black hair, but Shinsou’s purple locks. The sight of it broke him. Both you and Shinsou stared at him in shock. Tamaki weakly stuttered, “Sorry,” before bolting out of the room. He heard your protests, you asking him to wait up so you could explain what just happened, but he couldn’t deal with it.

Tamaki sprinted down the stairs and out the front door, more tears gathering in his eyes. No matter how much he tried to stop thinking, his mind forced the image of you underneath Shinsou to the front of his mind. He heard Nejire and Mirio call his name; he heard your voice among them, but he ignored it all. He wanted to be home.

#boko no hero academia #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagine #my hero academia #mha #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #mha imagine #mha tamaki #amajiki tamaki imagine #tamaki amajiki #tamaki fic #tamaki x reader #tamaki x reader angst #slight shinso x reader #mha mirio #mha nejire

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sammiexwtf · 5 years ago

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DIO Sounds About Right

Hi please enjoy my shitty JJBA fic (You can find it on AO3 and Wattpad with the same name) NSFW

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“Giorno I am so sorry that you haven’t been on good terms with your father practically since your birth, but I am NOT failing this project just because you want to avoid him,” You huffed. The blonde man on your phone screen shot you an annoyed look, which most likely mirrored the one on your own face.

“I don’t know why you’re so damn adamant on staying at my house to finish this project Y/N. I’ve already stayed over at your place countless of times and as a plus you’re closer to the library, we could just walk over when we need to,” Giorno let out a deep sigh as he leaned against his bed frame. “You know how I get when he’s around and since his business trip was cancelled he’ll be here for the whole weekend.”

“Look Gio, I know you try and avoid him as much as possible and I’m not clueless about your feelings towards him,” you mumbled with a small frown. “It’s just that my roommate is planning on using the apartment for one of her ridiculous parties and we’re not going to have any peace for our work if you come over here. Besides, even if your dad is going to be home all weekend you always tell me he locks himself in his study, so it’s not like we’re going to be graced with his presence anyways.”

“Still it’s just the simple thought of being under the same roof as him that’s bothering me. Plus, I don’t think you’ve even met my dad, so you wouldn’t really understand why I’m so against it.”

“You make it sound like he’s some sort of monster, maybe we should start calling him Count Dracula or something.” Your friend snorted at your stupid joke, trying to hide his smile by turning his face away from the screen.”Either way you won’t be completely alone with him if I’m there, and I know you wouldn’t be able to put up with a bunch of drunk college girls trying to get you into their panties.” At your last remark the blonde made a look of disgust and knew that you basically won the argument. If there was one thing that bothered Giorno the most, it was those self proclaimed ‘fans’ of his that were scattered throughout the university that you both attended, your roommate being one of them. Trying to avoid their affections while they were drunk would cause him even more displeasure than usual.

“Fine then. I’ll text you the address.” You couldn’t hide your excitement as you jumped out of bed to start packing your bag. This would be the first time going over to Giorno’s house since you’ve met him, and you weren’t going to waste any time if he decided to change his mind last minute.

“Alright I’ll see you soon then. Bye Giogio!”

“I told you not to call me that!” You playfully stuck your tongue out at the blonde before ending the FaceTime call to finish packing.

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You couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed at the enormous house before you, flicking your head back and forth between the address Giorno had sent to you and the one plated in gold above the large double set doors. You even asked the boy more than once if he sent you the wrong address by mistake, earning you a barrage of middle finger emojis and obscenities at having to repeat himself over and over. Gingerly you lifted your hand to the doorbell and rang it, hearing the chime as clear as day echo inside. Your eyes shifted above the doorbell and noticed a plaque with the name ‘Brando’ etched across it. The sound of one of the doors opening gained your attention once more as a gorgeous young woman stepped out from them. She was wearing what looked to be a tight fitting maid’s uniform, with long brown hair swept to the side and cascading down one of her shoulders.

“Welcome to the Brando residence,” She said with a polite smile. “How can I help you Miss?”

‘Brando residence?” You thought to yourself. ‘I thought Giorno’s last name was Giovanna?’

“Uh hi...I’m looking for Giorno? I’m not sure if I’m at the right address.” The young woman perked up at Giorno’s name and stepped aside, holding the door open with a warm smile.

“You must be Y/N! Please come inside, Mr.Giovanna is indeed expecting you tonight!” At the confirmation you let out a breath of relief before stepping through the threshold, only to stop at the sight of the marble staircase before you. The house was far from being considered a mansion, but nonetheless did it look like something straight off of one of those celebrity reality shows. You jumped at the sound of the large door closing behind you, forgetting momentarily about the girl as she quickly made her way towards you. “Just give me one moment to go get Mr.Giovanna for you, he was insistent about showing you the house on his own.” All you could do was nod your head as words seem to fail as she hastily made her way up the stairs. You didn’t have time to look around though as Giorno came around from the top of the stairs and smiled down at you.

“This would be the part where I’d say welcome to my humble abode, but there is absolutely nothing humble about this monstrosity, my father made sure of that,” He sneered. He motioned with his hand for you to come up and you quickly began to ascend the stairs. Once you were at the top it didn’t seem as scary as before, but the rest of the home was just as beautiful. You honestly weren’t paying attention to where you were going, you were trying to take in everything at once from the amazing artwork that lined the walls, to ornate furniture, and even taking a moment to look at how pristine the hardwood floors were that you could practically see your face through it. Ok, maybe they weren’t that clean but still.

Before you knew it, you were in Gio’s bedroom as he made his way to his bed and opened his laptop. His bedroom was a simple creme color, a coffee brown bookcase filled with novels and trophies was lined next to a window that reached from the floor to the ceiling. Directly across from his bed was a flatscreen T.V sitting on top of a matching brown dresser. His walls were covered in paintings that looked as if they belonged in an art museum and a map of the world hung above his headboard. You stared down at his bed then, afraid to sit down as you didn’t want to wrinkle the deep purple duvet atop it. It took Gio a moment to realize that you were still standing by the doorway, his eyes following yours as they danced across his room as well before stopping right back at you.

“What?”

“Why am I just finding out now, after 2 years of friendship might I add, that you’re fucking loaded? I mean I knew you came from a family with SOME money but holy shit dude!” You stared into his green eyes, looking for an answer. Only to be met with a smile.

“Well technically I’m not rich. My father is. Hence there was nothing to find out.” You gave the blonde a dirty look, earning a chuckle from him before deciding that the bed was no longer intimidating and sat down on it.

“You know what I meant. I know you said your dad had a busy job, but what does he do to be able to own a house like this? Is he part of the mafia?” This time your question earned you a hearty laugh from your friend and you felt your ears get hot, not liking to be laughed at when you were being serious. You threw your duffle bag at Giorno, only for him to catch it with ease before placing it next to him on the bed. “I’m not trying to be funny Gio! Answer me!”

“First and foremost, you should know the mafia is MY forte, and I probably would respect the man if he actually was a member. It would make getting in a bit more easier.” You snorted at his answer. If you had a dollar for every time the boy mentioned dropping out of school to join the mafia you’d probably be as rich as his father by now. “However, every now and then he gets one as a client, if they’re willing to pay good that is. He’s a lawyer.” You looked around once more and out the open door as the maid walked by carrying a basket full of laundry. If this is what a lawyer could afford, maybe you were studying the wrong major.

“I have one more question.” Gio simply nodded his head for you to continue as he began typing on his laptop, pulling up the notes for the project you were assigned. “Why did that maid say this was the Brando residence? There was a plaque outside too with that name. I thought your last name was Giovanna?”

“It is Giovanna,” he answered without looking up from the computer screen. “That was my mother’s maiden name. My father’s last name is Brando. They were never married.” His curt reply told you that there was definitely more behind the story, but you decided not to press the issue for now and kept any more questions to yourself.

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Roughly three or four hours had passed since you and Giorno had begun working on your project, satisfied with the work so far you both decided to take a break. The due date wasn’t until a week from now, but this project was for your marine biology class and the professor was known for being a hardass when it came to grading so the sooner you could work on it, the more time you could use to perfect it before it reached him. You tossed your pen onto the bed, cracking your fingers and stretching your arms. Giorno had brought out his espresso machine an hour into the session and was now brewing himself another cup. You honestly never heard of anyone who kept a spare coffee machine in their bedroom, but Giorno mentioned that while he lived in Italy, it apparently was a normal thing. You called bullshit but decided not to break your head over it anymore.

“You sure you don’t want another cup of coffee Y/N?” You covered your mouth to stifle a yawn, wagging your finger at him.

“No thank you, if I drink too much caffeine I won’t be able to sleep tonight. Besides,” You added while hopping off of his bed. “Another cup of anything and I think my bladder will explode. Where’s the closest bathroom in this maze?”

“Down the hallway on the other end of the staircase, turn right.”

“Grazie!” He simply shot you a thumbs up as you made your way out with his, albeit vague, directions. Soon you went down the hallway and passed the stairs. “Alright he said turn right and we should be in business…” As soon as you turned the corner you stopped to see three doors, one on the right side closest to you and two on the left. All three were closed and Giorno hadn’t mentioned there’d be more than one door. “Well...only one way to find out.” Without another thought you naturally went to the single door on the right and opened it without hesitation. Not the brightest idea.

You halted in place, mouth going dry. The door you opened led not to the bathroom but to an older looking study. The three walls in front of you were lined ceiling to floor with bookcases, a small globe in the corner. In the center of it was a large mahogany desk, covered in scattered papers. What made you really stop however was the tall and muscular blond man casually leaning against the desk...with the maid on her knees facing him. The moment you had opened the door he had slowly looked up from the woman to you, not even startled by your intrusion. At first the only sounds you could hear was your own rapid heartbeat echoing in your ears, but now you were focusing on the sounds coming from the maid and noticing how her head was bobbing. A blush began to creep up your neck to your face as it looked like he made no intentions of stopping her either.

“Is there something I can help you with? I’m a bit busy if you couldn’t tell.” His deep voice had wrapped around your mind, slowly dragging you out of your thoughts. It sounded so calm, despite the current situation. You had to basically tear your eyes from the scene in front of you, your face burning more.

“I-I’m so sorry! I was just looking for-” You began to stutter, but he raised a hand stop you mid sentence.

“It’s the door across.” You quickly bowed and practically slammed the door shut, missing the sinful look on the man's face as he watched your retreating form.

You bolted into the room across, thankful this time for it actually being the bathroom as you locked the door letting out a shaky breath. You had no doubt in your mind that you had just met Giorno’s father, and unceremoniously at that.

“What a great first impression,” You thought aloud. You made your way to the sink to run some cool water on your face in hopes of getting your flustered look back to normal. After you were done and completed your original business you just stood at the closed door, you were a bit nervous to step foot outside the bathroom if god forbid HE was to come out at the same time. Unfortunately, god decided to dislike you at this moment as you heard a small knock on the restroom door. “Just a second,” You shakily called out. Deeply hoping it was Giorno wondering what was taking you so long. When you finally had the gall to open the door you were instead met with the sight of the young maid, her hair this time was a bit disheveled and a small pink tint was hinting at her cheeks.

“Hello again Ms. Y/N,” She squeaked out. This time she would not meet your eyes, looking towards the ground instead. “Mr. Brando would like for you to join him in his study for a moment. I will be taking my leave for the evening, please enjoy the rest of your stay.” She bowed and sped away and out of sight, not giving you a chance to apologize about walking in on them. You swept your eyes over the closed door to the study across from you, feeling a cold sweat begin to form on your brow. You inhaled deeply before settling your nerves and walking over. This time you knocked on the door and waited for an answer.

“Come in.” With another deep breath you slowly edged the door open, once again being welcomed by the dimly lit study. This time the man, whom you now knew was in fact Giorno’s father, sat behind his desk patiently, fingertips pressed together right above his wide chest. “I’m glad you learned how to knock this time,” He teased with a grin.

“Trust and believe I learned my lesson, again I want to properly apologize about intruding on...something so private.” You could hear your voice falter under his intense gaze, and he let out a deep chuckle. The sound was so alluring, and you felt your throat beginning to dry.

“That’s quite alright. I wanted us to start over on that first impression. Given the maid explained to me you’re a friend of my son, I didn’t think it appropriate for your first meeting of me to be in the middle of having my cock sucked,” He stated as if he were just talking about a small inconvenience. Your eyes widened at his crudeness and you couldn’t help but blush and look away, positive that you were as red as a cherry now.

“Well then...I appreciate the second chance then Mr. Brando.”

“Dio.”

“I beg your pardon?” You turned your face back to him, now he had his arms resting beside him on the chair. There was an almost playful look in his eyes.

“You can call me Dio. Mr. Brando is far too old for my taste.”

‘Of course his name would be something like Dio...how well it suits him too,’ You thought to yourself.

“Alright then...Dio. I’m Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You bowed to formally greet the man, and when you looked back up he was beckoning you with his finger to come forward. You thought about just staying put but in the end began walking towards him. As you got closer, you were able to notice his features more clearly. His vibrant blond hair sat at neck length, small fringes of bangs reaching right about his thick brows. His eyes almost looked cat like, predatory even yet strikingly alluring. You assumed they were a light brown color but with the dim lighting they almost looked red, adding a supernatural aura to him. He was gorgeous, and now you knew where Giorno got his looks from. Once you reached the edge of his desk, he held out his hand for you, almost as if he were asking for a handshake. You reached out your own to reach his, taking notice at how incredibly large his hand was to yours. However he gently wrapped his fingers around your hand and leaned over, placing a warm kiss on your knuckles. The small action immediately sent a wave of heat through your entire body. He looked up at you through hooded eyes, not moving your hand away from his face. Your blush had never left, and the heat began to grow unbearable as you watched his eyes slowly sweep down your face, stopping for a moment at your lips before coming back up to lock once more with your own.

“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Y/N.” His voice dropped to a seductive whisper, the breath from his words ghosting over your knuckles and sending a shiver down your spine. Slowly he slipped his hand from yours, lingering on your fingertips for the briefest of moments before resting it on his thigh. You followed his movements with your eyes, noticing how thick and muscular his thighs were, straining against the fabric of his beige dress pants. Your eyes crept up, landing on the small amount of skin peeking out from his shirt he hadn’t bothered to tuck back in. The white button down seemed to be a second skin, as it clung to every contour and muscle on his body, the first two buttons undone to give you a glimpse of just what lies underneath. Finally, your journey stopped on his lips; deliciously pouty and upturned into one of the most devilish smirks you’d ever seen. “See something you like?” You dragged your eyes up completely to meet his, only to be greeted with an intense gaze that burned through your entire body. He had watched you ogle him shamelessly like a horny school girl, and couldn’t look more proud about it. At that moment the door to the study swung open, snapping you out of your trance.

“I was worried you got lost, looks more like you got trapped.” Giorno’s familiar voice was laced with venom, his face contorted to one of disgust. He stayed at the entrance of the study, holding the door open to allow the light from the hallway to seep through. He was focused solely on Dio, who sat relaxed in his chair unbothered by the angry blonde boy.

“Oh, what a pleasant surprise my son.” He emphasized the last two words, earning an eye twitch from the younger. “ I was just introducing myself to your exquisite friend here. I’m quite hurt that you hadn’t introduced me to her sooner.” Giorno simply scoffed at his father’s words.

“Well now that you’ve met, I’d like to have her returned to me now. We have a project to finish.” Giorno then turned his eyes to you, his gaze softening immensely. “Come on Y/N, I ordered us some takeout and it should be here soon so we can get back to work.”

“O-oh. Uh thanks Gio,” You mumbled. Your mind was still in a bit of a haze, but you were beginning to get your bearings. You turned to look at Dio and bowed once more. “It was nice meeting you Mr...I mean Dio. Please have a great rest of your evening.” With that you turned and began high tailing towards the door. Giorno moved back into the hallway as you approached, but before you could close the door that seductive voice reached out to you once more.

“Y/N,” he purred out. Slowly you turned towards him, hand still in the door knob. “If you need anything at all tonight, please do not hesitate to come look for me. You are our guest here and it would be my...” his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, “greatest pleasure to assist you.” You couldn’t help but swallow at the second meaning behind his words. Afraid to hear your own voice you simply nodded your head before softly closing the door behind you.

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Giorno had interrogated you for a bit on your meeting with Dio, and you lied and told him you simply got curious after finding the bathroom and stumbled upon the study. You could tell he knew you were leaving something out but you would be damned if you actually told him the real way you found his father. After making sure you were ok enough for him and confirming that the man never touched you he dropped the subject and you both went on with the project while enjoying the food he had ordered. At around 1 AM you both agreed on turning in for the night and to continue in the morning. Giorno showed you to the guest room right next to his and bid you goodnight, finally leaving you alone with your thoughts. You laid on top of the bed just staring at the ceiling for a while. No matter how hard you tried, you kept replaying the meeting with Dio over and over again to the point that the memory of the maid slowly morphed and it was now you on your knees in front of him instead of her.

“Get out of my head!” You angrily whispered, not wanting for your friend to hear you through the walls. You glanced at your phone to see the time, ‘1:30 AM’ mocked the bright numbers. You got up from the bed and dug through your duffle bag and pulled out your pajamas. You thought about just changing and forcing yourself to sleep but you felt too warm and wanted a shower. Immediately you thought about going to the one down the hall but your stomach dropped, you did NOT want to run into you know who. “This house is huge, there’s definitely another bathroom somewhere.” You slowly made your way out of the room and into the quiet hallway. You checked the other rooms near yours only to find another guest room and a movie room, which you knew you were going to beg Giorno to set up a movie night after all of this. You walked down the hall and stopped at the stairs, looking at the hallway across from you where you knew the bathroom was.

“Maybe he’s not there anymore and went to bed?” You said to yourself. You shook your head and continued on your mission of finding another bathroom and descended down the stairs, you weren’t going to take any chances. Finally after finding the kitchen, two more guest rooms and a billiards room, you found a second bathroom. It was smaller and less ornate than the one up stairs but it was still a decent size and had a stand up shower. You mentally cheered before placing down your items and quickly began stripping. Soon you were in the shower letting the cool water bounce across your skin, feeling the tension in your body slowly melt away. Occasionally your mind would wander onto the relationship Giorno had with his father, yes the man was indeed intimidating and there was something below the surface of that beautiful face that felt a bit dangerous, but there was nothing else that struck out to you as to why your friend couldn’t stand him. He’s told you about how egotistical the man is and how they always lived on edge of a fight, but never actually gave you hard proof or reasons for the intense dislike. Giorno had told you about his mother and how a complete bitch she was while he was growing up and everything she had put him through so you understood his feelings towards her completely. Eventually she dumped him off onto Dio one day and just disappeared from his life, ‘good riddance’ he had told you. Yet the mechanics of his relationship with his father was still kept a mystery to you and he would close up about it if you started asking too many questions. The only answer you’ve gotten so far was that they shared a difference in morals, and that was it.

After a good while you finished your shower and started to dry off. You felt as if a thousand weights were lifted from your shoulders and quickly put the events of the evening to the back of your mind, finally feeling sleepy. You began to get dressed but noticed something odd. You could have sworn you brought a clean pair of underwear to change into along with your pajamas. You looked around the bathroom floor to see if maybe it had fallen but found nothing.

“Maybe I left them in the bag by accident?” You shrugged your shoulders and just decided to just slip on your night shorts without underwear , you’d put some on when you got back to your room. You opted for a simple tank top as well to complete the look, your body was still a bit wet so the shirt became damp making the material a bit see through. You didn’t really care much, not like you were going to run into anybody like this..

You made your way out of the bathroom, the air inside the house suddenly felt a lot more colder and you began to shiver. Scurrying your way through the first floor you finally made it back to the stairs and started to climb them. You hadn’t noticed the extra pair of footsteps walking the hall until you were half way up, stopping completely in your tracks and if you hadn’t met him tonight the sight before you would’ve been a terrifying one. Dio stood at the top of the stairs, his back facing the little bit of light from the hall so all you could really see was the outline of his body, his face was completely hidden in the shadows. It felt like you were looking at a ghost and not a man.

“What a coincidence, I was just on my way down to look for you, Ms. Y/N..” His voice was as smooth as ever, but you noticed there was something else there that you couldn’t quite pick up on. “What on earth are you doing up at this hour?” You were feeling a bit uneasy with how calm he sounded, and the fact that you couldn’t see his face was making it worse.

“I was just taking a bath..” You answered meekly, your throat feeling tight.

“And why would you go through the trouble of going all the way down there? You already know there’s one upstairs.”

‘ Because I didn’t want to run into like I just did now.’ You thought to yourself. You swallowed hard before answering.

“I-I didn’t want to disturb you in case you were asleep.”

“Aren’t you the thoughtful one.” He let out a chuckle. “No matter, I actually was looking for you to see if you forgot something.”

“Not that I know of..why?” You wanted for this conversation to be over already, the tension that you had just showered away crawling right back to you. Dio let out another chuckle, this one sounded a bit huskier. He didn’t say anything but lifted his hand out to the side, and your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. In his hand were your missing panties, where as he was still in the shadows they were illuminated VERY clearly in the light. You felt your embarrassment multiply as he laughed at your reaction.

“I found them on the floor up here by the stairs and figured they were yours, unless Giorno has changed his sense of fashion recently which I doubt considering he’s never liked polka dots to begin with. Then again I’m not one to judge.” You could hear the teasing tone in his voice and you couldn’t help but laugh nervously at his joke.

“This is just outright embarrassing, but thank you for trying to return them to me.” You kept mentally cursing to yourself about this whole situation, and how this happened in the first place; you should’ve just let Giorno come to your apartment to study like he wanted from the beginning. You began climbing the stairs to retrieve your underwear from the blond, but as soon as you reached the last step he took one step back just out of your reach. You furrowed your brows and stepped forward again, and once more he took another step back. “Um...what are you doing?”

“Playing your game, Ms. Y/N.” You rose a brow in confusion, you were honestly getting annoyed now.

“What game?” He let out a ‘hmph’ before turning around and walking down the hall, still dangling your underwear over his shoulder for you to see. “Hey!” You shouted and followed after him as he disappeared around the corner, once you reached it you stopped to see the door to his study was wide open. You made your way over and stood in front of the open door, on top of his desk were your panties, but Dio was nowhere in sight.

‘ I would have to be a complete idiot not to realize this is a trap.’ You stayed in place, just staring at the underwear that was mocking you. He had to be somewhere in there, but the dim lighting made it hard to see into the small shadows in the corner of the room, and the light from the hallway wasn’t helping much either. You contemplated just leaving them there, it wasn’t like you had no more underwear at home, but deep down you wanted to see what would happen and the moment that thought crossed your mind you felt a warm sensation through your body. Your fantasy was getting the better of you and before you realized it you were walking towards the desk. You reached the desk and still no sign of the man, so you reached out to grab your underwear without hesitating.

*Click*

The light from the hallway completely disappeared as the door was closed, you didn’t turn around but you could feel someone staring at you from behind. His footsteps echoed in the room, surprised that you could even hear them over the sound of your own heartbeat blaring in your ears. He stopped right behind you, his chest practically pressed against your back. A large hand reached out from behind you and took hold of the clothes that you were still clutching in your hands before tossing them to the side. Once more the hand came into your line of vision and tenderly cupped your face and turned it to the side to meet Dio’s hot gaze. His hand was cold in comparison to your hot face as he slowly traced circles on your bottom lip with his thumb. He bent his head down to your ear, pressing you against his body in the process and feeling his hardness rub against your ass. You let out a gasp, earning you a chuckle from the large man, his warm breath tickling your ear.

“I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you, that you’d be a special treat.” His voice felt like velvet as he whispered into your ear, the sound along with his breath was beginning to make your body betray you as each word he whispered sent a throbbing heat to your core. He kissed the spot right behind your ear, slowly ghosting his lips across your jaw, then your cheek before hungrily taking your own lips with his. His lips were softer than they looked as they caressed your own, earning a moan from you. Dio took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. You should’ve pushed him away, bit his tongue, elbowed him to make a run for it or something instead of just giving in. His other hand had wrapped around your waist, but was now moving up and under your tank top grabbing a hold of your right breast and massaging it. Dio finally pulled away from the kiss and aside from the lustful look on his face he seemed unaffected, unlike you who was a panting red faced mess.

“We shouldn-'' Was all you were able to breath out before he pinched your nipple hard eliciting another moan from you as he began rubbing the sensitive bud between his fingers.

“Your voice sounds so sweet when you moan for me Y/N, I want more of it.” His other hand left your face as it travelled to the waistband of your shorts before slipping through easily, running a long thick finger across your slit. Your hips on their own accord bucked at the sensation, making Dio laugh darkly. “My, my, all I did was kiss you and you’re already so wet. You’re a very filthy girl aren’t you Y/N?” You turned your face away from him and bit your lip to hold back another moan as he slipped his finger inside you and began pumping it slowly. Your knees began to buckle from underneath you, so Dio pushed you both forward effectively pinning your legs between him and the desk to stop you from falling.

“I can’t do this,” You whined to him. “Your Giorno’s father..” You squeezed your eyes shut in pain as he added two more fingers and began pumping at an obscene pace, not allowing you to stretch around them first.

“I’m well aware of who I am to that boy.” He answered gruffly.The hand that was on your breast moved and was cupping your face a bit more rough than before, his fingers now hitting your sweet spot causing your breath to stop in your throat. “I’m also aware about his feelings for you and how blissfully ignorant you are to them. Which makes this so much more sweeter for me.” He kissed you again, this time more feverishly. As he pulled away again he withdrew his fingers from your heat at the same moment, leaving you feeling empty. That feeling was short lived however as he pushed you down onto the desk, your chest was completely pressed against it making your ass push out towards him. Dio pulled your shorts down to your ankles, the cold air rushing to your wet core making you shiver. You could hear him unzipping his pants and the ruffling of clothing, before you felt the tip of his dick tease against your entrance. Slowly he inched it into you, stretching out your hole. It had not hurt as much as you thought it would but there was a dull pain nonetheless from how big he was. You’ve had partners before so you were by no means a virgin, but you’d be damned if you had anybody with his size.

“Such a nice and tight cunt you have my dear Y/N. I can’t wait to ruin it.” Without wasting another moment he gripped your hips with both hands as he began to fuck you roughly, the lewd sound of his skin slapping against yours were drowned out by your loud moans. His chest was pressed firmly against your back, his head right next to your ear and you could hear every groan and grunt that escaped his lips. “I wish you could see the look on your face right now,” He panted into your ear, not once stopping his relentless pace. “Such a dirty look for a dirty girl.” You had no response, the only thing falling from your mouth being your own incoherent screams and moans. Soon you felt a hot pressure beginning to build, each thrust bringing you closer to your edge.

“Dio please!” You couldn’t recognize your voice, it sounded so hoarse and needy. He took notice and snaked a hand down between your legs, pressing a finger onto your clit but not moving it.

“Please what, my dear Y/N?” He began to slow his pace, getting you on the verge of tears as you felt the pressure begin to fade. “I want to hear you beg for it.” You tried to bring your hips to meet his but he only pulled farther away. Finally you gave in.

“Make me cum from your cock Dio, please!” Satisfied he picked up his pace, slamming into you as he began rubbing your clit in tight circles. The pressure began building up again causing your vision to go in and out.

“I want you to scream my name when you cum. Be a good little girl for me.” His voice is what sent you over the edge as his name ripped from your throat as you orgasmed. As you came your core squeezed around him, bringing him close to his. He pulled out with a final groan as he emptied his load onto your ass. As your high began to die down, you felt the pain on your thighs from being pounded into the desk. You were going to have bruises tomorrow for sure. Slowly Dio lifted himself from on top of you, lifting you off of the desk as well. “I apologize, but it seems I may have made a bit of a mess on you.” His breathing was back to normal, but when you turned around you looked down and nearly choked. He was still as hard as a rock. “Why don’t I join you for a another shower, Ms. Y/N?” The devilish look on his face was enough to tell you that your little romp was far from over.

#jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #anime #dio brando #readerxcharacter #readerxdio #reader insert #smut

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followedbyraven · 4 years ago

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A journey into God’s mind

Chuck’s motivation in obsessively writing the same end - is what has been on my mind in quite a while. So far he is a megalomaniac villain with no proper cause. And for the love of everything a villain without a motive is of not interest to me.

As a long time fanfic writer I don’t understand Chuck’s bullheaded insistence with “brother killing brother” and end-of-the-world themes. When my characters happen to say a resound “NO!” to what my sick brain is cooking, I listen to them, this is my subconscious letting me know that I’m about to make a really wrong move. And then I do my best to find a solution, which may be not necessary as dramatic, but nevertheless satisfying.

So I said to myself: “Let’s find us a motive!” and embarked on a journey.

So basically to understand my theory of Chuck’s obsession first I have to explain a bit about the particular bit of “Lucifer” TV show which gave me an idea. I doubt many people don’t know this show, but just in case, bear with me. It’s a show dealing with Biblical lore and main character is the Lucifer himself (although much less boring, than in SPN). He is funny, adorable and with a bucket full of issues. And yes, he also can be terrifying!

In episode 2x12 “Love Handles” the villain of the episode and the long arc is a professor, who, when finding himself in a burning car, saved his dissertation and not a student driving it. This act made him an outcast and he eventually proceeded to blackmail successful people, putting them in a morally black and white scenarios: their life’s foundation (face of a movie star, hands of a chirurg) versus someones life. All for the quest to prove (as much to people around as to himself) that he couldn't be blamed for what happened. That the choice he made was a right one.

And here I see a clear parallel with SPN, maybe a crazy one but in my mind it fits perfectly.

Professor saved his dissertation by sacrificing a student. So he became obsessed with proving that he did the right thing. It was the work of his life after all.

Chuck in order to create his lifework, the Universe, sacrificed his sister, The Darkness.

Professor was aiming at famous people, prominent figures, heroes we may call them to bring parallel to SPN (from star actor to renowned chirurg, whose hands saved many lives). All to prove that he was right in his choice. Chuck chose heroes, siblings, nurtured them, build them up, and then let them kill each other (I’m sure that Cain’s dilemma came directly from under Chuck’s pen). So he is obsessed to prove to himself, subconsciously most of all, that locking for the end of time, losing his sister, to save/create his masterpiece, his life work, was a right thing to do.

This is his perfect tragedy, dramatic exit - to be left alone, without his sibling, by his own hand, surrounded by what was at that moment the most important thing in his mind, his Creation. And Chuck repeats this scenario over, and over, and over again, stuck in his disability to understand that this idea comes from his own dirty deed, his own ego, his own choice. To prove to himself first and foremost that his masterpiece is more important than his family, that he was right in locking Amara.

It’s a perfect mirror of his own choices, and he bends fates of others to meet this obsessive scenario, so his brain (or whatever he uses for one) can process the enormity of his one single action, which was the point of creation, of light for the Universe, and the moment of perfect darkness for the Creator himself.

So he was left alone with his creations, and at first, the novelty of it was enough, the new voices demanding his attention were enough. As long as he could forget about the fate of his sister. And for a short time that nagging voice in his head became just a whisper.

In time he reached his ceiling as Creator by making humanity, his masterpiece, and managed to keep the insistent whisper away a bit longer.

But inevitably Chuck got bored, lost interest, cause he, as many other supernatural beings, doesn’t see humanity as equal. He couldn’t see that he truly created something amazing, not only in his image, but also in his spirit (and in madness, we’re just much better at dealing with it). There was a phrase in one of the episodes that even angels don’t really understand what human SOULS are. It always left me wondering.

So as I was saying, chuck got bored, the whisper (locked Amara, his guilty consciousness) become louder, and that is when his true madness, his obsession with idea of siblings killing each other as the perfect tragedy, the perfect end of the story began. He plays it in different ways to prove to himself that this is the only natural, true end for any great story, the perfect justification for his reasons, that it was the only way.

What interesting is, that “Lucifer’s” professor says: “Choice is an illusion” and kills himself.

Just like Chuck connects the perfect end of his “choice is an illusion” dance with the end of his creation.

He started on this road while Amara was still under lock, and I don’t think that Winchesters would be the last of heroes Chuck played with if only they followed the script. Until they freed Amara, bringing in his mind the story to its perfect end. In his twisted mind there can be only one choice: Amara or his masterpiece. And with Amara freed he started unraveling his life’s work, for there may be only one or another.

We can say that making humans in his (and Amara’s) image was the first unconscious step on the road to perfect tragedy. And I’m not talking about human bodies, I’m talking about our very souls. Human souls begin as bright as light of the creation. I’m speculating here, but as any true artist Chuck imbedded his perfect creation with the tiny bitty pieces of himself. The difference is that light can be tarnished, darkened, and remind Chuck too much or Amara, his locked sister. And thus the Hell was created, where those tarnished souls were sent, away from his sight, in order for Chuck to continue his existence in ignorance. So he banishes those souls to Hell, locks them away. Just. Like. Amara. Another mirror on a bigger scale.

Why then not a perfect mirror, why not brother and sister, why two brothers? Here I’m going even deeper into speculating. Two sisters - may be too much of Amara reminder. He has to first build them up, give them power, luck, make them into heroes. That’s a tad too much of a girl’s power for Chuck. He sees Amara as oppressive force to start with and I doubt he is willing to go down that road. Intimidation would be too much and Chuck can barely deal with two stubborn Winchesters, he doesn’t need to add psychological pressure for good measure. Brother and sister? That’s really awfully too close to home for his liking, it can't stay in subconscious anymore and would force him to take a good hard look at himself.

Another point of interest - why Dean? Why through all obviously written by Chuck situations, it’s Dean who most often comes to the point when flow of events demand from him killing Sam. Down to the point of making Dean invincible when he was marked with the Mark of Cain, so it is he who eventually was supposed to do the deed.

What I think is that Chuck identifies strongly with Dean. Not so much as them being similar, more - Chuck wants to be Dean, have that level of courage, endurance and inner strength of spirit.

That is why he wants specifically Dean to perform his, Chuck’s part of the scenario. There is a lot of admiration, which falls in line with the level of anger when Dean keeps disappointing Chuck by refusing to play by his rules, continuously steps off the script.

There is a mirror to that too in earlier seasons. Metatron vs Castiel. I’m sure it’s a kind of old news and many metas have been written about it. I just wanted to connect it one more time to the rest of my musings about Chuck.

Metatron was also strongly identifying himself with Cas for all the same reasons. And he also wanted Cas to play the villain of the story at the same time trying on Cas's trench coat and posing in front of the mirror. Metatron understands that Castiel is not a villain, but he so desperately wants Cas to be one. The fallen hero. In that aspect Gadreel played the reflection of Castiel perfectly. The difference is - Castiel doesn’t want to be either, hero or villain (he learned the price of that the hard way), he just does what he thinks is right. Gadreel wanted to be again a hero, wanted to climb back on pedestal, no matter the cost.

Same with Chuck and Dean, mirroring Chuck making himself very, very comfortable in the bunker, the Dean's true domain, his home.

Both Chuck now and Metatron then are trying to make their chosen ones follow the written by them script.

I would almost call it a foreshadowing (if then unintentional, who knows, maybe writers thought back to season which was it, 9? and thought: oh, but that would fit nicely with s15 arc), despite so many seasons between these two story lines.

This is it, the journey into God’s mind complete. Hope you N-joyed.

@verobatto-angelxhunter

#Chuck meta #spn chuck #Supernatural meta #dean winchester #Castiel

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clan-sayeed-fic · 5 years ago

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Let me earn your trust (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios) Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they're the property of Pixelberry Studios as well) Warnings: strong language, very little fluff/smut? (it turns out I don’t know what I’m writing about at this point hahaha) Rating: Mature Author's note: I'm not a native English speaker, I'm sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

I must say, I wasn't expecting to upload this story at all. And here we are, in the middle of what I have already written. And I haven't even got to the ending... let's say I'm gonna torture you with this story till you'll have enough of it. 😋

Today's chapter is the longest so far, hope you'll enjoy it. The first time I'm not giving hints about what will happen in the next chapter. I hope you like mysteries!😘

~ 2600 words

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Chapter 11

The smell of sweat filled the room.

Another scream echoed between the walls when Lily went flying through the whole length of the gym, finally hitting the floor.

"Again," Kamilah's cold voice was repeating the same word over and over.

Amy buried her face in her hands. She was sitting on the floor against the mirror on the wall. They were in the private training hall which apparently, Kamilah had in her company building.

"Come on," Lily panted, barely standing on her feet. "How can you not even stumble a little?!"

Indeed, for this whole time, Kamilah was barely touchable. The only moments when Kamilah was within Lily's reach happened because the woman by herself let her to. There was no sweat on Kamilah's body, no heavy breathing coming out of her lungs. She kept her upright posture the whole time. The only thing that had been changing was the color of her eyes, which turned red every time Lily planned to attack.

"Because I'm focusing, unlike you," Kamilah growled, annoyed.

Lily steadied her body. It was easy to recognize that she was losing her temper. Pain and exhaustion were reaching their limits within her. After each strike, her wounds healed impossibly fast, which was the advantage of being a newly turned. But it has its cons too. Her body was regularly devastated and healed.

And even the healing process could hurt sometimes depending on the injury.

Lily looked at Kamilah one more time, searching for weak points in her defensive position. Finally, she attacked, using her vampire speed, which made everything go blurry before Amy's eyes.

And then one more time: sounds of loud breaths, punching, scream, and Lily was on the floor writhing in pain.

Amy stood up momentarily, wanting to help her friend. She had an impulse to do it whenever Lily fell on the floor. And like every time before, now too, Kamilah's red eyes stopped her from doing this. The woman wanted the newly turned vampire to handle herself without help.

"Again," Kamilah was always ready.

"No," Lily stood up, her cracked bones healed loudly, making her bend in pain. "We did it like a hundred times, no more," sweat all over her face.

Amy knew already how this would turn out. Kamilah's eyes were still red. Not because of the fight this time, but the rage that burned inside of her. There was not much that Amy could do in this situation, so she stayed silent and watched the women.

"Do you realize that you are in no position to argue?" Kamilah's voice sharp like it could cut through anything. "The meeting will begin in a few hours. That doesn't give us much time to improve your skills."

"Yeah, exactly!" Lily shouted. "What's the point of all of this?" she made a gesture showing the training hall.

"Degree of your training might be our only chance to convince the Council from giving you a death sentence," Kamilah frowned at how reckless Lily acted.

Since they had no time anymore on convincing members of the Council before the meeting, they had to come up with a new idea. Adrian reminded Kamilah that back in the days the Council used to make its decisions based on how well trained the newly turned vampire was.

Kamilah did great by training Lily. And the girl by herself made enormous progress. But still, Kamilah was afraid that it might not have been enough. And she needed to be sure that it would be, thinking of Adrian's fate.

"I know," Lily became upset. At this point, Amy had a remarkably hard time standing in one place. "Just give me a break, ok?"

"Fifteen minutes," Kamilah ordered.

Lily inhaled deeply and turned to the exit. Finally, Amy moved into her direction, wanting to comfort her. But, to her great astonishment, that was not what her friend needed at the time.

"Don't, seriously," Lily didn't even bother to look at her. "I wanna be alone right now."

Amy stopped heartbroken. They had known each other for very long. Amy had time to learn that the best she could do in such moments was to let her be. No matter how hard it was for her to resist the urge of hugging Lily and telling her that she did great, it would do more harm than good.

Finally, Amy composed herself and turned around to Kamilah, feeling angry at her.

The woman walked to the corner of the hall, where she left her things. She drank water from the bottle and took off her training gloves, throwing them to the opened bag.

"You didn't have to be so harsh," Amy's voice was full of complaint.

"Live won't be easy for her either," Kamilah turned to face the girl. "Besides, I wasn't harsh. I'm sure even you could have dealt with it."

Amy's eyes raised. She was surprised by Kamilah's statement, and looking at her made Amy believe in the woman's words even less.

Kamilah stood in front of her wearing a black, simple sports bra and leggings. Her hair back into a loose ponytail, letting some of the hair fell from behind her ears. Her darker complexion was shining from the effort she put in training Lily. Muscles in her body highlighted by the faint light that was reaching the corner. Amy looked into her eyes and swallowed nervously.

"Yeah," she chuckled. "I truly doubt that,"

Amy wanted to turn from Kamilah when she felt her hand grabbing Amy by the wrist swirling her around till she stood with her back against Kamilah's chest. The grip on Amy's wrist was still solid when Kamilah lowered her head to her neck, making Amy shiver.

"Why don't you let me prove you wrong?" a sweet whisper from Kamilah's mouth straight into the soft skin.

Amy barely stopped the moan from escaping her mouth when the other hand moved from her hip, up to her waist. Slowly getting under her shirt, like she was waiting for a reaction.

You're angry at her, remember? Amy told herself in thoughts and with difficulty broke free from Kamilah's grip, causing her smirk with satisfaction.

"All right, I'll try," Amy's breath quickened already. "I can't see how this is supposed to prove anything since your way much stronger and faster."

"I won't use my advantages," Kamilah ensured, taking the position. "Try to hit me."

Amy inhaled deeply, showing a lack of confidence. But despite doubts, she made a fist out of her right palm. And when she wanted to attack, hesitation hit her with doubled strength.

"This is ridiculous," Amy laughed nervously.

"Of course, it is when you're preparing yourself to..." Kamilah said ironically.

Then, Amy hit her, acting impulsively. She certainly caught the woman off guard, but still, Kamilah blocked her effortlessly. She made Amy stumble a little, but there was no pain after Kamilah's defending move.

"Not bad," Kamilah said honestly, "try again."

"Oh no, I know how it goes with your 'again'..." Amy made an impression of Kamilah quite adequately.

Amy wanted to say something more, but she sensed the attack coming before Kamilah even planned to do this. Thanks to that, Amy dodged to the side at the right time, making Kamilah lose full strength on the missed attack.

The woman turned around with an impressed expression on her face.

"How did you do that?" Kamilah couldn't hide how dazzled she was.

"Um..." Amy looked at her own hands.

Then, Kamilah attacked again, trying to prove her theory.

Amy blocked every attack in a similar way that Kamilah did previously. The girl wasn't impossibly strong or agile. She just knew where Kamilah would hit and with what force.

After a series of attacks, Kamilahs stopped, her breath increased.

"This is quite a discovery," this time, the woman took Amy's hand gently, trying to figure out how was it even possible for someone without training to achieve something like that.

She didn't use her vampire abilities, but still. Amy was not muscular, her arms were weak, and she could not even beat properly.

"I guess," Amy smiled, but it was weird for her too. "I'm just better at defending myself."

"That's for sure," Kamilah stopped examining Amy, but her hand was still resting on her arm.

They stood close for long seconds, looking into each other's eyes.

Then, they heard a throat clearing, which ruined the moment.

"I don't wanna interrupt or something," Lily stood in the entrance, smiling widely. Her mood went back to its normal state.

Amy blushed, stepping away from Kamilah. The woman looked at the clock hanging on the wall to see that twenty minutes had passed.

"You're late," Kamilah stated a fact.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Lily couldn't help but tease.

"Why don't you find out and try to fight me?" Kamilah crossed her arms, with a daring look in her eyes.

Lily's smile faded when she understood that she just made her own existence a lot harder.

***

It was the hour of the Council meeting. Amy was told to stay in Kamilah's office while the rest of them went to the conference room to meet with the others from the Council. Amy knew that one of them would be Priya, and she doubted if the woman would vote on Lily's side.

There was the Baron who was at least likable from the men of the Council. Kamilah was sure that they would have to make a deal with him to persuade him on voting- aye. But nothing was certain with this vampire.

She heard about Lester. That Adrian had an argument with him recently, so they didn't even count on his vote.

There was their new Clan leader, Jax. He would undoubtedly vote on Lily's side since he knew how it felt to be Clanless. He remembered constant fear of becoming feral too well.

The last one was Adam Vega, the least predictable. He appeared fine but always needed more power. His vote depended on how beneficial the whole situation would turn out for him.

***

Amy kept walking from desk to doors, with her arms crossed.

It has been nearly an hour since the meeting started. How long could it take? She was curious about how Lily performed her skills before the Council members. If they even wanted to test how well trained she was.

Finally, Adrian walked in, making Amy jump.

"And?" she couldn't wait anymore.

Adrian looked at her with his eyes full of tiredness.

"It's not looking good," he said honestly, "We need to convince Adam to vote on our side," he was deadly serious. "He wants to talk with you."

"What?" Amy was shocked. "Why me?"

"He is considering you a threat," Adrian didn't have to put this gently. "He wants to know how did you manage to convince me to turn Lily. Of course, you don't have to agree on this if you don't want to."

Amy straightened up, feeling ready.

"I do," she forced a confident smile, "we win this today."

Amy followed Adrian to the conference room. When they walked in, the first person that she saw was Kamilah sitting in the most important seat. She was looking through the window, frowning.

Lily was standing by the wall, she wasn't smiling like before. Amy wondered what had happened there in her absence because the tension in the air seemed almost touchable.

Kamilah could smell Amy's perfume, and that's what made her took her eyes off the city. She was surprised to see the girl standing in the room next to Adrian.

"Adrian," her voice cold, "I thought we made a decision."

Adrian gulped unsurely under Kamilah's gaze. He hated to disagree with her.

"I..." he started, but Amy interrupted.

"You wanted to talk with me," her eyes moved to Adam, who was sitting between Priya and Lester.

"I did," he smiled, "I wanted to meet this infamous human being."

He looked over Amy's body like he was worried that someone of her average height could be a threat to him. Amy fought the urge to correct her pose as she managed to hold his gaze.

Priya obviously recognized Amy even if nearly 4 months had passed since they met. The fashion designer laughed loudly and spoke with irony.

"So first you're making me fire my employee... and then, Adrian to change your friend into the vampire," she licked her lips hungrily. "You've got some nerve."

Amy stepped nervously. She knew that Priya's words were not working in the interest of this case. And as she predicted, Adam became even more suspicious toward her.

"How could someone owning such a weak body, convince the most powerful creature walking on Earth to do something against its will," Adam said, wondering.

Amy could sense that Kamilah was trying her best, not interrupting.

"I would say that I can be pretty convincing," Amy smiled sweetly, trying to buy herself some time to collect her thoughts.

"I can see this happening," he said, scratching his beard. "But still, what Adrian could have from saving your friend? What could you possibly give him?"

I'm a fucking Bloodkeeper, Amy's thoughts screamed. She wasn't sure if she should have ever trusted Adrian or Kamilah. But, one thing was clear, Adam was far away from gaining her appreciation.

"Listen to me, Vega," Amy spoke with a strength in her voice, making everyone in the room freeze. "I know that I'm in the way. The human who knows about vampires... it can not be convenient." Adam wanted to deny, but she kept going, "You would like to kill me to keep me quiet, but it's against the rules," she was looking directly into his eyes. "On the other hand, a human who knows about vampires is... also against the rules.'' Noone interrupted her. ''There is only one solution."

Amy made a pause, giving everyone a chance to rethink her words. She knew she was walking a fine line, but there was no way back.

Vega seemed to be shocked by Amy's confidence. Actually, everyone in the room was, even herself. Words just left her mouth like she was a completely different person.

"Then, Amy," Adam said, "what solution would you suggest?"

Exactly, what do you suggest, Amy thought. It's not like she wasn't prepared or anything. She felt more afraid now that it would not be enough.

"We make a deal," Amy gulped, partially losing her confidence. "You, vote aye, and I..." that wasn't smart, she knew that right now, "will owe you a favor."

Everyone in the room moved significantly after those words. Adam let out a whistle as he was considering Amy's offer.

"That's not an option," Kamilah stood up, losing control.

Lily wanted to say something, but Adrian stopped her, keeping her by the arm. He didn't want things to go any more complicated than they already had become.

"Why would I want your favor?" Adam asked, ignoring Kamilah's words.

"You said it yourself," Amy kept his gaze. "How could I control two different vampires, "she kept on repeating his words, changing her tone to more sarcastic. "The most powerful creatures walking on Earth, right?" her left eyebrow lifted for a moment.

Adam leaned back in his chair. He kept on scratching his beard.

In the room fell silence of anticipation.

"Aye, then," Adam's voice, loudly cutting through the silence.

Kamilah let out a breath after hearing this. She should feel happy and relieved because they won. Lily was saved from becoming feral. Adrian, free from punishment. But at what cost?

Right then, Amy realized that she started playing a remarkably dangerous game.

And she was just the beginner since they all had been playing in it for centuries.

Next chapter: 12

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