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iovesia · 1 year

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✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆ 𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐁 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑.

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔. you've been warned of the infamous baba yaga, and his sadistic ways. and now, with him exacting revenge on the people who've wronged him, there's no one left to stop him from collecting his prize— you.

—⠀੭୧⠀warnings⠀· ˚ ༘⠀f!reader. dark!john wick. extremely dubious consent. large age gap. allusion to kidnapping. canon typical violence. size kink. man handling. p in v. creampie.

josie’s note .⁺ ˖ ⌒ the new and improved fic is finally here. i had to shape up and add a few scenes for my own sanity but it's finally here. please read the warnings, this is a dark fic. john is, like, slightly ooc here but it's fineee. and sidenote, this is my longest fic yet so.. — hope you enjoy ♡ !!

#. keanu reeves masterlist. | main masterlist. | request rules.

"IOSEF'S DEAD."

You look up in shock, eyes widening with disbelief. “What?” you murmured in a soft voice, barely audible in the almost otherwise silent room.

“John killed him,” your bodyguard, Andrei, said bluntly. You swallow the lump in your throat as you rest your head in your hands.

“I.. I guess he got what he wanted then,” Your voice was hoarse as thousands of thoughts clouded your mind. John Wick was on the warpath. With your boyfriend dead, along with half the mob, it was only a matter of time before Viggo was buried in the ground, too.

Nobody screws over John Wick, and lives.

Almost.

YOU WERE HASTILY ESCORTED back to the Continental at the hands of the remaining living bodyguards. Locked in your room, like a dog in a cage, you stared at the dark blue ceiling and let out a shaky sigh. Iosef was dead— not that it was particularly detrimental to you.

Many would have referred to you as eye candy on his arm, rather than a girlfriend. Showering you in lavish gifts, and showing you off to the other mobsters as his prized possession; and then tossing you back in a box when he was bored of playing with you.

The minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. John Wick was coming, that you knew. But for what was still the mystery. Under Viggo’s strict orders, he ordered a guard to stand posted at your door. While his son was an ignorant brat who hardly bothered to connect with you beyond mediocre sex, his father almost thought of you as a daughter. Daughter he wished he had.

Bored with counting the number of windows in the apartment across from your hotel room, you decided to take a shower to calm your nerves. The sound of the water pounding against the tiles drowned out the noise of the outside world. You closed your eyes and let the warmth envelop you.

“Iosef, maybe if you just apologised—”

“Are you crazy? Apologise? That is your big solution?!” The blonde haired prick snapped at you, eyes crazed with fear as he hurriedly searched for his gun. “Glupaya suka.. Try to apologise to John fucking Wick, you might as well just throw yourself to slaughter.”

“Fucking asshole,” you muttered to yourself, sharply exhaling.

YOU'VE ONLY HAD the pleasure of seeing the infamous Baba Yaga a handful of times, and meeting him only once.

Four years ago. At one of Viggo’s extravaganza’s, a place filled with all the blood thirstiest associates of New York city, you managed to snag yourself an invite to the event. Being Iosef’s newest ‘conquest’, freshly nineteen and completely new to the underworld syndicate; you were the pure soul among a sea of the damned.

“Who is that?” you whisper into Iosef’s ear, gesturing to Viggo and the circle of men around him. Iosef turns to look where you’re staring, and rolls his eyes at the sight.

“John Wick,” he answers with an unimpressed scoff. You don’t miss the way he holds your hand tighter when the infamous assassin turns his glance towards you two. His darkened stare pierced into yours, and you quickly look away. A feeling of warmth washed over your cheeks as Iosef began to walk towards the group, pulling your arm to follow him.

“Iosef! There you are!” Viggo exclaimed, gesturing towards his son and you. Although you were focused on the older man’s words, you couldn’t help but feel a gaze fixated on you. “My dear, I don’t believe you two have met,” Viggo’s words snap you out of the trance, and you turn your head to the side, taking in the notorious assassin up close. His tall frame clad in a sleek, dark suit that seemed to swallow up the light around him.

“This is-”

“Wick,” his low, gruff voice speaks as he reaches for your free hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand. “John Wick.”

You try to contain the grin growing on your face by pulling your lower lip in between your teeth. You couldn’t ignore the sudden spark that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You were enamoured by the mysterious man, and he’s said all of three words to you.

As the evening progressed, you constantly felt the older man’s eyes following you. Occasionally you turned your head to the side and would catch him facing directly at you, only intriguing you more. You and Iosef were just about to leave when you excused yourself to the restroom.

Being the unattentive, doe eyed little thing that you were, you gasped when your face bumped against a hard chest, making you jump back a little. Apologies spew from your lips as you glanced upwards to match the face to the toned figure— immediately shutting you up.

John towered over you, a few strands of his black locks hung in front of his face as he craned his neck down at you. In the narrow hallway to the restroom, you realised there wasn’t enough space to slide past him. Before you could say anything, a pair of hands hug your waist, and John gently turns you to the side, allowing himself to pass by you. Only for a brief moment did his skin meet yours— and how you wished he didn’t let go.

THE SOOTHING WARM WATER was now scorching your skin, as you switched the valve off. Wrapping the soft towel around your wet body, you exited the bathroom.

Standing in front of your dresser, you scavenged to find anything relatively nice looking. Maybe you weren’t allowed to leave the Continental, but surely you could at least mingle at the bar. With furrowed brows, you held two different tops to your chest, focused on your reflection.

Until your eyes met another pair in the mirror.

“What the—” your head whipped behind you, simultaneously dropping the pieces of clothes to the floor as you bumped back against the mirror. You were a deer frozen in headlights. Goosebumps flourishing on your still damp skin, the draft from the window sending chills down your spine.

You watched carefully, the pair of eyes revealing its owner as he arose from the shadows of your room, making your heart drop.

“Wick,” was nothing but a whisper when it fell from your mouth.

“H-How did you get in here?” your breath shallow and your palms began to sweat as you carefully moved to stand in front of your dresser, hands desperately reaching behind your back for anything that could be used as a weapon. John ignores your question, only to slowly creep closer to you.

“Andrei, help!” You cry out, the shrill in your voice echoing off the walls. John purses his lips, taking another menacing step towards you. “Andrei—”

“He’s not gonna help you, little lamb.”

“Andrei!” You continue screaming, praying at any moment he will barge through the doors to rescue you. Your gaze switching between the exit and the assassin in front of you, you contemplate making a run for it.

Stupidly enough, your feet pound against the wooden floor, and with frightened determination, you rush towards the door. Dodging the small nightstand, you nearly trip over your feet before a sudden tug on your towel whirls you back. With a loud yelp, your back collides with the floor and a pain shoots through your side— you can already picture the bruise forming.

“Tsk, you’re gonna have to be quicker than that,” he tuts, before grabbing a hold of both your forearms and lifting you up with ease, like a ragdoll. Your hands immediately reached for your slipping towel, which nearly exposed your breasts. Pulling them up, you silently prayed for anyone in the Continental to have heard the ruckus.

“Where’s Andrei?..” Your words come out in a hushed tone, almost as if you're speaking to yourself rather than to anyone else. “What did you do to him?”

“Not important,” he replies curtly.

“I-It’s against the rules, you couldn’t have killed him—”

“It’s also against the rules to steal another man’s car, and kill his fucking dog,” he sneers in your face, his warm breath hitting your face as you squeeze your eyes shut. The terror paralyzed you and your lips quivered, the sting in your eyes ever growing.

“Let me go! Please, I haven’t done anything,” you beg pathetically. John releases you from his grasp, pushing you towards the satin covered bed. You stumble, holding tightly onto your dirty towel for a source of comfort, cowering under his intense glare as he circled you. Like a predator about to devour his prey.

Like a lamb to the slaughter.

“Neither did Daisy,” he cocks a brow, pain seeping into his voice at the mention of his beloved pet. “Neither did Helen. Innocents get screwed over all the time, what’s one more?”

“Look, John. I’m really sorry for what happened—”

“You will be.”

Your eyes widened, and your throat went dry as you allowed the tears to brim your waterline. You gripped tightly at the top of your towel, holding it closer to you while you tried to maintain some dignity.

John approaches you, standing a mere few inches from your shuddering figure. Your breath hitched as his calloused hand reached for your face, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The assassin was towering over you, his cold eyes scanning over every inch of your body— making you all the more humiliated.

“It’s true what they say..” he mutters, his husky voice hitting your ears. “You really are the prettiest thing in New York.” His hand trailed down from your face, dragging along your shoulder blades, getting lower.. and lower… and low-

“What are you doing?” the words come out like a broken record player. If he planned to strangle you as a means to kill you— you prayed it would be quick. Your skin erupts in goosebumps, like a thousand tiny needles pricking at you, when John’s other hand connects with your side, steadily tugging the towel down.

“Looking at you. Touching you.” An eerie silence casted upon the room when the realisation dawned in. “You looked so beautiful that night. In that dress. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.. Thinking about you.”

His words make you shiver, and your legs clench.

“Wait!” you yelp when you feel him starting to pull the top of your towel down. John inhales sharply, his patience wearing thin. There you were, under his vice grip, pleading for his mercy with those big, bambi eyes of yours. With blood rushing to his cock, and your alluring body just begging for his touch— he could hardly wait any longer.

“Do as I say.”

And you did.

Slowly moving your arm down to your side, the other arm mimicking, the towel unravelled from your body, the quiet thud of it hitting the floor made you wince. You were now completely unravelled before him. Your nipples hardened at the cool wind, and the deep breaths you were taking only accentuated your collarbones. John could tear his gaze away even if he tried, wanting to drink in every inch of your angelic form.

Suddenly, an arm swings behind your knees, causing you to swoon backwards. The soft mattress of the bed hits your back, as John holds your knees up to your chest, putting your glistening cunt on display.

“Oh, you’re enjoying this,” John huffs, a sadistic gleam in his eyes, and you nearly gasp when he slides his index and middle finger in between your slit. Letting out an inaudible whimper as he plunges his fingers deep into your hole, you pull your lower lip in between your pearly teeth.

“J-John.. fuck.”

John, once again, ignores your mewls as he removes his fingers and grabs each knee with one hand to slowly push them apart. Heat blooming in your face, you were burning with humiliation. So vulnerable, so weak… and so wet.

Your heart beats pounding loudly in your chest, you don’t even hear his belt unbuckling or his pants hitting the floor. Through blurred vision, you gazed up into his dark irises, begging for him. To stop, or to keep going, you couldn’t tell anymore.

John leans down, his hand gliding up your torso before taking a handful of your breast as the pads of his fingers tug at your sensitive nipples. His lips collided with yours unexpectedly, his tongue darting between your lips.

“Wait. John, I can’t- you’re too big-”

“For four years… I’ve waited to finally touch you again,” he mutters against your lips, rubbing his cock up and down the entrance of your pussy, teasing you with his tip. “Ever since you showed up on his arm.” Jealous leaked into his gruff voice.

“It’s not gonna fit!” You protest. The sight of his cock between his legs sent chills down your spine.

“Beg me to be gentle.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, the familiar sensation of embarrassment burning in your veins. John was determined to make every moment of this as humiliating as possible, as he drank in every little expression on your pretty face.

“Please… please be gentle with me,” you managed to stammer out.

You let out a loud mewl as John thrusts gently into you, his cock stretching out your little cunt so deliciously. Your nails were desperately clinging to John’s forearms, leaving red crescent shapes. Your breasts bounced with each hard thrust, his cock penetrating deep, his tip kissing your cervix.

“Maybe you were right.” Your neck cranes up and you catch a glimpse of his cock entering in and out of you, the small bulge in your lower stomach. Before you could speak, another high pitched moan escapes your lips when John’s fingers meet your clit, rubbing firm circles. “Think he could fuck you like this?”

You vehemently shake your head, a choked sob caught in your throat when he slams hard into you. “N-No.. mmm, fuckkk!”

“What was that? Use your words, honey” John coos, his lips to your ear as his baritone voice sends chills down your spine. The combination of his digits rubbing against your bundle of nerves along with his deep, passionate thrusts had clouded your thoughts, your mouth hung open with only sinful moans coming out. “Who do you belong to?” he purrs.

“I asked you a question, sweet girl,” he suddenly stops his movements. Your back arches, craving more of his touch and begging for release.

“You! John! You!” You whine frantically, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. “Please don’t stop.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” John whispers, his large cock entering your gaping hole as your fluttering walls clench around him. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as you felt your core tighten. John’s groans quietly in your ear as he continues pounding into you, his balls slapping against the swell of your ass. “My good girl. Cum for me, I want the whole hotel to hear you.”

With him still torturing your clit, you jolt at the sudden slap. “Oh— Oh my god, you, John. Y-You, only you—” your mindless babbling only made the assassin smirks deviously at your state. So dumb and cockdrunk off his dick— and only him.

The overwhelming wave of pleasure floods your body as you cream on his cock. John reaches his peak, and fills your pretty cunt with his cum and he removes his hand from your clit before gripping harshly at your hip.

You pant loudly, mind running in circles as you try to catch your breath. John’s cock stayed firmly inside you, his large hand caressing your cheek and trying to get your attention back on him.

“You did so well, little lamb,” was the last thing you heard before your eyes fluttered closed, too overwhelmed to keep your tired body awake. Not that John minded— with you fast asleep, it would make bringing you home a lot easier.

໒꒰ྀིྀི ੭ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ꒱ྀི੭ — taglist : @desoolate @hamburgerslippers @alwaysinblck @emosludge @nwheregirl @beansricejc @sughcashsaiki @namjoons-crabssss @scream-queen-25 @slutforsoldierboy @hamburgerslippers @redhotelroom.

let me know if anyone wishes to be added/removed. ∗ ୧ ‧ ₊ ˚

#dark.josie #nsfw.josie #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #john wick imagine #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick

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cosmal · 2 years

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𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤 — 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

summary — you and remus lupin have become really good at stealing each other away from parties.

or but if you're too drunk to drive and the music is right, she might let you stay but just for the night....she might want a kiss before the end of this song.

warnings/tags — fem!afab!reader, she/her pronouns, modern!au, friends to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mutual pining, oblivious!reader, oblivious!remus, drunk!reader, drunk!remus, alcohol consumption

note — this is inspired by lovers rock by tv girl!!! i think this is the longest thing i've ever written. I do very much like it as of right now. that'll probably change in a week.

word count — 12.4k

“Thank Godric, you’re here,” Mary groans from her position on the front porch, Marlene leaning into her side. Both are clearly enjoying a cigarette away from the din of the party. You can tell what type of night it’s going to be already. Not that you’ve arrived two hours late anyway.

“I’ve never seen you so happy to see me, Mary,” you giggle, crossing the threshold of Sirius’s front lawn, careful not to trip on his collection of stolen garden gnomes.

“I’m always happy to see you, lovely.” She extends her hand, the cigarette between her lovely red nails on offer.

“You know who’s going to be even happier?” Marlene coughs, as you take the smoke thankfully, taking a few calming puffs.

You pretend like you have any idea who she’s referring to, “Jamie? Haven’t seen him in a while. Miss that boy,” you laugh, voice strained through the thick smoke you exhale.

“No, you idiot.” Mary pipes up and you hand the smoke back, “Remus. He hasn’t shut up about you all night.”

“That’s if he’s sober enough to even notice you’re here,” Marlene laughs and so does Mary. You smile, small enough to not show how happy you actually are that you get to see him. It’s been too long.

“He’s drinking?”

“Absolutely hammered. We were hoping you’d get here earlier so he wouldn’t drink too much. Please go look after him.” Mary throws her arm around Marlene and she snuggles in closer. They both look content enough to fall asleep right there in the cool summer breeze.

“I’m sure he’s doing okay.”

“I’m sure he will be when you get inside.”

You move to toe your shoes off at the front mat, kicking them away so they’re not a tripping hazard.

“When has Sirius ever done that at your house, Y/N?” Mary laughs, looking down at your socked feet

“Oh, no. This is for me. Don’t want to get my shoes dirty.” You laugh when you grab the handle of the flyscreen, swinging the door open.

The girls’ laughter becomes a distant murmur when you enter the kitchen, met with mostly everyone sitting around the dining table. A deal of cards in everyone’s hands, and piles of coins and sweets sat in the middle.

James and Lily laughing and glowing under the downcast of the orange lighting, appearing to seemingly be winning. Sirius and Frank having their own side bets, throwing coins around before both calling tails. Then, there's Remus. You try to ignore the hitch in your breath when your eyes land on the sandy-haired boy.

He really does look drunk, eyes droopy but still bright when he hiccups a laugh at something James says. A quiet, airy chuckle that has his mouth creasing and eyelashes kissing his cheeks. A smile so pretty, you have to fight your own.

His head is propped up on the table by an elbow that looks like it’s about to slip off the edge, so you sneak up behind him and place your hand against his arm to stop him from falling face-first into the wood.

He looks up at you, a little startled for a second, and you can see the moment it clicks in his head when he realises who he’s looking at. He smiles, all surprised but content and you melt. The last time you had seen him was only for the third time ever at another one of Sirius’s parties. You hate to admit that the only thing you look forward to now is when you receive an invite from your workmate and you have another excuse to see his lanky best friend.

“Y/N! When did you get here?” Sirius chants, flicking his last remaining coin at Frank. He shoots him a well-deserved glare.

“About thirty seconds ago,” you smile.

Sirius looks down at your socked feet and frowns, “You took your shoes off again. How many times do I have to tell you, you don’t have to do that.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re gross, Sirius.”

Remus looks down too, the top of his head pressing into your side, a crush of his curls tickling the bare skin of your arm and you almost shiver. “Cool socks.” Is the first thing he says to you. You giggle.

They’re a dark cornflower shade, moons scattered across the material at random. They crease when you wriggle your toes, “Thanks. Got them from mum for my birthday.”

“She has good taste.” He moves off of you, slouching down in his chair until his knees are pressing Lily’s legs.

His head lolls backwards, neck bared under the warm light. You think you feel dizzier than he does. Even when he squeezes his eyes shut.

“What have you done to him?” you laugh, hand flat against his forehead to brush away his loose hair. He keens, sighing deeply under a hiccup.

“He’s very awful at poker,” James laughs, flicking a pastille across the table. You look at his high pile, and then Sirius and Franks’ which are almost of equal height. Then you look in front of Remus, the table almost bare. You laugh.

“We like to play a little differently,” Franks states over the rim of his bottle.

“Basically, you take a shot every time you lose,” James says, sober as ever. You think maybe he hasn’t lost yet.

“And Remus has lost every hand,” Sirius adds to the chime of details.

“Have not!” Remus finally pipes up, finger pointed at James instead of Sirius, too distracted staring at the ceiling. “Frank lost the first.”

“Anyways, Moons. You just lost and I think you owe us another.”

Remus groans, but sits up to reach for the bottle of Sambuca sitting in the middle of the table. You gently swat his hand and push him back into his chair.

“I think you’ve had enough,” you say, turning to place the bottle on the kitchen bench, along with the empty bottles.

“C’mon, one more,” Remus giggles, making hands for the bottle in the air. A child, you think.

“Yeah, Y/N! One more!” Sirius agrees, smiling boyishly.

“You’ll make yourself sick,” you chide with a small frown. Remus slumps against you, much defeated. He might fall asleep on you if you stand there any longer. You poke his cheek where it’s pressed into your clothes.

“He already is sick.” Sirius is smug when he speaks and you fret about what else he’s about to say, “Sick in love.”

You laugh. Could’ve been worse. But it still has your heart skipping in your chest. You really do hope Remus shares the feelings you hold for him. But then again, Remus is drunk and Sirius, is well, he’s Sirius. Despite the name, he hardly ever is.

“Boo. Awful.” You frown in faux offence, ignoring him when he winks at you. Sickening, really.

You lean down so your mouth is in line with Remus’s ear, “You wanna go lay down?” You realise you’re in quite a predicament. Coming over to parties to see Sirius’s best friend. Looking after him when he’s drunk. You’d hoped he would do the same.

“Please, no sex in my house,” Sirius states, standing to grab another drink. James guffaws.

You roll your eyes, “He’s drunk.”

“So, you do want to have sex with him?” he adds.

You almost choke on your tongue, “No, it’s just. He- Stop it.” You have to stop yourself from saying something wrong. It wasn’t a lie, you did want to. But you wanted much more than that.

“Leave her alone,” Remus chides, leaning back off your stomach. “You’ll scare her off and I’ll never see her again,”

He was right, his friends did intimidate you. But you’d hoped it would take more than not yet warming up to them to get you to never see Remus again.

Remus stands and you’re surprised he doesn’t stumble when he takes your hand to lead you away from the table and out into the lounge room. You poke your tongue out over your shoulder when you hear James make some sort of crude comment to Frank. Lily smiles warmly at you as an apology.

He sits down with all the gracefulness of a baby elephant and you have to bite back a laugh. He looks up at you, pretty eyes all droopy and a lopsided smile, and you feel like you’ll never come back from these feelings ever.

Before you can overly admire him for too long, he’s patting the space next to him with a floppy hand. “C’mon.”

You oblige probably too willingly, flopping yourself down next to him with a small oomph, your thigh pressing into his. He shuffles down the lounge to rest his head atop your shoulder, neck craned a little to reach it. You can’t find it in yourself to mind. His face is warm and it presses into your collarbone that’s peeking from out the top of your shirt. His light stubble tickles your skin and it’s weirdly soothing. God, you know you’re in deep.

“You smell good.”

You breathe in subconsciously, “You do, too.”

Under the strong scent of stale beer and sambuca, you can think you can discern a hint of his cologne. Woody and something like cinnamon. Mixed in with the light scent of his laundry detergent, like fresh linen and lavender. He's dizzying.

“I smell like beer,” he groans, hand finding its way between both of your thighs, your skirt tangled in his fingers.

“You smell nice,” you laugh.

You watch the doorway where James gets up to turn the dial on the vinyl player. The current song now loud enough to be heard where you’re sitting.

Humming along, you say, “I love this song.”

Remus gawps, “Me too. S’my favourite, actually.”

Remus having the exact same favourite song as you makes your head spin. “No way.”

“Yes way.” he smiles. If he were soberer, you’d gush to him over this. It’d have to wait.

He shifts his head from your shoulder and startles for a moment, eyebrows raised, “I didn’t even ask if you wanted a drink.” You get whiplash from the change of subject.

You sigh, very amused at his intent to be nice to you, despite being half-cut, “I’m okay. I wasn’t really planning on drinking tonight.”

He frowns, wrinkles his nose and you want to kiss it. God. “Why did you come, then?” The fact he thinks you came to get drunk and not just to see him makes you want to laugh.

The smile you’re still trying to fight every time he speaks makes your cheeks ache, “To see Sirius.”

He frowns even more and you think he wants to shift away from you. He roughly scratches at his face and you almost regret messing with him.

“Sirius?” He hiccups.

“I’m kidding.” You poke his bicep, “I came to see you.”

There’s a silence and then Remus is breaking out into one of the biggest grins you’d ever seen. You’d have the decency in you to blame it on being drunk. Nothing else.

“Me?” He hiccups, again. You place your hand atop his thigh and trace the thick seam of his pants.

“Yes, you.”

His smile dials back but doesn’t fade and his face relaxes. He leans down to place his head back against your shoulder, cheek all smooshed.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Thank you.” he hums, hooking his elbow behind yours, completely squished against you. He thinks you must be cold in a skirt and a small T-shirt. “I like it when you’re here. You make it bearable.”

You want to accept his compliment, but when he hiccups for the third time, you remember he’s drunk. “That’s a bit mean, Remus. Will I tell your friends you can’t bear them?”

Remus stiffens and you stop rubbing his leg. Drunk Remus is very gullible. Sweet, but gullible all the same.

“Stop it. You know what I mean.” He pushes further into your shoulder and you feel yourself dip down against him, head almost falling against his. You wouldn’t mind if it did, but it wouldn’t be very comfortable, you assume.

“I don’t think I do,” you tease and Remus pinches your side, which results in a stifled yelp.

“Don’t be cruel.” He strains.

“I would never.”

When you shiver in your spot, Remus wonders what your answer would be if he offered you his jacket. He thinks he should test his theory.

“Are you cold?” he asks but doesn’t move his head from your shoulder.

“A little,” you yawn. Which then causes Remus to yawn. You laugh animatedly.

“Do you,” Remus blinks slowly, eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he attempts to keep his eyes open. “do you want my jacket?”

You’re glad Remus’ head is still propped on your shoulder lest he sees the blush creeping across your cheeks. Drunk Remus is gullible. But drunk Remus is still just as kind as he is when he’s sober.

“Then you’ll be cold,” you reply, giving his thigh a squeeze. You crane your neck to look at him. He looks tired.

“Better me than you.” He moves to take it off and before he can even get one arm out, you sit forward and place your hands on his chest. Fingers twisted in his cotton shirt, your turned knee pressing into his.

“Remus, I’m okay.” You give him your most reassuring smile. Being cold is no one’s fault but your own. You don’t want to be an annoyance.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Remus sits back, albeit begrudgingly, hands wrapped around the zipper of his jacket. The further he pushes back into the lounge, the more he looks like he’s about to fall asleep.

“Remus?” you murmur. Voice quiet under the din of the party. Sirius is a loud drunk, his laughter roaring at something stupid James is doing.

His head begins to dip into the edge of the cushion, headed for the arm of the chair. If he kept this up, he’d have a crick in his neck in no time.

He hums and you pat his cheek to encourage him to sit up. It’s bemusing how quickly he can drift off. You’re very envious. Maybe it’s just the alcohol.

“What’s up?” he murmurs in return, peeking from one eye, the other scrunched up. He’s adorable and you’re in too deep.

“You seem tired.” You poke his face this time and he beams, all warm and dozey under the mellow light of Sirius’s living room. A line of curls falling into his eyes and the apples of his cheeks a tinge of peach.

He hums again, much thicker than last. “M’not.”

You hold out your hand, all five fingers spread. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

He struggles, but pulls his hand from his lap and holds it up to yours, tangling your fingers. Palm flush against yours and much warmer in comparison. “Feels like five.” He pulls your entwined hands back down and you laugh.

You try not to shy from his actions, pretending like it doesn’t make your heart skip, and then almost stop completely when his thumb rubs circles into the top of your hand. You can feel the warmth seeping from his into your own and your fingertips tingle.

“Do you want to go home?” You twist so you’re completely on the edge of the lounge, hand still wrapped in his. You stop, “Or are you staying here tonight?”

He brings his arm up - with yours still tangled - and rubs his face with the back of his hand. Dragging you up and down. You giggle at his tired actions before pouting.

“I think.'' You can tell he’s trying to stay alert enough to hold a conversation with you.

When he wakes up in the morning he won’t remember being so tired here and will think you both had the best conversation. You’ll be okay with this. “I think Sirius was supposed to take me home, but he’s too drunk now.”

“You’ll sleep on the couch?” You frown and he blinks.

“I think I might have to.” He throws his head back and sighs. Strained and raspy.

You look at the size of Sirius’s two-seater and then Remus’s stupidly long legs. It wouldn’t work, and he’d end up with either a sore back or a worse-off neck than whatever it was he was doing right now. You don’t even really think before you say, “I can walk you home.”

Remus looks a little more alert, “You can’t sleep on this.” You prod the squeaky leather and it bounces back with absolutely no recoil. You’ll be sure to scold Sirius next time for having a horrendous couch, though enough money to buy everyone in the room ten of them. You know he won’t appreciate the exaggeration. But it’s for the sake of his friends’ backs.

“You don’t have to do that.” He sits up properly now and tries to situate himself to look convincingly comfortable. “I’ll make do.”

“It’s no big deal.” You shrug. “I’m walking home anyways.”

Now he’s sitting forward, his knees pushing into your leg and you almost stumble off the seat, grabbing his arm for purchase. “You just got here.” He almost frets and then coughs to hide his worry. He’s not very good at achieving a smooth, cool demeanour when half-cut. Not that he ever achieves it sober, he thinks.

“No, but I think you need to go home and sleep.” You look out into the kitchen that’s now surprisingly quieter. Lily looks like she’s about to fall asleep, leaning on James’s shoulder, who’s trying to play a horrible game of go fish with Sirius and Frank. Absolute party animals.

“I live too far away, anyways,” he says, leaning down to tie his shoelaces. “You’ll have to walk me home and then walk back, you’ll be walking for at least an hour and a half.” Why Remus is so afraid to suggest you can stay the night at his, he doesn’t know.

You squeeze his shoulder as he struggles to loop his lace through his fingers. He decides to go for the simpler, bunny-ear option. “That’s okay. You can stay at mine. I only live ten minutes away.”

When Remus sits back up after tying his laces too tight, his face is pink.

Remus Lupin has never been one for sitting comfortably, ever. With long, lanky limbs, he always has his legs sprawled out and his arms thrown over something. Anything he can take up comfortably, with enough space to spread, he’ll sit willingly.

On one hand, he’s thankful you convinced him not to sleep on Sirius’s couch. He didn’t need a repeat of New Year’s. Though, on the other hand, he could’ve made do.

Nothing was like sitting in your bedroom. He wouldn’t say he was uncomfortable, though deep down he was a little, a pit of anxiety creeping up his chest. He felt like he had little room to move - despite you owning a double bed - because he didn’t want to look stupid. He could take up space and not notice it.

Remus has trouble not taking in every detail he can in your room. Like your little trinket dishes filled with miscellaneous items, signet rings and seashells. The stuffed rhino toy in the middle of your pillows that you had told him - shyly at that - was named Clarence. Not before giggling at the poster of Twilight that you swore had been there since you were young. Your current read splayed open on the end of your bed, along with the stack of records in a blue milk crate in the corner, were things he promised himself he would ask you about when he wasn’t half tipsy and could hold a proper conversation.

In his admiration, one that was making his anxiety spread into warmth that seemed to be seeping from his bones. He’s too busy pretending like he isn’t taking in every small detail one shouldn’t when they’ve only known someone for only a month, and doesn’t notice that you’ve changed.

He looks over at you, in a pair of shorts littered with tiny daisies and a shirt that almost eats said shorts. Your hair pulled back and your face still sort of wet from where you obviously washed off the day's grime, causing the hairs around your face to curl. He doesn’t know if it’s the fading alcohol that’s causing him to hiccup even more, or if it’s seeing you all fresh and content from being at home that has his breath catching.

Remus Lupin is still a little drunk but he is also quite clearly growing to like you even more. That doesn’t change. He thinks he's done everything backwards. Meeting you, then seeing you now but too inebriated to say something redeeming, and then seeing you in the comfort of your own home before he even gets to ask you on a date. He also thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Remus?” Your voice is as calm as you look when you speak and he melts.

“Hm?” He blinks, shaking his head.

“You okay?” Warm light washes over you and paints you amber as you patter across the room, the moon socks that are still on your feet pressing into the white fabric of your rug. “You’re not feeling sick?” He thinks he should blame his daze on a fake sickness, but he doesn’t want you to worry even more, so he decides against it.

When you press the back of your hand to his cheek, that’s only warm because he’s a little overwhelmed, not because he’s feeling poorly, he can’t find it in himself to hold your gaze. “I’m okay.”

“I was saying I don’t think I have any clothes for you to change into.” You remind him after it felt like you were talking to a brick wall a minute earlier.

Remus pushes his hands into the rough material of his black jeans. He doesn’t see himself sleeping in anything else. “That’s okay.”

“You’re not going to sleep in those are you?”

What else would he sleep in if you have no other clothes? “Uh.”

“You wear boxers?” you grin.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He wishes he was still a little drunker so he could blame his bumbling words on the effects of downing half a bottle of sambuca. Now he’s realising that’s just how he sounds when he’s overwhelmed by you.

“Sleep in those. I don’t mind.”

Your confidence, and your confidence only, is how he ends up pantless and under the covers of your bed. He doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You have a lovely way of making him feel at ease. He thinks that’s why he likes you so much.

You smell different than earlier in the night when your shirt tickles his arm. Like fresh face wash and night creams, and maybe even roses. He’d hate to think of what he smelt like in comparison to you. Probably still like beer, and maybe like sweat. He should’ve asked if he could’ve showered. That might’ve been too much, he’s definitely overthinking.

“You’re very quiet,” you say into the dimness of your room. He’s lucky your bedside lamp is so muted, lest you see the goosebumps raised over his skin and how his cheeks haven’t returned to their normal colour since he crossed the threshold of your room.

“M’thinking,” he returns, just as quiet. It feels wrong to disturb the calmness blanketing the room.

“I can tell.” He can hear you grin, “What about?”

He swallows and he wouldn’t be surprised if you heard it, “You.”

You huff a small laugh and push down into the pillow behind you, “Me?” Your voice is a little strained, and not louder than before. Maybe even quieter.

“Yeah. Thinking about the next time I’ll get to see you.”

“You haven’t even left yet and you’re thinking ahead to the next time we’ll see each other,” you tease, getting comfortable underneath your plush quilt and sheets. Probably too much for a summer night but there’s still a chill in the air, flowing through your open window.

“I’m just hoping I won’t be so drunk,” he admits, hating how he still actually does sound drunk.

“Hopefully,” you smile, “But that’s okay, we can blame it on James.”

“If only I wasn’t so shit at poker,” he laughs in a strained and animated voice, trying to hold back a yawn.

He finally gets comfortable, hands fisting the sheets around his body and head balancing restfully against the plush of your ivory pillows.

You can see his eyes flutter in an attempt to stay awake. You think it’s endearing but you also think he needs to sleep. “Remus,” you say, firm but caring at once.

“Hmm?” he mumbles, eyebrows pinched.

“You should sleep.” You push itchy locks away from his forehead and he sighs at the caring touch of your fingers.

“Don’t wanna.” He scrunches his nose, “I think I’m finally sobering up. Wanna talk t’you.”

You smile at his absolute urgency and think he’s adorable. Truly. “Please, sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“You’ll be here?” This, you actually laugh at.

“Of course, Remus. You’re in my room.”

He closes his eyes, eyelashes kissing the freckles of his cheeks and his tired, darkened skin, “M’kay.”

When you wake up in the morning, almost midday, Remus plagued by the effects of alcohol, you too content to wake whilst being next to him, you both have separate texts from Sirius.

Your own chat log reads, aren’t U glad you came out? You don’t reply, not wanting to encourage him in any way.

Remus’s phone, on the other hand, reads,

uncle pads has a ring to it don’t you think? xxxx

He does in fact reply, too used to Sirius being a twat.

Nothing happened. Ur disgusting and I hate you.

what do U mean nothing happened?

I was drunk. She helped me basically stumble home.

U both stumbled. in her sheets.

Fuck off. Idiot.

Neither of you mention any of Sirius’s messages to each other the entire morning. Too busy enjoying each other's company.

The week spent after Remus had drunkenly stayed the night, you could pleasantly, though maybe even with a smidge of embarrassment, admit that he was all you thought about since.

It was a new feeling. You’d never felt it before. The endearment, but also the nerves, of realising you actually like someone. Some days it made your cheeks ache from smiling, and filled your chest with warmth. On other days, the warmth cracked your chest open, an aching chasm pleading to be filled and a head clouded with apprehension.

You were eager and scared all at once. But you were happy either way because Remus made you feel things. Good things.

You had spent the morning, forcing him to eat something, telling him it would make his hangover feel much better. He’d argued for no longer than two minutes before agreeing. Saying, who am I to argue with a girl like you?

“Like me?” you’d replied, mouth full of half-eaten pancake, pushing his own plate across the marble of your kitchen bar.

“Smart,” he smiled, picking at a blueberry, “Pretty.”

And after it was your turn to babble like a fool, he’d eased you open. Asked you about the record collection in your room (he was proud of himself for remembering). You’d rambled off your favourite artists, a lot similar, and he knew he’d be an idiot if he didn’t give you his number before he left.

And he did. Wrote his number on your hand as you stood at your doorway and he thanked you for breakfast. And for walking him home, drunk. You kissed his cheek and watched him press his fingers into his skin until he rounded the corner.

You wrote the number down on a piece of paper, magnetising it to your fridge as soon as you shut the door. Though your hands were sweaty - obviously because you were around Remus - and the last number had smudged. Was it a 3? Or an 8? Or a weird looking 5? You couldn’t tell and told yourself that was a problem you could deal with later.

It was later. A whole week later and you still hadn’t called him. If it was due to your nerves or the fact you had a missing number, that was your business only. You left the last space blank, the empty spot a blinding reminder of your stupidity. You’d just have to try every number until you found Remus. It would take no more than ten attempts.

Numbers zero through four were all wrong numbers. You were only met with a piercing tone before the line went dead. When you got to five, you were met with, what sounded like, a grumpy old lady. You tried to hang up straight away, well aware it wasn’t him, but she screeched and persisted that if she had a prank call one more time, she would phone the police!

Turns out, it was a 6 after all. The lovely tone of Remus’s voice rings down the line and you sigh in relief.

“It’s you.” Your voice is airy and Remus isn't sure he knows who it is.

There are only a handful of people who have his number. His friends, most of them called and checked in regularly, except Mary, who's always one to stop by instead. His parents and his neighbour had it too. But he seriously doubted the latter, unless his flat had been ransacked.

And then he remembers he'd given it to you and he laughs. All these thoughts happen within the span of two seconds. He hopes it's you, he's been anticipating a call all week. He was beginning to maybe think you didn’t actually want to hear from him. That he'd embarrassed himself in his drunken stupor. But then he remembered how nice you were to him.

You’ll make yourself sick.

“It is?” he laughs, still hoping it is in fact you. The image of his flat turned upside down, the spot on his mantle where his small TV is, now empty, flashes across his mind.

“Remus. It’s me!” you chirp and he pushes his phone closer to his ear as if it’ll make him hear your pretty voice even clearer.

”Me? I don’t think I know any me’s” he teases, fighting back an eager smile. Teasing you could be fun. Could become a constant. He’s imagining the warmth of your cheeks, and hopefully a small smile.

“Y/N,” you correct and he can almost hear the roll of your eyes.

“Oh. I know an Y/N,” he smiles, leaning against the lip of his kitchen bench. “She’s very pretty,” he pauses, wanting to drag it out, “and she’s super-”

“Remus,” you plead. Half wanting him to continue, half wanting him to stop to save your phone splitting in half where you’re holding it too hard. “Stop.”

Hearing your smile isn’t enough for him, “Super cool. Actually probably way too cool for me and…”

Remus sighs, very happy with himself.

“You done?” you ask.

“Maybe.”

“You’re a nuisance.”

Remus decides to not argue, you’re half right anyways. “I’m sorry. What’s up?”

You pause, thinking. You’ve forgotten why you called him for a moment. Too happy with just listening to him talk. You think you could do it all day if he let you. “I was wondering if you were coming out tonight? Drinks?” You feel silly asking now. It was drinks for James, he’d gotten a promotion, but of course, Remus is coming, they're best friends.

“Are you?”

You grin, “Yes. Yeah, I am.”

“Great. Me too.”

The excitement you feel when you know you’ll be seeing him again is palpable. Giddiness mixed with a number of nerves is always there whenever you think of him. He makes you feel like a schoolgirl again and you know he’ll be the cause of your undoing.

“Great.”

A face-splitting smile erupts across Remus’s features. If only you could see each other.

The amount of time you spend getting ready in the afternoon for James’s get-together is silly. After what's an almost stupid amount of time rustling through your closet to find something, the final thing you settle on you hope isn’t stupid. A red skirt that ends mid-thigh, a white tee and a leather jacket. Boots that you hope actually do your legs justice, not just how they look in the mirror.

You know exactly why you're making such a fuss with your appearance. Spending an extra amount of time making sure loose hairs are sprayed down and a fresh coat of nail polish that's applied probably a little too late before you make your way out your front door.

You think that maybe if you didn’t know if Remus was attending or not it'd be a lot easier on you. Or maybe worse. God, you're a mess. You just really want to make him like you.

Arriving at the pub a little early is probably a bad idea in the long run. You greet James and Lily with equal delight. You hadn’t seen them since his shindig at least two weeks ago. Sirius, pint in hand, greets you loud enough to let the entire pub know of your arrival. Frank and Alice are absent. In-laws. You feel as though you had finally found the perfect group of friends.

James had told you that Remus was probably going to be late.

Which gives you too much time to down an inappropriate number of vodka-cranberries, much to Sirius’s delight. Pressed into a corner booth, settled next to James and Sirius who have now also transitioned to fruity drinks.

When Remus finally arrives, the sun now set, you're at least five cocktails deep. The pub is a little loud now, though you’d never struggle to hear any of your rambunctious friends. They're probably half the noise. You're a giggling mess, warm from the effects of alcohol. You feel ridiculously happy like you expected to, but you haven’t even seen Remus yet.

When you sip back the last dregs of your drink, the rim pressed into your nose, determined not to waste a single drop, your eyes finally settle on Remus who's selfishly been admiring you from afar. Your eyes light up like a delighted puppy and he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from smiling like an idiot.

He walks to the edge of the table, wet and sticky wood pressing into his jeans and he grimaces. “Finally he arrives,” James cheers, mojito raised in the air.

“Moony! Looking as ravishing as ever, my boy!” Sirius cheers with equal flare.

Remus ignores both of them with a tiny smile, too used to their words it’s like second nature to ignore them. “Sweetheart,” he smiles at you and you light up even more.

“Remus! You’re here.”

Sirius gets up and slides along the wall to make room for Remus next to you, “He looks ravishing, wouldn’t you say, Y/N? Good enough to eat,” he repeats

“I am hungry,” you admit with a giggle as Remus settles down next to you, only enough room for a sheet of paper to fit between your thighs.

“Having a good time, lovely?” Remus gestures to the empty glasses taking up the table in front of you. Your lips are stained red and he has to lick his own.

“Amazing!” You lean into his side and your hair tickles his neck. Your warmth seeps through Remus’s skin and he doesn’t have a single problem with how close the two of you are sitting. He’d be kidding himself if he said he did.

“I’m glad,” he says, hands settling atop the table.

“Are you?” You blink, eyes bright and welcoming. He has to avert his attention to your nose instead. Feeling as if you’d swallow him whole.

“I am now,” he grins.

Distracted, the half-empty glass in your hands spills when you twist its stem a little too quickly. A puddle of cosmo seeps into the half-polished tabletop and you cringe.

“Oops.” Quick to act, despite how sapped you feel from the cocktails, you grab a too-big handful of napkins from the dispenser in front of you.

With little to no flare, you push the entire pile of paper into the split drink and probably make it worse. The napkins almost turn to pink sludge and you only spread the drink further. A cold, sticky mess.

Remus laughs and grabs your wrists, pulling them up from the mess, “What have you done, hmm?” He puts your hands in your lap and you slouch, defeated.

“Accident,” you huff. You watch Remus’s hands swipe across the table, much better at cleaning up your mess. Like it wasn’t even there in the first place.

Upset that your drink is now empty, when Sirius isn’t looking, too distracted talking quidditch with James, you reach forward and snatch his mojito. Cheering internally, too happy with yourself, you sip slowly.

“He won’t be too happy with that,” Remus laughs, pushing the serviettes to the side.

You shrug, pushing further into the leather of the booth seat, “Accident.” you repeat.

Remus chuckles. You scull back the last of Sirius’s drink and Remus braces his hand on the skin between your shoulder blades, with a gentle “Take it easy,”

You turn to him and wipe the line of drink from your chin with the back of your hand. Smiling before gently slamming the now-empty glass back to the table, a ring of condensation splashes across your palm.

You wipe it across Remus’s leg unthinkingly and he wrinkles his nose. A dark stripe up his thigh. He takes your hand by the wrist again and grabs another napkin. Dabbing your palm gently and you act unaffected by his attentions when you trace the water on the table with your free hand.

“Am I the one who’s going to be doing the babysitting, tonight?” Remus counts the glasses that hadn’t been collected yet. Five. Six, now counting the one you stole.

You nod, gleefully.

“Saves me, then.” Lily takes another swig from her Pimm's, very happy. James presses into her side and throws his head back.

“Merlin, I’m tired.” he huffs.

“Boo. No fun,” you pout, eyeing only his third drink that he hadn’t touched in way too long, “You drink too slowly, that’s your problem.”

He snorts, “I don’t have the drinking problems, lovely.”

You gasp, hand to your chest, sticky fingers pressing into your skin, “Just because I’m having fun!”

You notice the beginnings of a frown across Sirius’s face, clocking the glass in front of you, green to your past pink drinks, “You little sneak.”

You pout, “Okay, I’m sorry, let me get the next round.” You move to stand and when you’re upright, the room spins. You grab Remus’s shoulder for purchase and he grabs your forearm. His grip is grounding, flesh between his slender fingers.

“Okay, let me get the drinks,” he says, standing. The love-hate relationship you have with his height hurts sometimes.

“No, let me.” You rummage through the purse over your shoulder, through sickles and spare tampons, and pull out a measly fiver. You hold it up to him with a frown, paper crumpled in your hand.

Remus chuckles and places his hands on your shoulders, “Sit.”

You do what he says and ignore the warmth in the pit of your belly.

As Remus stands at the bar to wait for the drinks, he turns to watch you with a content smile on his face and a warmth spreading up his chest until it begs to swatch his cheeks. He watches as you cover your face with your hands, giggling madly at something James is telling you.

He thinks his heart is messing with him when it skips in his chest. When you throw your head back, neck bared and your eyes squinted, your shoulders raise like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard (it could be but he doubts it), he thinks his heart has an actual fault. Almost halting completely when your eyes meet his and he thinks he’s been caught, but you smile contently and he has to look away before it jumps out his throat.

He knows he’s truly done for.

He returns with a tray of drinks, mojito’s for his friends and a pint for himself, a packet of crisps pinched between his teeth. If he doesn’t choose to drink cocktails with everyone else because he wants to be sober to keep his eye on you, that’s completely his business.

He places the drinks down, a hum of thank yous and cheers follow, he opens his mouth to let the crisps fall into your lap. You startle and look up at him, bemused.

“You said you were hungry.” He smiles.

You beam, hiccuping what he thinks is thanks.

“Where’s my fuckin food?” Sirius calls, voice very clear above the din of the pub. He throws a cube of ice at Remus and misses.

“Up your ass.”

Sirius goes to reach for a crisp and you clutch the foil bag close to your chest. He doesn’t try again, thinking you might bite him. “Fuck, I need a cig.”

He stands and stops Remus from sitting as he climbs over you. Squeezing past with almost zero care. You laugh, he seems hangry.

When he almost steps on your toe, “Look out, you prat.” Remus scolds.

“C’mon. Outside.” Sirius drags him away before he can even protest.

“You gonna ask her out, or what?” Sirus leans against the wall of the smoking area and flicks his ash.

Remus groans, “Don’t say it like it's easy or some shit.”

“Is it not?” Sirius laughs like it’s obvious. Remus envies his natural charm some days. He wished it came easy to him.

“No. She doesn’t like me like that.” Remus toes the gravel beneath his boot with a crunch. Watches as it skips across the ground and to the firepit. A distraction from the scolding that he’s expecting he’s about to get from Sirius.

Sirius coughs on a thick exhale of smoke, pushes himself off the wall. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

“What? No.” In some delusional, fucked up way, no, Remus is fucking with Sirius. Not since 7th year, anyways.

“She's mad about you,” Sirius laughs around the filter of his cigarette, “It’s sickening really. I mean she’s gotta be half dumb or something.” After another exhale he flicks more ash to the ground.

“Fuck up.”

“Whatever.”

There’s a beat before Remus says, “She doesn’t feel that way about me.” His head rests against the red brick behind him and wishes it would swallow him up. He wishes this was easier.

“What, you think she wears her best red skirt for people she doesn’t love?”

He lifts his head and glares at Sirius, “You really are a fucking twat, you know?” He steals the cigarette from between Sirius’s fingers and ignores his grunt as he inhales deeply. As deep as he can until Sirius swats his hand.

“I’m fucking kidding.” He takes it back, grimacing at the butt of what’s left.

“Still a twat,” Remus grunts.

Sirius flicks the orange filter to the ground and squashes it under his leather boot. “Seriously, Moons. Make a move already, it’s starting to get sad.”

He sighs, and Sirius almost wants to slap some sense into him. He doesn’t, remembering how he’d reacted last time he did. “I can’t. I’m not ruining anything.”

He decides to pat his shoulder instead, a gentler approach, “You’re a miserable sap.” He squeezes his sad friend, “She likes you, a lot, and she’s really good for you, y’know?”

“She is, isn’t she?” Remus sighs, lovelorn and dizzy, “Fuck, she’s so amazing. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Have you seen her when she laughs? Fuck sakes.” He has to stop himself before he rants too much.

The both of them start to make their way back into the pub. “Alright, put your fucking cock away.”

Remus opens the door to the bar, “Get inside,” he laughs.

“If you don’t make a move soon, fuck I might.” Remus’s face goes slack and he pushes his dickhead of a friend towards their table with a little too much force. He stumbles with a hearty chuckle.

Left alone in the middle of the bar, a little incensed, he turns to look around and spots what looks like your aforementioned red skirt, standing in front of the claw machine.

Bemused, but more intrigued, he beelines for you with slow strides. When he stands behind you he places his hand to your shoulder. You turn around and smile warmly. You’re standing, more like swaying, with both hands inside your purse.

“What are you doing, dove?” he asks and squeezes your shoulder. You push back into him, probably for the stability you lack. He braces you with his thigh behind yours.

“You smell like a chimney.” You wrinkle your nose and he laughs. It reverberates through your chest and you have to blink away the way it makes you feel. Sleepy.

“Sirius is a horrible influence,” he says with an equally wrinkled nose.

“I’m looking for a coin,” you answer his question, looking back down into your purse. “Want to win you something.” Remus’s heart swells tenfold.

Before he can pull one from his pocket as an offering, you bend over and tip your entire purse to the paisley carpet, contents spilling everywhere. Wizard money, bright pink tampons, chapsticks and gum wrappers sit in a pile and Remus steps back with a disgruntled sigh.

You turn and crouch down to sort through everything, Remus looks down and gawps for a second. Half amused, half displeased. He bends down with you and helps as well.

“Do you think it'll take sickles?” you question, moving bandaids to the side. It’s looking like a lost cause.

Remus shakes his head with a laugh, “I don’t think so, honey.”

You frown.

“Here,” He handles a few items and places them in your purse, “I’ll help you clean this up and I’ll win you something, hm?” Remus thinks you’re a bit like Mary Poppins with how much stuff you have. He’d say this to you because you probably would understand the muggle reference, but you seem too upset over your lack of coins.

“Was gonna win you some chocolate,” you laugh, picking up more stuff.

The last few items fall back in with little organisation and he stands. You take his outstretched hands and let him gently tug you back up with a ruffle of your hair.

He pulls a coin from his pocket and slots it into the machine. You stand around to the side with your hands pressed to the glass like a little kid. The flow of colours washes you fluorescent as you point to a cherry ripe in a perfect spot.

He grips the joystick and moves it to where he thinks it hovers right above it.

“More to the left,” you say with your finger smooshed against the machine.

“You’re drunk,” he says before he pushes the red button on top of the stick, not moving it to where you’d said.

You laugh as it doesn’t even graze the chocolate. Claw coming back up with nothing. “Whatever.” He has two more chances at grabbing it and he’s determined.

The second time he does listen to you but still misses by the width of a hair. You both hold your breath as the claw gets lowered for the final time. You bend over to get a better view and watch as it gets picked up, not cheering until it gets dropped in the chute.

You clap as Remus cheers, taking the chocolate thankfully, opening it immediately with a crinkle of red foil. “Thank you, Remus.”

“Anytime.”

You break the chocolate in half and offer him the bigger portion. You both stand there, chewing on cherry and coconut and chocolate. You look at your sticky fingers and the worst of the after-effects of six cocktails suddenly hits you in a wave of nausea. Not enough to make you want to throw up, but enough for you to groan and grab your stomach.

“I think I should go home,” you whine, placing your half of the chocolate back into the wrapper and into your purse, probably just to melt and make a mess. A later problem, you think.

“Feeling okay?” he asks, turning to check you over. Etebrows pinched in concern already.

“I think I had too many cocktails,” you laugh, weakly at that.

“How are you getting home?” he asks.

You laugh, having flashbacks to your last encounter. “That’s my line.”

“It’s a good one.”

“I don’t know how I’m getting home,” you say.

“I’ll call you a taxi.”

You sigh, “That’d be lovely.”

After saying goodbye to the rest of the group, after they’d moaned about your fifteen-minute disappearance with Remus, Thought you’d gotten stuck in the cubicle! James had laughed. Drunkenly, you’d missed the joke. Remus had smacked him up the back of the head. But now, the both of you were making your way to the front entrance.

Remus has to drag you out the door, holding you upright as you stammer and trip on things that aren't there.

“Be careful,” he tuts, holding you closer under his arm.

“There was a frog!” you explain, very much exasperated.

“No there wasn’t,” he laughs.

“Was so!” you strain, fisting his shirt behind his back, sure to stretch the cotton.

“You just want me to hold you tighter.” He’s smug when he says it and can’t really help it. He has Sirius’s words ringing in the back of his head.

You stop at the gutter and kick a stone with your boot, “Maybe.”

Your knees ache, wanting nothing more than to crouch down to the ground. You think it would probably be a bad idea. Though with sore knees and a spinning head, bad ideas turned to the best.

You pull yourself from Remus' hold and bend your legs to crouch in the gutter. Remus’s eyes blow wide and he looks down at you. Not again, he thinks.

Before he can ask what you’re doing, thinking you've passed out, you look up, “Head rush,” you giggle with a huff of air. He sits down next to you, knees almost pressed into his chin.

Remus tugs your knee so you turn towards him, legs pressed together. He keeps his large palm over your thigh because being crouched in a gutter leaves little to the imagination to the drunks walking past and he’s not going to ask you to get up if you’re dizzy.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You rest your head on his shoulder much like he had the last time you saw him. He hopes he had more care than you do with your cheek cruelly smooshed into his skin. “I’m just a little drunk.”

Lucky for Remus, before he thinks you’re about to fall asleep on his shoulder, your taxi is pulling up. He helps you stand, opens the back door and ushers you in.

Listening to your murmur of thanks Remus before he clicks you in.

“What’s your address, dove? So I can tell the driver.” You give him your address and he passes it off.

Before he can close the door for you, you grab his wrist.

“When can I see you next?” you ask brightly. Hopefully.

“Call me when you’re not hungover,” he laughs, brushing his fingers across your arm. Your grip hardens.

“You’ll answer?” He almost laughs again at how drunk you sound. Of course, he’ll answer.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

You lean across your seat, seatbelt pulling taut as you press a kiss to his cheek. Warm and buttery-soft just like last time, but maybe even worse now that his feelings for you are stronger. It burns.

“Thank you, Remus.”

“That’s okay, lovely.”

You in fact did call Remus, a couple of days after your night out. Expected, you were hungover so you waited a day after to talk.

Remus hadn’t really been expecting you to call him, despite how eager you seemed, he had talked himself out of believing you had any feelings for him. Like he’d imagined it or something.

So, when his phone rings, he’s not expecting it to be you at all. He answers with a sigh, thinking it’s James or Sirius.

“What do you want?” His voice is void of any excitement or joy you’d been selfishly expecting. You were also expecting a more welcoming greeting.

“Remus?” you say, and his hand stills in his cupboard where he’s distractedly putting clean dishes away.

He shuts the cupboard’s door a little too abruptly and cringes, clears his throat so he can speak, “Y/N! Shit, sorry. Hey.” He cringes even more at his stupidity.

“Expecting someone else?” you laugh.

He nods like you can see him, “Yeah, sorry.” He swallows and tries to fix himself, “How are you?”

“I’m good,” you say with a little sigh, “Really, really good.”

“That’s great!”

“Yeah, how are you?” you question.

Remus’s voice goes quieter, “Amazing.” Then there’s a small beat like you’re both thinking, “So, what’s up? Everything okay?”

In his mind, his stupid, paranoid mind, there’s a possibility that all you’ve done is pocket-dialled him. Or, accidentally pressed his name in your contacts, maybe mistaken the name Moony for Mum.

Is his name Moony in your phone? Or is it just Sirius’s friend? God, he wants his thoughts to shut up.

“I wanted to ask you something!” When it sounds like you actually want to talk to him, what almost feels like relief washes over him. Paints him bright as he settles on his sofa, beaming like a schoolboy when he says,

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Your excitement is dizzying. “Are you free this weekend?”

He has to swallow before he speaks, eagerness bleeds through his skin. His foot taps and he picks at a loose thread on his battered shirt. “Yeah, I am.”

You chirp a happy noise, “Awesome! Cool. Um, there’s that gig on at The Red Lion if you wanted to come?”

Remus doesn’t see himself as a cool person and it definitely doesn’t show when he says, “Yeah! I’d love to.” in a tone pitched higher than normal.

“Great. I think Sirius is coming too, I told him about it the other day and said he should invite the others. I wasn’t sure if he had asked you yet.”

Oh.

Remus feels like the biggest idiot ever. You weren’t asking him out, why would you?

He leans down between his legs until all the air is forced from his lungs, he covers the receiver with his hand and groans, long and suffering in self-pity.

Is coughing to clear your throat and hide your disappointment a good thing? Because his voice is a little squeaky when he replies. When he sits back up his head spins. “Sounds great.”

He hears some shuffling on the end of your line before you say, “Amazing. I’ll see you then. Sorry, gotta go. Bye Remus!”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

Remus has about thirty seconds of wallowing in self-pity before his phone is ringing again. He wants to shove it in between his sofa cushions and forget about everything. But he sees Sirius' name flash up on the screen so he answers.

“Moony!” Sirius’s voice pierces the phone line and Remus cringes. “Remus, my good friend.”

“Did you just get lucky or something?” Remus gruffs.

“Huh?”

“You’re too happy. Calm it down.”

Sirius groans, “You’re so content with being miserable, Remus. Just because you can’t get your dick wet.”

Remus wished his stupid friend could see the displeasure on his face, “What do you want?”

“You’re free this weekend, aren’t you?” He questions and Remus hums a yes, expecting to hear the exact same question you had just asked him only three minutes ago.

“Well, you, me, the gang, and a few pints at The Red Lion. Sounds like a plan?” Remus detests his friend's happiness. Or envies it. He feels miserable and doesn’t think Sirius is deserving of his lack of enthusiasm just because you didn’t ask him out.

“Yeah, Y/N already asked me,” he replies.

“Well, don’t get too excited.” Sirius huffs a laugh.

“No, sorry. It’s just I thought she- never mind. Sounds good.”

“Awesome. I’ll send you the deets.”

Remus almost laughs, “The deets? Wait until I tell Marls you talk like that.”

“Shut up.”

“Bye, Sirius.”

Sirius hangs up before he can.

Remus spots you before you do, again. Watches where you lean against the bar on your tip-toes, talking to the bartender about something. He’s making you laugh and he feels the stupid need that it should be him instead.

He does what he always does; walks up behind you and presses his shoulder into your back. You chirp and turn around. Then, your eyes do that thing that they always do that makes him bite the inside of his cheek. They squint, confused, and then light up when you realise who you’re looking at. Remus could swear that they sparkle, but that’s just something he imagines in his lovesick head.

“Remus!” You smile, mouth upturning until the apples of your cheeks swell. You wrap your fingers around his bicep and pull him into your side. He lets you, willingly.

“Y/N,” he says probably a little too quietly for the setting. The pub is starting to fill quickly while the band does sound check, the general hubbub of the patrons mixes in with the strumming of guitars and the feedback from the mics.

“You’re all wet,” you giggle, pressing your fingers into the underside of his arm.

“Yeah, it’s starting to rain out there,” he says.

“You walked?” You frown, pulling your hands from his arm. He can still feel where your fingers were wrapped. A burn against his wet skin.

“From the bus stop.”

“You know there’s this thing wizards can do, I’m not sure if you heard of it. It’s called disapparition,” you quirk, mouth upturning into a teasing smile.

Amused, Remus says, “I don’t usually like muggles to watch someone appear out of thin air.”

You reach forward to grab some napkins from the dispenser on the bar, probably too many. “I would’ve picked you up,” you say matter-of-factly.

He doesn’t reply, just stops still when you reach up to brush away the damp hair from his eyes. There’s water bunching in his hair and falling in tiny beads down his face, over his top lip. You laugh when he licks it away before you dab across his forehead and then his cheeks.

“I missed you,” you say, bunching the paper into a ball.

Remus smiles, too hard he thinks. “You saw me last weekend.”

You think he might be teasing you, though you’re not sure. You feel like you’ve overstepped. Demure, your eyes widen at your error. “Sorry,” you laugh, airy and quiet.

Remus pokes you in your side, “I missed you too,” he laughs.

You nod your head and bite your lip. You feel eased. But embarrassed in the first place. Scrunching the ball of damp napkins in your hands until it pinches. Still, you’re overjoyed.

“What are you drinking?” you ask, splaying your hands over the bar, leaning where it comes up to your chest. You try to ignore everything. The way Remus is making you feel, the busy pub that’s teeming with rowdy people.

“Not sure,” he quirks, eyeing the taps at the end of the bar. “What about you?”

“I think I might just stick to squash,” you laugh knowingly.

“You’re on it tonight,” Remus laughs, splaying his fingers around your shoulder.

“I’m not having any repeats of last week.”

“Damn,” he pouts, “Drunk Y/N is cute.”

You warm, “Drunk Y/N is messy.”

He squeezes you, a funny pinch. “I think you can be both.”

You lean into his side while he orders your drinks. His hand doesn’t move and you don’t want it to. It’s warm and grounding and feels too good to be true. How touchy he is and how you love it. You imagine a world where he doesn’t just touch your shoulder. Imagining what he’d do if you were together. How ruining he would be.

Distracted by his grip on your arm, before you can even reach into your purse to grab your money, he’s paid.

“Remus,” you scold, pushing yourself off the bar.

“Dove,” he smiles, placating. He grabs both of your drinks, in one hand, fingers twisting. The other snakes down to grab your hand to guide you through the crowd of people.

“Stop paying for my drinks.” Someone bumps into you and Remus digs his elbow into your side to stop you from tripping. You smile thankfully.

You let him weave you through patrons, your hand flexing around his until you get to your table. Once you've sat down, he says, “Sorry, didn’t think a fiver would cover it.”

Faux scolding, you shove his arm. “I have more money on me this time.”

“Good,” Sirius pipes up, “you can buy me that cocktail you owe me.”

“I’m sorry, Sirius.” You act like it genuinely does upset you. Though the thought of how you acted when you were drunk last week, is worse. “I’m a really annoying drunk.”

“Sirius is being dramatic,” Remus sighs, leaning back against the booth. He throws an arm behind you, pressing it up against the wall. You stay sitting forward, not sure if it’d be too much to lean into him. Despite him making the first move. “You got your cocktail.”

“Yeah, you bought it,” Sirius faux scoffs. It’s hard to believe that he actually cares about a stolen mojito, easier to believe he’s determined to tease you until you die. “Doesn’t count.”

“I’ll buy you a cocktail if you really want me to, Sirius,” you lilt, happy to get him to shut up. It works when Remus shoots him a look you don’t understand. Sirius bites his tongue and sits back in his seat.

By the time James and Lily get back from the bar, the band has started their set and you’ve had enough time to think too much on whether or not you should lean into Remus’s side. His weight behind you feels like a magnet. The more you want to pull away the stronger the urge is to just give up and fall against him.

Much like everything is with Remus. The more you allow yourself to think you really do like him, the harder it is to keep to your regular ways. You’ve never allowed yourself to be so openly affectionate and loving towards someone without second-guessing every single thing you do.

Not that you don’t. Every time you speak to him, touch his arm for too long or allow yourself to wrap your own arm around his back, there’s that voice in the back of your head that’s screaming at you. Telling you that you’ve let your guard down too much for a boy you’re not even sure likes you as much as you do him and you’ve embarrassed yourself.

It’s totally overwhelming and constantly feels like a back-and-forth battle. Because, sure, it's no secret anymore to anyone who isn't Remus, that you like him. You just wished it were easier.

As if he can hear your head reeling, or he’s just noticed how quiet you’ve suddenly become, he nudges your leg where it’s crossed with his own jean-clad one.

“You okay?” he asks. His face is soft. Too soft for your dismissive and relentless thoughts to ebb. It’s suddenly painful to even be looking at him and you’ve only been around him for no less than twenty minutes. He’s always had that ability.

The nod you give him is unconvincing and your smile is even worse. His eyes flicker and you open your mouth to speak before he can, “Yeah, jus’ thinking.”

“I can tell.”

“You can?”

You chance another look back at him and regret it instantly when he’s smiling like he knows something you don’t. “Yeah.” He nods, “You’re making that face you always do when something’s eating at you.”

Hating being read for filth, you turn to take a sip from your drink, filling your mouth with your straw lest you say something stupid. You drink it too quickly, and once it’s down to its last dregs, your head aches. Brain freeze. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to distract yourself when you say, “What face?”

“Your lips part and your eyebrows pinch. Sometimes I have to double-check you’re not crying.” Remus is a lovely, horribly attentive boy. And if he keeps saying things like that, things that let you know he does actually pay attention to you, you’re not going to last. When you said you wondered how ruining he would be, this isn’t what you had in mind.

Remus says something to you again, but you don’t catch it. The band transitions into a much louder song and his words fall on deaf ears. You do, however, catch the look he shares with Sirius again over your shoulder.

Confused, you suddenly think fresh air would be better than to pain yourself through whatever’s happening around you. “I’ll go get that mojito,” you mumble.

You weave yourself over Remus’s lap, careful where your shoes and hands land, careful to also ignore where he stables you with his own hand on the back of your knee. You try to make it discrete as you beeline for the bar, taking a small turn to head for the back doors.

The warm air cast from the setting sun slowly dwindles away and you cross your arms over your body, leaning against the railing to the left of the smoking area. When the door shuts behind you, the music from inside slowly dies down and you’re grateful to be the only one out here.

The fear you have been feeling throughout your entire friendship with Remus does its best to claw its way up your throat. Makes your breathing staggered and your palms itch. You suspect if you spent any more time with him inside you would’ve only embarrassed yourself more than you feel like you already have. Best you do it out here instead.

The muffled music slowly grows louder when you hear the door open and you pay it no mind. Not until there’s a hand on your shoulder. You flinch and turn around, pushing yourself against the railing.

“Shit, sorry. Just me,” Remus smiles, pulling his hand from your shoulder.

“Remus,” you breathe, hand to your chest, “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he frowns.

You pause. Trust him to notice your departure. You hope he doesn’t ask you any questions, you don’t expect yourself to hold anything in anymore if he soothes you over.

“You okay?”

Fuck sakes.

“Um, yeah.” You nod. Remus moves to your side, arm pressed up against the railing and you follow him. Turning so you’re face to face.

“You sure? You just kind of up and left.” he laughs weakly, stopping when he notices you don’t join in.

“Sorry,” you apologise.

“What for?” he asks kindly. You once more detest his kindness and his ability to get you to open up.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, leaning further into the railing and it rattles, “I’m being weird.” You’re not opening up like you’d expected, though the words you want to say to him are at the back of your mind, where they were once pushed away, slowly crawling forward. If he keeps looking at you like that, they might spill.

“You’re not.”

“I am. I’m thinking too much and it,” you heave a calming breath. You want to tell him how you feel, not ramble, “it hurts.”

“Hey,” He traces a line over the hinge of your elbow, “what’s going on in that head of yours, hm? Care to let me in?”

You swallow, “That’s the problem. I can’t find the words.”

“That’s okay.” He squeezes your arm, “Take your time.”

His gaze is soft though it still burns where it’s settled over your face, his grip on your arm is worse. Still, it’s grounding. You blink and take a few calming breaths.

The door opens up again and the band’s music spews back outside. It’s the same song that was playing the night you sat on Sirius's couch and you’d freaked about how it was both your favourite. In some cheesy, cliche way, you take it as a sign.

“I’ve never been one for showing, let alone telling someone how I feel about them,” you begin, “I’m not sure if that’s the most obvious thing ever, or if I’ve gotten really good at hiding it but…”

Remus is smiling widely, more smug than anything. It makes you nervous and you advert your gaze to the ground. Over the ash-strained brick tile under your sneakers, “Stop looking at me like that or I won’t be able to finish what I’m trying to tell you,” you sigh.

“Like what?” he asks like he’s oblivious. Like his mouth isn’t now upturned into the slyest smile.

“That!’’ Your face grows warm and you have to press the backs of your hands into them. You can feel the thrumming of your heart in your fingertips.

“Sorry, you were saying,” he chuckles.

“God, where did you get all this confidence from, Remus?” you ask, a little dazed. Maybe it’s the setting or the fact you’re both finally sober together that brings out a different side of him, though you can’t be sure.

Remus shakes his head, “I’m sorry, you just look so cute when you get flustered.”

Your mouth parts, a shocked, demure gasp slips past them. Gawping, you say, “You’re not drunk, are you?” It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it's the first time it feels different.

“Not this time. For once,” he laughs knowingly.

“Right,” you pause. Taking in a shuddered breath. In what world you would ever expect this to be easy, you’re not sure. You’re also not sure that doing this with Remus makes it easier. Easier, because he makes you feel secure and appropriately worked down to tell him anything; harder because it’s him you have to let your emotions go with. It’s him you have to let know of your heartachingly, sore feelings you have. He can’t just be there on the sidelines guiding you through it.

Remus watches you slip away into your shy, quiet self again. He can almost hear your thoughts reeling, “God, you’re worse than me.”

You giggle nervously, all pitched up and light, “You make me nervous,”

He steps forward and if your eyes weren’t stuck on the ground, you wouldn’t have noticed it. He’s smooth. “Do I now?” He hooks a knuckle under your downwardly pointed chin and gives it a tap.

You look back up, catching his gaze, “I hate you,”

“No you don’t,” he says matter of factly. Like its the most obvious thing ever. You’re sure it is.

“I don’t?” You blink slowly.

He closes the gap between you some more and suddenly you’re overwhelmed by him. The smell of his laundry detergent, something familiar and heady, mixed in with the cologne that you swear follows you home. Where the toe of his boot almost touches your sneaker and where the sleeve of his sweater catches on your bracelet because he’s as close as possible. Though you still think he’s not close enough.

His voice mixes in with the same song that’s playing inside and you can barely hear him when it builds to a crescendo and he says, “You weren’t about to go on some rant about how you love me?”

“Remus…” you murmur, quieter than the thumping of your heart in your chest,

“No?”

You bite your tongue, but it does nothing to stop you from saying, “God, yes. Just- kiss me, please.”

“What?” he asks, more shocked than you’ve been this entire interaction.

“Kiss me, Remus. Before the song ends.” You lean into him, up on the balls of your feet and pull your hands between your bodies.

Face to face, lips hovering over yours, he murmurs, “You sure?”

“Completely,”

It’s the last thing you say before Remus kisses you so hard, so deep, that you forget how it was even possible to form words in his presence before now. Snakes his arms around your back and holds you so close your shirt rides up until your skin presses into the soft material of his sweater.

He tastes of stout, a weird mixture against the lemon on your tongue. You can’t find it in you to mind when he hums into your mouth. A desperate, pleading sound that has you squeezing the flesh of his hips. Compared to the reserved and diffident relationship you’ve held with Remus up until now, the kiss you share is nothing alike. It’s passionate and heated. Longing.

The song ends and with a final tug of your bottom lip, he pulls away panting. Eyes skipping over your face, a little glassy and bouncy. “Fuck,” he murmurs.

Tugging on the hem of his sweater, you say, “What?’' with a light chuckle.

“If I…” Remus has to compose himself lest he says something embarrassing. Completely forward. “If I knew kissing you would’ve been like that…I would’ve done it ages ago.”

“I think I’ve wanted you to kiss me for a really long time,” you confess, giddily rocking back and forth on your feet. Canvas sneakers crushing into the ground.

“Yeah?” he hums. Smugness still ever present.

“Yeah.”

“Thoughts on me kissing you again?” he asks, still not letting you go where you’re held against his torso.

You look over his shoulder, “I think if you kiss me again, Sirius’s jaw might fall to the floor.”

Remus turns and spots Sirius and James almost pressed to the glass window. James doesn’t look as pleased, shoving a crumpled note into Sirius's palm. Turning back to face you, he rolls his eyes, “I think they had a bet going.”

“Should we give Sirius his money’s worth?” you giggle.

“I’m going to kiss you. But, not for Sirius.” Remus says, “Only because you look insanely beautiful right now and if I don’t do it again, my brain might go numb.”

“What are you waiting for then?”

“Nothing.”

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themissinghand · 30 days

Text

Genshin Impact: The Overworked God [2]

Part 1

Summary: In which one of the lore writers who help write the world of Genshin Impact was suddenly thrusted in the very world they created.

Well, testing characters is one thing, but playing God, and raising 7 children at a time?

Oh boy. He just wants to go home and sleep.

Note: Finally back from break!

Part 2 of the Overworked God! Creator! Male OC!

What if we had a smarter Creator that never forgot his initial wish of going home?

Warning: Genshin and SAGAU themes, some OOC and angst.

★・・・・・・★

Tempus, or Kai has been in the world of Genshin Impact for a very long time, since its creation where it was just him and Celestia.

He struck a deal with Celestia, promising to be the Creator and consequently the God of Time to help create Teyvat, but on his own terms. Doing what he can to save his creations from unnecessary pain and suffering.

So, he’s still overworked, stressed and sleepy all the time, especially now that he has to take care of 7 children too.

But finally…today is the day he could finally go home.

Home sounds foreign to him, after all, he spent more years in Teyvat than on Earth, but he has never given up on returning after fulfilling his duty as the Creator.

It’s going to be a difficult announcement to make, considering how attached his children could be, but perhaps, he could twist the narrative just a bit to appease them.

“Tempus!” Speaking of, two bundles of mass hopped towards him as usual, and he caught them with both arms as if it was a routine. He stumbles a bit, sighs, but pats them on the head.

“It’s been so long since you visited Monstadt! I missed you~” Venti hugged his waist as he peaked up with puppy eyes. Before Kai could respond, Furina beat him to it.

“It’s because he likes Fontaine better! He’s been in my country the longest!” Furina quipped back with a proud expression on her face.

“That’s because you suck at ruling your country!”

“Says you, Mr. Drunkard Bard!”

At least they both have trustworthy people like Neuvillette and Jean to take care of their country…

“That’s enough, you two.” A spark of lightning scared the two to cling onto Tempus even more, but Ei easily picked the two off.

Ah, one of the more responsible leaders…

“Please ignore these two, Tempus.” Ei says stoically, as she sends a deadly glare that shuts the two up.

“It’s fine.” Tempus greets every single Archon with a nod, before taking a seat at the head of the table, his expression showing his tiredness despite the light-hearted banter that usually happens during these meetings.

“Have a seat everyone.” All the Archons did a curt bow before taking their respective seats.

Materializing snacks resembling that of an English afternoon teatime, he smiled when even the stoic Tsaritsa seemed to enjoy his food.

It’s a shame though, this will be his last time.

“Tempus.” He turned to the Tsaritsa, who seemed to notice his distress.

“I’m fine.” He brushed it away, before he felt a cold hand on his.

“Let us know if anything is bothering you.” Zhongli added on, and Tempus shook his head.

His children could handle Teyvat without him, what else would he be worried about?

“Tempus, are your worries the reason why did you call us all today?” Sharp as always, Nahida asks, gaining everyone’s attention all at once.

In the end…Rukkhadevata chose her fate. There are things that could not be changed…

“Yes.” Feeling everyone’s eyes on him, he felt even more estranged.

"As you know, I've overseen Teyvat, guided you all, and tried to make amends for the mistakes of the past," Tempus continued.

“After much thought, I believe it’s time for me to rest.”

Multiple teacups fell onto the table with a loud thud. With a wave of his hand, the spilled tea disappeared.

“T-Tempus! What, what do you mean?” Murata stood up abruptly, knocking over a flower vase, which Tempus easily dissolved to nothing.

“Tempus, how could you abandon us!”

“Calm down.” But it seems to have no effect, instead, he felt the cold hand squeeze his own, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Tempus, you belong to us.”

“As I’ve said, I will be going into deep slumber-” Suddenly, many eyes shot towards the Bard who looked very pale.

“-to take a break.” A teacup shattered, but Tempus paid no mind to it.

“My decision is final, and I hope you can take care of Teyvat while I rest.” For eternity.

“Tempus.” Scoring golden eyes burned into Kai’s soul, and he forced himself to remain neutral as he stared at Zhongli-Morax.

“Please stay. I’m begging you, please, Your Eminence. Please don’t leave us.”

"But what of Teyvat? You've become integral to the stability and well-being of this world, and us." There were many nods that followed.

“We need you.”

There was desperation in his voice, and while it did hurt Tempus to leave them, he doubted he could stay any longer knowing that he could finally leave.

“All of you are strong and are capable enough to rule your countries, which I am very proud of. Teyvat will be in good hands." Some Archons smiled briefly, but it was short lived.

"Which is why it's time for me to step aside and take a break."

They had grown accustomed to Tempus's guidance, his wisdom, and his tireless efforts to steer them towards a better path, so for them to lose his support is like fighting without a weapon.

“W-Where, will you be resting? In Temporium?” Furina’s shaky voice filled the silent room.

“Stay here, the Fortress of Meropide will keep you safe. Fontaine and I will keep you safe.”

“Yes.”

“For how long?” Venti asked, anxiety in his voice.

“I’ll find you, I’ll find you no matter where you run.”

“I do not know, for as long as my body needs.” Their faces became pale at thinking of the possibility of not seeing Tempus again.

With a sigh, he stood up, making others rush to stand too.

“Come here, each one of you.” In an instant, they rushed over and Tempus pulled them one by one into a hug. While he made himself tall and muscular, he felt small in the group hug that lasted an incredibly long time.

He felt arms around his waist, chest, arms and back, being hugged by 7 people at once was somewhat suffocating.

“You all will do great. I will miss you all.” This was not a lie.

“Time flows like water, and perhaps I will wake sooner than you all expect.” This was a lie.

Tempus heard sniffles, and felt hands grabbing his robes and weaving through his long hair.

“Tempus…do you have to leave us?” Nahida asked, tugging his heart strings as he saw such a wise person tear up.

Did she read my thoughts?

Tempus got rid of that idea as he forbade her from doing so, and with his current power alongside Celestia’s authority, she should be blocked from doing such a thing.

“I am not leaving, Nahida. I am merely resting.”

Finally, with some coaxing, he managed to peel them off one by one.

“I leave Teyvat in your hands.”

With that, Tempus bid farewell to the Archons and quickly prepared to depart from Celestia. The longer he stayed, the more unbearable this would become.

However, once he left, the atmosphere shifted once more. The Archons, loyal to their Creator beyond measure, exchanged anxious glances, and a heavy silence settled over the chamber.

“Tempus lied.” Nahida said, as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Nahida?” All of the Archons felt their heart drop at her words.

“He may be resting in Temporium, but there’s more to it. I can’t read his mind completely, but…he’s going to leave us if we let him go.”

“What are we waiting for then?” Suddenly, the atmosphere turned cold. The Tsaritsa stepped forward with her Ice scepter, Permafrost. Like many other Archon’s weapons, they were gifted to them by the Creator himself.

“If Buer’s words are true, then while his body remains in Temporium, his soul is elsewhere.”

The Archons soon came to a consensus.

“We cannot let him go into slumber.”

Or they will lose him completely.

[Are you ready, dear Creator?]

Tempus laid in his resting chamber on the edges of Temporium, in a makeshift mountain. He created this place in secret, so no one else by him knows.

He felt bad for his kingdom, as he told the royal family that he will be gone doing his Godly duties for a long time, but never informed how long.

Regardless, they should be able to live without a god, considering the technology and time Tempus gave them.

[Yes]

As he lay in his comfortable bed with minimal decorations or other items, he shut his eyes and reminisced about the past.

Although it was a very long time, he was never really alone.

But he has seen much more than a normal human on Earth, from war to life and death, to the repetitions of stories by going back in time many times to fix his mistakes.

“Stop him! He’s going back in time!”

Truly, it takes a mental toll on his mind. He can’t let his emotions take over, otherwise, he would have to redo everything again.

[Thank you for your work, dear Creator]

[Just make sure you fulfill your side of the deal]

[Of course]

When he shut his eyes, he felt safe, comfortable and oddly relieved, relieved of his duties at last.

“Tempus!”

His eyes snapped open and saw his chamber shake with vigor. All of his protective mechanisms activate, indeed, he prepared for this.

“Tempus!”

Voices slowly became louder and the earth seemed to roar.

How did they find him? Was it Buer? It must've been.

“Tempus!”

There was desperation in their voices, and Kai assumed that they seemed to have figured something out.

Perhaps honesty was better, but in the end, this was always the outcome.

Yes, Tempus already knew that no matter what he did, the Archons would rebel, would seek him out.

Even if the walls seem to crumble, it did not affect Kai’s chamber, after all, it was sealed and protected with his powers.

But perhaps with a bit more persistence, they would soon destroy the mountain all together, leaving him and his chamber exposed. But, Tempus was not worried, after all, he had prepared for this moment too long ago.

[Farewell, dear Creator]

Suddenly, he felt a bright light engulf him as he felt incredibly sleepy.

Through his blurred vision, he could see the stormy skies, and all seven Archons rushing towards him.

“Tempus!”

“You can’t leave us, Tempus!”

Seeing them in their prime, in their Archon outfits was a little nostalgic.

Hearing a crack in his chamber’s shield was somewhat surprising, but also, incredible. His children have grown up well.

[Farewell]

With a fleeting smile, Tempus bids farewell to his second home.

“Tempus!”

His eyes close, just as the light takes him whole.

“Tempus!”

Morax and Murata pierced through the tough protective layers desperately, and Ei and Venti whiz past them to reach their Creator.

But, they were too late.

“No, Tempus is…he’s-” Barbados was crying as he held Tempus’s hand.

“Kai! Kai!” Furina bawled her eyes out, calling his real name repeatedly as if it would bring him back.

But he won’t come back.

Bal held his body as she froze in shock (in regret), as if she was reminded of her past.

“Tempus, you’re cruel.” Buer, the one who got them so far and so close but not enough. She knelt down beside him and cried while pressing his hand into her face.

“You’ve left us with death, not slumber. You lied, you lied!”

It was like they lost a part of themselves.

After all, Tempus was there whenever they needed guidance, he sacrificed his own personal time to make sure they were alright.

“K-Kai…” Morax stumbled towards the still body that used to be his friend, mentor, benefactor, love, and everything.

Even in death, he was still so beautiful, kind and holy.

Tempus was their everything.

The Tsaritsa dragged herself towards Tempus with her scepter. She was known to not show her emotions, even when Tempus encouraged her to do so to stay emotionally healthy. He was the only one that saw her vulnerable side, and knew who she really was, and never judged her for it.

“Tempus. How dare you…abandon us like this?” She stood by Tempus’s feet and her eyes did not leave his body at all.

While others wept, her tears were turned into weapons.

Murata stood by her with the same dark, solemn expression.

It’s not fair.

How could he treat them like his everything, and then leave them so abruptly?

If only he could open his eyes again and say it was nothing but a terrible joke.

But Tempus is gone, leaving his lifeless body as his final memory and gift.

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zvtara-was-never-canon · 4 months

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I believe Aang was right to end the war by sparing Ozai. But the only (imho) valid reason some people say he should have done it is because they wanted Aang to realize that pacifism is flawed.

I'm gonna disagree with you here, because a lot of the flaws fans talk about pacism and how ATLA in particular handles it as a concept are 99%:

1 - People being ignorant/racist and not knowing the difference between pacifist monks and "make love, not war" hippies.

2 - People being ignorant/racist and refusing to understand that there are different kinds of pacifism, even within the same cultures/people groups.

Aang is very clearly not the type of pacifist to go "You can NEVER react with ANY kind of violence towards someone else, even if it's to defend yourself/someone else" (which does exist, both IRL and in the show, just look at the owl spirit in "The Library").

We see him fight, and even be quite aggressive in said fights, in a lot of episodes. We also see he has no issues with invading the Fire Nation. More importantly, for the longest time the Avatar State was a result of him being pissed off enough at some kind of injustice that it makes him lose control, meaning he is very clearly affected by the horrors of war to the point of RAGE.

What makes him a pacifist is the way in which he doesn't WANT to lose control, doens't WANT go from aggressive to full on cruel, and, yes, wants to defeat his enemies, but not kill them.

And as I keep repeating, the show DOES make him question that last boundary he set for himself. He gets told by a past Avatar, who was also an air-nomad before anything, that, when there is such a large threat to everyone's life, including his own, he has to put aside his own spiritual needs and take a life - provided there isn't another option. But there was, so Aang took that, even after he decided that, yes, if there was no other way, he WOULD kill Ozai.

What people don't like is that Avatar, although questioning some types of pacifism, is far more interested in questioning the way people are WAY too eager to use violence to solve their issues, and, more importantly, expect someone else to get their hands bloody.

Fire Lord Sozin starts the war because he, according to himself at least, wants what's best for everyone and would like to share the Fire Nation's glory and great life with the other nations. He tries to do by invading foreign territories, killing his best friend, and commiting genocide. The fucker even has the dragons, an obvious Fire Nation symbol, to be hunted to extintion.

When Jet is angry at the Gaang for ruining his plan to free a village from the Fire Nation's control by blowing up a dam, Sokka asks "Who would be free? Everyone would be dead."

Zuko is banished because he spoke out against a Fire Nation higher-up's plan to use soldiers as fresh meat to bait the enemy into a more vulnerable position, thus assuring the nation's victory in that battle. He openly says "These men love and defend our nation, how can you betray them?"

When Zhao wants to kill the moon spirit, Iroh tries to stop him by pointing out that the Fire Nation needs the moon too (seriously, if it wasn't for Yue's sacrifice and Zhao's death, the Fire Nation would have had to create a word for "Big-ass wave that wrecks everything and kills people" like Japan did).

When Aang is deliberately trying to trigger the Avatar State because he doesn't want anyone else to die in the war, Katara, who had her life ruined by said war, is against it because while she opposes the Fire Nation, she cares about Aang and, in her own words, seeing him in so much pain and rage hurts her too. When Aang can't force himself to go nuclear, an Earth Kingdom ruler attacks Katara and makes both her and Aang, two very traumatized child soldiers, think he is going to kill her.

More importantly, when Ozai wants to burn down Earth Kingdom cities, he says "A new world will rise from the ashes, and I'll be supreme ruler of everything", to which Zuko concludes that, if they don't save the world before his dad takes over, there won't be a world to save.

And what does he say to Aang when he is about to kill him? "You're weak, just like your people. They didn't deserve to live in world, in my world."

Avatar does questions pacifism, and is critical of it on ocasion (again, watch "The Library"). But it's biggest theme is being critical of VIOLENCE, of resorting to it immediately without considering any other option and acting like it doesn't have long-lasting negative consequences, both to the person suffering it to the person inflicting it (see Azula's breakdown, Zuko's angry outburts only making him more miserable, Jeong Jeong growing to resent being a firebender, Zhao accidentally burning his own ships, etc)

The show is constantly highlighting that, yes, sacrifices need to be made for the greater good - but that CAN'T be normalized because it inevitably leads to a never-ending cicle of cruelty, as well as suffering to the one who has to do the dirty job (because lets not forget there's a big difference in how a soldier that is constantly in battle sees the war and how a king that just gives the orders but never goes into the actual combat sees the war).

The show embraces pacifism, despite knowing some versions of it are flawed, because the narratives themes are:

1 - EVERYONE is capable of great good and great evil

2 - No group has the right to impose it's own lifestyle onto others

3 - If everyone is either dead, mentally (and physically) scarred for life, or preparing to kill someone as revenge, then being killed by someone who wants to avenge that person, who will themselves be killed for revenge later, then the "greater good" you're sacrificing everything for doesn't actually exist because NO ONE will have a good life in a world that is stuck in the cicle of violence.

#pro aang #aang defense squad #aang deserved better #respect aang or die by my sword

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piratefishmama · 9 months

Text

Fake it till you make it | Part 11

“Be careful, Eddie” were Wayne’s words as he hugged his nephew goodbye, knowing he wouldn’t see him for a whole week and honestly still being a little worried about it “if you think even for one minute that something’s off, just… just get out of there, alright?”

“I know, I know, I’ll bolt through the woods and hitchhike my way home, I know the way, Wayne, I got this.” He could read a compass, he’d be able to get a map from any gas station and head home, he was resourceful, an adult, he could handle himself.

“Damn right you got this, son. But… be careful in other ways too, alright? Steve’s a charmin boy, but… remember this ain’t real.” Eddie had bitten his bottom lip at that one, brows furrowed in thought, those big brown eyes of his swirling in emotion, he never did hide his feelings well, it’d always be a little real for him. “Protect this” Wayne poked his chest with a gentle prod, right over Eddie’s heart “okay?”

“Mhm, I will…” he’d try to anyway. Steve really was… charming. An his kisses? God his kisses… but also... it really was the closest he’d ever been to what romance ought to be, what a relationship ought to be, he never thought he’d have that.

The world didn’t appear to be moving fast enough for him to truly experience romance as most people did.

He had to remember that he didn’t have that.

“Eddie! C’mon you’re in the back with me!” Steve called from the garage door, behind which the car was rumbling, their bags packed into the back, Steve’s parents already inside, ready to go. The longest Eddie had ever been away from Wayne since arriving in Hawkins, was three days during a weekend trip to Indy with the band to play at a slightly bigger venue than the Hideout as a one off.

A favour for his favourite gay bar when a live act they’d scheduled pulled out last minute. It hadn’t gotten them a lot of exposure, but it’d been a fun and enlightening night for the band.

“Best get on, son, I’ll see you in a week. Call when you can alright? Don’t care if you wake me up or about no damn time zones, just call, I’ll answer, an if I don’t, you know the plant’s number.” Tight lipped, strained smile, Eddie nodded quickly then turned on his heel and graced Steve with a brilliant smile, game on.

“I don’t wish to alarm anyone, but... did we miss a turning?” Eddie may have been unusually quiet for the first leg of their journey, nerves having hit him like a truck the second they pulled out of Loch Nora, but he was paying attention to his surroundings.

And those surroundings, were all too quickly, Fort Wayne International Airport.

“You don’t honestly expect rich people to drive the whole way to Canada do you?” Steve’s voice was amused and came from so very close to his ear that he actually jumped, quickly turning in his seat, back plastered against his side of the back seat, eyes wide as he took in and processed what Steve said. “Plus, what would you rather do, spend nearly two days in a car with my parents—”

“We’d make wonderful road trip companions, don’t be rude Steven” came his mother’s interruption

Steve ignored it in favour of continuing his point “—orr… around ten hours in one of those with a brief stop off in Chicago.” Steve leaned inward, uncaring of personal space as he pointed to a plane, ascending into the heavens from the runway.

“I don’t—” he didn’t know. He’d never been on a plane before. Trips like that, across country, they were the stuff of road trip legend, but Steve had a point…

Two whole days of a trip stuck in a car. Or just ten hours. Eddie’s eyes skipped to the window again, to the plane now disappearing beyond the overcast cloud cover.

“It’ll be okay, Eds, I’ll sit right next to you the whole time, you’ll be okay.”

“What if we crash? What if it falls out of the sky? What’ll you do?”

“My best to keep you safe.” It was so earnest, coupled with Steve gently taking his hands and giving them a squeeze, eyes so full of raw honesty, of understanding, it hit Eddie directly in all his soft gooey bits. “I’ll hold your hand through the whole ten hours if you want.”

“Even during the stop in Chicago?”

“Hah, yeah baby, even during the stop in Chicago.”

“They’re a lot more openminded in Chicago too!” Lynda spoke up without turning her head, allowing Eddie to not get stuck on baby for too long “might get a few looks from people passing through the airport but nobody will say anything, and if they do, they deal with us.”

“If we had enough time during the stop we’d have taken a trip around the city, let you boys see some of the sights we’ve seen, but alas, our connection gives us an hour at most depending on everything being on time, and that’s just enough time to get us from one gate to the next.” John added as he pulled into the long stay parking lot. “Maybe some other time, some other family trip, eh Eddie?”

Eddie’s wide eyes turned to the front of the car, then back to Steve again, lips parted ever so slightly in surprise. Not surprise over the words used, but the feeling those words caused. Family trip. They were including him on future family trips.

Steve’s eyes quickly snapped from him to the front of the car and back again, then a warm smile blossomed on his lips. He lifted his hand and ever so carefully brushed a stray curl back behind Eddie’s ear, and asked so softly as his thumb lowered to brush along his jawline. “Right, Eddie?”

“Y-yeah… yeah I’d… I’d love that.” He turned his head fully toward the drivers seat, he’d never been too good at hiding his emotions, so maybe he was just a little choked up when he accepted the offer “I’d really love that.”

“Great!” The car came to a stop in one of the many parking bays, ignition off, driver side door opened “It’s settled then.” Settled. Eddie would privately mourn the knowledge that it’d never come to fruition, but… on the surface he could pretend he was excited for a future trip for the sake of the ruse. “Now boys if you could get the bigger bags out the trunk that’d be a big help! This back of mine isn’t as sturdy as it used to be.”

“You’re forty-six and go jogging almost every morning, don’t be stupid John.” Lynda whapped her husband with her handbag in gentle, semi-amused admonishment before getting out of the car.

Followed by her husband who, in a hushed tone replied with “don’t tell them that, Lynda, save us the work.” Leaving the two boys to breathe soft laughs between themselves before they too joined the older couple out in the parking lot.

“Steve...” Eddie hissed as they neared check-in.

“What?”

“I have weed” said through his teeth.

“What?” Steve paused.

“I have weed… I have weed in my suitcase.”

“You have what?!” Steve rounded on him, sentence ended with a pointed hiss

“I didn’t know we’d be flying to Canada, Steve, maybe you should tell people when you’re planning on launching them into the troposphere in a death tube!”

“Why would you bring weed on a holiday with my parents, Eddie?!”

“SHHHH, be quiet. I thought I might need it to chill out if I was freaking out at some point during the week like right now, I could really do with it right now.”

“Oh my god.”

“Steven? Is something wrong?” Lynda’s voice had them both snapping to attention, eyes wide, caught in the act. Luckily she had no idea what that ‘act’ was.

“Nope! No, uh, Eddie’s just gotta… use the bathroom real quick.”

“Well, there’s bathrooms in the business class lounge he can—"

“No! It’s uhm, it’s urgent, can’t wait, he’s uh…”

“Nerves, it’s uh, it’s nerves, I think imma hurl” she looked between them with a small frown on her face, assessing them both, it seemed like whatever she found wasn’t worth arguing about though, because she waved them off with a quick flick of her wrist.

“Alright fine, hurry up. Steven you know where the closest ones are go on now quickly before we’re late for check in, we’ll double check everything here.” John was already pausing to check through all their documents like a regular airport dad, it was the third time he’d done it since entering the airport.

“Alright let’s go, Eds, lets deal with your little problem.” At least he was soft-handed when he manhandled Eddie to the nearest bathroom, patchy suitcase with a squeaky wheel wobbling away behind them. Once inside, he checked each stall individually, before quickly turning on a wide eyed Eddie. “Where is it?” Eddie pointed down at the suitcase, and Steve snapped to action, lifting, and placing Eddie’s suitcase down on the slightly damp row of sinks. “Did you pack any liquid soaps?”

“Uhhh…” Eddie was too busy staring at the flex of Steve’s arms as he just. Lifted that whole very packed suitcase in one hoist. Fuck.

“Any shampoo? Conditioner?”

“I—I feel like my answer is going to make you mad so I’m just not going to answer.” Which on its own, was a pretty damning answer, and Steve’s expression told him as such “I don’t have a twelve step hair care routine like you do, Steve! I just… I have drug store shampoo and conditioner and that’s really only when it’s on a two for one sale! Usually I just—"

“If you say you water it down to make it last longer I’m going to throw the first thing I find in this suitcase at you.”

“Shutting up. I just thought I’d buy it there if I needed it, or just borrow yours, I know you brought some, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I figured that… if I borrowed yours it’d make it seem like I just… wanted… to smell like you?”

“You just made that up.” Eddie just smiled, all teeth and dimples, scrunching his shoulders inwards in an unfairly cute display of mischief. “You’re a menace, Munson. Get your stuff out of there for me. Don’t ever put weed in checked luggage.”

“But—”

“TSA does random checks on checked luggage all the time, an while they’re not usually looking for weed, it’ll get launched and you might get fined. Whereas you can hide weed in just about anything in a carry on, just shows up as vague blurred shit on the x-ray scanners. Just be cool when you shove it through.” Steve was rummaging in the front of his own bag now, “be cool, and act natural.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Mn once or twice, Tommy was a dick, but his cousin worked for the TSA for a few years, gave us all kinds’a neat tricks to get things through the airport.” Tommy’s cousin had gotten fired and a year inside for attempting to smuggle narcotics out of the confiscated items lock up, but that was neither here nor there. “Gimmie what you have.” Hand outstretched, Steve waited until Eddie placed the single baggie containing three roll ups and a few loose buds “Christ Eddie.”

“I knew I’d be nervous! Stop being mean to me!” Steve rolled his eyes before taking the three roll ups out of the baggie

“Your smokes, give em.” Plenty of room in the pack to slot the three roll ups, and as for the buds, Steve emptied out his travel sized bottle of hand lotion into the sink and stuffed the whole plastic bag into the little bottle, then screwed the lid on tight. Nobody would look twice at a rich kids hand lotion. “Now wet the ends of your hair.”

“What?”

“Your hair butthead! Wet it, we told my mother you’d be in here hurling your guts up, so… you got some in your hair, it’s a good extra to add to the ruse, now do it.”

“So my own boyfriend wouldn’t even hold my hair back if I threw up? Where’s the romance, where’s the commitment, where’s the care and—”

“Dude you have a lot of hair, I doubt I could get it all in my hand at once.” Although now that thought was in his head… could he? Could he get a good fistful and hold it there? Not important. “I’d drop bits.” A flimsy argument, he wouldn’t drop anything.

“Uh-huh, sure you would, big boy.” Eddie quickly dampened the tips of his hair, and ran a wet hand through his bangs quickly in a bid to fake flop sweat, theatrics over and done with. “Zipper-up, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

Part 13

#PirateWrites #FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Fake Dating AU #lmao this was getting long so i'm splitting it up

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bipp-bopp-time-to-stop · 3 months

Text

Pretty Boy

Finally, I got this finished. I had hoped to get this posted about two days earlier but damn did ending it kick my ass six ways 'til Sunday. I also changed the title of this fic because I kept reading the old title and it didn't gel as well as it used to for me. It may be a bit generic in my eyes, but it works. Although I do like him, I feel like I'm not the best at imagining or summarizing what Warriors' character is like. I still tried my best and am satisfied enough with the result. Enjoy!

TW: Yandere themes, gore, blood, long and detailed descriptions of torture, slightly suggestive in certain parts, some self deprecation on Wars' part, Wars is pretty... fucked up

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Being pretty wasn’t easy- and Wars knew this well. Yes, you could be considered attractive, but that was so… surface level. Surface level was enough to make merchants a bit more lenient towards you, makes it easier to obtain gossip, and made making “friends” less tiresome. Walking the walk wasn’t the hard part of being pretty. It was the talk.

To be pretty, handsome, desirable, beautiful, and more, required work. It required proper etiquette and good habits. It required a level head and a pleasant attitude. It required a good handle on your emotions regardless the situation. It required all of this and more. If you failed at any of this, even for a moment, pretty could get ugly.

For the longest time, Wars believed himself to be good at staying pretty. He knew he was on the surface- he wouldn’t be teased by his brothers otherwise if he wasn’t. He was usually chosen to be the face of the group when it came to handling locals and gathering information. A handsome face and charming attitude was nicer to deal with than a rugged face or snarky personality. No offense to Time and… maybe some offense to Legend.

It was tiresome. Playing nice with others he would sooner prefer to ignore or even berate. Hero he may be, he never saw himself as the tried and true goody-goody type. Thankfully, though, he didn’t have to be that with his brothers. He could partake in stupid games such as who can smash the most pots in a minute or who can last the longest in a cucco pen. He could make all sorts of dirty and dark jokes and have laughter answer him instead of shocked faces and gasps. It was freeing to be around his brothers- to forgo the title of hero and just be him.

And then you came along.

It was an unwelcome adjustment, at first. At all times now did he have to put on the facade of being this charming and polished hero. He forced himself to come to your aid whenever you stumbled or struggled with the journey they were on. Came to your defense whenever one of his brothers would snap at you for making a rookie mistake. It was clockwork to him. But you, on the other hand, weren’t.

“Wars? Mind if I talk to you about something? Uhm, privately?” You ask as you approach him with a noticeable level of hesitancy. It peaked Wars’ curiosity by a tad but he was far from surprised. He was your regular confidant amidst the group, after all.

“Sure,” Wars agrees as he follows you a distance away from the group. He wondered what you wanted to tell him this time. Was Legend getting too snarky with you again? Was Time making your training too rough to handle? Maybe Wind played a prank on you that crossed a line? Or was it not related to them at all? Perhaps you were feeling homesick and just wanted to talk one on one or just wanted to confide in him about something personal?

“Could you just… stop?”

… Huh?

“Listen I… appreciate you for what you’re doing- truly, I do. But… you don’t have to force yourself to like me or make the others like me,” You sigh and face him with a complex expression. Displeasure was the emotion Wars could make out the clearest and it made him squirm more than he’d like to admit.

“I… what? I’m not sure I follow,” Wars replied robotically. “Could you elaborate on what you mean?”

“I think I’m being clear enough already,” You sigh again but it’s deeper this time and Wars only finds himself growing more jittery. Why? Why was that? Why was your displeasure with him suddenly so… bad? “Please, just… stop with the facade. I’d rather you dislike me, or even hate me, then be some kind of- of fake friend with me. It’s not nice.”

Wars was left gaping like a fish. Even as you grew more suspicious with his silence and eventually walked away because of it, Wars couldn’t even formulate a word. Why was this shaking him up so badly? It was an act, yes, but… was it really? Had he actually grown to like you? Perhaps he had… and Wars didn’t know how to feel about it.

The next few days were awkward, to say the least. You’d seek out help from anyone else and Wars didn’t pipe up once. The tension was not missed by his brothers, but they didn’t butt in to help. Honestly, some seemed to enjoy the fact that the spot by your side was now left open. It was a bitter pill to swallow when Wars noticed that. Why?

He fell back on his training as a knight in hopes it would help him. When wanting to learn about the target, one must observe. He gathered intel left, right, and center in hopes of quelling the rapids of unease in his chest. He asked pestered his brothers about you whenever he was one on one with them. He’d strategically place himself behind you when the group traveled so he could watch you without worry. The more he observed, the more he learned, made him only grow more confused and… yearn.

Why were you asking Twilight how to ride horses? He could teach you that! It was drilled into him when he was training to be a knight, so no need to turn to the ranch hand for help! Why were you pestering Time for stories? Wars was a captain during a time of war! He had many stories to tell you (the not so gruesome ones, of course) and they’d be just as interesting! And why were you wanting to go into town with Legend? He’s good with merchants too, y’know?!

The unease in his chest only grew each day. The rapids had turned into a tsunami and the waters grew murky with green. The snarling and biting sensation of his heart hurt- like a viper had seized it. These boiling and bubbling feelings were awful and gross and disgusting and ugly. Pay attention to me! Think of me! Come to me first! Ask for my help! Look at me! Look at me! Look at me look at me look at me look at me look at me look at me look at me look at me LOOK AT ME!

As his patience was about to run dry, Hylia finally threw him a bone.

When it came to espionage, Wars was almost always the first pick. It was obvious he was the best suited for it considering he bothered to take care of himself and had formal etiquette drilled into him like a screw. Though, this event he had to sneak into was different. Why? Because it was a couple’s event and by a stroke of luck, you were his partner for the night.

Even though the outfit and make-up you were dolled up in was basic, Wars felt flabbergasted. He was so used to you being slightly grimey and dirtied up like most of the others that he never realized what all was hiding underneath that. For the first time in what felt like years, his heart was floating along on crystal clear waters. Despite this mission being supposedly high risk, Wars couldn’t help but feel relaxed as he had your hand in his nearly the whole night. Having you cling to him and coo at him, no matter how fake, had him light headed. Not even a higher power would be able to rip his gaze from you. Not like they’d be any more divine than you were.

From that night onward, Wars knew his place beside you now. While he missed being your sole confidant, he couldn’t exactly complain about his new role. A role that allowed him to be privy to every detail about you. From your routines to your clothes to your diet to your habits and even to your body. He’s lived around a castle and royalty long enough to know how to be an attendant.

He had to start small and work his way up. Given that your relationship with him was still on slightly rocky waters, he had to be patient yet again. Suggestions on what to potentially wear or little tips about hygiene were a good start in his mind. Just words, no touching- yes, that’s fine for now. Far from what he fully wants, but it’s enough to tide him over in the beginning.

And then… hmm… would you mind if he did your hair, (Name)? Nothing too fancy- just wanting to make sure it’s being taken care of and there’s a new style he thinks you might like. It’s an even mix of practical and fashionable and he’s sure you’ll like it. Hmm? Oh no no no no no! He wasn’t smelling your hair he was worshiping it, he was just getting close to get a piece of fuzz out! That’s all!

Also, what do you think about wearing this tunic with this pair of pants? He thinks the colors look well together. If it’s not your style, how about a few other outfits he came up with? Perhaps… a good ol’ green tunic to top off this pair of brown pants? Maybe maroon with something more tan colored? How about something bright like yellow? Or… oh, you’d look good in royal blue. … Oh? Why was he doing that? Well, you complained about having to pick out an outfit at times so he thought he’d help you out! Besides, he knows you trust in his style! So… is it okay if he takes care of that for you now? Okay? Okay! Great! And, uhm… do you need help getting dressed? Well, you did twist your ankle a few days ago and he wants to make sure you don’t irritate it while getting dressed. A-Are you sure? Positive? Well, okay… he’ll be right outside while you change just in case you need help please.

Ah ah ah! Don’t you give him that look! Look at your hands, do you really think you should be gripping a spoon at the moment? More than half of the soup is ending up back in the bowl and all over you, so just let him help! He’ll make sure to blow on it so that it’s not too hot, he promises. He’ll also handle getting you seconds or even thirds- yes, thirds. You need meat on your bones just as much as the rest of them and you know Wild cooks as much as he can for dinner. Just remember to open wide and say ah~.

He knows, he knows- it’s cold. Just do your best to stay still for him, will you? Can’t have your pores staying gunked up for much longer or else you could break out or even get sick. Also, your face will just feel nicer once he’s done. He’ll be careful around your eyes and lips. Actually, speaking of lips, why don’t you try out this lip balm he’s been using. No no no, don’t swat his hands- he’s just making sure to apply the right about. And… hold on, just a little more… there! Don’t your lips feel much better now? Look at how plump and pink they are now! Pretty, yes? Please just let him kiss them.

Hey! Settle down, you’ll just make your injuries worse! Yes, yes, you’re a capable adult and can wash yourself but look at you! There aren’t any potions or fairies to spare and Hyrule just knocked himself out from using too much magic! Now, please… let him help. Please, it hurts him to see you hurting like this. He won’t wash anywhere you don’t want him to and he’ll make sure to be as gentle as possible when it comes to dressing your wounds. He promises. Cross his heart and hope to die.

So, yes…

He was very content with his new role.

But don’t think this praise is one sided- oh no. He expects you to praise him back. He needs you to. If you don’t… well, he doesn’t mean to be dramatic but he’s sure his heart would stop beating.

So, please, praise him. Yes, comb your hands through his hair and admire how soft it is. No no, he doesn’t care that he just styled it- he can always style it again. Do you like it? Do you want to try out the products he’s been using? Ah, the way your fingers massage and scratch at his scalp feel lovely. Do keep going- he really doesn’t mind.

Hm? Does his voice really sound that nice? It’s nothing much, really, just his natural accent mixed with the elegancy expected from someone of his rank and title. If you like it so much… would you like to listen to him narrate a few poems he wrote? He’s been meaning to proof read them, anyways. Proof reading is easier when done aloud and with someone else there to check his work. Don’t cut back on criticism or praise- he wants to hear all of it.

Woah! No, it’s okay! It’s okay, it’s okay! You didn’t mean to barge in on him and it’s not like he’s indecent- just shirtless. But, since you’re here… would you do him a favor? He’s been checking himself out- wanting to see if his new training regiment is doing him any good. Do his biceps look bigger than before? Are his abs more defined? What do you mean he could just look in the mirror? Those things add ten pounds, you know! Just spoil him a little, wouldn’t you? He wants to hear your opinion because it’s the only one that ever matters to him anymore. No matter what he thinks of himself anymore, it’s nothing compared to how you see him. He’s all beautiful and pretty and dolled up just for you. Tell him what to change, what to do, how to act and he’ll follow every order to a T. Whatever it takes for you to hold him and touch him like he’s the embodiment of luxury. Mold the clay of his person into a masterpiece and admire the art turned life before you. Please just treasure him even a fraction of how he treasures you.

This perfect balance he had achieved with you was what made him wake up in the morning- figuratively and literally. He was there for almost every step of your daily routine now. Big or small, he had some hand in it even if you didn’t realize it. He had worked out every minute detail to the point that he’s not suffocating but he’ll never be far either. He’s good at what he does and he knows it- you make sure he does. He never gets less than five words of praise a day and if you short him- unknowingly, of course, you’re not cruel not like her- then he just has to perform at 110% the next day. So…

“The swelling and redness isn’t going down. It’s clearly poison. From what, I don’t know yet, but I intend to find out as soon as possible and have someone pay for doing this to them.”

How could he have let this happen?

You laid prone in the inn’s bed looking like you had just had your face slammed into a nest of vengeful hornets. It was swollen beyond belief and too red. Wild was silent as he slowly spooned homemade porridge into your mouth. His long and unkempt hair cascaded down his shoulders and covered his face. Wars didn’t need to look Wild in the eye to know how he silently sobbed- he was no better, after all.

“Any idea as to what happened?” Hyrule’s question draws Wars out of his stupor. He looks over at the brunette with an empty gaze. Hyrule narrows his eyes and waits with hands on hips for Wars to answer. Seconds tick by and Wars makes no sound but ultimately shakes his head.

“How… how do you not know? You’re always by their side…” Wild quietly pipes up. He’s barely turned his head and Wars can see his red rimmed eyes staring straight through him. Sadness pools in them and rage makes it seem like his tears are about to start boiling as they fall down his cheeks. Wars understood Wild’s feelings because they were his own. The wild haired man seemed ready to pin the blame on Wars and pounce so he could let out his emotion. Wars didn’t know if he’d bother to defend himself.

“I can’t think of anyone who would want to do this. We haven’t pissed off anyone in town yet nor have they,” Hyrule sighs as he returns to your side. He lets a healing spell fall from his hands to bring you some comfort. The swelling and redness doesn’t fade a bit since whatever poisoned you was actively affecting you. You barely make a sound in reaction to Hyrule’s spell or Wild continuing to feed you. Could you even speak? Did you even register that they were there or was Wars illusioning himself into believing you were even smidge bit lucid?

The door to the room bursts open and Wars doesn’t have time to snap at the intruder until he’s being slammed against the wall. Rough hands close in on his throat with a crushing grip and Wars finds himself staring into the crazed eyes of Twilight. The larger man is huffing and puffing like a raging bull and sporting his abnormally sharp teeth. For a few tense moments, Twilight does nothing more than stare down Wars. Was he debating on strangling him or tearing into his neck with his fangs? Perhaps both given that Twilight was about to blow.

“You… you… did this,” Twilight accuses as he presses Wars against the wall even harder. The accusation chills Wars to the bone as he looks over to you. He felt like this was his fault anyways but… for him to actually be the one who harmed you? How? How was that possible?! He does everything he can to support you and comfort you! He would sooner cut off his own hands than let them bring you harm! So how… how could he… what did he…

Something is slapped against his face and he suddenly finds it hard to breathe. As he coughs and sneezes, powder comes out. He swipes at his face to wipe off whatever Twilight had slapped onto him but it only seems to spread it more. A wet and cold towel is scrubbed against his skin as Hyrule jumps into action to save Wars from what is likely the supposed “poison”.

“Enough!” Hyrule yells as he stops cleaning Wars’ face. He looks over at Twilight with rage that had finally boiled over. “What the hell are you doing, Twilight?! What good are you trying to achieve by poisoning one of us?! Especially with (Name) in the room?!”

“It’s his fault!” Twilight snaps back. He picks up a round, blue container from the ground and nearly shoves it back in Wars’ face. Wars’ eye nearly fall out of their sockets when he recognizes what it is. “He bought this the other night and put it on their face this morning. When I was looking through (Name)’s belongings to find what may have poisoned them, the stench of this powder caught my attention. I don’t know what it is but it smelled rancid.”

“Foundation…” Wars croaks out as he stares at the container and the powder on himself. “It… it was supposed to be foundation. I bought it the other night from a cosmetic merchant. I looked through their wares and- and all of it seemed well made and luxurious. I-It was supposed to be a gift and… and they loved it. I put it on their face this morning and it went on so nicely and they looked so lovely and… and… and then…”

Wars sinks to the floor with a choked sob. He shakes and crawls over to your bedside with his eyes trained on your poor face the whole time. He can see you try to look over at him past the swollen lids of your eyes but he doubts you can see much at all. He wants to reach out to you and comfort you through the pain. To caress your face and whisper sweet words. To pepper gentle kisses across your skin while he murmurs out his adoration but he can’t. He’s tainted by the very thing that harms you now. He bought and handed you the very poison that swells and reds your skin. He recalls how you trusted him- like you always do- when he applied your make up this morning. And now look at you- look at what he’s done to you.

He’s pulled away from you by the collar of his shirt and nearly dragged out of the room. Twilight forces him to his feet and looks him dead in the eye. Although he’s had his outburst, his eyes are still simmering with anger. Wars can hear heavy footsteps echo behind him before Time comes into view. He looks over Twilight’s shoulder and gives Wars his own stoney scowl with both eyes open perhaps a sign to Wars that he was also angry about what happened.

“Legend is currently isolating the offender away from the town. You are to meet him at the appointed place and take over from there. The poor bastard’s fate is going to be in your hands and when I come to check in on you within three hours, I better find that you’ve dealt him due punishment. I’ll let your imagination run wild with the possibilities of what will be done to you should you not meet my expectations. Understood?” Time tsked. His look and tone made it clear that this order might as well be regarded as law.

“Yes sir,” Warriors nodded. He straightened up and dusted himself up. Slowly, training was taking over him and seeping into every fiber of his being as he marched out of the building. He carried himself with purpose as he walked to where Legend was supposedly waiting for him. Crowds parted to let the man through as it was clear he was on a mission and the malice that seeped off of him was enough to make even the guards look the other way.

The well paved roads of the town quickly turned into nothing more than well trodded dirt pebbled with rocks and gravel. After more walking, moss and more overgrowth overtook the ground. Wars had to give it to the Veteran- he was good when it came to preparation. He had likely dragged the man off to a secluded area far enough away from town that no one could hear any screams. He also imagined that the Vet had picked out a secluded area that would be hard to see and get to.

“Fucking finally…” came the tired groan of a bored Legend as he emerged from the tree line. He may have put on a good poker face of being nothing more than annoyed, but Wars could easily see through it. Eyes were the window to the soul, after all, and Legend was positively burning. “I’ve gotten tired of listening to the bastard whimper and cry. Be lucky that I had the patience and benevolence to save him for you.”

“I’m more surprised than anything, Legend. The fact that you’re not jumping at me and trying to tear me a new one is a little… off putting,” Wars huffed. Legend only grins at the man and approaches him with a saunter. He claps a hand onto Wars’ shoulder and leers up at the captain.

“Oh, I wanted to and I still very much want to right now. But, then, I got to thinking about how you’re now here and not beside them like some sort of dog on a leash. Hyrule trusts me greatly so there’s no doubt in my mind that I can be at their side for hours on end without interruption. Given what you did to them- and I do plan to tell them everything- they’ll surely appreciate me being there instead of you, don’tcha think? I always thought I looked better beside them than you ever did. After today, I’m sure they’ll agree,” Legend provokes as he smiles snarls at Wars. It takes every shred of willpower Wars can spare to not deck Legend in the face right then and there. Legend obviously notices the barely masked rage and laughs. He gives Wars a pat on the back and struts off while whistling.

Wars stalks down the slope Legend had come from before dropping down a small ledge. His boots squelched as they sunk into the thick moss of the cave floor. In the very back, illuminated by a few lanterns, sat the perp. He was bound up to a wooden chair thanks to thick strands of rope and chains. He was gagged but not blindfolded. His gaze met Wars and, for a fraction of a second, he seemed relieved- as if he expected Wars to be his savior. Naturally, these delusions were dismissed the moment the bound man caught a glimpse of Wars’ ice cold scowl and clear look of intent.

Instead of immediately lashing out at the merchant, Wars observes what tools he’s been left to work with: A pair of shears, some rusty knives, a bottle of green and viscous liquid, and a few rods of metal. Of course Legend wouldn’t leave him with anything good. The thing that Wars seemed to have the most hope in was that bottle of liquid but that could be saved for later. Save the best for last and all that…

“What shall I start with first? Something small, of course, but nonetheless painful. Can’t have you dying too soon, can we?” Wars sighed in annoyance as he combed a hand through his hair. After some contemplation, he picked up the pair of shears and directed them to the merchants hands. “Let’s get rid of those pesky fingers, shall we? I think that would be a lovely place to start.”

With anger fueling him and well defined muscle lining his arms, chopping through each finger didn’t require much more effort than chopping carrots did. It sounded rather similar to it too, just with a bit more snap. Wars took his time too- bothering to get the bladed edges of the shears comfortable against each joint before he slammed a hand down on the handle. Despite his control and technique, the process still went by too quickly for Wars.

Putting the shears to the side for the moment, Wars armed himself with one of the rusted over knifes. The blade was so dull that it likely couldn’t even cut butter but Wars would make it work. He brought the knife to the man’s arm and began to cut against it with a sawing motion. It took a few back and forth motions for the skin to finally give in but Wars stopped the second that happened. He moved the blade over by a hairs length and began again. With each cut made, he would move the blade over and begin to slice again.

Were Wars a naturally more savage man, he would have caved into his rage and pummeled the sinner into broken bones and gore the second he was left along with him. It sounded tempting, he wouldn’t lie, but this felt much better to him. The slow increase of pain and letting the man before him hang on a thread for however long he allowed was much more soothing to him. Death by a thousand cuts would take awhile but awhile was something Wars didn’t exactly have and it would be too lenient in Time’s eyes.

Wars’ next pick were the metal rods. He grabbed the heaviest and thickest of them all and tested the weight of it in his hand. Once he had a sure grip, he wasted no time in introducing it to the merchant’s knees. Over and over and over and over and over again did Wars slam the makeshift weapon into the sinner’s kneecaps. Only once he heard and felt each knee pop and crack below his blows did Wars move on. In a single, powerful strike, Wars hit the man across the face with the rod and broke his nose.

The damage he’s done so far was good but not enough. The man was barely lucid anymore- overwhelmed by pain and bloodloss. The idea of removing his gag and listening to him plead for a few minutes was now out of the question. Were Wars not so limited on tools and too clouded by emotion, he was sure he could do a lot more.

Arming himself with the knives once again, Wars finally began to stab him. It wasn’t relentless and wild, but calculated. He wanted each stab wound to not be overlapped by another so he could count each one at the end of this all. Given the poor state of his equipment, the knives were quick to bend after about ten stabs each. Once the blade of each knife had bent, Wars turned back to his trusty shears to continue the job. He made sure no inch of skin was left untouched by his rage. Even once he felt like he had gotten to each part of the man possible, he untied him from the chair and flopped him down onto the ground to get to his back. He was long since dead by now, but that wasn’t going to stop Wars.

The minutes trickled on by as Wars continued his work. He grew sweaty and his arms ached but he refused to rest. With his hands slick from blood and sweat, his palms sliced across the blade of his shears more than once as the metal refused to stay steady in his grip. It stung but it was a welcome sting- it brought him away from the monotony of his actions.

“I see you’ve done well to keep yourself busy,” Time’s voice muses and it jolts Wars away from his actions. He stands up and greets the older man with a curt nod before stepping away from the body. He lets Time get a good look at the corpse and hopes that it’s up to the man’s liking. Time also looks at the bloody and/ or broken tools Wars had used. He merely hummed and picked up the bottle that Wars had forgotten about.

“How are they?” Wars asks as he discards his shears.

“Better. Their face isn’t fully red and swollen anymore, but it’s patchy and sensitive. A welcome improvement but still a sight none of us like to see,” Time replies. He uncorks the glass bottle and tips it over. The thick liquids falls out in blobs and seeps into the open wounds of the corpse. It takes Wars a moment to realize that it wasn’t some sort of acid like he had originally suspected. Instead, it was a juvenile chu chu. Good thing Wars didn’t use it or else he’d have nothing to show Time.

“That’s good to hear. Any idea when they’ll be fully recovered?” Wars inquires further.

“They should be mostly healed up in about two days, but Hyrule recommended to not have them wear anything on their face for about a week,” Time answers as he discards the bottle. He glares down once more at the body before looking back up at Wars and gives him a curt nod. “Not bad for what you had. It’ll do.”

With Time’s approval, Wars lets his shoulders sag and a breath of relief leaves him. He follows the older hero out of the cave and away from the scene. Wars tears off a few strips of cloth from his shirt to cover his bleeding hands as a makeshift bandage. He’d heal them up once back with the rest of the group. He’d also have to remember to get a change of clothes as his were very wet and very red.

He paid minimal attention to his brothers when he returned back to the inn. He fell back onto his routine to get cleaned up. He rushed at certain parts when he remembered that you were nearby and potentially hopefully waiting for him. Once he had triple checked himself and made sure no blood or poison still clung to him, he snuck over to your room. Realistically, you’d be sleeping but even getting a glimpse of your relaxed face would be far better than the pain you were in earlier.

“Warriors?” Oh… you were up.

With the face of a man caught red handed, Wars stopped trying to sneak into the room. He was still quiet as not to disrupt the peaceful air nor to alert his brothers that currently laid sleeping rooms over.

“Yes?” Wars whispered as he sat down on the chair at you bedside. It held some residual warmth, so whoever had accompanied you earlier hadn’t been gone long. If Wars had to guess, he would be all in on it being Legend.

“Where have you been? I vaguely remember you and Hyrule and… Twilight, I think? Getting into an argument earlier. I think I feel asleep and then woke up with Legend beside me…” You recount. Wars feels his heart drop to chest despite having the Vet tell him what he planned on doing.

“I’m sorry,” Wars apologies quietly as his shaking hands reach out to grab your own. He pulls them in close and presses a gentle kiss to both knuckles and palms. “I’m- I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t apologize,” You sigh and Wars shakes his head. No, no you couldn’t forgive him for this. He hurt you- he doesn’t deserve forgiveness. But, then… that wouldn’t exactly be you then, would it? You always forgave them for what they did, whether or not you knew the full extent of it. You always forgave them and never stopped loving them which only made Wars’ heart clench and hurt more in the moment. Even with your face starting to look like you once again, he could still make out the residual damage done.

A hand cards its ways through Wars’ hair and massages the back of his neck. With a small grunt, Wars leans over and rests his head against your chest. He believed you should sooner be slapping him than caressing him, but he wasn’t going to argue. You were stubborn as a mule and who was he to go against your word and decisions?

“It’s okay, Link. You didn’t mean for this to happen so don’t go blaming yourself,” You coo as you continue to love on him. Hearing his name fall from your lips never failed to make him shiver and feel so vulnerable. It was such a wonderful and liberating feeling- to be the apple in your eye. Although he felt rotten and worm infested to the core, you still held him and admired him like he was ruby red and ripe from the tree. To be loved for both his pretty and ugly sides meant more to him than he could ever convey. He just hoped that, in all the he did, you would have an inkling of an idea of this.

“Look at me?”

The order was so tender and mild that he felt like it was sooner addressed to a babe and not him. Nonetheless, Wars didn’t hesitate to lift his head up and look at you. In the depths of your pupils could he see his reflection. His hair was unkempt and ruffled up by you hands. His thick lashes were misted by tears and his ocean blue eyes wobbled as he held your gaze. His skin was clean and cleared of any concealer so every pore and flaw were visible. Even in this state, he watched your eyes soften and crinkle into something so warm and sweet that made him feel like this was his most stunning moments yet.

“My pretty boy…” You whispered as you held his head his heart, his soul, his very ambition and will to live in your hand.

“Yes…” Wars croaked as he nuzzled against the silky skin of your palm. It was in these tender moments did Wars finally understand what salvation meant. “Your pretty boy… pretty just for you.”

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #Yandere lu #Yandere lu x reader #yandere lu warriors #yandere lu warriors x reader

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mayullla · 4 months

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Hiya, hope your doing well. I’m respecting Yandere Thoma 🦋 🌺 for the event please and thank you.

Title: Chocolate favors

Character(s): Thoma (Genshin Impact) Summary: Ayato asked a little favor from you to make chocolate cookies with Thoma. Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, fem!reader, power dynamics, 1.5k words

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

"Ayaka complimented the cookies you made a while ago. I was wondering if you could do me a favor and make those cookies again," the sharp-eyed man who was your boss asked. "Valentine's Day is coming soon, and I was hoping to give the workers something special. You will be paid extra for your troubles, and I will prepare all the equipment and ingredients necessary."

Lies your mind told you as you looked at the head of the Kamisato clan. The sly smile on his lips and the sharpness in his eyes told you that this was not what he truly wanted.

It was obvious what he wanted, what he wanted to happen with this.

"Of course, making something for so many people would be difficult to do alone. I will also send Thoma to help you."

You stifled all your feelings as you bit the inside of your mouth when you heard that name come from his lips. The name of the person you wanted in your heart to avoid at all costs. You didn't show your boss your feelings; his eyes were cold, unlike his smile, as if telling you to try. You gulped all your feelings down and nodded. "Yes, sir, I will do as you ask."

Was it a sort of amusement to the Kamisato clan? You were never sure. For the longest time, you always tried to avoid him, using every excuse and idea you had to keep him far away. Ever since you took care of him of his injuries when Ayato brought him to the house, stating that he would be working here. The man was weak, with injuries and a heavy fever. You were the one who took care of him, getting him back to health.

Maybe it started around then? You remembered the awkward man who stumbled with his words when he looked at you. A small little crush he had. It was cute back then, his flustered self as he could not handle even you touching his arm when you were patching him up.

When did he become so twisted? How did he fall to become so obsessed with you like this? You didn't want this at all; if anything, you were disgusted, yet at the same time terrified.

Not when you knew that the boss and his sister supported this behavior. A long time ago, you tried to tell them, tried to tell them that his little obsession at that time could be controlled and stopped, yet they pushed all your worries aside, telling you that you were worrying too much. They treasured him, they treasured him a lot, to the point that they would be willing to give him what he wanted.

The smile on his face as he looked at you hopefully when you arrived in the kitchen the next day. The cheerful greeting felt almost fake, genuine yet at the same time, you were sure of the darkness that was swirling inside him. "You are here. I am glad... The young master had told me that I would be helping you today to make cookies for Valentine's Day to give to the servants and workers."

His words were innocent, yet almost hoping. You nodded at his words as his smile became wider; he looked very happy, even more so when your eyes continued to look at him. "Please take care of me. I will try my best to follow you," Thoma laughed.

You didn't really have to do much when it comes to instructing him what to do; he was too talented in many things, and that included the kitchen but also baking. "Got it," Thoma replied as you told him to stir the batter. As you continued to prepare the other ingredients, you could feel his stare behind your back. You acted busy, concentrating on your work to make it more difficult to open a conversation.

You learned how to handle Thoma a bit, in a way that would go unnoticed. You realized early on that it wasn't only Thoma who would be saddened if you just outright ignored him, but also your boss and his sister would be rather unhappy with your actions. You learned a long while ago how to ignore his stares, and even if it took a while, you learned how to ignore him when he appeared a little too often around your vision, yet at the same time act like it was the first time you saw him that day when he approached you.

It was only recently that you figured out that Thoma actually knew all that. At first, you panicked, but then you realized that Thoma wouldn't do anything. His stalking, his obsession, his love, his lust that was so obvious would not tell a word to the siblings of your actions. It had become a game between the two of you, and for him, he could not be any happier that he even had a special connection with you, no matter how twisted it got.

"Hey.... Hey, are you okay?" You were pulled out of your thoughts when a hand touched your shoulder. Startled, you turned your head only for your cheek and lips to be smeared with melted chocolate, startling both you and Thoma.

"!?" "!!"

"Sorry! Sorry!" Thoma placed the bowl on the table as he grabbed a towel, while on his other hand, the one that tapped you, had the wooden spoon he was using to mix the chocolate in the bowl that had gotten smeared on your face. "You weren't answering my calls, and I got worried."

You watched him use the towel to clean your face, rubbing firmly yet not enough to hurt you or cause too much discomfort. He was careful while removing the chocolate from your face. "No, it was my fault," you told him after some time, quietly while he was cleaning your face. His face was red as you continued to stare at his face while he was doing so, watching him, yet you could see the excitement in his eyes, unable to be hidden from his shyness. "Sorry for worrying you. I was thinking for a moment there."

Thoma blinked and then smiled at you, nodding at your words, immediately believing them. Well, it wasn't like you were lying. "You must have been thinking really hard about it." Thoma peeked at your eyes as he removed the last remaining chocolate on your face. You thought for a moment what you should say here before answering, "I was thinking about the past, I guess."

"Oh?" Thoma tilted his head at your words as he pulled away from your face. You thought a bit more, choosing your words. "I was thinking about that time when you first arrived at the Kamisato estate. I remember you were hurt and sick back then, and I had to take care of you."

You watched as his face became redder. If it was long ago, you would have teased him that he looked like a tomato right now. "Ah- haha," he laughed awkwardly, reminded of the awkward past, yet there was also a hint of affection towards it. You knew that he treated that memory like a treasure. "What is the matter? Your face is red like a tomato right now," you teased him like you did in the past.

"Please don't tease me like that," Thoma tried to hide his face with his hand, and the towel that he used now forgotten on the kitchen counter. You laughed at his face, how easily he becomes affected by your words. "If you react like that, it would be difficult not to."

Thoma called out your name in a whine, as his face became even more red. He was trying to hide his face, but you could see how red his ears were. You smiled at him and then looked at the cookie mix and melted chocolate. "Well, that is enough playing," you told him in a light voice, a smile on your lips. Thoma seemed to want to stay in this atmosphere a little more and tried to look for an excuse, but you ignored him.

This much was enough.

This was enough for now. You had given him enough to keep him satisfied, as well as the two siblings. It would be a cycle for how long you could push it. The next moment, it would return to the obsession that you could feel burning in your body. He would watch your every movement and follow you, while you would give him small moments that would keep him somewhat satisfied.

"Oh dear, sorry, I think I missed a little bit again." You felt two hands touch your cheeks, pulling you to look away from the cookie batter. Your eyes met green ones, ones that were desperate, insane, lustful, yet at the same time delighted. A thumb touched your lips, rubbing them a little before releasing you. Looking at his thumb, you saw a smudge of chocolate on it. "There you go." His voice was loud in the quiet house as his hand moved from your cheeks to your arm, wrist, then your hand. He lingered a little while there before intertwining his fingers with yours.

You looked at his hand, surprised at his action, as it was too sudden, and looked up at him. You saw his smile, so full of love for you, so much that you could drown in it.

You could only push it for so long.

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 4 months

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Eddie in bat form is annoyed with a customer in Family Video flirting with you

Just a lil fun imagine. Protective, slightly jealous Eddie.

🦇❤️

Eddie was nuzzling into your shoulder, he had just finished taking a long flight in his bat form and was in the middle of greeting you.

He was yet to change back into human form and greet you properly, you tickle his head and he makes a little noise of contentment.

His moment with you is interrupted when some guy comes into Family Video. Eddie immediately dislikes him, the way he's looking at you makes him shake with annoyance.

He's looking at you like you're a piece of meat and Eddie doesn't like it one bit.

"Well hey there gorgeous. Need help unloading those boxes?" he casually leans over the counter and Eddie eyes the dude while squeaking to you, feeling very irratable.

"Yeah, I'm good. My boyfriend will be here soon" you ignore the guys flirting and Eddie is content for a few seconds, until the douchebag eyes you up and down with lust in his gaze and Eddie wishes he could turn back into his human form right now and scare the shit out of the dude.

"I'm Sam. You mind helping me find some videos for me and my buds?" Steve is busy talking to another customer, so you agree.

Eddie stays perched on your shoulder, watching Sam check out your backside. He squeaks in fury and you gently stroke his head, it calms him a little bit but he will be happier once Sam has left.

*Can I bite him just a little?* he pleads and you stifle a smile and subtly shake your head, which causes him to mope.

Sam takes the longest time to pick a video and makes dumb innuendos which test Eddie's patience. He talks to Eddie in a sarcastic, cooing tone and attempts to tickle his head.

Eddie restrains himself from biting his finger off.

"Aww honey, looks like your boy has stood you up... I can keep you company" he moves closer to you and you move back, giving him a don't fuck with me stare.

"No thanks" you maintain politeness but it still causes Sam to flush furiously and mutter bitch under his breath.

Furious Eddie dives at the asshole and chitters away at him.

*Hey asshole. Flirt with or call my princess names again and I'll bite your dick off*

Danny laughs and it infuriates him more. Well, can't say he didn't warn him...

You must sense the chaos he's planning as you gently scoop him into your arms.

"Hey, sweetie. Go and calm down, I'll be with you in a few minutes okay?" he squeaks, talking to you in your own little language.

*I'll be back in a minute princess*

He changes back to human in the back room and announces his arrival ''Hey princess, you miss me?"

Sam takes one look at him as he walks over and pales, Eddie is at least a head taller than him, his brown eyes flashing with danger and he slings a protective arm around you and you snuggle close to him.

It's fun watching the asshole squirm as he chokes and stammers that he doesn't want a video anymore.

He rushes out and you turn to Eddie trying to look stern but failing.

"I can handle douchebags like that babe. I don't need you to do your don't fuck with me shit" he nods, knowing full well you could handle the guy but Sam really was a pain in the ass.

"Princess, lucky I turned back human because I was two seconds away from biting the big butthead" you laugh, kiss him and soon he forgets all about Sam, all he thinks about is you and how lucky he is that you're his princess.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine

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haknom · 1 year

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synopsis: jungwon had many things on his mind; school, essays, exams, school events, sleep, and most importantly, you. his one and only love interest. he’s not sure what being “lovestruck” is, but when it comes to you, it all makes sense. but since he thinks this is onesided, who’s gonna tell him it’s not?

pairing: stuco-pres!jungwon x gn!reader (ft. jay from enhypen, harua from &team, choi yihyun, and kazuha from le sserafim.

authors note: i adore stuco aus (i’ve never been in stuco before) sm so ignore how many times i’ll be doing them! this is also inspired by the english lyrics of love line by twice <3 longest fic i’ve written so far tbh!! heres a playlist for fun!

warnings: one mention of dying, one mention of fainting, many mentions of overthinking, mentions of food, hints of overworking, jungwon is really stressed, accidental confession trope (it’s so cute i love it), lmk if i missed anything! wordcount: 2822 words

CHAPTER ONE. THE ROUTE TO JUNGWON

Jungwon was an awkward guy.

Those who saw him from afar would think he was intimidating and unapproachable because of his serious demeanor, but that was the complete opposite of what he was like. He was often quiet and fumbled with his words a lot—especially around you. When you were near him, his heart raced above average, sweat droplets formed on his forehead, and he would often check his pulse to see if he was dying—or another way of saying this; he felt a random gush of adrenaline.

He was practically lovestruck. Lovestruck because of you and you only.

The gestures you gave him, the way you called his name, and your smile? It was all too much for him to handle.

Another problem Jungwon has was his constant overthinking. He overthinks about homework, grades, you, and your feelings for him. Let’s just say, he was sure that you didn’t like him back. And because of that, he decided to keep shut, put his ‘feelings’ aside, and never bring them up to you.

He constantly tries to hide his trembling voice, thumping heart, and reddening cheeks while acting cool, but his heart fails him every time. The words he wanted to say the most are, “I think I’m falling for you,” but he’ll never get there in this state.

“The conjugation of this verb results in,” Mrs. Lee said, but it all sounded like mumbles to Jungwon who was busy writing in his notebook. His head rested in his palm while his other hand wrote and scribbled on the page. It read, ‘Y/n to Jungwon?’ With stick figures that represented the two and a wavy line to represent the route.

“Hey, Jungwon.” A voice whispered from beside him. “Jungwon,” it said again as he looked up from his notebook. “Are you okay?” they asked with worried eyes. He was doing fine until you questioned him.

“I’m… I’m fine, yeah. Why do you... Ask?” He responded a little nervous. There was nothing to be nervous about but the effect you had on him made matters worse. You laughed at his nervous state, teasingly. “Why are you so nervous? I only asked if you were okay.” You questioned as Jungwon averted his eyes from yours.

Another thing Jungwon can’t do is hold eye contact with people, mainly you. It puts him under so much pressure and felt overwhelming, it’s almost impossible for him to continue what he was doing before.

“I’m fine, so, there’s nothing to worry about.” He reassured you as you nodded at his words. “Jungwon and Y/n, want to explain what’s so important to talk about during this lesson?” Mrs. Lee asks while writing on the board.

“Ah, sor–” Jungwon stopped after being interrupted by your voice.

“It’s my fault, Mrs. Lee. I was just asking him for a pencil to write notes on! I couldn’t find mine‌,” you explained while reaching for the pencil on Jungwon’s notebook. He stared at you as Mrs. Lee nodded, understandingly. You flashed him a smile and he swore he was going to faint on the spot. He looked away to find another pencil in his backpack.

While doing so, he saw the doodle on his notebook from earlier. Panicking, he flipped the page violently as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye while everyone turned to look at him. He lowered his head in embarrassment while mumbling a sorry to those around him as they turned back around to continue with what they were doing.

“You must’ve seen the doodle,” was all that played in his mind for the rest of the class.

CHAPTER TWO. STUCO PRES NEEDS A REST

Student council was Jungwon’s favorite place to be. It was fun to hang out with the club members and plan the school’s future. Only problem was, you’re in it and he cannot keep a straight face when you’re always sitting beside him.

It's a huge problem. How was he supposed to be serious if you’re the one thing that can break him?

“Class comps?” Harua suggested as Jungwon looked up from the sheets in front of him, looking at Harua. “That could work–” Jungwon hiccuped as your shoulder rubbed against his. “Oh, my bad.” You apologized as he looked at you, surprised. “That… It works.” He agreed as Harua nodded, writing into his planner.

“Any—” Jungwon's voice cracked. He cleared his throat out of embarrassment. “Any other suggestions?” He questioned while trying to keep his composure. “Well, there are school dances,” Kazuha said, eyes lighting up right after. “Oh! What about a school dance with a certain theme?” She snapped her fingers, pointing directly at Jungwon. “That’s not all bad.” You’d say as Kazuha smiled, giving herself an invisible pat on the back.

“It works! Valentine is next month, but who said we had to do it in February?” Yihyun exclaimed while grasping both of her hands together. You’d smile at her action then look over at Jungwon. “What do you think? Is it a good idea?” He shifted in his seat, nodding. “…It’s good. Harua, make a note of it.” Harua smiled as he wrote it down.

“Alright! Are we settling on that as the next event?” You asked while twirling your pen between your fingers. Seeing nobody suggest any other ideas satisfied you. Randomly, the whole table began to shake. At first, you all thought it was an earthquake, looking at each other with panicked eyes—but if you call Jungwon an earthquake, then I guess you’re right.

“Jungwon?” Yihyun called out to the boy who sat stiffly. Sweat droplets trickled down his forehead, the red from his ears moved to his face, and his foot frequently tapped against the floor. You were so close to him right now. If he did one wrong move, your shoulders would rub against each other again.

“Jungwon,” You called from beside him, leaning in a bit closer. “Jungw—”

“Ye-Yes! That’s a great idea,” He exclaimed, catching all of you off guard. “That’s not what we’re talking about now..” You’d say but he didn’t care. Please just move away from him or he will for sure fall apart.

“Ah, r..really? Then… Uh,” He stuttered out of embarrassment. “You’re turning really red, are you sure you’re fine?” Kazuha questioned as he looked over at her. “What?! I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s just a little hot in here.” He said, fanning himself with his hand. “It’s not even hot..?” Harua looked at Jungwon in confusion. He slowly dropped his hand from his face as he looked around for another excuse.

“Let’s just… Let’s wrap things up today!” He smiled while quickly packing up his notebooks. Everyone looked at each other in confusion but quickly followed through with the cleanup.

“See you guys next meeting!” Jungwon rushed out of the door with nothing left to say. “He’s been acting a little weird lately, don’t you think?” You asked as the others nodded. “Maybe he’s going through it? I don’t know, it’s Jungwon. He’s unpredictable.” Harua said with a shrug as Yihyun covered her mouth while letting out a small laugh.

CHAPTER THREE. JUNGWON, GET IT TOGETHER.

“When are you going to tell Y/n?” Jay questioned while spooning a spoonful of rice. “Ugh, don’t even remind me of it.” Jungwon replied with a groan while picking at his food. “Well, is it anytime soon?” Jay asked again, eating the spoonful of rice.

“Ah, I don’t know, I don't know.” Jungwon waved his hand in front of Jay who looked confused. “Jungwon, hiding your feelings won’t help you get over them even if you think they don’t like you back.” Jay scolded. “It’s not gonna make any difference. Have you seen how you act near them?” Jay scoffed as Jungwon looked at him while slowly chewing his food.

Footsteps approached him from behind as Jay looked up to stare at the figure. “What?” Jungwon questioned Jay's widening eyes while taking in a deep breath. His eyebrows raised at a familiar scent. Turning around, he’s met with your eyes. “Oh! How long were you there for?” He exclaimed out of shock.

“Not long, but I just wanted to ask when the next meeting is. You sorta rushed out of the club room the other day without telling us..” You shifted the weight on your feet as you’d wait for an answer. “Oh yeah.” He averted his eyes to the floor at the realization.

“Uh, can we make it Thursday at lunch ? If that works for you! Of course.” He blurted, looking at you again. You’d let out a small laugh while Jungwon’s ears started to turn red as Jay facepalmed in embarrassment. “That’s fine with me, I’ll inform the rest of the members!” You smiled, waving goodbye to Jungwon who does the same.

“You’re helpless,” Jay sighed, continuing to eat his lunch. Jungwon rolled his eyes at his words, “Whatever.” He scoffed, digging into his lunch tray with a smile.

CHAPTER FOUR. DID I REALLY JUST SAY THAT?!

Today was not a good day for Jungwon. All his assignments were due as well as the Geography test he had today and it’s too overwhelming for him. Not to mention the student council meeting as well. He just wants to go home and sleep. Catch up on all the sleep that he missed from last night which was full of homework and study sessions.

Student council, English, Science, Geography.. Math. It all sucked. Usually, he felt calm when he caught sight of you but not today—he doesn’t see you until the afternoon and he was sure he wouldn’t last. The weird stares he got from students as he walked down the hallway explained everything.

“Jungwon?” A cautious voice spoke from behind. Footsteps followed him while his shoes dragged against the floor. “Jungwon, you good bud?” It spoke again. Jungwon flinched at the tap on his shoulder as he turned around hastily. “Woah, what happened to your face?!” Jay exclaimed as he examined the dark circles and Jungwon’s drooping eyes. It was so unlike him.

“Oh, hey,” Jungwon said dryly. “We have Math first today, right?” He questioned, ignoring Jay’s question from earlier. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He questioned again as they walked alongside each other. “I’m fine,” he stared at the end of the hallway blankly. “You don’t look like it. What happened?” Jay asked with some concern in his tone.

“School is so tiring, I hate it. I have three assignments due today, including a Geography test, and I had to stay up to finish the assignments and study for the test. Let’s just say, I only slept for an hour.” He ranted as Jay listened.

“And there’s a student council meeting today, I regret scheduling it today.” He sighs as they both enter the classroom. “Ah, well... I’m not sure what I can do to help you. Just tell me if you need anything, alright?” Jay reassured, patting Jungwon on the back as he walked to his seat.

He was thankful to have a friend like Jay. He was always by his side, comforting him whenever he needed it. Jungwon smiled to himself as he took his seat while everyone waited for their teacher.

. . .

The bell went, signaling that it was finally lunch. Jungwon was glad to be out of Geography class. But that didn’t mean he had a break since there was still the student council meeting to go to. Yes, it was tiresome but the thought brought a smile to Jungwon’s face. He finally got to see you after waiting forever.

“Life just gets better,” he said with a smile, entering the club room. The silence was drowned out by the rain from outside as he stared at the empty space. Was he that early? He must’ve lost track of time which wasn’t normal of him.

Ding!

His phone went off, catching him off guard. He reached into his pocket to see what the sound was, but maybe he shouldn’t have. There were two new assignments from Geography for their new unit, both due tonight.

Forget what he said about life getting better.

He'd let out a frustrated sigh while heading to an empty seat at the table in front of him. Maybe it would be best to start the homework now instead of letting it pile up. He’d start the assigned work, timing himself with his phone as he waited for the other members.

About ten minutes passed by before Jungwon started to stress about the assignments. Nothing made sense to him and it only made him more frustrated. Not to mention that you kept flooding his mind as well. It still bothered him; did you like him or did you not? If you didn’t, why do you keep leading him on?

His thoughts kept going on and on to the point where the sound of the door opening was silent. “Jungwon, why were you here so early? There’s fifteen minutes before the meeting.” You said, heading his way. “Are you alright?” You questioned his still state as he looked at you. “I’m fine,” he responds.

That must’ve been his favorite phrase to say because he’s been saying it a lot lately, more than usual.

“What’s on your mind?” “You,” Jungwon confessed without hesitation.

You were taken aback by his words as both of your eyes widened. “Did I really just say that?!” He exclaims in disbelief while covering his mouth with his hand. “Forget what I said just now, it doesn’t mean anything—”

“What do you mean?” You questioned with blown eyes as you felt the butterflies in your stomach double. You already had a few just from seeing him when you first walked in. “Just… Just forget I said that.” He said, looking back at his laptop to continue his homework.

He panicked. He didn’t mean to let that out, it was only a thought. Now, look where he’s at now. An accidental confession was definitely not what he had imagined his first love confession to be—especially not towards you.

“Jungwon,” you called out his name with sincerity, causing chills to go down his back. He looked at you as you looked down at him with a look he’s never seen before, and knowing him, he’s not really good with reading facial expressions either.

Did he just ruin your friendship with each other? That’s the reason why he didn’t want to confess in the first place.

“If that was a confession just now... I want to say that I also have feelings for you. Not friendly feelings but romantic feelings.” Your heart was thumping really fast to the point where you could hear it in your ears. It was shocking that he couldn’t hear it himself.

“Yeah, I’m sorry—Wait what?!” He exclaims out of shock, now facing you. “What?” You questioned as you slowly started to regret your confession. Did you misinterpret what he said? “You like me…too?” He questioned while pointing at himself as relief flowed through his body.

“Yeah, for quite a while now. I never thought of confessing because it didn’t really seem like you returned my feelings.” You admitted as he scoffed. “Really? I was so obvious about it! Did you not see how different I was whenever you were around me?” He questioned while you shook your head.

“But you’re like that around everyone, no? Whenever I was with you or near you, you always acted like that. I even thought you liked Yihyun!” You exclaimed as he stared at you in confusion. “You do know, all of those times I've acted like that, you were with me right?” He questioned while realization hit you.

Awkward silence went by for a few moments as you two avoided eye contact with each other, still trying to take in what’s going on.

“So.. What are we now?” He asks while looking around awkwardly. “Um, I’m not sure..” You responded.

A few seconds of silence went by with Jungwon looking at you as if he had something he wanted to say. After mustering up the courage, he decided he was ready.

“Do you.. Do you want to, you know..” He hesitated as you smiled at him. “Date?” You’d finish his sentence as his face flushed red.

He nodded at your words as you took a seat beside him. The two of you smiled to yourselves like dorks in love. After realizing what you were doing, you cleared your throat, facing Jungwon again. “Okay, enough of that. What were you really stressing over before?” You asked, changing the topic. He looked at you with an innocent expression as he ranted about his struggles and worries while you listened.

What a dream come true for Jungwon and you! Although he still had a bunch of homework to finish and classes to attend, it was all good now because the main goal was success.

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lovemyavatar · 1 year

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Not Enough

Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

as requested, a continuation of this drabble

warnings: angst, fwb, hurt-no-comfort

Neteyam is seething.

A hot spark of anger courses through him, makes his stomach churn with discomfort. His tail swishes from side to side, the soft tip curling at his spine. His jaw grinds so harshly, if his mind wasn’t already racing, he’d fear that his teeth would snap under the force.

Narrowed eyes watch your every movement. Track the most minute of changes in your expression as you talk with another Na’vi. A Na’vi he’s told you several times to stay away from.

His fingers ball into fists at his hips, lips pursing to prevent him from calling out to you. As much as it pains him, he’s willing to stay here. To watch the scene unfold from a distance with the silent promise to question you about it later.

That is, until you touch him.

In an instant, he’s charging forward, closing the distance between you without hesitation. He mutters some flimsy excuse about his father needing to speak with you, as a firm hold circles your arm.

He misses the way your lips twitch into a satisfied smirk at his back. The way your tail perks to attention and sways happily as he drags you into the trees, toward a secluded area the two of you have become very familiar with.

When he’s sure you’re far enough from prying ears, he drops your arm, whipping around so harshly you’re forced to take a step back. He glowers at you, chin dipping as a searing glare penetrates your very being.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” His voice drops to a low hiss, malice dripping from every word.

Your ears fall, tucking against your head at the harsh words. You knew he’d be angry, of course, that was the goal. But you didn’t expect to see a flicker of sadness pooling within bright golden, dampening the color in a way that has your heart cinching in your chest.

“What was I supposed to do? You’ve been ignoring me for days.” A hint of desperation slips through as you take a tentative step forward.

It’s been almost a week since your last conversation. A conversion that left both of you in tatters. It’s the longest you’ve gone without speaking since the beginning of your…agreement.

It feels wrong. Leaves a painful hallowness in your chest, the whispers of uncertainty clawing so raggedly at your insides that you couldn’t take it for a moment longer. You had to do something. Anything to get him to snap, to acknowledge you again.

His head bows, a rough sigh falling from his lips. His eyes pinch closed, conflicting thoughts warring in his mind. He wants nothing more than to pull you close, to make this right and move on as if nothing happened.

But his bruised heart can’t take it. Can’t handle this back and forth any longer. Not without some clarity, some assurance that this is all going somewhere, that he hasn’t been wasting his time for the past year.

Slowly, his head lifts, glimmering eyes meeting yours. His heart thrums harshly, painfully, between his ribs.

“I don’t think I can continue this…this arrangement with you.” His voice is low, a solemn whisper rather than a fierce declaration.

You gape at him, lips parting with shock. Breath lodges in your throat, stomach flipping. Your hands are jutting toward him before your mind can catch up, skin aching to feel his.

“What are you saying?” Your eyes search his as you close what’s left of the distance, only a few inches separating you now.

“Y/N, I—I can’t…I can’t accept half of you any longer. It’s tearing me apart.” Long fingers slot through yours, grip firm as they pull you closer.

Moisture blurs your vision as his words settle in. You’re exactly where you want to be, front brushing his with every breath, tails wrapping around each others hips, but it doesn’t bring the comfort you’ve come to expect.

His admission makes your heart clatter in your chest, has your brows furrowing with denial as you peer up at him hopefully.

“I want you by my side. As my mate.” He releases one of your hands, pressing your open palm directly over his racing heart.

Your eyes fall closed, chin dropping as a wave of emotion nearly knocks you off balance. His offer hits you square in the chest, adds another fissure to an already battered heart. A ragged breath leaves trembling lungs, a rouge tear slipping down your cheek.

It’s an offer you’ve heard before. Deep in the throes of passion, he’s asked this of you. It was easy to brush off then, to make him feel good and forget the impossible words that’d carelessly wedged between you.

It’s never been like this. Never been a sincere plea, desperation so heavy in his tone that it’s impossible to ignore. Impossible to move on from without confronting the truth.

“‘Tey…you know it’s not that simple.” Glassy eyes blink up at him, willing him to understand.

Your hold on him tightens just a fraction before he yanks it away, lurching back as if you’ve burned him.

“I’ll make it real simple. I want all of you, or nothing.” He’s turned cold, the burning emotion behind his eyes gone without a trace as he plasters on a practiced mask of indifference.

A quiet whimper is the only sound between you. Turmoil claws at your insides, leaves you broken and marred, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it. You can’t deny reality, can’t postpone the inevitable any longer.

It’s time to put the fantasy to rest.

“Neteyam,” His name is a desperate sound on your quivering lips. “Don’t…don’t make me—”

Shaky hands reach for him, just as he turns away, a rough scoff echoing through the trees. A sob wracks your chest, legs sprinting to catch up with his hurried pace. You barely manage to snag one of his arms, forcing him to stop just before he disappears within dense vegetation.

“I cannot be Tsahik! And I cannot let you ruin your life for me!” You wail, uncaring that you’re laying it all out, presenting yourself bare for him to shatter.

But I can’t let you go, you want scream, but the words lodge in your throat with a wave of rising heartache.

A deep hiss only adds to your pain, draws a thick crack in your resolve as he rips his skin from yours again.

“Then I guess we’re done here.” He towers over you, accenting the promise with a heady glare that pierces through your remaining composure.

He stalks away briskly, tail thwacking low hanging leaves as it violently jerks from side to side. Despair settles into your chest, weighing like heavy stones that drag you toward the earth. Your knees buckle, unable to support your trembling form for a moment longer.

Rough sobs echo through the forest. It feels as if your pain stretches for miles, as the sounds of Pandora drown your sorrow. You remain there for many hours, broken and battered beyond repair, praying to the Great Mother for the strength to continue on without him.

Without the love of your life.

should I leave it here? or do we want a happy ending? 🫢

@fanboyluvr @minjix @daeneeryss @aonungsmate @glimmering-darling-dolly

#neteyam sully x you #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam fic #neteyam sully fic #neteyam headcanons #neteyam sully hc #neteyam imagine #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x reader #neteyam angst #neteyam sully angst #avatar 2 #avatar angst #avatar way of water #neteyam sully imagine #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam sully x y/n

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goldengalore · 2 years

Text

The Great War

Summary: Y/N wants to take a break from touring with Harry because the scrutiny from his fans has become too much to handle. During their time apart, Harry misses her deeply, but she seems happier without him. A cheating accusation leads to the biggest fight they’ve ever had.

Warnings: accusations of cheating, Y/N getting bullied, mention of slut-shaming, ANGST, smut (dom!harry, a little rough, choking)

Word count: 7.7k

A/N: This wasn’t originally based on The Great War by Taylor Swift, but while writing, I realized how well it fits the story so I started including elements from the song. Longest fic I’ve posted on here so far, enjoy! :)

***

Y/N has had enough.

She was so excited to go on tour with Harry. When her boss approved her request to work fully remotely for the next few months, she was over the moon because it meant that she could join him on the North American leg of his tour.

But some recent incidents with his fans have left a bad taste in her mouth, making her want to step away for a little while. Usually, she’s quite good at tuning out the nasty things that people say about her, but there is a big difference between someone talking shit about you on the internet versus in person. The latter is much more difficult to ignore.

Y/N had an absolute blast at the first few shows, singing and dancing wildly with Harry’s managers, Jeff and Tommy, in their little area by the pit. It was the fourth show of the tour when things began to go awry. A girl in the front row brought a sign that said, in thick black writing, “Blink twice if Jeff is forcing you to date Y/N # freeharry.”

The sign was huge; it was baffling that security had even allowed it into the venue. The people behind this girl were clearly irritated by the big piece of cardboard blocking their view, but she remained ignorant to the commotion she was causing. No, she was more focused on making sure the sign was visible not only to Harry but also Y/N.

Unfortunately for her, it was also visible to Harry’s managers, who were protective of Y/N like older brothers. Tommy instantly sent a security guard to confiscate the sign.

“What a stupid sign,” said Jeff. “Even if I could make Harry date anyone, it would obviously be Mitch.”

“Oh, obviously,” Y/N joked back.

Harry mentioned the sign to her later. He had noticed it, and the commotion it was creating in pit, during his performance of Daylight. He’d made a mental note to have security take it away once the song was over, but thankfully, Tommy got there first. Y/N told him it was fine, that she didn’t care. And at the time, she really didn’t. Why would she care about the opinion of some random teenage girl?

But at the next show, there was a group of girls at the back of pit who kept shooting her dirty looks, giggling amongst themselves, filming her while she was dancing, thinking they were being discreet. The most annoying part was that at the start of the show, one of them had walked up to Y/N to compliment her outfit, but it quickly became clear that the seemingly kind act was just part of their stupid game. It was like she’d been cast in a high school bullying PSA without her knowledge.

There were several more instances like that at the next few shows. It was getting to the point where Y/N could no longer tell who was being genuine and who wasn’t when they came up to chat with her. Any phones—or even mere glances—pointed in her direction made her feel deeply uncomfortable, like everything about her was being picked apart and scrutinized.

Tonight’s show is in Chicago. Y/N’s plan was to push through this one and wait until the morning to tell Harry that she needs a break from touring. But as she sits in his dressing room, watching him get ready, she can already feel her heart pounding and her stomach churning at the thought of being out there in the crowd tonight, and she realizes that she can’t do it. She just can’t.

When she tells Harry this, he looks at her with eyes full of concern.

“What’s wrong, lovie?”

“Nothing.” A conflicted sigh escapes her. “Let’s talk about it after the show. You need to get ready.”

“No, hey, tell me what’s wrong.” He walks over to the couch where she’s seated.

She really didn’t want to bring this up before the show. It’s just going to put a damper on his mood for the rest of the night. But knowing Harry, he’s not going to relent until she tells him what’s on her mind.

His stylist, Harry Lambert, is in the room with them, sifting through some clothes on the clothes rack.

“Lamby, do you mind if we have a minute alone?” asks Y/N.

“No, of course not. Just come get me when y’all are done.” Lambert leaves the room to give them some privacy.

Harry sits down next to Y/N, folding a leg under him and resting his arm on the back of the couch. She explains everything that’s happened at the shows lately and how it’s been getting to her. When she reveals that she wants to take a break, to get away from it all for a while, the light in his eyes seems to flicker out.

“You—you want to take a break?”

His expression is so despondent that she feels the need to clarify, “From tour, H. Not from our relationship.”

“No, I know. I just—” His gaze shifts to the floor by their feet. “Jesus. I didn’t know it was getting this bad. I mean, I saw the sign, but I thought that was it. I didn’t know people were being that cruel.” He shakes his head, looking at her now. “I should’ve known. I’m sorry. I should’ve noticed what was happening.”

“You couldn’t have. You’re on stage the whole time, focused on putting on a good show, as you should be.”

“No, but we’re in the same bloody room, Y/N. And this was happening in pit. How could I not notice that? Fuck.” He rubs his hands over his face in frustration. “Fuck.”

“It’s not your fault,” she emphasizes, but it’s evident that he doesn’t believe that.

He has always been quite hard on himself about the harassment that Y/N receives from both the media and a certain part of his fanbase. Despite her reassuring him on several occasions that she doesn’t blame him for any of it, it doesn’t always stick.

“I’m going to speak to Jeff about this,” he suddenly says with conviction. “If it’s getting this bad, we need to say something about it publicly. I need to say something.”

His words take her by surprise. It’s rare for him to address any kind of drama publicly. And while it’s sweet that he wants to defend her and set the record straight once and for all, she’s not so sure that it’s the right move.

“What are you even going to say?” she asks. “‘Stop being mean to my girlfriend’? Yeah, that’ll go down real well.” She doesn’t mean to be sarcastic, but she can’t help it. Recent events have made her a little resentful inside. Not at him, just at the situation.

“Well, I’m not going to say it like that. I’ll think of something.”

“Don’t. You don’t need to say anything.”

“Yes, I do.”

She grabs his hand. “Well, I’m asking you not to. Okay? It’s not going to make people stop. It’s just going to bring more attention to me, which is the last thing I need right now.”

He studies her face, then sighs. “Okay. Okay, I won’t. What else can I do?”

“Nothing.”

It’s obvious that this answer is difficult for him to accept.

“Seriously, H. I just need some time away from the shows and the crowds and the traveling. Just until I get my head straight. That’s it.”

He nods and lifts her hand to his lips, planting a kiss on the back of it. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

***

“Apparently, we’re broken up,” says Y/N, getting comfy in bed with her phone pressed against her ear.

She’s back in London now, in the home that she and Harry share.

“Again?” asks Harry on the other end of the line.

“Yeah! Found out from my mother, who called me in a panic this morning because of some article she read in the Daily Mail about how I haven’t been at your shows for the past two weeks and how that must mean we’ve broken up.”

He chuckles. “Oh, dear.”

“I’ve told her so many times not to believe a thing she reads on that stupid website. If she wants to know something about our relationship, literally all she has to do is ask us.”

“Hey, cut her some slack,” he says kindly. “She’s probably still adjusting to the madness.”

“We’ve been together for two years, H.”

“Well, it took my mum a lot longer than that after I started my career.”

He does have a point, she thinks to herself. Whenever she and her mom get into petty arguments, which happens annoyingly often, he somehow always gets her to see her mom’s side, immediately defusing the tension. That’s probably a big part of why her mom adores him so much.

“So, anyway,” she says, “how are things? How’s tour going?”

“It’s going well,” is all he says about it. “I miss you.”

She feels a twinge in her chest. “I know. I miss you too.”

“When do you think you’ll come back on tour?”

She sighs, rolling onto her back and staring up at the bedroom ceiling. “I don’t know. It’s only been a couple of weeks, and I feel like I’m just starting to get back into a good headspace... I need more time.”

“Okay.” His voice doesn’t give much away, but she knows he’s disappointed with her answer. “Two weeks.” He whistles. “Can you believe we’ve been apart for that long?”

She laughs. “What do you mean? We were apart for months at a time when you were touring last year, remember?”

“Sure, but now I know what it’s like having you on tour with me. Going to bed with you every night, seeing your pretty face every morning, watching you dance like a mad woman at my shows...”

She lets out another laugh.

“I’m spoiled now,” he says.

“So spoiled.”

There’s a brief pause where she can hear him shuffling around.

“Are you in bed right now?” he asks.

“Yup.”

“What are you wearing?”

She smirks, knowing exactly where this is going. They used to do this all the time when he was on tour last year—touch themselves while making flirty, filthy comments at each other over the phone, sometimes over video.

“One of your sweatshirts and—”

“Which one?” he interjects.

Looking down at her torso, she replies, “The blue Pleasing one with the frog on it.”

“Ooh, good choice. What else?”

“Just panties.”

“Hmm... That’s far too much clothing you’ve got on there.”

Her smirk grows wider. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm. Think you need to take some of it off... Or all of it.”

Giddy excitement takes over her. She sits up in bed. “If you say so! I’m putting you on speaker phone.”

Placing the phone next to her, she removes the sweatshirt, then her panties.

“Okay, clothes are off,” she tells him.

“Good girl. Now—”

His voice suddenly cuts off. She frowns, wondering if she’s lost him.

“Hello? H?”

“Sorry, I’m getting another call. Need to take this. Be back in a sec.”

She sits there and waits for him to return to the call. A couple minutes later, he’s back.

“Hey, my love, I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

Her excitement deflates. “Aw, really?”

“Yeah.” He sighs. “I was supposed to meet with Rob tonight but just found out he can’t make it, so he wants to have our chat over the phone now instead. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she tells him, suppressing the slight frustration she felt at being interrupted right as the fun was starting. “Good luck with the call.”

“Thank you. I love you. We’ll talk tomorrow,” he says in a haste.

“Love you.”

And with that, he hangs up. She flops back down on the bed, still naked after he made her undress. Looks like she’ll just have to make herself cum by imagining what else he was going to make her do on the phone, which isn’t nearly as fun as actually being on the phone with him... But oh well.

***

It’s a bright, sunny day out. The middle of October, so there’s a slight chill in the air but not quite cold yet, and some of the trees have shed their leaves while others still hang on to theirs.

Half of the North American tour is over. To celebrate and thank the crew for all their hard work so far, Harry decided they should have a crew barbecue on a day off between shows. He likes making sure that every single person involved with the tour feels appreciated. As the performer, he gets all the praise and attention from the fans, so it can be easy to feel invisible or undervalued if you’re someone who works more behind the scenes.

That is also why he makes an effort to walk around and chat with everyone at these barbecues, ask them about their lives and their families back home, make them the focus of attention for once.

During his conversation with the lighting technician, Laura, she brings up Y/N.

“Hey, I’ve been wanting to ask. Is Y/N coming back on tour?”

The question catches him off guard because he’s been trying hard not to think about Y/N’s absence.

“Um, yeah, probably,” he replies, though he’s not even sure if he believes that himself.

“When do you think she’ll be back?”

He stares down at the cup of lemonade in his hands. “I don’t know... At some point.”

“It’s awful, the things I see on the internet about her sometimes.” Laura tuts and shakes her head. “I feel so bad for her. She seems like a sweet girl.”

He nods. “She is.”

“I hope she knows none of us here believe any of that crap. I had a lot of nice conversations with her.”

When he speaks to a few other crew members, they ask him the same thing—if Y/N is ever coming back. He never realized how much of an impact she made on these people, even though she was only around for two weeks. It’s not surprising though. She has such a warm presence that after you meet her, everything else feels cold to the touch.

All of this talk about Y/N leaves him feeling a multitude of emotions. Love and longing, sadness and guilt.

After the barbecue is over, he steps away to give her a call. He wants to tell her all the nice things people said about her today in the hopes that she’ll realize how loved and accepted she is here. But she doesn’t pick up.

He sighs and decides to open up Instagram. Lately, he has been getting doses of her by looking through the photos and stories posted by her close friends. Y/N stopped posting much on her own Instagram soon after they got together and people started bombarding her page with vile comments. So, her friends are his best source of Y/N content.

Their recent stories reveal that she went out to a concert last night. This is the third one she’s been to in the past couple weeks. In one clip, she’s singing along and dancing with a girl he recognizes as her best friend Michelle. In the next one, there’s a guy dancing between them, his arms strewn around both women’s shoulders. Harry doesn’t know who he is, but he’s been in a lot of the posts lately. And Y/N is always somewhere near him.

As he scrolls through Michelle’s posts, he notices Y/N in the background of a photo taken at some party. She’s standing with that same guy, her head tilted back in laughter. Then there’s a video of the whole friend group saying goodbye to each other at the end of a night out, and Y/N is giving the guy a hug.

Harry experiences two separate pangs of jealousy at once. One is the result of seeing Y/N so carefree and comfortable at other people’s shows. He knows it’s selfish, but he just wishes she felt that comfortable at his shows as well.

The other is the result of seeing some other guy all over his girlfriend while he’s an entire ocean away from her.

His phone is turned off and placed back in his pocket. He finishes what’s left of his lemonade, suddenly wishing it was liquor instead.

He needs to get his mind off all this. The barbecue may be over, but he has the rest of the day to do whatever he wants. And while he would normally use this time for something productive—like working out, meditating, or writing music—he’s not in the mood for any of that today. No, he’s only in the mood to drown out his emotions.

***

Despite being back in London, Y/N has still been working remotely. It’s just far more convenient, and she doesn’t have much of a reason to be at the office in person. She can also work whenever she wants, as long as she gets her eight hours in.

On Fridays, she prefers to start work extra early so that she can finish early and get a head start on the weekend. Today, the clock barely hits 7 a.m. before she sits down in her home office and gets to work.

Just as she’s starting to get in the zone, her phone rings. It surprises her to see Harry pop up on the screen—saved as just “H💘” in her phone. His next show takes place in Toronto, which is likely where he is at the moment.

She picks up, already smiling. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi,” he says. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I’ve been up for a while. Just getting some work done.” She swivels from side to side in her office chair. “What are you doing up? Isn’t it, like, two in the morning over there?”

“Yeah...” He doesn’t say anything else.

“Is everything okay?” she asks slowly.

“Mhm. Everything’s fantastic,” he mumbles.

“Okay...” She hears a car horn in the background. “Where are you right now?”

“Dunno. Was at a bar earlier. Had some poutine. It sucked... The poutine, not the bar. The bar was cool.”

It’s only now that she realizes he’s slurring his words quite a bit. It’s been a while since she’s seen him get drunk, so it didn’t even cross her mind until now.

“Are you drunk?”

“Mmmm... Perhaps, a smidge.”

Definitely more than a smidge, she thinks to herself.

“Okay, something’s definitely up. You don’t drink like this on tour, nor do you stay up this late.”

He scoffs. “Who came up with that stupid rule?”

She laughs and quirks a brow. “Uh, you did? Because you want to be at your best when you’re on stage, which is hard to do when you're hungover and sleep-deprived?”

He’s silent. His uncharacteristic behaviour is starting to make her uneasy.

“What’s going on, H? Talk to me.”

It’s a long time before he finally says something.

“I miss you.” His voice is so soft and quiet when he says it that she almost doesn’t hear him.

Her chest constricts. “Oh, baby, I miss you too.”

“Do you though?”

She frowns. “Of course I do. What kind of question is that?”

“Well, lately, it doesn’t seem that way... Seems like I miss you more than you miss me.” He sounds sad, but there’s also a bitterness underlying his tone that Y/N isn’t used to hearing.

“That is not true. Why would you think that?”

“Because I see it, Y/N,” he says, his voice becoming more resolute. “I see it in the photos and—and the stories that your friends post when you go out with them to those parties and shows and all that. You seem so much happier without me.”

Each word he says seems to add to her confusion. “You can’t be serious right now. You’re upset that I’m spending time with my friends?”

She hears him sigh heavily. For the first time in their conversation, she feels irritated with him.

“That’s not what I’m upset about,” he grumbles.

“Then what—”

“You’re going out to all these shows, Y/N. I thought—I thought you said you needed time away from the crowds? Time to yourself? What happened to that?”

“I am taking time to myself.” She huffs, adding sarcastically, “Sue me for going to a show here and there to have some fun.”

“Who’s the guy?”

“Excuse me?”

“That bloke you’re always with in the background of these photos. He’s got his arm around you in one of them. He’s always touching you this way and that. Who is he?”

Her heart sinks to the pit of her stomach at his words, at the implication and the accusatory tone behind them. “You think I’m cheating on you?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Have you been reading the Daily Mail like my mother?”

“This is not funny, Y/N.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. You sound like someone who’s been reading those tabloids, which is the last thing I would’ve expected from you.”

“I’m just explaining what I saw,” he says flatly. “If I’m wrong, just tell me I’m wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you!” She feels her anger rising. Her fingers fiercely clutch the arm of her chair as she sits up straighter. “I shouldn’t because you know what? For the past two years, I’ve put up with so many bullshit rumours about you being seen with some female friend of yours and people assuming that you’re fucking her behind my back, and I have never once suspected that you were cheating on me. Not once! Why? Because I trust you! And now, you see a harmless picture of me with a guy friend and you assume I’m cheating? When did you become so possessive and so—so fucking needy?”

“Don’t call me that,” he hisses.

“Well, that’s how you’re acting. Like a jealous, possessive, needy fucking boyfriend.”

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m being—” She lets out a humorless laugh. Some part of her feels like he’s purposely trying to get under her skin, while another part of her thinks he’s just saying whatever comes to his intoxicated mind, and she doesn’t know which part is right. Her head is beginning to throb. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. I’m calling Jeff to go get you.”

“I don’t need anyone to come get me. I’m not a fucking child.”

“No, but you need someone to knock some sense into you, and I can’t stand you right now, so I’m sending Jeff.”

“Y/N, don’t hang u—”

She hangs up on him and immediately locates Jeff’s number in her contacts.

“Y/N?” he answers after several rings, his voice groggy and thick with sleep.

“Jeff, hey. Sorry for waking you. Look, do you know where Harry is right now?”

“Um... Asleep in his room, probably. Why?”

“No, he’s not. He is drunkenly wandering the streets of Toronto right now by himself.”

There’s a pause as he processes what she just said. “What? Seriously?”

“Yeah, he just called me. We...” We had a fight, is what she wants to say, but she holds herself back. “You need to go get him.”

“Did he say where he is exactly?”

“No. He just mentioned having some bad poutine at a bar earlier.”

“Oh, I was with him when we had the poutine. It was really fucking bad... But that was hours ago. What’s he still doing out?”

“I don’t know.” The next few words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, “He accused me of cheating on him.”

“He what?” The incredulity in his voice makes her feel just a tiny bit better because it means that he knows she would never do something like that.

“Yeah. Can you believe it? After everything...” Her voice cracks as the lump that has been forming in her throat ever since her conversation with Harry finally bursts and makes her eyes brim with tears.

“Y/N,” Jeff begins, carefully choosing his words, “he hasn’t been doing so well lately. Mentally, I mean. He misses you—”

“That’s not a good excuse,” she argues.

“—And he’s really beating himself up over what you went through at the start of tour. He feels so guilty.”

“Well, I feel guilty too!” She sniffles and wipes at her tears angrily, annoyed that they won’t stop coming. “Guilty that I can’t be there to support him on tour like I promised I would. Like his previous girlfriends did. God, Jeff, I feel like such a shitty girlfriend.”

“His previous girlfriends weren’t getting anywhere near the amount of hate you’re getting. And no one blames you for not being on tour, Y/N. Especially not Harry. He’s just being an idiot right now.”

Although she knows that everything he’s saying is rational and true, her emotional turmoil keeps her from fully believing it.

“You should go get him,” she says, rubbing her temples. “And can you please text me when you find him? Just so I know he’s safe.”

“Of course.”

As soon as she gets off the phone with Jeff, a state of exhaustion overcomes her. It’s been less than two hours since she woke up, yet it feels like she’s gone through a whole day within the past fifteen minutes. Abandoning her workstation, she crawls back into bed, pulling the covers over her head as the endless flood of tears flows from her eyes.

***

Harry fucked up. Immensely. He knows it the moment he wakes up the morning after his fight with Y/N. He reaches for his phone to call her, to apologize, but something stops him.

Pride? Guilt? Fear? All of the above?

He ends up waiting a while before reaching out to her. A week goes by before he finally calls her, and as expected, she doesn’t pick up. He tries again and again for several days, texting her after each attempt, begging her to talk to him, to let him explain himself. But it’s no use.

She has iced him out.

The rest of tour feels like a blur. Being on stage still gives him an indescribable high, but that disappears as soon as he’s alone again.

Returning home to London after his last show is a relieving yet nerve-wracking experience because he doesn’t know what to expect from Y/N. They haven’t spoken in weeks. He has been using Michelle’s Instagram posts to keep up with her and to know that she’s okay.

Now, he takes a deep breath before entering the house with his luggage. Everything is completely silent. He wonders if she’s even home.

“Y/N!” he calls out. “I’m home!”

No response.

He sighs and makes his way upstairs. He finds her in her office, working at her desk with big noise-cancelling headphones on, her back to the door.

“Y/N?” he says from the doorway.

When she still doesn’t hear him, he walks up behind her and gently touches her shoulder. She jumps and yanks the headphones off her head.

“Oh my God. You scared the shit out of me.” She clutches her chest.

“Sorry, lovie. I was calling your name, but you didn’t hear me.”

She spins around in her chair and stands up. He expects her to walk out of the room or say something to indicate that she’s still upset with him, but all she does is slide her arms around his torso and press her cheek against his chest.

“I’m glad you’re home,” she says.

It takes him a moment to recover from the shock. Wrapping his arms around her, he replies, “Me too.”

They hug for a good minute. He starts thinking about the apology speech he had prepared.

When she pulls away, he says, “Maybe we should talk about—”

“There’s no need. It’s all forgotten.” She pushes up on her toes to kiss him, but he retreats slightly to study her expression.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Absolutely.” She gives him a reassuring smile that seems believable enough, so he lets her kiss him.

And instantly, he melts at the velvety feeling of her lips against his. One of the many things he’s missed about her during their time apart. As soon as she parts her lips, his tongue darts into her mouth. With his hand under her jaw, he tilts her head upward to taste her more fully. He wants to devour her.

Pulling away, he asks, “Bedroom?”

“Yes.”

He grabs her hand and leads her out of her office to their shared bedroom down the hall. Their clothes come off in record time, and they’re making out again, hands all over each other’s bare bodies.

“I want you,” Y/N says between passionate kisses.

She nudges him towards the bed until he sits down on the edge of it. Then she gets down on her knees between his legs, eyeing his erect cock like it’s an object of worship.

She takes him into her mouth inch-by-inch, wrapping her hand around anything that doesn’t fit. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes for a moment, engulfed by the pleasurable sensation of her tongue gliding against his cock.

“Fuck, baby, your mouth feels so good on me,” he breathes out.

Encouraged by his praise, she takes more of him into her mouth, allowing his tip to hit the back of her throat. Then she pulls her head back until only his tip rests on her tongue and takes him back in. She repeats this gesture while fondling his balls at the same time.

His hand slips into her hair. She starts deliberately slowing down at one point, teasing him by only keeping the head of his dick in her mouth, licking the tip over and over to drive him insane. His body reacts by bucking his hips to push more of himself into her. His hand keeps her head in place as he begins guiding his length in and out of her mouth all on his own.

His ragged breaths and moans are the only sound filling the room. He forces himself to stop before he can cum and removes his cock from her mouth. The way she gazes up at him, eagerly awaiting his next move, makes his heart flutter in his chest.

“I need to be inside you. Get up here.” He pats the bed beside him, and she climbs up. He kisses her, tasting himself on her mouth, then says, “Hands and knees for me, sweetheart.”

Compliantly, she turns around and gets on her hands and knees in the middle of the bed. He shifts to get behind her, admiring the view granted by this position. His fingers find their way between her legs and come away coated with her juices.

“Fuck. You’re soaking,” he remarks, inserting two fingers inside her hole. “Who’s got you so wet, hmm?”

“You.” She exhales with pleasure.

“Sorry, didn’t hear that.”

“You, you,” she repeats. “God, only you.”

He smirks and inserts a third finger, making her squirm and moan. She pushes her hips back to get as much of his fingers inside her as possible. He allows her to get off on his fingers for a bit, then retracts them without warning. A disappointed whine leaves her at the sudden emptiness filling her pussy.

But she doesn’t stay empty for long, as he aligns his tip with her entrance and begins filling her up little by little, giving her pussy a chance to adjust to him. It’s been so long since he’s felt her tight walls squeeze his cock like this. Too long.

He pulls out of her, then thrusts himself back in with more force, releasing a grunt. Y/N gasps and collapses onto her forearms. Grabbing a handful of her hair, he yanks her head back, causing her back to arch and allowing him the perfect angle to drive his length deep into her.

“Harry,” she moans his name, and he swears he can cum right then and there but he restrains himself.

He tugs on her hair a bit more, then shifts his hand to wrap around the front of her neck, pulling her back against his torso.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers in her ear. “God, I missed having you like this.”

Her pussy clenches around him. He continues fucking her hard while squeezing the sides of her neck. Her mouth is agape, her pants and moans and whimpers mixing together beautifully.

“Can I cum?” she asks breathlessly.

“Maybe,” he teases. “If you ask nicely.”

“Please, can I cum? Please?”

“Of course you can, sweet girl. Cum for me.” He presses his lips against her temple as she unravels in his hold. Her body convulses against his. “That’s it, baby.”

His orgasm follows right after hers. He finishes deep inside her warm, wet pussy, which milks every last bit of cum from his cock. Once he lets go of her neck, she sinks onto her stomach on the mattress.

He lays on top of her as they both recover from their highs, peppering kisses along her neck and the backs of her shoulders.

“I love you,” he whispers.

She just smiles and turns her head a bit more to catch his mouth in a kiss. The lack of a verbal response from her doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

He rolls off of her after a few minutes. She immediately sits up.

“Are you hungry? I can make us something,” she offers.

“Uh, sure, but—”

“Okay, great, I’m hungry too. I’ll call you when the food’s ready.” She leans down and pecks him on the cheek, then hesitates briefly before saying, “Love you.”

Grabbing her clothes, she disappears into the bathroom before he can even register what just happened.

He was hoping they would spend some time cuddling, which is usually what they do after sex, but Y/N seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the room. Not to mention how long it took her to return his “I love you.” If all really is forgotten as she claims, then why is she acting so strange?

He expects her confusing behaviour to continue after he takes a shower and goes downstairs to eat with her, but by then, she seems to be acting like herself again, telling stories and joking around with him.

Maybe everything really is fine and he’s just being paranoid. That’s got to be it.

***

Y/N tried to act like everything was fine after Harry got home from tour. But you can only repress your emotions for so long before they start expressing themselves in other, unexpected ways...

A few days after Harry’s return, he and Y/N attend an engagement party hosted by their friends, Mary and Laila, who got engaged last week.

Harry is attached to Y/N’s side for most of the night, only stepping away to go use the washroom. He’s gone for quite some time, during which Y/N mingles with other people at the party. When he eventually comes back fifteen minutes later, he places his arm around her waist and a kiss to her temple.

“That was a long bathroom break,” she remarks, looking up at him.

“Yeah, I ran into Ava on the way back and we were catching up.”

Ava is an ex-girlfriend whom he’s still good friends with. Y/N notices a red, oval-shaped mark on his left cheek right next to his lips.

“Is that lipstick on your face?”

He reaches up to touch his cheek and laughs. “Oh, yeah, she just kissed me as a joke.”

“I hope that’s all it was.”

Y/N already knows that’s all it was. She’s known Ava for a while and is well-aware that their friendship is entirely platonic. In fact, her comment has nothing to do with Ava. It’s just the result of her petty need to get back at him for what he accused her of weeks ago.

She watches as his smile fades.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it?” she says. “When the roles are reversed?”

“I knew it. You’re still upset with me.”

She turns away but still feels his eyes on her. Before he can say more, one of their friends comes up to Y/N and starts talking to her, preventing their conversation from going any further.

Silence fills the car on their ride home from the party. Harry drives. Y/N stares out the window the whole time.

As soon as they step past the threshold of their house, he states, “We need to talk.”

“I’m not really in the mood.” She slips off her heels and heads upstairs. He follows closely behind.

“You can’t keep avoiding this, Y/N. We’re going to have to talk about it at some point or this relationship’s not going to survive.”

She reaches the top of the stairs before replying, “It wasn’t going to survive anyway.”

She knows those words are like a slap in the face to Harry. They make him pause in his tracks. Meanwhile, she continues toward their bedroom, the flames of her fury crackling inside her.

“Why would you say that?” he asks, joining her in the bedroom a moment later.

She talks while changing out of her party dress, “Because you don’t trust me, Harry, and everyone knows a relationship without trust is doomed to fail.”

He sighs and sits down on the bed. “I do trust you. I just made a mistake, all right? I was drunk and—”

“Classic excuse.” She pulls on a pair of comfy shorts and an old worn-out t-shirt of hers.

“Not making excuses. I take full responsibility for what I said. I’ve apologized so many times over text, and I wanted to apologize in person when I got home from tour, but you were the one who didn’t want to talk and I respected that.”

“How generous of you.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can you stop with the little quips? It’s bloody annoying.”

“Annoying? That’s it? I’m being called way worse online,” she says with a bitter smile.

His gaze drops to the floor. “You know I don’t look at that stuff, and you shouldn’t either.”

“Kind of hard not to when people are spamming my friends’ comments, accusing me of cheating on you, slut-shaming me for hanging out with any guy who isn’t you. You know, none of it would bother me that much if my own boyfriend didn’t believe it too.”

“I don’t! Jesus, Y/N. I don’t believe any of that.”

“Oh, really? Then why did it take you a whole week to reach out to me after our fight on the phone?”

He swallows and stares down into his lap. “I—I was just trying to give you space. I was... I was...”

“You were what?” She prompts him to finish his sentence, but when he doesn’t, she fills in the blanks for him, “You were still trying to figure out if you were right about me cheating. It wasn’t just something you said by accident while you were drunk. You really believed it. Didn’t you?”

He closes his eyes, defeated. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She shakes her head and turns away from him, clenching her jaw. “God, I can’t even look at you right now. I’m so fucking angry.”

“I was scared, Y/N,” he says in a small voice.

When she looks at him, his green irises are swimming in tears. She hates how the sight instantly makes her soften.

“Of what?” she asks.

“I was scared that I was losing you. No one should have to put up with the shit that you put up with on a daily basis just for being with me. It keeps getting worse. It’s—it’s like the more success I have, the more people in my life suffer and I don’t know how to make it stop and it kills me, Y/N. It absolutely kills me.” The tears escape his eyes now, freely roaming down his cheeks.

“Baby...” Y/N’s heart breaks for him. It shatters. She walks over to him and takes his face in her hands, wiping her thumbs under his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He keeps repeating himself, his hands trembling in his lap.

“Shh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” She pulls his head into her chest and gently runs her fingers through his curls to calm him down.

Once he seems calmer, she suggests that they go to sleep for now and have a proper conversation tomorrow when they’re both fully rested. So, they get ready for bed and crawl under the covers together. Y/N invites him to nestle his head against her shoulder and plays with his hair until he falls asleep.

***

The next morning, she wakes up before him. He’s lying on his stomach next to her, his cheek adorably squished against the pillow. He looks extremely kissable, so she can’t help but lean over to plant the softest kiss on his face.

Then she lays there, staring up at the ceiling while her mind ponders over last night’s events. The heart-wrenching look on Harry’s face as he confessed his fear of losing her is engraved in her brain.

Jeff had told her that he wasn’t doing well, that he felt guilty about all the animosity she’d become victim to. But at the time, she was too angry—justifiably—to give it much thought. Now that the anger has subsided and she understands the real reason behind Harry’s accusation, she feels nothing but compassion and empathy for him.

His eyes flutter open a few minutes later. She turns her head to the side to look at him.

“Morning, handsome.”

He smiles and mumbles sleepily, “Morning.”

They stare at each other for some time, basking in the sunlight streaming through the curtains and in each other’s presence.

“So, I was thinking...” Y/N begins. “It’s Saturday. We’re both free. Why don’t we go on a long walk today?”

He nods. “Yes, please. We haven’t done that in a while.”

That afternoon, they prepare for their walk, bundling up in layers to insulate from the crisp weather of early December. They pack some snacks and a blanket into a tote bag in case they decide to sit and eat somewhere for a bit. Harry hikes the bag onto his shoulder and they head out.

As they stroll through the park with Y/N’s arm looped around his, they pass by several people walking their dogs. One particularly adorable pup catches Y/N’s attention as it scampers by.

“Oh, look at how cute that puppy is!” she coos, tugging on Harry’s arm. “Ugh, I want a dog so badly.”

“We can get one, you know.”

She gives him a look. “H, you’re on tour, like, nine months out of the year. We’d be the most absent dog parents ever.”

“Yeah, but when I’m on tour, you’ll still be here, right? So, the dog won’t be alone.”

She realizes that he’s going off the assumption that she won’t be joining him on tour in the future. “About that...” she says. “I came up with a plan.”

He quirks an inquisitive brow.

“Since I went remote at work, a few other people have as well. My boss likes how productive everyone’s been, and she wants to make a permanent shift to remote work in the new year. So, I was thinking that I’d join you on tour for a few weeks at a time, and whenever I feel like I need a break, I’ll just come back to London for a little while, then fly back out to you. How does that sound?”

She looks at him, and it’s apparent from the way he’s biting his lip that he’s trying to contain his excitement.

“Perfect. That sounds perfect,” he says, hesitating before adding, “Honestly, I thought you’d never come to another one of my shows again. I mean, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” she states firmly. “That’s exactly what the assholes want, isn’t it? They want me to skip the shows. Well, they can’t get rid of me that easily! In fact, they’ll have to physically pry me away from you if they really want me gone.”

He laughs. “How romantic.”

“I’m serious!”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

Later into their walk, they find a secluded area in the grass to lay out their blanket and rest while munching on snacks. Y/N offers him some Skittles. As he reaches into the bag, digging around to find the red ones he really likes, Y/N says, “H, I need you to promise me something.”

“What?” He finds a red Skittle and pops it in his mouth.

“I need you to promise me that you’re going to stop blaming yourself for things that are out of your control.”

He stares at her, slightly puzzled.

“The things that people say about me, or anyone in your life for that matter, are out of your control,” she explains, “and if you keep blaming yourself, it’s only going to destroy you.”

He sighs and leans back on his hands, gazing up at the clear blue sky. “I know. I try so hard not to. It’s just reached a whole other level these past couple years, and I feel so helpless. Feel like I should be doing more to protect you.”

“You’re doing the best you can.” She reaches out to caress his cheek. “And I don’t need you to protect me. All I need is for you to trust me when I say that I’m not going anywhere.”

He turns his head to kiss the inside of her palm.

“I’ll always be yours, H.”

The last three months may have been the most trying period of their relationship so far, but Y/N wouldn’t change a thing because what they went through only strengthened their bond. They learned their lessons. The worst is over. They may always look back on this time with a bittersweet reminiscence, but one thing is for certain: they won’t put each other through anything like that again.

And if they were able to get through this and still stay together, Y/N feels confident that they can face anything.

***

Thank you for reading! MASTERLIST

#harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #dom!harry #harry fic #harry smut #my writing

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serotonins-stuff · 1 year

Text

"Bend over f'me?" | K.bakugo

~ slight nsfw

♡︎ Sypnosis: In which you ask your boyfriend for some fashion advice on Facetime but he can't handle the heat.

♡︎ F! Reader

♡︎ Mdni

♡︎ Aged up characters ofc

(Lowkey feel like Bakugo would actually give good fashion advice.)

Mina invited you to a night out with the girls but you had absolutely no idea what to wear. The only other option you had was to facetime your boyfriend Bakugo for some advice.

"How do I look Katsu?" you asked standing in front of the camera. Currently you were wearing the sleeveless black turtleneck that Bakugo chose. It was really short and squeezed you in all the right places. What Katsuki loved about it most is that it had an open back.

He didn't want to help you do this because he knew he wouldn't be able to conatin himself.

"Why are you so pretty woman?" He groaned in frustration causing you to giggle at him. "Do you really have t'go?"

You knew he was getting hot and bothered, you would help him through the screen if it wasn't going to result in you being late.

"Yes I do" you said pulling out your makeuo bag "What, do you have something better in mind?"

"Yeah I do, and it's better than some lame party" he scoffed.

"And what would that be?"

"For starters, you could come over to my place so we can watch a movie. Then halfway through, I'll put my hand on your thigh and we'll start making out and shit then suddenly,my face will be between your soft and sweet-."

"Kat" you warned him with a giggle "behave"

He shrugged his shoulders. "How can I when you're lookin so pretty?"

"Stop being a horndog and help me pick shoes." You wagged your finger at the screen.

"Black boots obliviously, and those nice see through stockings you've got"

You collected the items he listed and appeared in front of the camera one more time and he let out a satisfied hum.

"It's missin somethin" he raises a brow, looking intensely at his screen. "Lemme see the back?"

You do as you were told and turn around, facing your backside to the camera.

"Bend over f'me?"

"Kat you better no-"

"Stop yappin and do it, I wanna see something"

You sighed and shook your head with a scoff, bending over to reveal the black tights that you wore underneath.

"Baby what's the point of this" you shrugged your shoulders dramatically.

"Just wanna make sure no one will be able to sneak a peak" he took a bite of the snack he was eating, letting out a little huff of laughter "And I also just wanted to stare at your ass"

"Why am I suprised" you stood upright taking the phone over to your vanity table to ally makeup. "What lipstick color should I choose?"

"Red" he said with no hesitation at all. To you he was just helping you choose a lipstick color but to him it meant so much more. He so desperately wanted to see that red lipstick smugged all over his chest and shoulders while you beg him to go faster. Your beautiful sounds making his mind go haywire. Maybe he could even-

"You still there?" you cut off his lewd thoughts when you heard him go quiet and his breathing pattern changed.

"Yeah I am" he paused immediately, realizing that he had been palming himself through his sweatpants the whole time. The big bulge that formed was definitely hard for him to ignore. His balls were aching and it hurt to move them.

He'd have to take the longest shower on earth.

"Were you touching yourself just now?" You mused.

"And what if I was?"

"Ok here's a deal, after you fetch me from the party how about we go back to your place and have some fun?"

He whinned impatiently from the other side "Only if you promise not to get drunk"

"I promise"

"If sense the tinest bit of drunk from ya, I'm sending your ass to sleep got it?"

"I get it Katsuki"

He was still shifting uncomfortablly just watching you get ready, you hips swaying whenever you stood up and your bare back asking to be broken.

When you were finally done he couldn't help but let a sigh of relief escape him.

"I'll see you later ok?" You blew a kiss to him and he caught it

"Call me when you're done, and make to take your pepperspray" he said

He knew your were fully capable of taking care of yourself. Which is why he trusted you going out. He's seen you kick ass first hand and he wasn't disappointed.

"Don't miss me too much" you teased once more.

"Already am" he sighed and the call ended.

This was going to be a long night.

Thank you for the support!!

Requests are open!!

#my hero acedamia #imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #mha smut #serotonins stuff

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afictionaladventure16 · 28 days

Note

Hiii!! i love all your writings and saw that you wanted an idea for tim bradford angst.

if possible, can you do tim bradford x teen!daughter where she gets held hostage or in trouble and he become really overprotective and worried for her?

thanks so much!! 🩷🩷

Safe & Sound (Tim Bradford x Adopted!Daughter)

Pt. 2

The Rookie Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, stabbing, mentions of self-harm, beating, and potential death.

Word Count: 11,027

A/N: Alright, this is the fic that I wrote because of the poll and this request. I hope you guys enjoy it! High key, proud of this one since it is the longest fic I have written! Tim Bradford requests are open! Also, if there are mistakes... um... no, there isn't... ignore it... lol and I know there wasn't much Lucy in this one, I realize that after I wrote everything... I promise to write more Lucy in the next ones.

Side note: Diego Luna is Diego Garcia

Gael Garcia Bernal is Gael Garcia...

Y/N's eyes darted between Angela and Y/N's dad for the past ten minutes as they argued over where the centerpieces should go and for some reason, Y/N felt like this was something she’d flipped about. Yet, here they were flipping out about the position of the centerpiece.

“What do you think?” Angela finally asked y/n, her hands on her hips and a stern look on her face.

“Does it matter?” She asked.

Y/N could see the switch flip in Angela’s eyes, Tim couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle before placing a soft hand on Angela’s shoulder, “Just put them how you want, Angela, we have more important things to worry about,” he had waved the white flag.

Angela nodded, “you’re right,” she began, her eyes landing on y/n, “We still need you to shower, get dressed, and do your hair and makeup. All in under,” she looked at her watch, eyes widened as she realized the time. “Two hours!” She exclaimed.

Y/N let out a sigh, “Alright, let’s go.” She followed Angela out of the banquet hall.

Suppose y/n had asked her ten-year-old, scared self that in a few years, she’d be surrounded by people who loved her like they shared the same blood, with no conditions attached. That she’d be getting ready for her quince and that she was happy. Her younger self would have called her crazy, mostly because, at the time, she didn’t see any hope. Yet, here she was, looking at herself in the mirror as she wore her quince dress, hair styled in a half-up and half-down with curls, and the makeup wasn’t over the top but complimented her face.

“What do you think?” Angela asked, grinning from ear to ear as she looked at her in the mirror.

“I love it,” y/n smiled, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

“Oh no,” Angela quickly grabbed a tissue and helped y/n wipe away the tears before it ruined her makeup, “What’s wrong? Is there something you don’t like?”

y/n couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, “No, it’s not that,” she glanced back at herself in the mirror. “I just never thought I’d be this lucky.”

Angela smiled, she opened her mouth to say something but quickly turned at the sound of a knock at the door. “Can I come in?” Tim asked from the other side of the door.

Angela rolled her eyes, “Come in.” Tim entered the room, “you’re supposed to be keeping an eye on everything,” Angela scowled.

Tim held his hands up, “In my defense, Lucy said she had it handled and rushed me to come get dressed.”

Angela sighed, “Alright, well I guess I should get ready, you don’t mind if I use the bathroom to change?”

Tim shook his head, “by all means, go ahead.” Angela walked out of the room. Y/n couldn’t help but continue to stare at herself in the mirror, “You look beautiful, sweetie.”

“You think so?”

Tim nods, “And I’m not just saying that because I’m your dad and I have to.” He walked over and planted a kiss on top of her head, “Our ride will be here an hour, so why don’t you help Angela get ready.”

“On it,” y/n smiled and walked out of the room.

Within the hour, everyone had gotten ready and it was time to head back to the banquet hall. It wasn’t long until y/n was back at the banquet hall, making an entrance to her guests clapping. It all felt surreal and she didn’t want it to end.

She danced with her friends as planned, and then surprised her guests with a surprise dance. By the time it was all over, she was exhausted, but when she heard the music slowly die down she was quick to catch on to what was going on.

“If I could have everyone’s attention,” Tim began, as he waited a few seconds for everyone to quiet down. “I would just like to thank you all for coming out tonight, it means a lot to us. I also have a small speech prepared, I’m not accustomed to how quince’s go, but I’ve been told that I need to make a speech.” Tim scanned the crowd, his eyes landing on y/n, he smiled, “As many as you know, Y/N is adopted, but that doesn’t mean I love her any less, if anything it means I love her more. I think I knew from the day I met her, that there was something special in her and that I wasn’t just supposed to save her that day…” Tim could recall that moment when he knew that somehow you were destined to be a part of his life and somehow you were brought into his life to save him from his pain.

~~ Then ~~

Tim cursed under his breath when he told himself it was a quiet shift because only a second later he got a call about a possible double homicide with a little girl who had called 9-1-1. He knew that whatever this little girl saw, it would stay with her the rest of her life and this wasn’t the first time he had answered calls like these. Yet, something about this one felt different.

He was the first one on the scene when he arrived at the house, he took out his gun and slowly approached the house, the front door was already open. Slowly, Tim made his way through the house, checking every room as he walked through. He stopped when he walked into the master bedroom, seeing the bodies of a woman and a man on the floor. He walked over and checked for a pulse.

“Dispatch, this is Officer Bradford, we got two DBs on the scene,” Tim said into his walkie. Tim could hear the distant sounds of sirens approaching, backup had arrived.

A sound of ruffling came from behind him, he quickly turned around to face a closet door. Tim raised his gun as he slowly approached the door, “this is LAPD, come out of the closet,” Tim stated, and he was met with silence. He opened the door slowly, his eyes widened when his eyes landed on a little girl. He lowered his gun and bent down, “Hey, it’s okay.” He tried his best to sound as soft as possible, but she inched backward until she hit the wall. He noticed her eyes darted behind him, his heart raced as he turned around but no one was there. His eyes landed back down at the bodies on the floor. He blocked her view with his body.

“Do you want to play a game?” Tim asked, y/n looked up at him and gave him a small nod.

“Alright, the rules are you have to close your eyes okay? Can you do that for me?” Tim asked. Y/n gave him a nod and closed her eyes. Tim got up, picking you up in the process. He was surprised at how light she was, given her age. He took her outside where other officers and paramedics began to arrive, one of the paramedics walked over to the two of them.

“She doesn’t seem to be injured but I would like to get her checked out, just in case,” Tim began.

The paramedic nodded as he reached out for her, but she quickly sunk more into Tim’s arms. The paramedic glanced at Tim, “looks like you got a puppy,” he commented, “mind carrying her to the rig?”

Tim let out a small sigh before following the paramedic to the rig, he held her in his arms as he sat in the back of the rig while the paramedic did his thing. She clung to his side the whole time, and for some reason, Tim was okay with it. Yes, it happened from time to time and sometimes Tim wished he was never put in that situation but this time, he felt this was where he was needed.

~~ NOW~~

“Little did I know that I was to gain a daughter that day and I am proud of the young lady she is becoming,” Tim glanced over to where y/n was, a prideful smile on his face, “Happy birthday, sweetie.” There was more that Tim wanted to say, stuff that made him feel uncomfortable in front of a room full of friends and family. He wasn’t uncomfortable because he didn’t want to say it, it was more because he never showed that side of him to those who barely knew him.

What he wanted to say would have to wait.

The party quickly resumed with everyone back on the dance floor and having the time of their lives. It wasn’t long before the night slowly began to die down, people began to go home and soon enough it was only a few people left. Y/N could feel the drowsiness hitting her eyes as she sat at one of the tables, she was thankful that she chose to get a second dress for the end of the night. Y/N was done with your quince dress an hour after she put it on and somehow Angela knew y/n would need a second dress.

“Tired?” Tim asked as he sat down on the chair next to y/n. She slowly nodded, laying her head on the table.

“Why don’t the two of you go home, I have people coming by in the morning to clean up,” Angela commented as she walked over to the table.

Tim nodded, gesturing for y/n to get up, “Thank you, again, Angela.”

“Hey, you helped me plan my wedding, the least I can do is help you plan your daughter’s quince, especially since you have no experience in this criteria.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” Tim hugged Angela, letting go to grab some of y/n’s things.

Y/N got up from the table and hugged Angela, “Thank you, Angela. You made my quince the highlight of the school year.” Angela smiled and placed a small kiss on Y/n’s forehead.

“Make sure to mention me in your popularity speech,” she winks.

“You’ll be the first one I thank,” y/n joked. She followed Tim out of the banquet hall.

“How are you feeling?” Tim asked as the both of them got in the truck.

“Sleep deprived.”

Tim grunted, “What?”

“Well, we have a birthday tradition we haven’t done this year.” She gave him a confused look, “Our hot chocolate at midnight,” he said in a surprised tone.

She let out a small chuckle, it was a tradition she had unknowingly started on her first birthday with her dad, “I completely forgot about that.”

“How could you forget? It’s a sacred tradition and we are about an hour late.”

She playfully rolled her eyes, “It slipped my mind with all the quince craziness.”

“You’re forgiven,” he smiled, starting the truck to head home. It wasn’t long before she was asleep, being tired and going on a car drive was not a good combo for her. It felt like seconds after she had closed her eyes, she was being woken up, only to realize that she had been asleep for twenty minutes.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Tim suggested as he grabbed some of her things from the back seat.

She followed him inside the house, “I’m still down for that hot chocolate,” she commented.

“You sure?”

“It’s a tradition,” she smiled, “I’m just gonna take off all this makeup, give me five minutes.”

Your dad watched as you walked into your room, you were too stubborn for your own good and somehow he felt like he was to blame for that.

Tim went into the kitchen to make the two of you hot chocolate, he was adding marshmallows when everything went dark. “Crap,” he muttered to himself. “Damn outages,” he jumped into action, rushing over to the drawer where he kept his emergency kit, including his flashlight.

“Y/N, I’ll bring over some candles!” He yelled out. He waited for your response but he did not receive any, he was trying not to panic, maybe you were so busy taking off your makeup still that you didn’t get the chance to respond. But given the last time the power had gone off, he was expecting a response. Yes, it was the summer and there had been outages but it had mostly happened during the day.

Kojo began to whine and ran over to your door, beginning to scratch at the door. Something was wrong, Tim didn’t hesitate to run over to your door, “Y/N?” He called out. He waited another few seconds for you to respond. When you didn’t it was like all the alarms inside Tim’s head went off, “Y/N?!” He yelled. Again, no response.

He couldn’t wait any longer, he opened the door to find an empty dark room, he ran over to your bathroom and it was empty. He felt his heart drop, and he ran out into the hallway, “Y/N!?” he screamed. He went to every single room in the house, any place he thought you would hide, but why would you hide? To play a game of hide and seek? He didn’t know, he wished that was what was happening, He hoped. He stood in the middle of the living room, his breathing was erratic as he realized that you were gone. You were gone and it was while he was home, where he could protect you. Regardless of what happened, Tim felt responsible for everything.

His hands shook as he dialed 9-1-1, when he heard the voice on the other line, he couldn’t say the words. Maybe because saying it would mean it was reality, it wasn’t some nightmare he could just wake up from.

“Hello? 9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The lady asked again.

Tim felt tears forming in his eyes, “My-my daughter is missing,” he choked out a sob before giving the dispatch his address.

“Sir, I need you to remain calm, can you tell me your daughter’s name and age?”

He let out a shaky breath, “Y/N,” he felt another sob making its way up his throat, part of him wanted to throw up. He didn’t know why he felt like throwing up, but the feeling was making its way up. “She just turned fifteen,” He managed to say.

“Do you know where she was taken from?”

Yes, he did. She was taken while I was present, he thought. “Our home,” He held back his sob.

“Can you describe what happened? What was she wearing?”

He needed Lucy. He needed someone to take over for him, he couldn’t do this. All he wanted to do was to run out into the streets and find her himself, but he knew he wouldn’t hold back if he did. He would tear whoever took her limb by limb, he wouldn’t show any mercy.

“Sir? Are there any open windows in her bedroom?”

It was like everything he learned in the academy, everything he had done on the job flew out the window the second he realized she wasn’t in her room.

He walked into the bedroom once more, “There is,” he said as he stared at the open window, “she doesn’t open her window, her screen ripped a while back.”

“Can you describe what happened before you realized she was missing?”

“I-I was making us hot chocolate and then the power went out.”

The dispatcher kept Tim on the phone until officers arrived, it didn’t take long for word to get to Sergeant Grey and somehow he arrived seconds after the first officer.

Sergeant Grey took matters into his own hands, calling up Angela and Lucy to the scene, one because Grey knew he needed the best detective on this case and the second because Tim needed the support right now.

“I need you to walk me through this Tim,” Angela said softly as she sat beside Tim on the couch.

He clasped his hands together, hoping it would stop the shaking, he was shaking so much. No matter what he tried it just wouldn’t stop. “I went into the kitchen to make us some hot chocolate and the power went out. I called out for Y/N and got no response, I gave it a second because I know sometimes it’s hard for her to respond when she’s taking off her makeup.”

Angela couldn’t help but smile at how much Tim had become a girl-dad within the past few years. He knew everything about his daughter and the habits she had. If she were on her time of the month, he was quick to get her the things she needed without being a guy about it. There were even times when Y/N’s period got so bad, that he allowed her to stay home from school. In Angela’s eyes, he was the ultimate girl-dad and she knew how lucky Y/N was to have him as one.

“I then walked over to her bedroom and called for her again and when she didn’t respond a second time I knew something was wrong. The third time I called out for her, I didn’t wait to go in the bedroom, that’s when I realized she-She was missing,” he choked out the last part, Lucy rubbed small circles on his back. She was trying her best to be his support system in his time of need.

Angela remembered noticing most of the neighborhood was out of power when she drove up, it could have been a planned thing or just a coincidence, “didn’t you just upgrade your alarm system? Especially the cameras?”

Tim instantly knew what Angela was trying to bring up, he quickly brought out his phone and pulled up the app. “Usually after an outage, the cameras remain on for ten minutes,” he commented, rewinding the footage to when they had arrived from the quince.

“There!” Angela pointed out, “That car pulls up a few houses down the same time you guys pull in.” They kept their eyes on the car as they watched the footage. They saw as the power went out and they saw the bushes on the side of the houses moving and then the car driving off in a hurry.

“It’s too dark to see anything,” Tim felt defeated. At this point, he knew that he wasn’t getting y/n back tonight, she wasn’t safe.

“Send me that footage, I’ll have my guys work on it. We’re not stopping until she’s home and she’s safe. For now, you should stay at Lucy’s,” Angela stated.

He shook his head, “We need to get out there, I need to be doing something to find her. Let me help.”

Angela shook her head, getting up from the couch, “Trust me on this, Tim. I know you want to be there, you want to go out and find her but you can’t. You need to trust me, I will find y/n and when I do, I’ll hold those who took her accountable.”

Tim opened his mouth to protest, “She’s right, Tim,” Lucy added. “The best we can do is be on the sidelines.”

Tim felt angry at them for, in football terms, benching him, when he felt like he should be out there with Angela trying to find his daughter. “When you were taken, we all looked for you, including Wesley. So don’t bench me. Don’t tell me to just stay home and not do anything, not after she has been kidnapped right under my fucking nose.”

Angela looked over at Lucy with a knowing look, “All alright, but you’ll be taking orders from me, what I say goes. I can’t afford to lose any of you if anything goes sideways.”

“Okay,” Tim said.

“I need you to promise me that when I tell you something you will listen,” Angela stated. Tim hesitated, he wanted to promise her, but also, he felt like there could be many situations where defying her orders could save you. But he needed to trust Angela. “Promise me, Bradford!”

“I promise.”

She let out a deep sigh, “Alright, let’s get to the station, we have a lot of work to do and my guys need to do a sweep of the house to see if they can find anything.”

The team spent the rest of the night at the station, they were trying to make a connection to the previous break-in, hoping that they could find something that could trace them back to y/n’s whereabouts. But with everything that they searched through, they had no luck.

Tim and Lucy sat in the conference room where they had a board up with potential suspects on the kidnapping, people who lived nearby and were on the offenders list. It was all dead ends. Angela had left to retrieve documents on Y/N’s adoption, mostly about who her biological parents were.

“Fuck!” Tim yelled as he threw papers across the conference room.

Lucy looked at him with concern on her face, “Tim, we’ll-”

“Don’t,” he snapped, “this is all my fault.” Tears formed in his eyes as he sat down on one of the chairs. A shaky sob escaped his lips, “I can’t lose her, Lucy. I can’t. I don’t know how to live in a world where she isn’t my daughter. I know we joke about having kids, but I only have one of her. Nothing will replace her and I never want to replace her.”

Lucy sat beside him, “I know,” she softly said.

“I can’t lose her. I don’t think I would be able to handle it.”

This was a side of Tim that Lucy was beginning to see more and more now that they were in a relationship. It was a side of Tim that she wished more people knew about, but she understood why they didn’t. Yes, he had this mentality that if he showed this side of himself to just anyone then there would be no room for people to take him seriously.

But here he was, showing this side of himself in the middle of the conference room, where the walls were made of glass, making them the attractions in a zoo. Anyone could see, but they were in their little bubble for the moment. What happened beyond those glass walls didn’t matter, who saw them, didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was there for him in his need.

“You know when I first met you, I never would have imagined you had a kid, let alone had adopted her. But then I saw her and the way you were with her and I could just tell, she was your kid. If you hadn’t told me that you had adopted her, I would have never guessed it.” Lucy’s fingers brushed his chin, pulling his face to look at her, “I know you will search every inch of this city to find her, but remember that you have a team behind you that is searching with you. We will find her, Tim.”

Tim felt tears falling from his eyes, “it’s all my fault, Lucy. I was supposed to keep her safe.”

She shook her head, “It’s not your fault, Tim. You did everything right you kept her as safe as you could.”

Angela walked into the conference room with a beaming smile, “I found something.”

Tim quickly got up from his seat, “what?”

“I had to do some bribing, but I got y/n’s adoption records uncovered and her biological parents aren’t who they said they were.”

“What?” Tim asked in disbelief.

“Her father was one of the sons of one of the biggest drug lords in Mexico, apparently he came to the U.S. to start a fresh new life with his wife and newborn daughter,” Angela hands Tim a photo of y/n’s biological parents when she was just a newborn. For some reason, Tim felt speechless as he looked at the photo in front of him. He wondered what his daughter was like at that age, the thought of it, made his heart ache. He hated that he missed out on so much, it was something that given their situation was bound to happen, but he felt grateful that he was given the chance to be her father now.

“She was a cute baby,” Angela commented as she watched how Tim was so focused on the photo in front of him, he probably didn’t even hear a word she had said a second ago.

“She was,” Tim smiled before putting his focus back on Angela, “you were saying?”

She couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle, “As I was saying before you got into a trance, it looks like Gael and Luna, Y/n’s biological parents were killed by one of another drug lord's men. Hearing this news caused his father to have a heart attack and he almost literally died from a broken heart causing the younger brother of Gael, Deigo, to take over daddy's company.”

“You didn’t know any of this?” Lucy asked.

Tim shook his head, “All I was told was that it was a robbery gone wrong, obviously someone wanted to cover this up.”

“And I have a lucky guess on who that was,” Angela said as she put up a picture of a man who looked similar to Diego, standing next to another man. “The man on the right is Diego Garcia, Gael’s brother and now rightful leader of one of Mexico’s biggest mafia, and the other guy Jesse Ortega, A.K.A. El Patron, One of Mexico’s biggest drug cartels.”

“So, what are we thinking? That Jesse has y/n?”

Angela shook her head, “I have more, the way y/n’s biological parents were murdered is similar to how y/n was almost kidnapped and then kidnapped. They also caused a power outage before entering the home, now the question is-”

“Why in the hell would they want y/n?” Tim interrupted.

Angela shrugged, “leverage? All I know is that we need to find someone who has a connection with Diego and we need to find it fast. We know what these people are capable of.” She looked down, regretting her words as soon as she had said them, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, we have to face the reality,” Tim uttered, “there is a chance…” he stopped, he couldn’t believe that he was going even to say it, “a chance that she may come back.”

“We’re not going to let that happen,” Lucy said.

Tim gave Lucy a hopeful smile, she was optimistic even when those surrounding her weren’t. She was optimistic in an annoying way that if she had ever stopped, he would miss it.

It had been what felt like a week since y/n had seen the sun since she remembered what it felt like to feel the comfort of her bed. She had been tied up on a chair since she’d been kidnapped, only allowed to get up to go to the bathroom or to stretch for ten minutes. Her captors were human enough to allow her just that. The only way she knows what time it is is by the sound of birds chirping outside, she knows it is morning by the sound of the mourning dove and when it is night by the sound of the crickets and frogs.

She knows she has to be near water because of the frogs and because of how some of the men complained about the mosquitos. This is how she spent her time, studying.

She has studied her captor's moves and the daily routines they did to make the time go by. She’d be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t at all scared because every minute that passed by her fear worsened. One thing in particular was that they hadn’t given her much attention. They gave her a small bottle of water that she was supposed to make last for the day, and a small meal a day which always looked like leftovers of the meal they chose not to eat.

Y/N jumped in her chair to the sound of a door slamming, she could hear footsteps escalating towards her, and her eyes widened as the door to the room she was in swung open. One of the guards that sat in the room was quick to react letting out a relieved sigh when he realized who it was.

“Dude, why do you have to come in like that? You almost gave me a heart attack,” The guard commented as he took a seat once again.

“We have to get out of here,” the guy that entered the room says.

“What?”

“Our location could be blown, it’s been a week since we’ve heard the word,” the guy makes his way towards y/n, tugging at her arm, a gesture for her to get up.

Y/n groans in pain, her legs sore from being in a position for so long, “What about-”

“He’ll know where to find us, plus, at this point, I feel like he’s just taking his sweet ass time to come and get his prize.” The man led her out of the room.

“Wait!” The guard said as he reached for the blindfold in his back pocket, tying the piece of fabric around her eyes. “Alright, now let’s go.”

Y/n felt herself being led down a dirt path, and then being pushed into the trunk of a car. Then it was silent for a moment before she heard the roar of the engine and they were moving. This was her moment, she slowly began to loosen the rope tied around her wrists, she had been slowly working on it when her captors weren’t in the room. She had almost had it this morning before she was interrupted. The relief came instantly, as she brought her arms in front of her to bring down the blindfold. To her surprise, the trunk felt like being in an abyss, she was surrounded by darkness. Her hands searched above her, she knew there had to be a latch of some sort to open this trunk. Unless her captors were smart enough to remove it.

She was beginning to give up, feeling tears beginning to form in her eyes. “Please,” she begged to any god that existed and was listening. All she wanted to do was go home, she wanted to feel safe in her dad's arms; Wondering why he hadn’t found her yet, but she knew that he would. Any moment he will be here to rescue her.

Maybe that’s why they had to move locations.

Her hands continued to trace the fabric above her, she let out a small gasp as her fingers touched something that wasn’t fabric. She took in a deep breath and pulled on the piece of plastic and in an instant the trunk opened. Y/n jumped out of the trunk with no hesitation, she yelped as she hit the ground and rolled on the pavement.

Y/N let out a pain-stricken yell as she slowly got up to her feet, she heard tires screeching to a halt.

“Fuck,” she said, turning around to see the car she had just jumped out of coming to a complete stop. Y/n only had a few seconds to take in her surroundings, it was dark and there was nothing but trees from what her eyes could see.

She heard the engine beginning to come closer, it was now or never, she ran towards the trees. The sound of a car door closing caused her to use all her energy to run faster, but she could feel it quickly draining. Maybe this is why they fed her so little, to keep her from having the energy to run.

The lack of food and water was getting to her, but she knew she couldn’t give up, she needed to find safety.

The crash came quickly, one minute she was alert and running and the next she was on the ground. She was quick to come to, she let out a sob as she attempted to get back up.

“Not so fast,” One of the men says as he grabs her arm, “Nice try.” He picks her up from the ground, holding a tight grip on her arm. “I got her!” he yells out.

Footsteps could be heard coming closer to where they were, “Fucking bitch,” the other guy, who happens to be the guard, says. He swings his arm back, his fist meeting Y/n’s mouth causing her to lose her balance. She lets out a small sob, “Let’s get back to the car, Hugo.”

Finally, a name. Hugo helped y/n back to her feet, “You know he’s not gonna like that you did that,” he commented. “You know how he is about his things.”

The guard shrugged, “it’ll just be a slap on the wrist.”

Time was slipping by like a thin thread that was hard to see and hard to get a hold of. Tim felt like he was frozen, watching as his friends and family came by the house day by day to check up on him. Lucy came every day to walk Kojo because if she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn he never left his spot on the couch. It had been weeks since their last breakthrough, the day after Y/N was kidnapped, and since then every lead they have had led them to a dead end. At some point, Tim was beginning to lose it, he felt anger residing within him.

Anger towards himself and to y/n’s captors. He had anger. After all, he was confused and angry because he couldn’t crack the case. He felt like he should be able to find her within a second, but when he was left with nothing but crumbs that once served as hope, he slowly fell into his pit of despair.

Angela didn’t give up, she knew there was something within the lines that she must have overlooked. She wasn’t going to let the guilt win her, not when it had won over Tim. She knew there had to be one still searching through the crumbs that were left of this disaster.

“We’re going to find her, Tim,” Angela said, walking around the coffee table to come face-to-face with her best friend. “Do you hear me?”

Tim continued to stare into the blank space that was the TV. his eyes never leaving his reflection.

“Tim, you can’t give up. You need to be strong for y/n because when we find her she’s going to need you more than ever,” Angela began to say. “She’s going to need her dad to bring her back to life, we have no idea what kind of hell she is going through righ-”

“How do we even know she’s still alive?” Tim finally spoke up, breaking his eye contact with his reflection to look at Angela.

Angela could see the fear in his eyes, the hope and desperation that still lay within them but was withering out, “How could you think that?”

Tim turned away, blinking his tears away, “You and I both know the chances of survival of someone being kidnapped, especially those who are gone for weeks.”

“You can’t think that way, you need to think like a cop-”

“I’m thinking like a father, Angela!” Tim yelled. “My daughter could probably be dead in some ditch and I have to prepare myself for that possibility. I have to prepare myself for the possibility that she-” Tim let out a cry, “she might not come home,” he sobbed.

“And I don’t know how to live with it. I don’t want to live in a world where she isn’t in it,” Tim cried. “She brought me so much happiness when I couldn’t find any and now she’s gone and I couldn’t stop it,” Tim looked at Angela with glass eyes, “I was supposed to protect her, so what kind of father does that make me?”

Angela pulled Tim in for a hug, “you can’t always protect them, Tim. We all know that you can’t blame yourself for something that was out of your control.” Angela released the hug, holding Tim’s head in her hands, “I need you to pull yourself together, not for me or Lucy, but for Y/N. She needs you.”

Tim knew Angela was right, he had to pull himself together. He gave her a small nod, as he got up from his spot on the couch and walked to the hallway, “Where are you going?”

“To shower, I doubt you want me finding my daughter when I stink like dirty laundry,” he shouted out.

Angela rolled her eyes, grabbing her phone from her pocket.

I somehow got him to shower

She had sent a text to Lucy, who decided to stay back at the station to give the paperwork a second look. Lucy had felt like all her attempts on trying to get Tim off the couch had failed, all she had received from him were grunts or blank stares. She never took it personally, but knowing it didn’t take Angela long, made her heartache.

They’ve been best friends for a while, she thought to herself. She shook her mind off of it before looking back at the paperwork.

Before she could continue what she was reading, she was interrupted by a knock at the door. She turned to see an unfamiliar face smiling back at her, “Hi, I’m looking for a Tim Bradford.”

Lucy found it strange to see civilians inside the station at such a late hour, but maybe he wasn’t a civilian. “Um, h-he’s not here at the moment, but can I help you?” Something about this man looked familiar to her, she just couldn’t figure it out.

“I must speak to Mr. Bradford,” the man said as he glanced outside the door. Lucy quickly caught on to the men guarding the door. She glanced back down at the photos in front of her before turning back to look at the man at the door.

“D-Diego,” Lucy mumbled as she got up from her seat.

The man sighed, “I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to help,” he held up his hands. “You can search me and my men, you might find a gun on them, but they know not to do anything stupid, especially inside a police station.”

“How did you get in here?”

“It’s fairly easy when you spend your whole life doing these kinds of things,” he smiles before pointing to a chair near Lucy. “May I sit?”

Lucy nods, “Why are you here?”

“Like I said I want to help, now how long before Mr. Bradford gets here?” Diego looks at his watch before glancing at Lucy.

“Lucy?” Tim yelled out as he walked into their apartment, he was worried sick after she stopped answering his calls when she had texted Angela to meet at her apartment.

“Why the hell would she want us to meet here?” Angela asked as she closed the door behind them.

“Oh good,” Lucy said as she came out from her bedroom, “I know you guys have a lot of quest-”

“Why did you stop answering my calls?” Tim asked as he pulled Lucy in for a hug.

“I’m sorry, I just got caught up on-” Lucy realizes mid-sentence that Tim has a tighter grip on her, “I-I’m sorry, Tim.” For a moment, she let it slip that maybe not answering her phone caused panic to surge through Tim’s body. She could only imagine what he could have been thinking on the drive over, the worry he must have felt.

“ ‘s alright,” Tim says as he lets go of the embrace.

“Now can I have an explanation as to why all of our documents are in your apartment and not at the station, and how the hell did you get this big ass board here in thirty minutes?” Angela asks.

“I had some help,” Lucy began to say.

“Lucy, I can not thank you enough fo-” Diego stops mid-sentence, a smile forming on his face, “Mr. Bradford, it is so nice to finally meet you.”

“Diego Garcia,” Angela quickly drew out her gun.

Diego held his hands up, “I come in peace and empty-handed, Detective Lopez.” Angela gave a knowing glance towards Tim, “Yes, you can even search me, even though Lucy here already has.”

“Twice,” Lucy added.

“But if it makes you feel better, I’ll allow a third pat down,” Diego smiles.

Angela holsters her gun, “I’ll trust Lucy’s word,” she says, “now explain.”

“Well, after you left, Diego showed up and at first he would not tell me anything unless Tim was there, but I managed to get him to tell me some of what he had to say and given the situation, I felt it would be better if we met here. Away from the station, so we could all talk privately,” Lucy explained, she waited for a few seconds for someone to say something. Angela stood there, staring at Lucy like she was trying to make sense of it all. “Well?”

“I’m still trying to figure out if what you did was stupid or smart,” Angela then looks over at Diego, “and you’re awfully brave for coming into a station considering who you are.”

Diego smirks, “I am a wise man and as a wise man I know that you only have information on what others have said about me. But I am willing to risk it all if it means that my y/n is safe.”

Angela turned her head slightly at what Diego had just said, “Surprised you even care when you didn’t even take her in after her parents were brutally murdered.”

Diego took a deep breath, “I thought it would be for the best that she stayed away from this lifestyle, it’s what my brother would have wanted.” Diego noticed the photos that fell out of one of the folders, he couldn’t help himself as he began to look at them.

“Then explain why Jesse Ortega has my daughter,” Tim said, “Because for the last few weeks, nothing has been making sense to me.”

Angela saw the way he looked at those photos like they were his prized possessions, it was then that realization hit her. Nothing was making sense because it wasn’t true. “He doesn’t have to,” Angela said, suddenly understanding.

Diego looked at her, it was the look in Angela’s eyes that made it clear to him, that she knew the truth. Everything he had heard about how great of a detective Angela was, was finally coming to light. He gave her a nod to continue.

“I so happened to stumble upon a photo the press took of you and a woman,” Angela took out her phone, sliding through some photos before she landed on the one she needed. She held up the phone, “A woman who looks similar to Y/N, if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought this was her mother, but from records, it shows that Isabella, Gael’s wife, is y/n’s mother. Not Camilla, your wife who so happened to pass away around the same time y/n was born.” She received a confused expression from Tim, “You see, The only reason why Jesse would want anything to do with y/n is because she isn’t Gael’s daughter but Diegos,” Angela explained. “But it doesn’t explain why Gael took her here to America to start a new life.”

Diego sighed, “My wife, may God rest her soul, she passed when y/n was born and I already was worried about raising a child in such a lifestyle, but leaving was harder than it looked. My brother and his wife had wanted to leave for a while, so, I told them to take y/n and leave for the States. My father got word of this and told him he’d give him his blessing if he killed Jesse’s father,” Diego paused, recalling the day it happened like it was just yesterday. “The only person other than my father and brother who knew of y/n’s existence was my best friend, Jesse.”

“Some best friend you were,” Angela commented, “Why kill his father?”

“For the same reason, every other narco kills another. Territory. My father, although I loved him, he was greedy. He let the money get to his head and he wanted more. With territory came power, he wanted us to show him how we loved him. In a fucked up way, he only asked of this to have someone else do his dirty work for him,” Diego explained. “My brother was to kill Jesse’s father in exchange for ‘Freedom’ but look where that got him.”

“Still doesn’t explain why Jesse wants revenge from you if Gael was the one that killed his father,” Lucy commented.

“Because when it came down to it, my brother couldn’t kill him and I didn’t allow him to. We told my father what he wanted to hear and that’s that.”

“You killed Jesse’s father,” Tim understood. “That’s why he came after y/n, to hurt you in the same way you hurt him.”

Diego nodded, “I loved my daughter and I wanted a better life for her. You gave her that,” He said looking at Tim. “Which is why I am here to help you guys find her, what you do with me after that doesn’t matter. All I want is for her to be safe.”

Tim understood what he meant, the feeling of just wanting his daughter to be safe regardless of what could happen to him. He would do the same in a heartbeat if it meant he could have y/n here safe and sound.

“How can we trust you?” Angela asked.

“You can’t, but then what other option do you guys have?” Diego asked.

Tim sighed, “Do you have any leads on where they might be keeping her?” He ignored the looks he got from Angela and followed Diego over to the board that had all of their leads.

“Do you trust him?” Angela asked Lucy, they both watched Diego and Tim talk off to the side.

“If it means getting back y/n, then I do,” Lucy said.

It’s been over a month. Over a month and y/n had been starved, deprived of water and sleep. She felt like she was going insane as she was held up in a small room with only a mattress on the floor. For over the past hour, she had listened to the muffled voices outside the door, every moment that passed she had hoped to hear some sort of salvation in this pit of hell.

The door opened and the man, whom she knew by the name of Hugo, came in and hastily picked y/n up from her position on the mattress. Her heart quickened as she was led into the main room, which to her looked like an old office.

Before she could muster up the strength to say anything, she heard a voice call out from the end of the room, “She’s the spitting image of her mother,” a man scoffed as he appeared from the shadows.

Hugo places y/n on a chair, before tying her hands behind her, “W-what’s going on?”

The man who had just spoken, grabbed y/n by the chin, inspecting the bruise on her eye, “Who did this?”

“S-Sergio,” Hugo stuttered. “Ya sabes como se enoja,” (you know how he gets angry.

The man took in a deep breath, “I’ll deal with him later.” his attention focused back on y/n, “I always knew you would grow up to look just like Camilla.”

“Who’s Camilla?” Y/n asked.

“Why you’re mother of-” The man smirks, “Of course,” he said in realization, “you still think Isabella and Gael are your actual parents. We have a lot to uncover then.”

Y/n looked at him with a confused expression, was Gael and Isabella, not her parents? They had raised her, she remembered seeing photos of them with her as a baby, even as a newborn. It didn’t make any sense to her.

“You must be wondering, ‘Jesse, what do you mean?’ well, let me explain it to you,” Jesse, the man from the shadows, began to explain, “Your real father is Diego, Gael’s brother, your mother died while giving birth to you and so your father, Diego sent you with his brother to the states. Before he did that, the cowards killed my father. I took revenge when I killed Gael, but upon coming up to recent news, I found out that it wasn’t Gael who killed my father, but Diego. So, here I am out seeking revenge for my father’s death again.”

This all felt too much to unfold, the man who y/n mourned, the one she thought was her father was just her uncle. It didn’t make her feel any less of him, but it made everything… different.

“What are you going to do with me?” y/n asked.

“Have you ever been to a rage room y/n? I hear they’re pretty popular in Los Angeles?” Jesse asked as he walked over to a table that was off to the side, on the table y/n could see tools that ranged from hammers to even a drill.

her eyes widened as the fear crept up within her when she saw Jesse grabbing the hammer. “I’ve always wanted to go to one, let out all the anger I felt since my father’s death. I have let that anger live within me for far too long and I think it’s time to let it out, don’t you think?” Jesse smirked as he glanced over at y/n.

Over the past week, Diego, Tim, Lucy, and Angela had spent most of their time in Lucy’s apartment. Diego calls people one after the other trying to figure out where Jesse could be holding y/n. He felt it was somewhere in Mexico, given that Jesse rarely came to the States unless something went wrong with his shipment. For the most part, it was Diego’s men who searched every lead they had in Mexico, it wasn’t until today that they finally had a breakthrough.

Diego came rushing into the apartment, “I got something!” he yelled, phone in his hand as he rushed over to Tim. Diego hesitated, “I-I don’t know if you should look, it was even hard for me to see this photo.”

Tim prepared himself for what he would see, “Show me.”

“Tim,” Angela warned with concern in her voice.

He shook his head, “No, Angela, I need to see her.”

Diego showed them the photo of y/n. In the photo, she was tied to a chair, she was bruised from head to toe, with blood covering most of her body. Tim held back a sob as he read the sign that was hung around her neck.

‘Esto es para mi papa,’ it read. (This is for my father)

“The window in the back shows the ocean. I know that view from anywhere. It’s where me and Jesse met for the first time, where our friendship began and ended,” Diego explained. “I can get you on a plane there tonight.”

“No, if this is where she is at, we have to do this the right way,” Angela began. “The LAPD-”

“The LAPD doesn’t have jurisdiction in Mexico, if anything you would have to call the feds and you know the feds wouldn’t care about a little girl that is kidnapped unless there is a big bust for them.”

Tim sighed, “he’s right.”

“So we just join him to Mexico?” Angela asks.

“We take matters into our own hands like we did to save you.”

Angela thought about it for a moment, she knew what they were doing was risky, but it was a risk Tim was willing to take to get his daughter back. A risk they made to get Angela back when she was kidnapped not too long ago too.

“Alright,” Angela said.

It wasn’t long until they were on the plane to Mexico City where Diego said the old office was. Tim and Angela mentally prepared themselves for what was about to happen, one they didn’t know if they could trust the people they were with, and second, they didn’t know what kind of condition y/n would be in.

Lucy wanted to join them but decided to stay back just in case. She was in constant communication with Tim just in case something were to happen.

“We’re almost there,” Diego announces as he comes back from the cockpit area and takes a seat on one of the chairs. “My men are ready to meet us at the landing zone, we will head straight to the building when we land,” he began to explain. “I’ll have a paramedic waiting nearby to take care of any injuries on y/n.”

“You can pull those kind of strings?” Tim asked.

“With the right kind of money, yes,” Diego smirked.

Angela scoffed, “I have a question for you,” Diego nodded for her to continue, “Why let Gael take y/n? Why not live a life outside of this business with your daughter?”

Diego sighed, placing the glass of alcohol back down on the small table in front of him, “Because my brother and his wife could give her something I never could have.”

“What’s that?” Tim asked.

“Family.”

“I disagree, I think you don’t need a mom and a dad to be a family. It’s ideal, but look at where she’s at now, no offense, Tim,” Angela said.

Diego nodded in agreement, “Alright, you caught me.” He took a swig of his drink before placing the now-empty glass back down, “The first week was the hardest,” Diego admitted. “Then as she began to grow, I just couldn’t do it. She reminded me so much of Camilla… It hurt to even look at her. Gael and Isabella couldn’t have kids and the way they always loved her as her own, I just felt like they would have given her the love I couldn’t give her.”

Tears began to form in his eyes, “and I was right. I was told Gael and Isabella died trying to protect y/n. They made sure she was hidden so she wouldn’t be” Diego choked on his words, “I don’t regret the decision I made, I just regret that I couldn’t save them.”

“Patron, Hemos aterrizado, ” (Boss, we’ve landed) One of the flight attendants said to Diego, quickly walking back over to the flight attendant station in the front of the plane.

“That’s our ten-minute mark,” Angela commented.

Tim felt his heartbeat quicken, anxious to get out of this plane and find y/n. He felt every minute that went by was a minute too long, a minute too late.

Y/n cried out in pain as Jesse backed away, he shook his hand, wincing in pain.

“Ah, don’t worry, little y/n. Soon enough you won’t be feeling any more pain,” Jesse winked as he walked back over to the table. For the past week since Jesse had made an appearance, it had been constant torture for y/n. The only break she had was when Jesse left to go eat or sleep, otherwise he found entertainment in torturing her with different techniques.

“P-Please,” y/n begged.

He jammed a knife into the table, he let out an annoyed groan before grabbing a piece of cloth that was nearby. Walking over to y/n, Jesse jammed the cloth into her mouth and then tied it on the back of her head.

“That’s better,” he smiled, walking back over to the table. He grabs the knife again and walks over to y/n, “Cuando yo estaba mas joven,” Jesse began to say, “when I was about your age actually, the girls used to grab a knife and make these marks on their skin,” he traced the knife along Y/n’s wrists, “Ahh, just like these,” he says as he traces the white lines that were scattered along y/n’s wrists. Scars that told of a past of darkness that she once battled.

“Let’s have some fun,” he winked, letting the knife sink into y/n’s skin along her abdomen, she screamed into the piece of cloth that was in her mouth. Jesse let go of the knife, leaving it in her abdomen, walking back over to the table, and grabbing a large bowl of water.

Jesse walked back over to Y/n, she frantically shook her head, knowing exactly what he was thinking. He smirks as he dunks her head in the bowl, leaving it there for a minute before letting her back up for air.

Y/n tried her best to hold her breath, but with her mouth being gagged she found it more difficult than the last time. She hoped he was done for the night, that any moment he would walk out of that room.

“Can’t forget about this,” Jesse comments as he takes the knife out of y/n’s abdomen causing a rush of blood to ooze out.

The door abruptly opens, “We’ve got a problem,” Hugo says with urgency.

“Can’t you handle it?” Jesse says through gritted teeth.

Hugo shakes his head, “It’s Diego, he’s here and he has company.”

Jesse groans in frustration, walking over to the table to drop off the bowl and knife. He sees a piece of rope, it is now or never, and he grabs it.

Tim followed one of Diego’s men through the building, searching room by room for y/n. He was surprised by the small amount of guards that were within the building so far, it could only mean that the main floor would have more.

Jose, the man who was taking the lead, led them to the final and top floor. Tim could hear a couple of shots before he heard people grunting, “She’s in here!” Jose yells out. Tim looked back at Angela who nodded for him to go as she walked over to one of Diego’s men who had one of Jesse’s men on the ground.

Tim quickly rushed into the room Jose had called out from, he scanned the room, seeing Jose with Jesse on the ground. Then his eyes darted to the small figure on the chair, “Y/N!” He calls out as he runs over to her, quickly untying her hands. Y/n slumps over in her seat, Tim is quick to lean her body against him, helping her onto the floor.

“Hon, it’s me,” he says, not getting a response from y/n. “Come on, baby girl, you gotta wake up for me,” the tears began to form in his eyes, he felt for a pulse, it was weak but it was there. He looks over at Jesse, “What did you do?!”

Jesse smirks, his eyes darting over to the door. Tim looks behind him to see Diego at the door, “Ojo por ojo.” (an eye for an eye)

Diego felt the anger rise within him, he felt like he was on autopilot as he pulled the gun out from his back holster, pointing it at Jesse without hesitation, he pulled the trigger.

“Now we’re even,” Diego mutters. He pulls his attention back over to Y/n and Tim, quickly noticing the pull of blood forming before them, “she’s bleeding,” he quickly takes off his coat, handing it to Tim.

Tim presses the coat on the stab wound, “we need to get her to the paramedic,” Diego says. Tim picks Y/n up, following Diego down the flight of stairs and outside to the paramedics. Tim got into the ambulance with Y/n, he held her hand throughout the whole ride.

He couldn’t help but notice the condition her body was in, the scars on her body, the bruises, and the mark that was red around her neck. If they had been a second late, she probably would’ve been gone. No, Tim couldn’t think that way. She’s safe now, she’s alive and she’s with him.

Tim stayed by y/n’s side every single day at the hospital. It had been a couple of days and she had yet to wake up, the doctors said it was due to her injuries, but Tim was worried it could be something worse. Eventually, they were given the okay to transfer back to the States.

To Tim’s surprise, Diego never made an appearance at the hospital in Mexico City. He kept his promise, he helped them find y/n, and to Tim, that was all that mattered.

Once they were back in the States, Tim couldn’t find the courage to leave y/ns bedside still. He continued to wait for her to wake up, the doctors told him to give her body time to recover but just wanted to hear her voice. He wanted her to know that he was sorry.

“Wake up,” Tim whispered as he gently placed his hand on the side of y/n’s face, “You need to wake up, hon.”

Tim felt his eyes getting the best of him, he let out a deep sigh as he laid back in his chair. Lettin sleep overcome him.

It was only an hour after Tim had fallen asleep that y/n began to wake up, the lights from the room blinded her as she opened her eyes, an instant headache. y/n groaned, wincing from the brightness, “Dad?” she called out.

Tim thought it was odd that the elephant in his dream was calling him dad, slowly he was driven out of his dreams and jumped up. He frantically looked around, “Dad?” he heard y/n say.

“Oh my god, you’re awake!” Tim announced, getting up from his seat and running out to the hall, “she’s awake!” he announced to one of the nurses, and they both rushed back into the room together.

The nurse quickly checked y/n’s vitals and her stitches, “We’ll have to do some more testing, but from what I can tell, you’ll be making a full recovery,” she announced with a smile. “I’ll be back to check on you in an hour, let me know if you need anything,” she smiles as she walks out of the room.

Tim pulls you in for a hug, careful not to hurt her further, “you’re awake,” he breathed out.

y/n let out a relieved breath, holding onto Tim as tight as she could. y/n felt tears brimming her eyes as a sob escaped her lips. Tim rubbed small circles on her back, “I-I thought I was never gonna see you again,” she sobs.

Tim places a small kiss on the top of her forehead, “You’re safe now,” he says as he lies on the bed with y/n, never letting go of her hug. “That’s all that matters to me right now.”

“How did you find me?”

“We had some help,” Tim explains.

“Was it from Diego?” Tim looked at her with a surprised expression, “Jesse told me everything, he knew Diego was on his trail.”

“Diego mentioned that,” Tim sighed, “How do you feel?”

“Like I’m probably gonna need therapy for the rest of my life,” she comments, letting out a small chuckle.

Tim couldn’t help but chuckle, “I’ll get you the best therapist there is, I’ll even get you a thousand stuffed animals if that makes you feel better for a thousand minutes. Hell, I’ll even get you another dog, I don’t care, just as I know you are home and you are safe and sound.”

Y/n couldn’t help but smile, but it soon falters, “Do we have to talk about what happened?” she asks.

“Not if you don’t want to, I’ll understand if you want to talk to a therapist instead. What you went through was heavy and…. I’ll understand.”

She nods, Tim watches as her mind wanders off, “I thought I was gonna die,” she begins to say, “and for a moment all I could think about was missing you. Missing our Sunday brunches with Kojo and even missing our softball practices.” She looks at Tim with tears in her eyes, “I was so scared.”

“I should’ve been able to protect you,” Tim whispers. “I’m so sorry, y/n.”

“It’s not your fault,” Y/n says, “I don’t blame you at all for any of it, you’ve always been there. You’ve protected me from the first moment I met you and you have never stopped.”

Tim felt a surge of love and pride within him, he had helped raise a brave young woman whom he was proud to call his daughter.

“I love you,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss on y/n’s forehead, his voice choking with emotion. “You are indeed the strongest person I know and I will always be here for you, no matter what.”

Y/n leaned against his shoulder, and the two of them lay there in silence for a moment before turning the T.V. on. He knew that he was going to need to help her through the tough times ahead, juggling a normal life with school and friends while also dealing with this trauma. Tim knew the next few months were not going to be easy, but he was more than willing to be the rock y/n needed to get through this. It all seemed fine now, but he knew the emotional toll a traumatic event like this could be on a grown adult, but imagine a teenager.

It was a lot to take in and it was going to be a lot of therapy.

For now, all that mattered to Tim was that Y/N was found and she was now safe and sound.

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