#oh yes in the way in which silver and will are mirror balls is very different

[blackenchanting]

Welcome to Ravens Borough episode 20 season finale part 1

Somewhere in the unheard of town of Ravens Borough

The contents of this story are nsfw therefore not for children

The humming of an engine came as an Aston Martin Db eleven pulled up beside the now closed detectives office. The door opened as Robin stepped out dressed in a grey crop top blue booty shorts white socks and pink boots as he made his way up towards the door holding a file

"Knock knock bitches I'm here" Robin said closing the door behind him

"Oh good. Whatcha need?" Rob asked from the office space while on his laptop.

"Pack your shit we're going to New York" Robin said placing the file on the desk

"Again? Uh alright here I was looking for a new place because this is definitely… not great." Rob said getting up.

"But it has Chacacter" Robin said pushing a pillar as it collapsed

"It's also liable to collapse on us. I'd rather have a place not do that." Eva said.

"Whats the problem you don't wanna turn your two story into a single story?" Robin asked opening the file

"I'd rather not die due to shoddy building maintenance. Thank you very much." Eva said as Rob went upstairs to grab his stuff.

"I'll keep him safe" Robin said pulling the top of his gun back which was a pastel blue with 'heavy iron two point o' written on the barrel

"I know you will. Though now, I'm probably going to sleep in the car because I don't know if that pillar was important or not. I'll probably have found a place by the time you get back." Eva said as Rob came back down with a suitcase in hand.

"Signs point to yes" robin said quoting the magic eight ball

"Alright what's the job?" Rob asked.

"We're going to get Salein" Robin said as they exited the building passing a sexy looking dodge viper that was silver with two red pinstripes and a single black line between them.

"Well alright then let's get to it." Rob said before kissing Eva.

They continued walking towards the Aston Martin Db eleven waiting at the end of the sidewalk

"Interesting choice. Anyway let's go." Rob said.

"It's as I always say. If you're going to New York you better go in style" Robin said opening the trunk and placing his empty gun in a container next to his suitcase

"Fair enough." Rob said, placing his suitcase in the trunk.

In no time at all the boys hit the road driving in style as Robin sat behind the wheel of the beautiful silver Aston Martin and drove past the now leaving ravens borough sign and sliding on the interstate as they made their way towards the crowded city of New York. Robin grabbed the hand crank on the door and rolled his window down as they drove with the radio on.

"So how'd you find out she was in New York anyway?" Rob asked. As Robin handed him the large yellow envelope

"Alright." Rob said opening the envelope.

"Have fun" Robin said

He pulled out photos of Salein walking with two people her blonde hair and blue eyes setting her apart from the two people she was walking with

"I see." Rob said.

"We're gonna bring her back. Even if I have to shoot a few people to do it" Robin said focused on the road

"Well you're lucky I have some connections in New York. Given that they haven't been killed." Rob said. They drove with the hot beating sun on them as Rob turned in horror to hear Robin singing

"Na na na na na na Na na na na na na na na na Bup budupadup ooh" he sang tapping his fingers in the door as he drove with one hand

"Oh dear God.." Rob said

"Going off to save a child.. I've got a cramp.. in my back.. and And another cramp in my right.. rump cheek" he sang to himself

Rob slowly looked away in embarrassment

"Look it's some circling birds.. I bet you they're going to eat our corpses!!" Robin said

As Rob looked at him in horror

Na na na na Na na na na Na na na na na Haa na na na na na" Robin finished as they continued driving as the hawks flew over them in the burning son

"Don't look at me like that" Robin said

"Your… talking to your self in the mirror" Rob said

"Na nah nah nah nah everything gonna end.. in tragedy. Yeah nah nah na na" Robin sang

They felt like they were being backed alive in the silver frying pan as Robin had clearly lost himself

"You and I will have separate grandchildren and we will say to them… oooo look Rob I'm playing the guitar upside down…" Robin said his voice dry from the heat

"Alright. That's it. We're stopping at the next motel and waiting out the heat." Rob said

"Nah… nah… na na na nah.. the Birbs are.. gonna.. eat our… corpses" Robin sang through the heat as the Day would soon become dusk as they pulled into a shitty roadside motel of which they couldn't read what the name was. only words hell's motel was lit up as they pulled into a parking spot. Outside different letters would flicker every few minutes reminding Rob of Lucy's as they both got out and made their way towards the check in seeing a guy running towards them

"Aliens are real…I fucken saw them!. I saw them!" He said

"And I thought Katelyn was on crack" Robin said watching the guy run away

"I'm curious what he was on. And what he actually saw." Rob said.

"you can fuck around and find out if you want just remember we're not here to solve every single problem" Robin said

"Oh no, I'm not gonna go find out. I'm curious but I ain't ending up like the fuckin cat." Rob said.

"Which cat?" Robin asked his mind clearly wondering

"Curiosity killed the cat. You alright?" Rob asked.

"So the nearest bar is two miles down the road.. data's shit and theres a phone booth right there if you need to call Eva" Robin explained

"That doesn't answer the question. But noted." Rob said.

"Single bed to two beds" Robin said looking at the prices on the outside of the check in

"Two. As much as I hate sleeping alone, we're not together anymore." Rob said.

"Fair enough" Robin said the two got their room as they headed up to it finding room one six seven

"I'm starting to see this number everywhere" Robin said

"Eh, that's just pattern recognition being a little fucky." Rob said.

"If you say so" Robin said opening the door as they both went in. And Robin immediately dropped his shorts and slid into bed

"Yeah. Definitely the better option. Otherwise I'd be cheating." Rob said entering the room, closing the door and flopping onto the other bed and taking a nap.

The silence opened up on a communication tower. A large warning sign stated 'ravens burrough cellar communication tower. A large red light flashed on top of it that was swallowed by the fog plunging the communications tower into absolutely zero the and then with a clack the lights went out in the town one by one until it was plunged into darkness

….

"The number you are trying to reach is unavailable or is outside communication range" a voice said from Rob's phone

"Oh for the love of… goddamn backwater cell tower." Rob said, hanging up. As the Aston Martin hit a bump next to him driving past him as it turned into the parking spot it was in before as yhe door opened and Robin got out

"Every breath you take.. every move you make. Every bond you break. Every step you take… i'll be watching you…" Robin said in a creepy tone as he handed Rob a breakfast sandwich

"Thanks. I think the cell tower might be fucked back home." Rob said as he took a bite of the sandwich.

"I'm sure they'll have it fixed in no time" Robin said looking up at the hawks flying above them

"Look it's some circling birds.. I bet you they're going to eat our corpses!!" Robin said

"No." Rob said lightly bopping robin on the head with his free hand.

"Na na na na na na Na na na na na na na na na Bup budupadup ooh" Robin sang walking back towards the room

"Why the FUCK! is there so much SAND!" Robin yelled at the top of his lungs as their Motel was smack dab in the middle of the desert

"Why the fuck are we even in a desert? We're up north!" Rob said.

"Fuck you Idaho!" Robin said

"Fuck you too!" someone yelled

"Kill yourself!" Robin shouted back

********

The Aston Martin hit the road again driving past a sign for twin falls and turning right.

A"Nah.. nah na na nah going off to see a thing" Robin sang

"I still got a cramp in my ass.. but the one in my back.. has gone away" he added

"What even… I'd be singing no sleep till Brooklyn but alright." Rob said.

"We're being cooked alive in a metal frying pan.. I am sorry if my choice of music isn't working for you" Robin said

"Turn the flipping ac on!" Rob said

"Yeah about that" Robin said

****

"And this cable goes here.. and this one goes.." Robin was cut off by it exploding in his face

***

"Oh for the love of fuck." Rob said.

Three hours later.

"Well here it is" Robin said gesturing to a big sign that said 'Craters of the Moon National Monument & Preserve'

"Interesting." Rob said

"Yep… that was entirely worth the three hour drive" Robin said standing on the edge looking down at all of it

********

"Foot on the pedal, never ever false metal Engine running hotter than a boiling kettle….. na na nah nah nah.. I'm gonna put a bullet.. through my skull" Robin Sang as they drove back towards the Motel

"You know I'll do whatever I can to make sure we all come back alive, right?" Rob said.

"Idaho fuckin sucks" Robin said smacking his fist down on the dash as the air-conditioning kicked in

"Holy…. Fuck… it's an Idaho miracle" he said

"Yes. It is." Rob said.

"Till death do us part or whatever you wanna call it" Robin said

"Not if I can help it." Rob said..

They later pulled back into the Motel

"Why are we back here?" Rob asked.

"I spent over ten hours in this car I am not ready to hit the road again" Robin said

[kattartsblog]

Rated: M

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Death, and Violence

Ilona is assigned to be with Ghiaccio, Melone, and Formaggio on their very first mission at a concert hall.

Ilona cautiously knocked on the door to Risotto’s office, “Yes come in.” Risotto replied, “You wanted to see me signore?”

“Si, you may not be a full time member but I think you would be perfect for this assignment. It’s time for your skills to be put to work.” Risotto handed them a folded black cloth that had black sequins on it. “I had briefed Melone, Ghiaccio, and Formaggio on what you are doing and where you are going. I ask you to follow their orders tonight, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, but-”

“Are you questioning your superior?” Ilona shook their head, they just wanted clarification. But if it was classified Passione business it made sense as they could be compromising the mission. “Good, now go get changed. Oh and take these too.” Risotto gave Ilona a shoebox, inside were a pair of silvery stiletto slingback pumps. Taking the items to their room, Ilona was very confused. They had never worn such fancy shoes before, unfolding the black cloth revealed a long slick black gown that touched the floor. The neckline was off shoulder that really showed off their collarbones. Once the dress was on their body, Ilona noticed how well it shaped them, it was as if they were a movie star. The sleeves were long and elegant, with a lacy flower pattern adorned into the netting.

Looking in the mirror, they blushed. Why were they being singled out to wear such a feminine style?! Suddenly Formaggio bursted into the room, he was wearing a black suit with a pale blue shirt unbuttoned a tad to show off his chest, and the nicest pair of dress shoes Ilona had ever seen the cheese man wear. “Ilona? Did you receive the- Oh shit. Wow, you look so… girly.”

“Shut up man, Risotto gave me this and I don’t know why!” Ilona’s face was as bright as a tomato, “Chill out, I’m glad it fits you. Melone picked a great outfit for the concert.” A concert, it must be an opera of some kind if they were supposed to wear something this fancy. It all made sense to Ilona now, but still a suit and bowtie would have been nice instead. Then again, Formaggio said that Melone picked this outfit, since when?! “We better get going, Ghiaccio will have a fit if we keep screwing around.” Formaggio said as he exited the room, Ilona followed carrying the front hem of the dress in order to not trip on the long skirt.

Before Ilona could exit the main meeting room, Illuso made a cat call whistle towards them. “Wow, I didn’t know you’d be going to the ball Cinderella.” Illuso snickered, “I bet you a billion Mel is gonna love that little number you’re wearing.”

“Enough Illuso.” Prosciutto barked, “You look very nice this evening.” Ilona nodded their head as they exited the house and the front door behind them, they smiled to themself. A compliment from Prosciutto, now that was a rare sight. Formaggio guided Ilona to Ghiaccio’s red convertible, which had the hood up. Ilona could see Ghiaccio wearing a proper black tie suit, a small silver snowflake pin, and black Versace shoes with golden buckle accents. As for Melone, he wore a striking purple velvet suit and pants, a black dress shirt, and garishly colored floral purple dress shoes. To finish the look Melone had put all of his hair into a full slicked back man bun. This was the first time Ilona had ever seen Melone without his mask and with his hair up no less.

“I knew it!” Melone exclaimed as Formaggio helped Ilona get the dress into the car. “I knew you would look perfect in that outfit!~” Ilona squeaked out a small thank you as Ghiaccio groaned in annoyance. Soon as he began to start the car, they were on their way. The car ride to the concert hall was awkward and a bit silent. Ilona kept twiddling their paws nervously and stared out the window. Formaggio could see this discomfort and placed a hand on their lap, “So Il, do you know what we’re doing?”

“I haven’t a single clue, not even Risotto would tell me.”

“Ah, figures. Mel, want me to spill?” Melone hummed in agreement, “Cool. Ok so here’s the thing, there’s this guy named Salvo Passatelli. He’s our target; Melone’s got the technical side, Ghiaccio will be sitting closest to him, and I got the job of cornering him for the kill. And you, my dear amico, are the distraction.” Ilona raised an eyebrow, “Distraction, is that why I have this fancy dress on?!” Melone turned his head and butted into the conversation, “Well you see Ilona, you have a lovely singing voice and all of us were in agreement that you are to perform.”

“Sing, who heard me singing, when have you guys heard me singing?!” Formaggio rolled his eyes, “Who else?” Ilona realized what he had meant, they sneered at themself and pouted, Illuso. “Sorry to put you on the spot, but don’t worry, Melone will be guarding you the whole time.” Ghiaccio said, “This needs to be perfect, so don’t screw around ok?” Ghiaccio said as Melone smiled back at Ilona. They felt very embarrassed. It was sweet of them to think they were talented enough to pull this off, but something deep down inside their soul told them that this isn’t a great idea.

They had finally arrived at the concert hall, it was time to put the plan into action. Ilona and Melone walked towards the back stage door, there was a security guard who stopped them dead in their tracks. “Sorry, you’re not allowed here. Performers only.” Melone puffed up his chest and began to scold the guard faking his offense, “How dare you deny Lucania Superiore the right to perform, we traveled all the way from Potenza for this. Do you even know how famous they are, they’re a star on the rise and you dare turn them away?!” The guard looked on the list of performers, sure enough Lucania’s name was on the list. “Oh my apologies, please come in.” The guard walked out of the way, they were in. “Good luck out there, I’ll be waiting in the wings for you.”

“Wait, Melone. What am I going to perform?” Melone shrugged and left for the wings. Melone dialed up Ghiaccio and Formaggio’s burner phones and whispered into the receiver. “All set on my end, what about you guys?”

“Ready when you are.” Formaggio replied,”And you Ghiaccio?”

“He’s coming next to me, did you ever give Ilona a piece to sing?” Ghiaccio asked. “Uh…”

“Melone, I swear to god if this flops it’s on you.” Ghiaccio angrily whispered, “I have to go, he's here. I’ll call you back.” Ghiaccio hung up, Formaggio was almost cracking up, “Dude, you gotta be kidding me. You just wanted to hear your lover sing.”

“They are not my lover you simpleton, I just think they’re… neat.”

“Tch, whatever, just make sure Il doesn’t have on stage jitters. Later.” Formaggio had hung up.

“Superiore, you’re on last ok?” A stagehand yelled, “Yes Signorina.” Ilona replied, they sighed and looked in the dressing room vanity’s mirror, such a pretty outfit going to waste on a one person act that might end up embarrassing the entire concert hall. Time had passed, Melone was getting worried and went to check on Ilona. “Hey, why aren’t you on stage yet?”

“The stagehand said I was going last, I still have no idea what to perform!” Melone gently grabbed Ilona’s shoulders and the two faced the mirror. “You don’t have to sing a song everyone has heard, just sing from your heart and make up the words as you go. We’re all rooting for you.” Melone kissed the top of Ilona’s forehead and went back to waiting in the wings. Ilona’s face started to burn up, their heart began to beat faster. Not out of anxiety, but out of a new foreign feeling. Finally it was time to go on stage.

“Now introducing our final act, Lucania Superionre.” The crowd politely clapped as Ilona made their way to the stage. The hot spotlight shined down upon them, they looked into the crowd to make out Ghiaccio’s bright blue hair among the audience. They looked to stage right to see Melone give them an Ok sign of approval. With a deep breath they began to sing.

It started as an acapella at first, just a few simple lines. The words were simple and sweet. But there were no sounds from the instruments until a piano began to play. The melody was bittersweet, romantic, and slow. Soon a few strings from the orchestra began to play along. Ilona nervously looked to the side then back at the crowd. They began to sing a few more lyrics with a louder tone. Ghiaccio had never heard such a heart wrenching song, but now wasn’t the time to enjoy the concert. Salvo didn’t move a muscle to leave, so it was up to plan B: kill him in his seat. Meanwhile, Formaggio heard a bit of Ilona’s singing and became interested in the song. He came out of hiding and was completely enamored by Ilona’s angelic stage presence, as the melody began to swell. Soon the woodwinds joined in along with the timpani drums and cymbals, and soon the song began to dramatically change key. Ilona took a deep breath, with a loud and confident note they began singing with a crescendo. This time really feeling themselves in the music, almost crying and howling the notes.

What ended up happening was only seen by Ghiaccio, Melone and Formaggio. No one could move and Ilona’s stand, Hybrid Theory, came out of the shadows and Ilona’s voice began to echo with the song singing with passion and triumph. Hybrid Theory had amplified the sound so much that there was no need for the microphone on stage. But the sound, as sweet as it was, began to ring in the eardrums of everyone. Ghiaccio, Melone, and Formaggio covered their ears as they saw Hybrid Theory’s shadowy tendrils go into Salvo’s ears. Hybrid Theory made the ringing so loud for him, he was eventually dying from blood loss out the ears. Ghiaccio was shocked to see the target dead so quickly. Eventually the music came to a halt as the musicians couldn’t take the headache-inducing ringing. Ilona looked down at the pianist to finish the last few lines of the song. As sweetly and quietly as they could, they sang the last few lines of the song. The crowd applauded, Ilona bowed and left the stage.

Ilona was face to face with Melone, his expression was indescribable, he felt so many different emotions and tears ran down his eyes. “Melone. I’m sorry I got carried away and I think Hybrid Theory was summoned and I-” Suddenly Formaggio ran backstage and tackle-hugged Ilona, “Il you did it, you aced it!”

“What do you mean Formaggio?”

“I saw it, your stand killed the target, who needs our dumb little plan when your song did the job for us!”

“Formaggio, stop messing around. The body is still in the audience.” Ghiaccio said. Formaggio nodded and quickly went back to the seating area. Ghiaccio looked at Ilona with an intense look in his eyes, “What in the world was that?”

“My stand?” Ilona said nervously, “I didn’t mean to, it just-”

“Stop, you almost killed us along with the audience out there. You could have cost us the mission.” Ilona looked down in disappointment; they totally blew it, it was over, done for! “You lack discipline and your stand is out of control. Don’t overdo it for the next hit, do I make myself clear Liquirizia?” Ilona nodded as they covered their mouth, “I’m going to start up the car, grab Formaggio and let’s get out of here.” Ghiaccio held his tongue, he wanted to scream at Ilona for not telling them how unstable their stand ability was or how dangerous it could be. He wanted to say so much more, but for some reason he couldn’t.

Ilona looked back at Melone who was trying to reel his emotions back in. “Melone, are you ok?” Melone didn’t say a word, but he darted his way to catch up with Ghiaccio. Ilona looked on in sadness, did their stand just scare off and traumatize him? They didn’t mean to, there was no way right? Ilona decided to find Formaggio, he was tucking away Salvo’s shrunken body in his coat pocket. “Formaggio, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what’s up amico?”

“Do you think that my stand was… scary?” Formaggio paused, he saw that Ilona’s anxiety was starting to set in. “Yeah’, he said hesitantly. “But it’s not a bad thing, in fact putting fear in the hearts of grown ass men is exactly what we do.” Formaggio looked over to Ilona who was slowly shuffling their feet, “Did something happen?” Ilona put their head in their paws and then sighed, “It’s nothing, come on Ghiaccio is waiting in the car.” The two left the concert hall and got in the car, the drive home was long and silent.

#jjba #melone #risotto nero #formaggio #ghiaccio #la squadra #ilona liquirizia #jjba oc #Daily Assassin Life #one shot #angst #tw swearing #cw swearing #tw death #cw death #canon divergent

[jaynovz]

Will Graham 🤝 John Silver

Mirror ball solidarity

#thoughts #the shows do have a lot of similarities but at a certain point they veer off #the dynamics between the two ships are I think fundamentally different in a lot of ways #ask me about Black Sails and Hannibal lit crit #at the end of the day silverflint is not anywhere near as destructive #it maybe as codependent but I think the important additions of polystuff like throwing Madi in there or throwing Thomas in there #or ideally both helps make this relationship a lot healthier if they would actually just talk to each other and work some shit out #whereas hannigram... well. it's absolutely rooted in someone doing so much bad shit to you but you literally can't cut them out of your lif #because nothing is ever going to compare to the experience of having them around even if it's a negative influence sometimes or often #like they are so Unhealthy #the zerosum game and that's why it ends with a cliff dive sigh #you love this terrible terrible thing and you hate yourself for loving it but you also can't deny it #so can't live with him can't live without him #let me try to do my last little bit to society by throwing both of our asses off of this cliff #I think they're metaphorical cliffs also because like there are no cliffs in Maryland by the way #what is it with these shows that I like in metaphorical cliffs #oh yes in the way in which silver and will are mirror balls is very different #they can both easily become different people and different personas but whereas for Will it's almost something he can't help doing #and he absolutely hates that #for silver it's something that he might do unconsciously but it's rooted in survival #though I would say they're both tormented by this tendency to be mirrorballs even if it works in a different way for each

[dr4cking]

BIRTHDAY SMUT

Birthday Boy.

masterlist taglist

draco malfoy x reader | smut | fluff |

a/n : we love spoiling our ferret boy and thank you for requesting! <3

y/n look up at the clock hanging on her bedroom wall. its 12am sharp, confirming the next date has arrived, which means that it's June 5 now.

she was feeling excited and nervous as she finishes wrapping up the present that she will give to one of her best friends, draco malfoy.

they had been best friends for long years, it started in 2nd year and became inseparable since then and now they both are already graduated.

as they grew up they often flirted with each other, always got jealous when the other see another person.

they both knew that they always wanted to be 'more'. the sexual tension between the two is becoming too hard to ignore, but they were too scared to ruin their friendship.

she stood in front of her mirror, taking the last look at herself. she decided to dress up, it was a special day after all.

she wore a dark green satin dress because draco's favorite color is green and paired it up with silver heels. she had decided to put black lingerie underneath her dress incase 'it' happens.

she had asked her parents to let her stay in malfoy manor today so she can celebrate draco's birthday. and because their parents know each other too, they let her stay there.

she swishes her wand and in a second she was apparated to malfoy manor hall, it was really dark but she still managed to found his bedroom, she knocks softly on his door not wanting to wake his parents.

the door opened, revealing the blonde-haired guy who stood straightly with a genuine smile on his face.

draco is wearing his usual black suit which always making him look hotter than he already is.

she feels her heart will going to jump out of its place at any second when she cant take her eyes off of him.

"you came," he said as he greeted and taking her hand in his guiding her in. they both sit at the edge of his bed.

"of course, i wouldnt miss my best friend's birthday, making sure i was the first celebrating your birthday." she laughed softly making draco chuckle.

"you look so beautiful in that dress, love. green really suits you.”

draco once again take her hand in his and brought it to his lips and kiss it, making her cheeks heated at his action and the nickname he just called her.

"here, happy birthday draco." she placed the gift in his hand.

his eyes lit up and he immediately opens it, making y/n getting more nervous waiting for his reaction.

"oh merlin! this is so cool y/n!! i love it so much!"

he took out the black ring that had a snake symbol carved in it from its place and put it on his ring finger, taking a look and admiring it.

"i’m so glad you like it, draco! i wasnt sure what to get you then i remembered you've been looking at this ring when we passed the store last week"

"thank you so much y/n!! you dont have to do this i appreciate it so much, you're the best thing that ever happened to me, love."

he pulls her by her waist and kisses her forehead, thanking her.

no one has ever treated him like the way she does and he's so grateful to have someone like her in his life.

"aww stop it draco or i will cry in front of you now" she laughs, nudging his elbow making him laughs too but he suddenly stopped and looking at his lap.

"whats wrong, dray? are you okay? did i do something wrong?" she asks worriedly tilting his chin making him looking up at her.

"i'm afraid that i have to say this, y/n..” he takes a big sigh looking into her eyes.

“what is it? tell me i wont judge, draco”

“i- i think i’m in love with you, y/n. no! i know that i am in love with you, i have always been."

he inhales deeply and broke the eye contact, looking anywhere but her eyes, knowing his sudden confession would make him lost her this instant.

"draco, look at me" y/n said as she tilts his chin again making him look at her.

"oh god.. i’m sorry y/n i shouldnt have said that! i was just- its just i- i cant hold it anymore y/n. i need to get this out of my chest and now look, i just ruined us"

"oh draco.. you're not ruining anything, quite the opposite actually, you just made the right move, i'm in love with you too, idiot, always have been."

she chuckles and cupped his face in her hands, pressing both of their foreheads, looking at each other causing a shy smile to appear back on his face.

he tilted his head and wasting no time to smashed his lips on hers, kissing her passionately, showing her how much he loves her which she gladly returned with the same passion.

he put one of his hands on her throat and the other on her waist pulling her closer to him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged softly on his hair making him moan into the kisses.

as the kiss turning into a full makeout, he lays her down to his bed, resting both of his hands on the side of her head still kissing her hungrily.

his suit already thrown out on the floor and her heels too. she snapped back to reality and realizing what is gonna happen then flipping their position over and now she is on top of him straddling him.

"let me do all the work draco, today is all about you, wanna make this special and a night to remember, let me make you feel good, love."

she slowly grinding against him after earning eager nods from him, both of them let out a moan at the feeling.

then she gets down and started to unbuckle his belt, kissing his growing tent and palming him through his trousers causing him to squirmed under her touch.

getting excited she pulls his trousers and boxers down, throwing them somewhere as draco's hard swollen cock sprang free and standing tall in front of her, begging for attention.

she moans at the pretty sight, licking her lips, craving to feel him. she runs her fingers around him and placing soft kisses on his inner thighs before going up to the part he needed the most.

draco let out a throaty groan when y/n finally take his hard cock in her hands pumping him, his body jolted out as he feels y/n kitten lick his tip, his hand founding its way to her hair.

she looks up to him with innocent eyes who already watching her movements, she smiles and took his balls in her mouth making draco instantly moan her name, his other hand gripped on the sheets.

then she pulls out to rest her jaw and lick a straight line on his cock from the base to the tip then going all in, his cock feels so heavy and full in her mouth, draco is already a moaning mess.

"fuck y/n- feels so g-good.." her name repeatedly left his lips like a prayer as he keeps moaning her.

she bobbed her head up and down at a steady pace, hollowing her cheeks and pulling draco deeper each time she suck him.

"yes y/n, just like that, fuck.. feels so fucking good"

she swirls her tongue around his length, sucking on his tip and taking him back inside her mouth again, her hand pumping the rest of his cock that she couldnt fit in her mouth at the same pace making sure that part got pleasures too.

he bucked his hips accidentally making her gagged and choked out, saliva dripping off her mouth and eyes watering.

"shit i’m sorry y/n!" he said as he watches her struggling.

"do that again, draco."

y/n replied as she took him back inside her mouth, and hand still stroking his cock. draco groaned and buck his hips again, making her gagged and moaning at the same time, the vibration sending him near to his high.

she noticed his cock twitched in her mouth and begin to suck faster and deeper, her hand move to his balls and massaging them helping him reach his high.

he let out a low scream of her name as he shots his warm liquids down to her throat, his legs are shaking. y/n moaned and pulls him out showing draco that she swallowed all of his cum. he smirked and mutters a 'good girl' to her.

"how was it, draco?" she asks him smirking as she slowly sat up and straddling him again.

"fuck.. you have no idea y/n.. that was amazing, the best i ever had" he replied as he still catching his breath.

she smiles at him and takes off her dress slowly showing draco her black lingerie. his pupils widened at the view in front of him.

"god y/n.. you are insanely gorgeous, you look so hot in this lingerie, darling. are you preparing all of this for me? planning all of this cause you know this is going to happen, yeah?"

his hands are now roaming around her body, admiring her in every way he could. she blushes and nodded, taking her lingerie off of her showing draco her full body making him embarrassingly moaned at the view.

she starts grinding her now bare cunt on his still hard cock, earning a soft whimper from the boy under her. his hands instantly gripped her hips helping her grinding faster, her wetness now coating his cock.

"now enjoy the ride, mr. malfoy" she said as she lifts her body and pumps his cock lining his tip against her lubricating it with her juices making both of them groaning at the sensation.

she sunk down on his cock, filling her up in a perfect way. its like their bodies fit together and were made for each other.

they’re moaning each other as draco is fully inside her. she paused and take a few seconds to adjust to his size.

"mhm.. fuck- you're so big draco.. fill me up so good inside"

she starts bouncing up and down, resting her hands on draco's chest as she picks up her pace, throwing her head back and screwing her eyes shut in pleasure.

"you're so tight y/n, wrapping my cock so tight, taking me so well" draco praises between his moans, his hands gripped harder on her hips helping her bouncing faster.

"do you like how i ride you, dray?" she leaned into his ear, blowing her hot breath and biting his earlobe making him shuddered.

"y- yes mommy" draco's breath hitched as y/n suddenly going faster, her walls now hugging his cock very tight.

she let out a groan hearing draco called her 'mommy'.

placing her lips on his jawline, licking it then going down to his neck, sucking hard as she found his sweet spot causing draco to moan his raspy voice into her ear, turning her even more.

y/n starts to give him her lovebites and marking him as hers sending butterflies to his stomach.

she put her hand on his throat, choking him lightly while her other hand toying with his nipple, making draco whine. pulling her closer to him and captured her lips on his to muffle his moans.

she broke the kiss and screaming his name out loud as his cock nearly brushing her cervix and hitting her g-spot.

"shit.. you feel so good inside me dray"

she rolled her hips faster on his cock, her tits bouncing up and down in front of him and he caught her nipple in his mouth and buried his face on her breasts, enjoying the warmness.

"ah- you feel so good too, fuck- never felt this good mommy"

his breath got stuck and he feels his cock twitched inside her indicating both of them that he was close, y/n seems close too as she bites her lips feeling the coil in her stomach tightened.

"cum for mommy, baby boy"

y/n rolls her hips and bouncing faster, tightening her grip on his throat.

and that was it for draco, he moans her name out loud not caring if someone might hear as he spilled his cum inside, filling her to the brim, ropes of his warm cum shooting inside her.

y/n cant help but cum all over his cock at the feeling of his cum shooting inside her nonstop, her walls clenching and squeezing hard on him.

both of them are a mess, legs shaking, vision blurry as they were on cloud nine, she rolled her hips lazily to ride out their orgasms before collapsing on top of draco, both panting heavily.

"fuck you have no idea how long i've been wanting to do that, love" draco said softly as he caressing her cheeks pulling her in for a sweet loving kiss.

"happy birthday, draco." y/n broke the kiss smiling at him tiredly, giving lovely kisses all over his face.

"best birthday ever, thank you my love for everything. i love you so much..” he kissed her lips one more time.

“i love you so much too, dray.”

those were the last words they spoke before both of them drifted off to sleep with a smile on their faces.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

tagging : @dracoscum @hellounicorn @onyourgoddamnleft @whoreforgeorgeandfred @turn-to-page-394-please @underappreciated-spoon-321 @youreso-golden @silverdelirium @littlemissnoname13 @dracmalf0y-dm @f4iryluvy @starstruckgranger @lieswithoutfairytales @dlmmdl @yiamalfoy @black-repunzel99 @rylynn-m @slythermuf @acciodignity @i-love-scott-mccall @maybesandohnos @yvonnearce22 @arzfia @alexthealexthealex @seriouslyinlove

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco oneshot #draco fanfiction #draco imagine #draco smut #draco lucius malfoy #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #harry potter

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Princess {Fred Weasley x Plus Size Reader}

Plot: Requested by anon: Fred Weasley asks you to the ball and treats you like the most beautiful one there.

Characters: Fred Weasley x Plus Size Female Identifying Reader

Part of my Plus Size Reader x Character series.

The Winter Ball was coming up and all over Hogwarts, girls were freaking out about who was going to ask them to the dance. No one had asked you to go to the ball yet and honestly, you weren’t expecting anyone to. You weren’t the typical prim and proper, dainty and petite girl that a lot of boys wanted. You were louder, heavier with rolls of fat and wobbly bits. You’d long since grown used to your body but you knew that a lot of boys at Hogwarts, particularly the shallow ones, really only cared about looks.

Hermione had asked that you go together as friends with Ginny and Luna and a couple of your single friends to make a stand that being single was okay and normal. You agreed, thinking that was a lovely idea. You were in the year above Hermione, Ron and Harry and the year below Fred and George and you were friends with all of them which made for interesting stories.

At Hogsmeade, one of your friends, Esther, helped you look for dresses. Esther had no both finding a dress, she seemed to suit any colour and any style but you... you were a little harder to buy a dress for. You hadn’t wanted anything too tight, although you were okay with your size and shape, you didn’t want it to be on show for the world to see. Esther had plucked various dresses of various styles and colours for you to try. As you looked in the mirror, you tried not to focus on the parts of yourself that you hated but more so the ones you did like. 

“What do you think?” You asked, stepping out of the changing room and twirling.

“Bloody hell,” a voice said. You looked up seeing Fred.

“Fred? What are you doing here?”

Fred’s eyes were wide, “Helping Ginny out. You look... Wow.”

“Is it too much?” You asked, looking down at the red silk that adorned your body.

“No!” He exclaimed a little too fast, “It’s... It’s bloody perfect.”

You smiled, thanking him, enjoying the way he gaped at you. It boosted your confidence a little. You had felt a little self conscious about your arms but the way Fred looked at you, you felt a lot better.

“Who’s taking you to the dance?” Fred asked as you looked in the mirror and twirled.

“No one. Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Esther and I are going together as single girls-”

“Let me,” Fred interrupted. You looked at him confused, “Let me take you to the dance.”

You frowned, confused. As far as you knew, you and Fred were just friends. I mean, sure, you’d had a crush on him for years but you knew that wasn’t going to happen so you were over it now... right? “Together?” You asked, “As friends or-”

“Let me take you to the dance,” Fred repeated, stepping closer, “as your date.” He wore that charming smile, a glow in his eyes that you could never say no to.

From behind Fred, you could see Esther bobbing her head up and down excitedly, “I... Yes.” You decided, “Okay, I’ll be your... date.” It felt a little strange to say that about your friend but butterflies erupted in your stomach. A date! You and Fred! A date!

Fred grinned, “Perfect,” he stood up straighter feeling rather boastful now, “Wear that dress, it’s perfect.”

You looked down at it, running the fabric through your fingertips, “I will.” Fred grinned at you once more before turning and going to find his sister.

Esther rushed to you, “Oh my goodness!” She exclaimed, “I told you he fancies you!”

Tonight was the night of the ball. Nervous was an understatement; you were petrified, “There should be a potion to make me stop being nervous,” you muttered as you pinned parts of your hair up.

“There is,” said Esther, “it’s called vodka.” You rolled your eyes, continuing to fix your hair nervously checking the time every thirty seconds, “When have you to meet Fred?”

“Ten minutes.” You were excited but you were absolutely terrified. You’d barely seen him in the last week, apparently trying to get everything in order for the dance, George told you. You were confused about what all of this meant. Fred had said it was a date but was it? Were you going to go as friends or more than that? Did he like you? Oh Merlin, you hoped he did but you tried not to think about that so that you didn’t get your heart crushed.

“How do I look?” You asked Esther as you stood up, smoothing down your dress.

“You look lovely,” she grinned, “Oh, he is going to just melt for you!”

“He’s already seen me! He won’t care anymore!”

Esther rolled her eyes, “You’re seriously underestimating how good you look and how much Fred fancies you! Now go or you’ll be late!”

You were meeting Fred outside of the Great Hall so you walked out of the common room and down the halls. You passed by various friends of yours, including Hermione and Ginny, who squealed with excitement and gushed over how good you looked, “Fred’s bricking it,” Ginny laughed, “It’s so funny.” After chatting to them briefly, they sent you to go find him.

And find him you did.

There he stood at the bottom of the steps with a single rose and a wide smile. You walked down the steps slowly, careful not to fall, when he rushed up them to get to you, “Hi,” he said with a smile, “you look... you look like something out of a fairytale, like a princess.”

You couldn’t help but smile widely at him, “You look awful handsome yourself,” you said, reaching out to brush his shoulder off. He must’ve bought himself a new suit and tie. The tie was red, the same red as your dress, and he even bought new shoes, “Did you buy these new?”

Fred nodded, “Yeah, been saving up. I wanted to look good for you.”

“Fred,” you said softly, “you always look good.” You didn’t realise how much that meant to him as he cleared his throat and held out his arm. You gladly took it and he walked you down to the bottom of the steps.

“Oh, this is for you,” he said, holding out the rose, “I bought you a bouquet, I had Esther hide them but when you return to your dorm room, they’ll be there.” 

You thanked him, telling him that was too much but he just grinned at you, “Anything for you, princess.”

Together, you walked into the ball. It was beautifully decorated, whites, golds and silvers all around. You pulled Fred to get a drink and bumped into George on the way who winked at Fred and told you that you looked lovely.

The music changed to something slow, of course it would, and Fred stuck his hand out and bowed low, “Can I have this dance?”

Smiling, you put your empty cup on the table and curtseyed to him before accepting his hand and allowing him to lead you to the middle of the dance floor. It wasn’t exceptionally busy yet so the dance floor was half empty but as soon as you and Fred stepped onto it, the floor emptied. 

“I don’t really know how to dance,” you said as you held one of his hands and rested the other on his shoulder. Fred’s other hand fell to your waist, it felt like a very natural thing.

“I’ll teach you,” he grinned as you started to dance together. It was a slow song yet had a bit of a build up. Fred led you and as you began to grow more confident, you both got a little bolder. Fred twirled you around, making you laugh loudly as he spun you, that’s when you realised you were the only two on the dancefloor and everyone was watching you both.

He pulled you in close as you said, “They’re all staring at us.” He could see that you were feeling self conscious.

“They’re all staring at you, princess,” he said as he spun you again before dipping you with such ease, “You look absolutely gorgeous and they can’t take their eyes off of you... nor can I.”

You looked up at him, still in the dipped position, feeling that surge of butterflies in your stomach and all you could think about was how bad you wanted to kiss him. Fred looked down at you, eyes fleeting to your lips, realising that you had been staring at his lips the whole time. He smirked before pulling you back up to dance to the final part of the song. He wouldn’t kiss you yet, he wanted it to be more private. You sucked in a breath as you melded into his embrace laying your head on his chest. Your heart hammered against your ribcage as people began filtering back onto the dancefloor. Fred Weasley made you feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.

The song melded into another and another and you stood, slow dancing with Fred with your head on his chest. The tempo was faster and now the dancefloor was flooded with people but you were too wrapped up in your moment together that you didn’t quite care.

“Would you like to go a walk?” Fred asked after a few more songs, “I’d like to talk to you.”

You nodded and allowed him to navigate you both through the crowds before walking outside. The cold breeze hit you hard, Fred was quick to shrug off his jacket and drape it around your shoulders, “You’ll get cold,” you tried to say but Fred shook his head and told you he’d be fine.

You linked your arm through his as you walked before sitting on a bench in Hogwarts gardens, “Why me?” You asked him quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you ask me to be your date? I know Angelina and a lot of other girls were lining up to be your date... They’re much prettier than I am... skinnier too.” 

Fred scoffed, “You truly don’t get it, do you?” You frowned, “(y/n), I fancy you. I fancy the absolute pants off you. I’ve fancied you for years! You are the most beautiful, funniest, most down to earth girl I’ve ever met. You’re so kind and helpful, so pretty without even trying. You are beautiful inside and out. I love the way you look. Hell, you could be twelve feet tall and have bogies for hair and I’d still fancy you!”

“You fancy me?” You asked incredulously.

Fred laughed as he nodded, “Obviously! I’d be daft not to fancy you! Add ‘oblivious’ to your list as well,” he teased as he grabbed your hand and pulled you up to dance with him again. You could still faintly hear the music from the Great Hall as you swayed with him. This time it was a different sort of dance. It was more of a sway really but it was more intimate. Your head lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as his hands wrapped around your waist pulling you close.

“You really genuinely like me?”

“Course I do, princess,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “You’re so bloody brilliant and have no idea!”

You pulled your head back to look at him, “I’ve fancied you for years, too.” You told him quietly, “I never thought you liked me back...”

The two of you laughed, “What are we like?” He asked, “Couple of numpties.”

You smiled up at him as he smiled back at you. Your eyes drifted to his lips again and he began to lean in close. He kissed you gently and unusually nervous. You kissed him back eagerly and that’s when he pulled you close and dipped you once more.

You yelped, getting a fright, and breaking the kiss to see him grinning at you, “I know you wanted me to kiss you when I did this in there,” Fred teased as your cheeks burned, “I thought I’d make you wait.”

“Bloody git,” you whispered before pulling him to you to kiss you again. Yep, Fred Weasley made you feel like you were the most beautiful girl in the world.

#one shot #os #prompt #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x plus size reader #plus size series #plus size reader #harry potter one shot #harry potter #hp os #hp #hp one shot #harry potter os

[rreyie]

bubble bath

summary- after a long and excruciating week, you need some downtime with onyankopon. what batter way to relax than with a bubble bath and some bathroom intimacy?

warnings- intimate nudity, smut, bathroom sex, unprotected sex

a/n- there is a severe lack of onyankopon smut in here, time to change that

"darling, are you in there?" you hear a deep voice call from outside the door.

you were submerged in your tub filled with water, bubbles floating on the surface. the room smelled of fruit and vanilla which was an effect of the bubble bath you put in the water. thick clouds of steam floated around the room as you relaxed, your body completely at ease. 

"yes, onyankopon", you respond. "you can come in if you like, but i have nothing on..."

the silver doorknob twists and in walks his tall figure, looking down at you in the tub. he was wearing a suit with a black tie, most likely because of his work- also because he always preferred to dress formally.

"all the more reason to come in here and check on you", he grins. "how are you doing? i'm sorry i didn't come and say hello sooner, i had a whole stack of paperwork to go through."

"it's alright", you say. "i've just been sitting here for who knows how long, my muscles have been killing me today."

"oh, i'm so sorry dear", he says, and kneels beside the tub. you could smell his cologne on his collar. "you could always ask for help from me, you know that right? i could give you a nice massage if you need one later."

"thanks, honey", you smile. "but all i need right now is your presence. i've missed you all day."

"say less", he said. "may i join you? it smells lovely, what did you use in this?"

you picked up the bottle that rested on the side of the bathtub. "papaya vanilla bubble bath. got it from that new soap store downtown."

onyankopon began to undo his tie, the strip of black silk soon fell to the floor. he quickly picked it up, not wanting to get it dirty. he slid off his jacket, followed by his shirt and pants until all that he was clad in was his boxers. you could specifically remember getting him that pair of grey boxers for the holidays one year, and it warmed your heart that he was still wearing them. soon he slid his fingers between the waistband of his boxers and his skin, and tugged them off.

he walked over to you and dipped a foot in the bath, but quickly pulled it out with a hiss. "how hot did you make this bath, you're going to burn! i bet this water is at the boiling point!"

"hot water feels better, plus that's the soothing part of the bath!" you giggle. "sorry that i made it too hot, i guess i can put in some cold water if it's that bad..."

"you don't have to, i'll get used to it", he said. he dipped his foot in once again, this time sinking it down so it was submerged. sighing, he placed another foot in and crouched down, and sunk himself into the water.

"okay, this isn't too bad now, in fact it's nice..." onyankopon said. "come here. i haven't seen you all day, can i have some love?"

"of course", you say. you scoot over to where he was sitting in your large tub and sit next to him, planting a kiss on his warm cheek. he slung an arm around you and pulled you closer to him, feeling his wet skin on yours. he put a hand on your jaw and tilted it up so you could see his bronze eyes looking into your orbs. slowly, he guided your lips to his to meet in a kiss, one that you two had been craving all day.

his tongue became curious at it explored the depths of your mouth, feeling him slide around in your mouth as you let out a small moan. he stopped, and looked at you with that smirk you had seen ever since you knew him.

"getting a little riled up, i see", he smirked. "in the mood tonight?"

"i have been for the whole week", you said. "but you've been busy and i didn't want to bother you."

"how could this stunning face possibly bother me?" he asked, cupping your cheek. "you never are and never will be a nuisance, you got me?"

you nod. a tender smile starts to take form on his face, and he pulls you in again. a palm of his rests on the back of your head gripping your hair, another still on your cheek. he tugged at your bottom lip, tongue one again dipping into your mouth. your hands were on his broad back, nails ever so slightly digging into his supple flesh.

his lips trail along your face, then down to your neck where he pressed another few gentle kisses to your skin. a hand of his travels along your back and eventually to your chest, giving your breast a firm squeeze as he continues to explore your mouth. his thumb rubs around the areola of your perked nipple, making the heat down in between your legs begin to pool and fill you up with a warm sensation.

"why don't we get out of here so we don't make a mess?" he asks you, pulling away briefly. "the water will spill out of the tub if we keep this up."

he gets up, and you can see very clearly that he's as needy as you are. his dick was standing up, a few veins protruding through the shaft. he reached out a hand to you, hoisting you up from your seated position in the tub. you both step out, the water dripping down your bodies and onto the plush bath mat on the floor, creating dark drops that stained the fabric.

"bend over for me, will you?" he asks, guiding you to the counter. you could see your reflection in the mirror, which was now fogged with condensation from the steam. your hair was damp, parts of your chest were covered in little patches of leftover bubbles you didn't care to wipe off. onyankopon was standing behind you, watching in amusement as you stared at yourself in the mirror.

"you look so pretty, bent over for me like that", he purrs. "guess you can't help but stare."

those words went straight down south. you could feel yourself clamp around nothing, something onyankopon seemed to enjoy seeing from the smug look on his face. he reached over to a nearby cabinet and pulled out a bottle of lube, the kind that you both had been using since you started to do these types of things with each other. he squirted some into his palm before rubbing it and smoothing some onto his cock, slightly pulsating in his touch.

“tell me if i go too rough, darling”, he whispered to you, giving your ass a gentle squeeze and lining up his cock at your entrance.

he inched himself in slowly, your eyes clenching shut due to his sheer size and girth. this was always the hardest part of having sex with him, but the pain would soon be over. you let out a pathetic whimper, something that he took as a signal to keep going.

once he was all the way in, he thrusted himself out to try and feel your walls clench around his tip- which was one of his favorite sensations to feel from you. he pushed back in, the tip just brushing your cervix. it was a tight fit, but you two could make it work.

“oh god...” he gasped. “you’re feeling so good... love you so much. i’ll make you feel real good.”

so then he began to pump in and out of you, hands on your waist holding you in place while you were smooshed up against the cold marble countertop. you’re sure that if you were on your back right now, you would be able to see a bulge in your tummy. well, better keep that in mind for next time.

his pace was slow and endearing like always. since the first time you got with him, he always liked to take things slow to savor the moment. and he did it right every single time.

“o-oh...” you moaned. “you’re s-so big...”

his balls slapped up against your little clit, adding some extra stimulation. each plap, plap, plap sound was like music to your ears. behind you, he was letting out some deep grunts as his fingers dug into your waist, tightening his hold.

“f-fuck, m’ gonna cum”, he grunted. “do i-“

“yes, please go inside!” you yelped, almost out of breath. “please, please onyankopon...”

this begging of yours seemed to convince him enough. with another three sloppy, rough thrusts, he let out an especially loud moan as he came to a stop and spilled his cum inside of you. and holy shit was there a lot of it. the feeling of him dumping inside of you sent you over the edge, a broken whimper filling the room as you came to your high. the feeling was overwhelming, to the point where your legs felt weak.

as soon as he pulled out, you could already feel his release spill out from your hole, mixed juices dripping down your pussy to your inner thigh. onyankopon chucked at the sight.

“alright. sit down, let’s get you all cleaned up”, he laughed. “you did amazing, by the way- like usual.”

you were too out of breath to form a response, only muttering an “uh huh” back to him.

“made you feel good like i promised, didnt i?” he asked you, grabbing a white towel from the towel rack. he kneeled down to where you were now sitting on the counter, and began wipe your thighs.

your eyes grew tired, as the rest of your body did as well. onyankopon noticed this, and without another word carried you to your shared bedroom. neither of you even bothered to change into your pajamas. after gently placing you in the bed as if you were porcelain, he tucked himself in as well, curling up next to your body and pulling the comforter over you two.

“i love you, my darling. sleep tight.”

he placed a kiss on your forehead, and turned out the lights.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #aot hcs #aot headcanons #snk headcanons #aot smut #snk smut #onyankopon #onyankopon smut #aot onyankopon #snk onyankopon #reader x onyankopon

[ceapa-mica]

GEHAT’IK BE ALIIT | Chapter 13

{cross-posted on ao3}   {masterlist}

← previous chapter   next chapter →

pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character

warnings: injury and blood

words: 7358

summary: Their job on Naboo throws Din and Elora into an event where they clearly don't fit in.

a/n: Welcome back!

Here it is! The final chapter of the Naboo arc.

In this chapter Naboo gets a trans queen. It's what a beautful planet like Naboo deserves. ❤️ Oh and what's GBA without the action and drama? There's plenty!

I hope you enjoy!

Elora woke up to an empty bed. The side Din had slept on was already cold. When she turned around, she flinched at the sight of Arfour by her bedside. "Good morning to you, too. Yes, you come along on our mission, of course." She patted the flat top of his dome and got up. She sensed Seshén coming up the stairs. Seconds later there was a knock on the door.

"Elora? Wake up, time to get ready!" Seshén came in, looking a little disappointed when she noticed the now wrinkled dress Elora was still wearing. "We'll have to hurry. It's already past 0900!"

"That's early… The ball's supposed to be in the evening, yes?"

"Sure, but it will take several hours alone to turn you into a lady who fits into high society. I'll take care of your looks while my husband takes care of your false identity." With her gray hair tied back in a messy bun and her usual working clothes consisting of a simple blouse, long skirt and an apron, Seshén didn’t exactly look like someone you would expect to know about modern Naboo fashion.

Walking down the stairs in those shoes without losing her balance was harder than she expected. Din waited downstairs, his armor polished, looking shinier than ever. Under the helmet he gaped at her beauty. The light blue gown was a beautiful contrast to her auburn hair. The fabric hugged her waist perfectly, and the crystals really looked just as shiny as his armor, if not even more so. He held out his arm for her to take. As she did, they walked outside together where a luxurious landspeeder waited for them.

Elora knew she never wanted to do a job like that ever again. As expected, the following hours made her very uncomfortable. She couldn't relax, no matter how warm the bath water, no matter how soothing the skin lotion and oils. This was not her. Seshén turned her auburn hair into a very elegant braid and helped her with the zipper of her light blue velvet gown which looked stunning on Elora. From her chest down to her abdomen the fabric was covered in shiny crystals, letting her sparkle like a star cluster, and the sleeves were puffy - typical for Naboo fashion. Elora knew it would catch many eyes, just like Din’s armor would. The pearl white high heels she had to wear with her gown were painful to walk in since her feet were only used to her flat sandproof shoes. Seshén placed a delicate looking silver necklace around Elora’s neck, the pendant was a silver silhouette of a bird she wasn’t familiar with. Silver bracelets with shining jewels graced her wrists shortly after. Bright red lipstick, eyeliner, decent eyeshadow - she was not used to the feeling of makeup on her skin, it even felt a little itchy at some point. Not to forget the powder to cover the galaxy of freckles on her face and the tops of her slender shoulders and defined collarbone that peaked above her dress. She indeed looked just like the women in the holodramas. When she looked into the mirror she sighed, the woman staring back at her did not look Elora Jihiiga anymore, but a stranger. Arfour looked her over with his sensor, making confused bleeping sounds when he noticed her sad expression.

Ghizma wore a black body glove, her curly fuchsia hair tied neatly into a ponytail. She leaned against a speeder bike, cleaning her sniper rifle with care.

"You'll be taking the landspeeder. Ghizma will be making her way on the speeder bike to get to the other side of the palace where her sniper nest will be. Here are your faux chain codes. Good luck!" Zaev announced. The three exchanged looks. Ghizma eyed Elora, biting her lip, as there was nothing to ridicule her for. She lost her bet - Seshén managed to make the filthy desert girl look like actual royalty.

"I'm Princess Edie Jotraas from a small planet named Ristea, and currently on Naboo for a diplomatic visit." Elora looked over the sheets of flimsi Zaev had given her. She had to get used to the role before the mission began. "And you're Jes Favars… my bodyguard and confidante. Looks like you don't have to adapt at all." She rolled her eyes and stuffed the flimsi in Mando's messenger bag. "Edie Jotraas… I have to get used to that name.."

"You better get used to it quickly. We can't afford to fail this mission." Ghizma reminded her and got on her speeder bike with her disassembled rifle on her back.

"How are they supposed to address me? Your highness? Your majesty? Shit…" 

"They will know how to call you. Relax. You gotta pretend you're supposed to be there." Zaev explained.

"And what about you?" she pointed at Ghizma.

"Me? I'll keep watch from a distance and shoot to distract everybody. They will be after me. That will give you a chance to get to Masuk's quarters."

Elora nodded. It was all settled. The landspeeder looked every bit luxurious, expensive enough to be a noble’s vehicle. A spark lit up in Elora's eyes at the idea of scrapping it for parts. Her fingers itched to take the vehicle apart, but she had to resist the temptation and get in the backseat.

This is already harder than I thought. Man, this speeder is so valuable. Maker help me…

Nervously bouncing her leg, she watched the historic buildings of Theed pass. She and Din remembered how they spent the day before exploring this beautiful city. At that moment they wished they weren’t here for a mission but for pleasure. He had learned so much about her just spending the entire previous day with her. With every new planet she visited, her curiosity grew. As Arfour steered the speeder through the streets she wished she could explore the entire city, visit all the little shops, talk to the friendly people, and ask them and Din thousands of questions about life, about the Galaxy. After a life in the desert all she wanted was to explore. Getting acquainted with new types of droids or speeders and learning how to take them apart and fix them. There were so many impressions on their drive to the palace, she couldn’t decide where to look. Her eyes eventually landed on an antique golden gate at which Arfour halted the landspeeder. Din and Elora exchanged looks. "You ready?" he asked and got out to help her out of the speeder like the gentleman he was. One minute they admired the city, the next the situation became uncomfortable to the both of them. They knew they didn't belong in a place like this. Too many people, too many protocols on how to behave - it was a nightmare, and nothing what Elora expected it to be. She recalled the holopic of Eron Masuk from her memory while they walked up the stairs to the palace. Focusing on the job at hand mattered, not what some dumb nobles thought of her. Elora may fit right in with her dress and overall appearance, but Din stuck out like a sore thumb. He didn’t look regal in any way. His armor, no matter how polished, couldn’t hide all his weapons and the regular clothing he wore underneath.

There was a rustle at the other end of the comm. “Ok, remember the etiquette. Do not speak to the queen unless she speaks to you and don’t act confused or shocked when she does. Remember, it’s a matter of respect!” Ghizma told them on their comm channel.

“Don’t worry, my cousin Erwa is trans. There’s no reason to treat someone differently because of their gender.” Elora said.

The guards stopped him at the gate. Din just looked way too intimidating, no matter how shiny his armor. "Sir, we must ask you to leave your weapons. And are you sure about… taking that droid with you?" Arfour didn’t look exactly like a droid a royal would own.

"Weapons are part of my religion."

"This man is my trusted bodyguard. I won't go anywhere without him, same goes for the astromech. You don't want to keep me from joining the festivities, do you?" Elora chimed in, showing them her faux chain code. Arfour’s flaking paint job was something she had to tend to once she was back on the Razor Crest with enough time on her hands. The guardsman apologized profusely and let them pass, obviously afraid to lose his job.

The Royal Palace exceeded Elora’s expectations. The large throne room was an enormous room with historic paintings on the walls, dark red curtains, shiny beige marble flooring and a buffet with more food on one table than she had ever seen. Most of the many guests were human. No matter their wealth, Din's beskar armor drew many eyes regardless. Several guests started whispering. Whether it was about the armor, her dress or Arfour’s paint job, Elora’s reply to all those voices around her was a forced smile on her lips. It took a lot for her to adapt to the way they moved. When she heard them speak, she noticed they used words in Basic she wasn't familiar with. Scanning the crowd, a middle aged man with brown locks and in a stylish suit surrounded by people - mostly by women who admired him - caught Din’s eye. This was most definitely the man they were looking for.

He's one of those guys. This couldn't be easier.

While looking at him, he scanned him with his helmet's sensors and noticed a small object in the pocket of his suit. "El- I mean, your highness… Do you see him? Masuk is right over there. He has the object in his pocket."

"Wait, it's supposed to be in his room." Ghizma told them through the comlink.

"Why would he leave something so valuable in a place where it was almost stolen before?" Elora voiced her thoughts.

"She's right. It makes sense he keeps the stick close. Those women could very well make a potential thief think he's easy to approach. This is most likely a trap."

Elora cocked her head. "The plan was to steal the datastick from his room. Now we need to improvise and-"

"My lady, may I ask for a dance?" A young man in a noble burgundy red suit and black slicked back hair had approached her from behind, interrupting her.

"I- I don't dance."

"Most princesses wouldn't turn down such a great opportunity." He flashed her the whitest smile Elora had ever seen.

Who does he think he is? Who the hell is this guy?

"You know who I am?" she asked, balling her hands to fists behind her back, trying not to make her tension obvious.

"Your royal highness Edie Jotraas of Risteria of course. You were announced when you joined the festivities." With a flirtatious wink the guy held out his arm for her to take. "Lord Charr from the noble house of Teral from Alderaan, my lady. I’m the last of my line." He took her hand and kissed the back of it. She wanted to vomit and Din made a grimace under his helmet at the gesture. He watched her following the guy's lead on the dancefloor. He knew Elora was clever, but nobody could learn how to dance in a matter of minutes. Despite an enthusiastic young lady asking him for a dance, he remained at his spot by one of the tall  white columns with Arfour and watched Elora’s attempt at dancing from afar. The noble from Aldreaan suffered - at least his feet did. She had looked over his shoulder several times to look out for Din and Eron Masuk. The latter was still surrounded by several women and even a few men. She knew she had to catch him alone in a less crowded environment to steal from him. This entire situation sucked. The initial plan had been for nothing. When Elora returned to Din's side, the queen's lackey approached them, looking way too honest to ask her for a dance.

"Your royal highness, Queen Dialé demands to speak with you." he told her in a formal accent.

"With me? May I ask why?”

“You will have to ask her yourself.” He led her and Din towards the throne where a tall beautiful woman was watching the festivities. Her makeup showed off her status as the elected monarch of Naboo, just like the dark royal robes and headdress she was wearing. She looked every bit majestic. Elora noticed this was nothing like the hierarchy of a Jawa tribe. A sudden feeling of nausea overcame her.

“Princess Edie Jotraas, we meet at last.”

At last? Does that mean my false identity is not some made up persona…?!

Elora curtsied, just like she had practiced the previous day.

“After declining each of my prior invitations I’m astounded you followed this one. I take it you’re enjoying yourself?”

“Yes, your majesty. Your palace is impressive, I must say.” She nervously kneaded her fingers, wishing for the moment to be over. Talking with the Queen turned her into the very center of attention in the throne room. She felt attention in the form of many eyes on her at the very moment.

“Curious, I’ve heard your palace lies on a mountain top over a sea of clouds, yet you think of mine as impressive? I’m truly flattered.” Queen Dialé’s eyes went to Din who stood behind Elora showing a relaxed posture Elora knew to be a facade. “Hm, Mandalorians have become a rare sight to behold nowadays. May I ask where you found this one?”

“He… he just crossed my path one day during my travels.”

“Oh? Well, he probably does an excellent job. I hope you enjoy your stay and let me know if you need anything.”

“I will. Thank you for your kind words, your majesty.” Elora curtsied again. Her initial tension fell off once she was out of the Queen’s sight. It confused her to say the least. Queen Dialé was not like a tribe’s chief like she imagined she would be. Instead of mingling with her guests she just sat on that throne and watched the festivity unfold. It didn’t look like she had any task to do apart from sitting there and looking stunning in her royal robes. It had taken a lot of restraint to refrain from asking the Queen if she would like to play a game of sabacc to brighten her mood. Elora had to focus on the task at hand, and that was to separate Eron Masuk from the crowd of admirers which had gathered around him. As if on cue the target stood up from the fancy sofa he sat on an appeasing smile across his face as he addressed his followers and excused himself. Din used his helmet’s sensors to determine exactly what he was saying.

“He’s going to the ‘freshers.” Din spoke to Ghizma over the comm. She recalled the palace’s layout and groaned in frustration.

“No chance. The ‘freshers are hidden from my point of view.”

“Don’t worry, that’s my chance to steal the datastick.” Elora followed the target subtly enough so nobody would become suspicious. The walls in the hallways were covered in art and more wine red curtains, while the marble floor was covered by a carpet in the same shade of red. Everything was so clean and looked more like a museum than an actual home to someone - ruler or not.

“Are you sure this is the right moment?” Din asked.

“I have to try.”

Ghizma rolled her eyes and lowered her rifle. “In case things go south I shoot up the buffet or scare some high ranking dipshit with a few shots.”

“Stay here.” Elora whispered when they reached the corner of the hallway where the ‘freshers were located.

“What’s your plan exactly? Do you wanna seduce him?” Ghizma asked.

Din tensed at the thought. Elora shook her head before realizing that Ghizma couldn’t see her. “I don’t know how to seduce someone. I’ll just act spontaneously.”

“We’re doomed.” Ghizma sighed.

 When Eron Masuk left the ‘fresher, he stumbled over a foot in an expensive looking high heel. The moment it took for him to regain his balance was enough for Elora to snatch the datastick from his pocket. She hid it under her breast band, pretending to scratch an itch on her collarbone.

“My apologies, are you alright?” she asked in the best fake concern she could muster.

“I am, thank you.” When he turned around he pulled a blaster from his jacket in the blink of an eye, holding Elora at gunpoint. “Y’know, it’s a shame a sweet thing like you wants to steal from me.”

“The true shame is guys like you exist.” she answered nonchalantly.

“You know nothing about me. Do you wanna risk your life? Your freedom? Is this worth it?”

Elora remained calm in the face of danger. “I know enough. And I’ve never been one to half-ass shenanigans.” Her facial expression was blank, it made him uneasy.

“Neither have I.” He attempted to shoot Elora with a stun ray, but she dodged it just as he  pulled the trigger.

Alarmed by the shot, Din stepped around the corner, pointing his blaster at Eron Masuk. His gaze suddenly locked onto something behind them a silver protocol droid was approaching them.

“Looks like you’re not the only one with reinforcements.”

“It’s a common protocol droid.” With her words Masuk’s blaster flew out of his hands and she caught it with ease.

“Fascinating.” He snorted. “I thought the Jedi were extinct. Certain people would consider your skillset as very valuable. And your Mandalorian companion - his armor is worth a fortune. I gotta say, I’d prefer you as my allies, but now that it seems impossible I’ll have no choice.” His words served as a distraction. He had pressed a button on his bracelet without Elora or Din noticing. The droid moved towards them, and suddenly it was getting taller and taller until it almost reached the ceiling.

“Give me back my datastick and I shall leave you and your companion unscathed. If you don’t comply you will join all the others of your kind. Don’t be stupid. The Jedi were peacekeepers, and is it really in your interest to die for such an insignificant cause, Mandalorian?”

“Killing someone who’s massively profiting from all the misery he brings over this Galaxy doesn’t seem insignificant to me. This is the way.”

“You think you know who we are, but you don’t.” Elora retorted. Din walked up behind her, intimidating as ever.

“This droid is programmed to eliminate anyone who dares to threaten me. A completely modified protocol droid. It’s your choice. Should you open fire, you won’t survive the counterattack.”

The strange technology allowed the droid to not just become three times its size but it showed off several weapons systems, including three powerful blaster cannons.

“Those could blow up the palace! Are you out of your mind?!”

“What’s going on in there?” Ghizma asked via comm.

“Just a giant ass droid with enough firepower to destroy this place. And for what? What’s on that stick you would blow up an entire palace for?!”

“You would like to know that, wouldn’t you? It contains a map with coordinates to worlds that have piqued my interest.”

“To help those slave traffickers you’re so friendly with?!” Din spat.

The smug look vanished from Masuk’s face, turning downright furious.

“This is your last chance. Give back the datastick and I will refrain from blowing this palace to bits. Naboo is useless to my efforts and has nothing profitable to offer anyway."

Elora knew stopping a droid this big was tricky, but it was a fucking droid. And if anyone had experience with droids, it was her. Masuk wasn’t the one who had built it - machines in a factory did. She had been fixing and building droids from scrap all her life. This one was just another one to be scrapped, she decided. When she reached out to destroy it with her powers… it hardly budged. Din swallowed under his helmet and released a swarm of whistling birds from his vambrace - to no avail. They didn't cause any damage at all. It dawned on Din what this droid was made out of. Eventually it shot at Elora, barely missing her. The noise must have caught the attention of everyone else inside the palace.

“The people must be evacuated! Ghizma, shoot!” Din called.

The Theelin grinned and shot up the buffet from her spot. Food and drinks splattered throughout the throne room paired with the hysterical screams of the guests and orders barked at the palace guards. She had to leave her position immediately if she wanted to remain anonymous.

A huge clanker? Haven’t shot one in ages… I should go check that out.

The bolts from the droids' laser cannons left holes in the marble floor.

"It's made out of beskar!" Din had recognized the Mandalorian metal the second the whistling birds had hit it with the signature sound of beskar colliding with beskar.

This makes the situation a lot more difficult.

Explosives and blaster bolts couldn't destroy pure beskar. Din knew he had to find a weak spot not covered in the valuable metal to shut off the droid. Finding shelter behind a column, he used the sensors in his helmet to figure out the droid's vulnerabilities. He discovered a patch of unprotected wiring on its neck and a plan formed in his head.

"I know what to do!"

Elora took that as a cue to stun Eron Masuk with his own blaster, while dodging another bolt from the droid's blaster cannon. Her ears were ringing at the loud noise as she joined Mando behind the column at the corner.

"Ghizma, we need you here. You must distract the droid for us. Elora, you got the stick?" he asked.

"Hidden in the safest place on my body."

"The droid must be destroyed, otherwise it will wreak havoc and destroy the entire palace. There's a weak spot at its neck - a patch not covered by beskar and, unfortunately, out of our reach, so the droid must fall -" As the heavy steps of the droid neared, a blaster bolt hit the marble floor next to Elora. They escaped to the end of the hallway behind one of the heavy curtains.

"The droid doesn't seem to be fast, we can use that to our advantage. Ghizma, do you copy?"

"Almost there!" she responded, sounding a little out of breath.

"Ok, Elora, in order to make it fall I'm gonna use my whipcord. That won't do much unless you use the Force to keep the droid's legs in place. It will fall. When it does, I'll jump on its back and tear through the wiring."

Elora sensed Ghizma before she arrived. The Theelin was out of breath, her black boots stained with unspeakable stains of food and liquids.

"The throne room looks like a fucking battle zone. So where's your- AH!" A blaster bolt almost hit her in the chest had Elora not force pulled her away from the spot in the matter of a second.

"I- I see… What do you need me to do?"

"Distract it! We need to get closer to it without getting shot."

"Stay here, I'll take care of it." With a determined spark in her deep brown eyes she started shooting while leaving her cover.

"Over here you piece of junk!" she yelled, luring the droid the other way, causing it to tear several paintings off the wall in the process. It aimed its weapons in her direction, turning its back to Din and Elora.

"Are you sure you can do this?" Din asked.

"I will do my best." Elora assured him, looking at Arfour who was trembling behind her. "Arfour? Not so much…"

Din nodded and walked up to the distracted droid, shooting his whipcord at its two legs.

"Now!"

She took a deep breath and reached out through the Force. Gritting her teeth, she kept the droid in place with the whipcord which Din had separated from his vambrace. The droid couldn’t move from the spot, yet it was programmed to move. First it swayed, then it crashed down with a deafening noise, tearing down several curtains and more paintings along with it. Din jumped on its back and tried to get to the exposed wiring.

“Watch out!” Elora yelled, trying with all her power to stop the droid’s beskar arm from hitting him, but she was only able to slow the blow a little. The impact was inevitable. With a sound only beskar colliding with beskar could make, Din was thrown off the droid’s back. Elora’s heart stopped for a moment at the sight.

“ARGH!” Ghizma screamed, focusing her fire at the droid’s face. Simultaneously Elora let go of her force grip the second Din had fallen off the droid. His armor hitting the ground had left cracks in the marble tiles beneath him - he didn’t move when she crouched next to him.

“Mando… D-Din! No no no! Get back up! We must-”

Instead of the Mandalorian it was the droid which was getting back up as it had managed to rip the whipcord apart. Desperately Elora pulled Din’s limp body out of harm's way around the corner.

“Hey redhead! You can stay with your cyare, I know what your plan was. Mando said it’s on its neck? How about you-” Ghizma dodged several deafening shots from the blaster cannons. “How about you throw me on top of that thing?”

Elora looked up while feeling for a pulse or signs of breath. She took a deep breath and swallowed her panic and anxiety.

“Arfour, watch over him, I’ll be back in a sec.” Elora sprinted around the corner. The second Ghizma saw her, she got into position.

“Do it!”

She felt the Force flow through her and reached out until it wrapped around Ghizma, catapulting her onto the droid’s shoulders. There she pulled a vibroblade out of her boot. With a furious scream she rammed it right through the exposed wiring. The droid stumbled several steps before falling. Ghizma jumped off before it hit the ground, approaching a still stunned Eron Masuk, clutching the vibroblade in her hand tighter than before.

“I love you, Din.” His mother kissed him one last time. The heavy steps and blaster shots from the seperatist droids filled the air, but all he could focus on was his mother’s loving face. “Come back to me.” Another voice spoke. It was familiar, so familiar. His parents put him into the hideout, shutting the doors. The explosion which took their lives rang in his ears like it did so many times before in his dreams. When the doors opened, and he expected the droid to aim its weapons at his helpless self, he was back.

The first thing he saw was the bright light of a chandelier, the second thing were strands of auburn hair. At first all he could hear was his rapid heartbeat, but when he saw her face, as she sat next to him, focused and with her eyes closed, it slowed down. Warmth flooded every fiber of his being. It was none other than the kind of warmth which signified safety. He knew it was her doing and watched her as he slowly came to. A pounding headache and pain in his chest, most likely a few broken ribs, made it hard for him to move like he wanted to. 

“What happened?” he groaned, trying to sit up. The pain in his chest worsened tenfold as he did so. Elora sighed in relief when she heard his raspy voice.

“Welcome back! For a second I thought… Nevermind. You, sir, need a bacta tank.”

“Did you remove my-”

“No! Din I would never do that, you hear me? Unless you were actually dying. But your life force was still there. So I wasn’t that worried.”

If he knew how scared I was… No, he’ll be fine. I hope those bacta tanks can be used with a helmet on.

Elora had never heard Din whimper before. That’s when she knew he was in a great deal of pain - pain she wished she could take away from him.

“Just let me take a breath.” He sat down, holding the rips on his right side.

“Let me know when you’re ready to walk back to the speeder.”

Arfour nudged Din gently, making a concerned noise. He patted the astromech's flat dome while focusing on his breathing. Meanwhile Elora dug through the heap of expensive scrap, looking for valuable parts that fit into her bags just like she did all her life. When she reached the droid’s center she found something she didn’t expect to find on this quest. This droid had been powered by none other than a  shiny diatium power cell, and in the correct size to fit into her unfinished lightsaber, too. She bit her lip to suppress a scream of joy as she didn’t want to alert Din.

“Oh this is great! Finally!”

Ghizma cleared her throat behind her. When Elora turned around, she flinched. Ghizma was covered head to toe in blood.

“Don’t worry, it’s not mine. Let’s help the old tin can back to your ship in one piece, shall we?” she said with a smirk on her face. Elora noticed Eron Masuk’s life force was gone. That explained the blood, especially the blood dripping out of Ghizma’s bag. When she noticed the uncomfortable look in Elora’s eyes she just shrugged. “You guys don’t take trophies?”

“None I would know of.”

They helped Din get up and walked slowly through the palace towards the exit, that was until the remaining palace guards spotted them - opening fire.

“Ugh great, just what we needed! Go! I’ll have your back!” Ghizma turned and shot at the guards while Elora and Arfour supported Din while fleeing through the entrance hall. Elora kicked her high heels off in the process, since she was not really able to run in them, especially not the stairs. Din was coughing, his breath went heavy. Yet he reached for his blaster. Their way out was blocked by an entire squad of palace guards.

“Freeze! You’re under arrest!” the captain of the guard yelled.

“The man responsible is dead, there is no one for you to arrest!” The guards didn’t back down, not leaving Elora much of a choice. “Sorry about this.”

A wave of the Force yeeted them several meters back. All of them survived, but it took a moment for them to get back to their feet - a moment Elora, Din, Ghizma and Arfour used to escape to the lot where their landspeeder was parked. It was way past midnight, so getting back to the inn in the dark wouldn’t be easy, and losing the guards who were hunting them down while driving though the brightly lit city would be quite a challenge.

“Get in!” Elora jumped into the driver’s seat. Arfour bleeped in protest. “No offense, but I’ve been driving through rough desert terrain for years. The city streets are like… like canyons, yes!” Arfour got into the astromech socket, audibly sulking. They heard the guards’ footsteps when Elora started the engine.

“Ghizma, you think you can stun them?”

“Sure thing!”

As Elora drove off the parking lot and joined the nightly traffic of Theed, the guards got into their military speeders.

“Take my ion blaster!” Elora threw the weapon at Ghizma. “I modified it several years ago.”

The modification made the blaster much stronger than the usual ion blaster. Strong enough to disable the electrical systems of the military vehicles. Elora hit the gas, zooming through the streets of Theed. People screamed, jumping aside, market stalls got knocked over, it was total chaos. The vehicle was faster than an average landspeeder. Eventually police droids were on their heels, coming from almost every direction.

“Dank farrik! You better hold on tight back there! Mando, how are you feeling?”

“I-I’m fine, just- just get us out of here!” He tried not to sound like he was in a great deal of pain, but Elora sensed it all too well. The way he sat on the backseat pressing a hand over the right side of his chest indicated just how much pain he was in. She steered the speeder through a few dark shortcuts, meanwhile Ghizma was constantly shooting those annoying droids off their funny little vehicles which was almost too easy for a markswoman of her skill. Elora could feel even the smallest obstacles approaching and every blastershot before they could hit the speeder. Apart from a few scratches the speeder still looked as good as new, despite being chased down.

“They just won’t give up!” Ghizma complained.

When they finally reached the city’s outskirts, and with them streets with less lighting, they had to think of a plan to return to Zaev’s inn without leading the law enforcement there.

“They’re after our speeder, we need to jump off and make our way to Zaev’s undetected!” Elora emphasized.

“There are several lakes three klicks north from here.” Ghizma suggested.

Lakes meant water. Elora bit her lip and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “There must be another way! The water- I don’t think Mando is capable of swimming at the moment.” She had to think of a quick plan. All she could think of was a thought she did not like at all - using the Force on Din who was already injured. There was no time.

“Ok, get ready. Remember to turn off your lights. We’ll have to jump. Mando, I’ll break your fall with my powers. I can’t promise it won’t hurt or will worsen your injuries-”

“Do it!” he spoke through gritted teeth.

Hills covered in soft grass would have to do. When the police droids were out of eyeshot, Elora set the speeder on autodrive. They prepared to jump. “3…2…1…NOW!”

During the fall, Elora reached out in the matter of a second, breaking Din’s fall at just the right moment, letting him down as gently as possible. Ghizma spat out bits of dirt which had found their way into her mouth at impact. Arfour landed next to Elora beeping questioningly if they were alright.

“We’re fine. Now let’s go hide behind those trees until the droids are gone.”

“I have dirt in my mouth! That’s what you call fine?!” Ghizma complained.

As expected the police droids continued chasing the silver luxury speeder. They were safe, for now. Arfour used his sensors and led them back to Zaev’s inn. It was a 45 minute walk, and Din’s condition did everything but improve.

“We have a medcenter in our village.”

“I won’t remove my helmet.”

Ghizma shrugged. “We have some good med droids.”

“No droids.”

She rolled her eyes. “Is he always that stubborn when he’s injured?”

Elora huffed. “He’s always stubborn.”

“And people are surprised that Mandalorians are almost extinct. Let me tell ya, they’re all stubborn as fuck.”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Mando remarked, then looked at Arfour who was rolling next to him. Initially there had been no trust in this astromech, but now that he had gotten used to the droid being around he didn’t mind him that much.

Perhaps I should trust Elora’s judgment. She knows more about droids than I ever will. I need help. Droids… are no living things. For Grogu. Do it for Grogu.

 They saw the lights from Zaev’s inn two klicks away. There were no police droids in sight, just the Razor Crest was waiting for them at the very spot where Din had left her. With the mission accomplished, they packed what was left of their stuff in their rooms and said their goodbyes to Zaev and Seshén.

Back on board, Din was sitting down on his cot, out of breath, while Arfour and Ghizma went into the cockpit. The Crest was already lifting off when Elora knelt down in front of him to look up at his T visor.

“How are you feeling? It will take several hours until we’re on Mandalore. How can I help you?”

“I’m ok, just- I don’t exactly trust Ghizma with my ship.”

Elora sighed. “Stop your attempts to distract me from your misery. It’s your ribs, right? Care to let me take a look at it?” She went to get the medpack, only to find a cauterizer and several bacta patches in there. “You gotta be shitting me! You’re a kriffing bounty hunter and all you got is that?!”

“It was always sufficient. The beskar keeps me safe, most of the time.”

“Today’s not most of the time. Will you show me your injury or not? Look, I’m just trying to help.”

Din gave in when he saw the piercing look in Elora’s eyes. Arguing with her in his current state would only take more of a toll on him. He removed the armor from the upper half of his body, followed by his clothing. It was the first time Elora saw his bare chest. His skin was golden. She didn’t know what she imagined, but certainly not this. He was just as broad as he looked in the armor.

Now is not the time to fantasize. Save it for later! He’s injured! Elora scolded herself in her mind and applied gentle pressure to the bruises forming on his chest. Din hissed at the pain her touch caused, at the same time he shuddered, as he was not used to someone else’s touch on his bare skin. If it wouldn’t hurt him so much, he would consider the feeling of her skin on his as pleasant. He tried to focus on those pleasant aspects and the focused look in her eyes.

“Ooo that doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to. Several ribs seem to be broken. You don’t have a mediscanner on board, do you?”

He shook his head as she ran her fingers over the bruises again, this time without adding pressure. Din’s breathing was heavy. She didn’t like the sound of it. “Does it hurt when you’re breathing?”

“S-stinging pain, it’s- I’m fine, don’t worry about me, cyare .”

“Sounds like a broken rib might have punctured your lung. This is a dangerous injury and you tell me not to worry? I swear, Din, if you weren't already injured, I would throw a punch at you!”

“I’d like to see you try.”

In so much pain and still smug… I hate Mandalorians and their recklessness.

A sudden jolt notified them that the Crest had entered hyperspace.

Observant as ever, Din nodded towards the full bags inside her cloak. “What did you take?” Elora suddenly remembered the diatium power cell she had taken from the remains of the bodyguard droid. She showed the small rectangle object to him.

“I can finish my lightsaber now.”

Din put his shirt and armor back on. He gritted his teeth more than once at the pain dressing himself caused, but refused Elora’s offer to help him.

“I would like to watch you complete it.”

Elora took the unfinished lightsaber from his weapon storage and began crafting. She looked like she was in her element when she was able to use tools and create things. The way she used the tools, as if her hands were made to hold them, the way she remained fixated on finishing her weapon, Din was intrigued.

Ten minutes later she was done. The weapon looked like it was made from scrap, because it was, yet the material seemed stable and reliable.

“This is it. Let’s hope this works… Are you ready to see it?”

“Yes.” Din felt happy for Elora. She had wanted to use her kyber crystal for so long and now she was able to. There was a happy sparkle in her eyes when the purple plasma blade bathed the room in a purple light. The weapon hummed when she swished it through the air. It looked elegant and the longer he watched Elora wield it, he noticed the weapon and her body became in tune with each other. He had never seen anything like it. The lightsaber became an extension of herself. It was a connection he and his blaster could never have, and Din was more than familiar with his favorite blaster.

Elora felt the Force flow through her body, it connected her with her weapon, physically and emotionally. She knew this weapon would lead her in whatever battle life had in store for her. It was more than a weapon, it was a part of herself, her very soul.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“It looks like you were born to wield it.” Din’s mouth had gone dry. He liked women who knew how to wield a weapon, but Elora made him weak in the knees.

“It’s perfect, Din.” She switched it off and attached it to her belt with a proud smile gracing her lips..

“This is most likely what your mother wanted for you.”

A tear ran down her cheek at his words. She sat down next to him and cupped the cheek of his helmet in her palm. He leaned into her touch despite not being able to feel it through the beskar.

“It feels like we’ve done something right. Like we were supposed to be there at the exact moment, for this exact mission, so I could find the missing piece for my lightsaber.”

“I don’t believe in destiny, but yes.”

“What do you think Mandalore will be like?” she inquired.

“I’ve been told it's a wasteland. Whoever goes there dies. Now our new acquaintances say there’s a village named Kyrimorut. Never heard of it. I don’t know what to think anymore. I just hope Grogu is alright.”

“I can’t wait to meditate with him again.” She leaned her head against his pauldron.

“It’s been three days and I miss the little womp rat more than anything.” he admitted.

Din was not a man who voiced his feelings often, but Elora’s presence caused him to open up. He was just a man under his armor and she was the first person who touched his heart in a way he couldn’t explain. It was different when he was his Grogu. Sure, he was affectionate towards him and the child had a special place in his heart, but the connection he had to him was entirely different than what he felt for Elora. He had shut people out since losing his parent’s on that fateful day to avoid getting hurt again. Somehow Grogu und Elora had managed to worm their way into his heart. The hardened bounty hunter he had been before now was only a facade he pulled up towards outsiders.

Elora felt at peace in Din’s presence. She didn’t mind the cool beskar of his pauldron against her cheek, but sometimes she wished she could be closer. To feel him against her, just like she did during the nights at Zaev’s inn. She had never felt like this before. This wasn’t the same affection she felt towards her family. Being with Din was different and she died to explore those feelings further. He had to heal first, but she planned on bringing this topic up soon enough. Together with him she wanted to figure out how far those feelings went and if they could potentially turn into something more. A part of her yearned for his touch, even fantasized about things she wanted to do with him. She wondered if he felt the same, and in case he did, if he was ready to let go of his restraints and let this feeling take over his actions. Could her wishful thinking become reality soon? Together they sat on the edge of Din’s cot, waiting. He in his shiny armor, she with her now messy hair and slightly torn gown, looking like the polar opposites they were.

← previous chapter   next chapter  →  

I wrote the battle scene in this chapter before the BOBF finale aired... Hey, should Lucasfilm look for a new writer for their shows, I would gladly accept the job!

Get well soon, Din!!! 🥺

Yep, I plan on writing smut soon. Idk if it will be in the next chapter or the chapter after that. But soon, I promise!

So, Mandalore it is... For all you Legends and Clone Wars lovers, I think the next chapter will be to your liking. 😉

Mando'a translations:

cyare = beloved

#gehat'ik be aliit #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x oc #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #sw #star wars #star wars fanfiction #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader

[hrina]

In The Ring, Pt. II - Cross

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 7k REQUESTED: highly lol!

hi again! here’s PART 2 of boxer!harry :) thank u all for such a wonderful response on the first part, i can’t explain how much it means to me. i worked really hard on this chapter, so i hope u guys love it! if u do, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated, and i’ll probably ask for ur hand in marriage in return.

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

u can find the rest of this series on my masterlist, which is linked in my bio! my inbox is also there if you wanna spare a few thoughts about this part. love u guys sm, stay safe out there 💛💛💛

~*~

    January 19, 2021

It’s ten at night, and you’re curled up in bed, scrolling through social media. You should be doing the assigned readings for your anatomy class, but you’re procrastinating. Besides, watching video after video of cute kittens peeking their furry little heads out of cardboard boxes is a much better way to pass the time.

Your relaxation period is interrupted when a notification banner descends from the top of your screen. It’s an unknown number, but the content of the message makes your eyes widen in surprise.

Hi. It’s Harry. I’m at the gym.

You tap on the text immediately, waiting with bated breath as you’re taken to a different app. You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, thumbs hovering over the screen before they begin to type.

Hey! I’ll be there in twenty minutes.

Harry’s reply is short, concise, to-the-point—just like him. Oddly enough, it makes you smile.

Okay. See you soon.

~*~

The first thing that Harry notices when you walk through the door is that you’re slightly out of breath. He’s standing in the middle of the ring, his eyes fixated on the opposite side of the room as you enter. Your hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and you’re wearing a pair of leggings and a tank top under your jacket. Your sneakers squeak against the floor as you stride over to him, fingers wiggling in a friendly wave.

“Hi!” you call out, shooting him a kind smile.

Harry leans against the ropes circling the ring, careful not to put too much of his weight on the barriers lest he flip over and fall to the floor. It’s happened once or twice, and each time, he ended up with a bruised tailbone afterward.

“Hi,” he replies.

You shrug your coat from your shoulders as you draw nearer. “How are you?” you ask, peering up at him curiously.

“Good, thanks,” he says. His fingers toy absentmindedly with the silver cross pendant dangling from his neck. “Er…did you run here?”

“What? Oh, no,” you answer with a breathless laugh. “I drove. But I was hurrying—I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

You’re so fucking sweet. He’s going to throw up.

“It’s alright.” He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

“Still,” you say, tightening your ponytail with both hands. “You’re going out of your way to do this for me. And while we’re on the subject of that—thank you, again. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Harry says. He slips between the ropes and hops down from the platform. “Shall we start?”

“We shall,” you agree, biting back a teasing smile. “Am I going up against you?”

Despite himself, Harry chuckles. He shakes his head. “Not yet. First, you need to learn the basics.”

“Basics,” you echo, nodding once. “Right.”

He leads you over to the side of the ring, where a pair of punching bags have been strung up near the wall. The arrangement is nothing special—twin leather bags, one brown and one black, filled with sand and stitched together with strong, coarse thread. Reflexively, you reach out, running your fingertips along the black bag and giving it a gentle push. It swings outward before returning back to you. Harry watches you closely, examining the gentle crease between your brows and the slight glaze that smooths over your pupils. He clears his throat quietly, and you seem to snap out of your trance.

“Do you know how to punch?” he asks.

You purse your lips, looking unsure of yourself. “Um…I think so.”

He nods. “Show me, then.”

The blow that you deliver to the bag is weak at best. Harry immediately notices a handful of things that you’re doing wrong. When you pull your arm back and peer up at him, he’s trying his hardest to hold back a smirk.

“What?” You frown.

“Nothing.” He snickers softly, shaking his head again. “It’s just…that was cute.”

“‘Cute’?” you parrot, narrowing your eyes. You scoff good-naturedly, stepping back and holding your arm out in invitation. “You do it, then.”

Harry’s lips twitch. “Gladly.”

The chain hanging from the ceiling rattles when his fist makes contact with the leather. The punching bag itself swings forward in an extraordinary arc before hurtling back in your direction. You gasp when Harry stops it with his palms. He grunts quietly, stilling it before turning around to face you. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, and he’s sure that his eyes are gleaming with a smug sparkle. You just cross your arms over your chest, gazing at him evenly with your chin held high.

“Fine,” you say. “Tell me what to do.”

Harry gets you situated back in front of the bag, standing beside you and studying your posture.

“First of all,” he starts, “you need to make sure that the position of your feet matches the position of your arms.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, shooting him a confused pout.

“Like this—,” Harry reaches for your shoulders before pausing, his fingers only inches away from your skin. “Er,” he clears his throat, fixing you with inquisitive eyes, “is it alright if I touch you?”

You nod wordlessly. Harry swallows down the lump in his throat as his hands close the distance between your bodies. He slants your torso to the side before reaching for your arms, bending them at the elbow so that your fingers—now curled into loose fists—are suspended in front of your face.

“If you’re angling yourself this way,” Harry starts, mimicking your stance, “you need to make sure that your right foot is leading you. But if you stand in the opposite direction—,” he changes sides, adopting a mirror image of his previous position, “—then it has to be your left foot. Got it?”

“Got it,” you say confidently. That same crease is digging into the space between your eyebrows; Harry aches to reach out and flatten it with the pad of his thumb.

“Also,” he says, delicately wrapping his fingers around your wrists, “when you punch, you can’t drop your other hand. Keep it up at all times—you need to guard your face.”

“Guard my face,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. “Okay, cool.”

You throw an experimental punch at the bag, and Harry doesn’t miss the shadow of pain that flashes across your features. His eyes trail down the length of your arm, lingering on your fist. Before you can deliver another blow, he stops you, catching your knuckles in the calloused valley of his palm and halting your movements.

“Keep your thumb on the outside,” he says, peeling your fingers open and freeing your thumb from beneath them. “You’ll break it, otherwise.”

He curls the digits back up, this time so that your hand is settled in the proper arrangement. He then steps back, jerking his head toward the bag and encouraging you to take another swing. “Try it, now.”

The third blow is better than the past two. You beam up at Harry when a promising smack! echoes through the air. He smiles reassuringly at you, nodding his head and tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. “Good. That’s a start.”

“Put me in, Coach,” you tease, bringing your fists up to your face and bouncing playfully on the balls of your feet. Your eyes shimmer as you peek at him from behind your knuckles. Harry presses his lips together to keep himself composed, but he can’t stop the faint snort that slips out of his nose. You laugh cheerfully, dropping your arms back to your sides.

“Okay, so I know how to punch,” you say. “What’s next?”

“There’s four main punches in boxing,” Harry replies. He steadies himself in front of the bag, his left foot extended to provide balance.

“The jab—”

He punches with his left fist, pointed and forceful.

“—the cross—”

He strikes with his right hand, driving the weight of his body into the blow.

“—the hook—”

He curves his arm, angling it accordingly so that he can deliver a hit to the side of the bag.

“—and finally, the uppercut.”

He bends his elbow, scooping upward so that his fist makes contact with the bottom half of the bag. The sand inside shifts audibly as it rattles around, looping in every direction and gathering momentum. Harry turns back to you as it continues to swing in circles, cracking his knuckles loudly and seeking you out.

Your eyes are wide. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you look a bit…enthralled. His brow furrows in confusion.

“You alright?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, and he’s taken aback by the breathless quality of your voice. You clear your throat quickly, scratching at your hairline and looking away. “You’re just very…dedicated. That’s all.”

“I’ve got to be,” Harry hums. He turns back to the punching bag and ceases its movements. “This is how I make a living.” His lips quirk up with the hint of a smile. “We can’t all go to medical school and become doctors.”

A weak laugh tumbles from your mouth. “I haven’t even gotten in yet,” you say from behind him.

“But you will,” he murmurs, the reply slipping out before he can weigh it on his tongue. “Without a doubt.”

He pauses when the words finally sink in, his shoulders stiffening and his eyes stamping shut. If you weren’t standing so close, he would have leaned forward and crushed his forehead into the rough leather of the punching bag. His lips mould around unspoken curses as a heavy silence descends upon the two of you.

At last, you finally choke out, “I—thank you, Harry. That’s really nice of you to say.”

“No problem,” he grunts. He steps back, spinning on his heel but refusing to meet your gaze. You’re probably looking at him like that—with soft, glimmering irises and earnestness woven through every cell in your body. If your eyes lock, he knows that he’ll be overrun with the urge to kiss you.

And he knows that if that happens, he might not be able to hold himself back.

“What time do you have to be home?” Harry asks, subtly trying to change the topic.

You lift one eyebrow challengingly, like you know exactly what he’s doing. Still, though, you humour him.

“I told my dad I was going to a friend’s house,” you say, shrugging lightly. “We have time, don’t worry.” You smile as a thought crosses your mind. “Just make sure you don’t get me too sweaty by the end of the night, okay? I can’t go home looking like I’ve just run a marathon.”

Harry’s cock twitches in his shorts at the thought of rendering you sticky and speechless. Of watching you walk away from him with wobbly knees and messy hair. Of dropping you off at home and nibbling on your neck one last time for good measure. He quickly shoos the temptations away, clearing his throat and nodding in accord.

“Minimal sweating,” he concedes. “I’ll try my best.”

Deep down, he knows that you’ll most likely be drenched with perspiration once he’s through with you. You’ll figure that out soon enough, though.

Harry makes his way over to the ring, snatching up a pair of gloves lying on the platform. He turns back around, tossing them to you and fighting a smile when you yelp in surprise. With an awkward flail, you manage to catch them in your arms. You shoot him a questioning look, lifting your eyebrows and waiting for an explanation.

“Put those on,” he orders, clapping his hands together once. “We’re gonna try to perfect your stance, tonight.”

“Why do I need to wear them, then?” you ask, gazing down blankly at the gloves nestled against your chest.

“You don’t need to, I suppose,” Harry says, shrugging. “But your knuckles will probably be destroyed by the end of the night.”

“Oh.” You make a face, wrinkling your nose up in distaste. “Okay, yeah—I’ll use them.”

He smirks, folding his arms over his chest. “We want to be careful, don’t we? Those are the steady hands of a future surgeon.”

You scoff, laughing gently at his quip. “Hopefully,” you say, a sweet smile playing on your lips. “Let’s just pray that I get the right grades.”

You will, Harry thinks, but this time, he bites his tongue to keep the sentiment contained. You’re smart, and you’re beautiful, and you’re kind. You’re perfect. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to kiss you. I want to fuck you. I want to sleep next to you at night and prepare you breakfast in the morning. I want to make you laugh. I want to make you smile. I want to—

“Harry?”

He blinks. “Yeah?”

You fix him with a benevolent look. “Zoning out on me?”

“No.” He shakes his head, approaching you as you struggle to tug on one of the boxing gloves. His eyes fall to your hands and he reaches out, halting your movements with a gentle, “Let me.”

You peek up at him shyly as he guides your fingers into the glove. He keeps his gaze trained downward, avoiding your eyes. One of his rough palms grasps your elbow as he tugs the Velcro strip tight around your wrist. Once he’s done the same with the other one, he releases you and steps back.

“Thank you,” you say softly. He just nods in response.

“Make sure your feet are shoulder-width apart,” he says, and you spread your legs according to his command.

For a brief moment, the image of you separating your thighs to accommodate his hips flashes through his mind, but he squeezes his eyes shut and wills it away.

The rest of the night is painful—his cock grows stiffer and stiffer by the hour, spurred on by each sweet smile that you send his way. By the time you’re through with the session and bidding him goodnight as he locks up, he’s half-hard beneath his black shorts. He hopes that you don’t notice.

You shoot him a cheerful wave and drive away, and he watches before toddling over to his own vehicle. As soon as he slides into the driver’s seat, he releases a heavy, guttural groan, slouching forward and pressing his forehead to the crest of the steering wheel. Blindly, he sticks his key into the ignition and turns it, and the truck rumbles to life. A quick glance at the dashboard reveals that it’s well past midnight. Only then does he realise the extent of his exhaustion.

He backs out of the parking lot, pulling onto the main street and training his eyes on the road ahead. If he squints, he can still make out the red taillights of your car.

The journey back to his apartment passes in no time. Harry climbs sluggishly up four flights of stairs, tumbling into his home and pressing the door shut with one hand. He drags his feet down the hall and past the threshold of his bedroom, pausing only to rip his t-shirt from his torso before collapsing onto his mattress. Obscure silhouettes dance across his eyelids as they drift shut.

The last thing on his mind before sleep overtakes him is the gentle slope of your smile.

    February 21, 2021

One month and a handful of late-night sessions later, Harry finds himself inundated with guilt. He’s constantly plagued by memories of your virtual conversations—short, brief little interactions consisting primarily of him letting you know that he’s free to train that evening. Your responses, ripe with exclamation marks and prattles of gratitude. You’ve taken up the habit of texting him after each lesson, too, composing a quick thank-you message before shutting your phone for the night.

And Harry regrets everything—agreeing to teach you how to box, letting you know when he’s available to meet, encouraging you as your technique progresses. On several occasions, he’s considered breaking things off, telling you that he’s too busy, that you should be focussing exclusively on school instead of on how to throw a right hook.

But then you look at him like that. With bright, trusting eyes and open features and that easy, dazzling smile. And the wall that he’s been trying so hard to build back up—not that it was particularly robust to begin with—comes crashing down.

His match is set to start in fifteen minutes, and you’re not here. You have a midterm tomorrow—your father had mentioned it in passing. You’ve been holed up in your room all weekend, he said, permanently absorbed in the pages of your textbook.

And Harry’s nervous, because you’re his lucky charm. What the fuck is he supposed to do, now?

The minutes seem to fly by—before he knows it, he’s stepping out into the ring with the crowd’s thundering screams echoing in his ears. His opponent isn’t the biggest man he’s ever gone up against, but he’s definitely not scrawny. Harry’s maybe two inches shorter than him—under normal circumstances, the height difference wouldn’t have fazed him. But he’s already on edge due to your absence, so even the smallest observations are proving to be exceedingly disconcerting.

Looking back, he supposes that he should’ve known.

Doomed from the start, destined to fail—whatever you want to call it.

Point being, he loses. Horrendously.

And he’s not quite sure when they bring the stretcher out and peel him off of the floor of the ring, but he knows that it’s sometime after the second round. He blinks rapidly, fading in and out of consciousness as moisture trickles down the side of his face. Somewhere beneath the wooziness, he’s well aware that the match is over. Your father is standing over him, walking at a brisk pace to keep up with the two men carrying him out of the arena.

“What do you mean, he called in sick?” your father spits, his eyes alight with anger. “You couldn’t find anybody else?”

The man behind Harry’s head says something that he can’t quite discern. His response makes your father grit his teeth and pinch the bridge of his nose. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, punching in a number and bringing the device up to his ear.

A few moments later, his expression lights up, relief flooding his features. “Gioia? Yeah, hi…”

Harry’s vision fades to black.

~*~

“…going to have some strong words with the bastard that did this—”

“Gioia, please. That’s how the sport works.”

An outraged scoff. “Who the hell kicks a man while he’s down?”

No reply.

Harry drifts off once more.

~*~

When his eyelids flutter open, it takes a moment for him to regain his bearings. Through the blurriness of his vision, he sees a dim light hanging from the ceiling, bathing his surroundings in a pale white glow. He blinks rapidly, hoping that his sight will sharpen with each flutter of his lashes. There’s a dull pain throbbing against the right side of his torso, battering against his ribcage and pulling an agonized groan from his lips.

The low sound is met with a high gasp. Seconds later, a face is looming over his own. Harry forces himself to concentrate on the person’s features—kind, worried eyes, raised brows, and pretty, parted lips. His heart begins to gallop in his chest.

“Harry,” you breathe. A few gentle fingers card through his hair. The sensation of your nails against his scalp makes him shiver. “How are you feeling?”

“Peachy,” he croaks, his voice hoarse.

Despite the worry swimming around in your irises, you emit a shy laugh.

“Are you able to sit up?” you ask, pulling your hand out of his hair. He nearly whines at the loss.

“Think so,” he mutters. He places his palms flat against the surface beneath him—a bed, perhaps?—and pushes himself onto his elbows. The muted pain in his side flares fiercely, making him choke on his own breath. You reach out for him, setting one hand down on his shoulder while the other wraps delicately around his bicep.

“Easy, easy,” you soothe, tutting disapprovingly. “Be careful.”

“’M always careful,” Harry says.

“Yeah,” you reply sarcastically, nodding your head. “And that’s how you ended up like this, right?”

A short, wheezing laugh punches its way out of his lungs. “Touché.”

Once he’s sitting up, he takes note of the room—well, it’s not really a room. The only thing separating the two of you from whatever lies outside is a thin curtain drawn over what he presumes to be the exit. To his left, a single cabinet with multiple drawers stands only a few feet away. You’re both tucked into a little alcove in the wall, no bigger than a standard bedroom. Harry glances around, his gaze landing on a single plastic chair facing the bed. Everything is set up like a hospital room (but far less comfortable, and severely lacking in terms of medical equipment).

“Where’s Coach?” he asks, creases forming along his forehead.

“He went to go grab us some coffee,” you explain, your eyes scanning his face. “It’s late.”

“How late?”

“Nearly two.”

“Fuck.” His head snaps toward you. “Don’t you have a midterm tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You chew nervously on your bottom lip. “But it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he says, gritting his teeth and glaring at you sharply. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You recoil a bit at his harsh tone. “Your stupid medic took a sick day,” you tell him, your voice hard. “And my dad asked me to come in and have a look at you. Who knows where you’d be if I hadn’t shown up.”

Regret washes over him. He slouches back against the bed—it’s more of a cot, really—and blows out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay.” You wave his apology away with a quick flick of your fingers. “Just…be quiet for a second, alright? I need to examine you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters under his breath. He doesn’t miss the way your lips twitch as the words sink in.

“Can you move to the edge of the bed?” you ask, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. “I need to see you properly, but I don’t want to make you stand just yet.”

“Sure.”

He shifts his body to the right, slowly dragging his legs off of the cot with a distressed wince. The floor is cold when his feet make contact with the ground, but he pays it no attention. He’s shirtless, clad only in the shorts he’d been wearing when he first stepped into the ring. He purses his lips and feels something stiff realign against his cheek. When he brings his hand up to his face, he finds a cottony piece of fabric taped onto his skin.

“What—?” He looks up at you in confusion.

“It was bleeding pretty badly,” you tell him. “I had to stop it, somehow.”

For the first time that night, he takes you in properly. You’re wearing a baggy t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants—it looks like the type of outfit that one would shrug on if they were in a rush to leave the house. Another pang of guilt jolts through his chest.

“What happened?” Harry croaks, pulling his hand away from his cheek.

“My dad told me that the other guy was wearing a bracelet,” you say; frustration drips from your words. “He didn’t take it off before the match started. It’s not a big cut, but it’s deep. You’ll probably need a few stitches.”

“And you know how to do that?” he asks, watching as you circle around the bed and approach the cabinet on the opposite side. He twists in an attempt to keep his eyes on you, but then grunts lowly at the ache that thrums against his side. When he looks down at his torso, he discovers a large splotch of blue and purple decorating the skin covering his ribs.

“I watched my mom do it back when my dad used to coach Artie,” you say absentmindedly, rifling through a few drawers and collecting the supplies that you need. You pause, your eyes clouding over with something forlorn. “Now that I think about it, that’s probably why I want to go into medicine. I think…it would’ve made her proud.”

“It would’ve,” Harry agrees.

He watches you carefully as you make your way back over to him, afraid of prying or saying the wrong thing. Your mother’s death had hit your family hard; he rarely hears you or your father mention her. But maybe that’s for the best—wounds can’t heal if they’re being ripped open time after time again. He would know.

You dump a handful of materials down onto the bed—disinfectant, cotton swabs, tissues, gauze, a needle, thread, and a pack of medical sutures. Harry swallows heavily.

“Do you mind if I…?” you trail off, pursing your lips timidly. Somehow, he understands exactly what you’re referring to.

“No, not at all,” he says. The words fall from his mouth a bit too quickly.

With no further preamble, he spreads his legs, and you step into the space made available between his knees. You lean to the side, reaching for the disinfectant and cotton swabs on the bed, but then nearly lose your balance in the process. Harry’s hand flies upward reflexively, settling on your hip to keep you steady.

You glance down at him with wide eyes, and he hastily removes his palm from your body. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking away.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, and is it just his imagination, or do you sound a bit…breathless?

“You’ve got a couple of scrapes on your face,” you continue. You clear your throat, uncapping the antiseptic and dipping a cotton swab into the bottle. “This’ll hurt a little.”

“It’s alright—fuck!” he swears, scowling deeply at the sting that blooms across his chin. You chew on your bottom lip, dragging the swab over his injuries with practiced, nimble fingers. His toes curl against the cold, concrete floor.

Once you’ve finished sterilising his minor wounds, you turn your attention to the massive bruise on his torso.

“Can I?” you ask softly, extending your arm but pausing only inches away from his skin.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

He fights back against a shudder when your fingertips ghost over his ribs. You hesitate, applying a bit more pressure and cringing when he groans. “Sorry,” you whisper, making a move to pull away.

“No,” Harry breathes quickly. He catches your hand in his, trapping your palm back against his side. Briefly, he notes the unmistakable softness of your knuckles, so different from his own. “’S okay. Do what you need to do.”  

You nod tautly, pressing your fingers against the bruise once more. Harry grinds his teeth together, trying his best to withstand the pain. You prod around for a few seconds, your brow furrowed in concentration. When you don’t appear to find anything worrisome, you sigh in relief and drop your arm so that it rests limply at your side.

“No broken ribs,” you announce quietly. “At least, not as far as I can tell.”

“That’s reassuring,” he jokes.

A weak laugh falls from your mouth. “I haven’t gotten into med school yet, remember?”

He chuckles. Your eyes suddenly darken, and an angry scowl curls along your lips.

“He kicked you while you were knocked out,” you murmur, shaking your head in disbelief. “Fucking asshole.”

Harry’s eyebrows fly upward, his mouth twitching at your vulgar words. You catch sight of his amused expression, but instead of mirroring it, your frown only deepens.

“It’s not funny,” you say. “He fought dirty.”

“This whole setup is illegal, baby,” he says. Neither of you comment on the pet name that slips out of his mouth. He hopes that you view it as part of an expression, and not a proclamation of his affection. “Fighting dirty—they don’t care about that. If anything, it just gives them one hell of a show.”

“Still,” you mutter, gluing your eyes to the discoloured skin covering his ribs. “He shouldn’t have done it.”

Harry smiles softly, reaching out and tucking two fingers beneath your chin. Your lips part in surprise, and he tilts your face up so that he can look at you properly.

“Thank you,” he says, his tone entirely sincere, “for taking care of me.”

Your throat bobs with a hefty swallow—he can feel it against his knuckles. You lift your hand up to his face, and for a moment, he thinks that you mean to stroke his cheek lovingly. But then you scrape your thumb over the bandage covering his cut, and he’s reminded that this doesn’t mean anything.

You’re here to stitch him back up—nothing less, and certainly nothing more.

“I’m not done yet,” you say.

The two of your drop your fingers at the same time. Harry clears his throat, trying to absolve the tension in the air. You seize some of the other supplies still strewn across the bed, laying them out properly before getting to work.

You’re diligent, removing the bandage on his cheek and using a few tissues to mop up the blood that immediately begins to drip downward, rolling over the jut of his jaw. He curses when you pass another cotton swab over his injury, screwing his face up at the smarting prickle of the antiseptic.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur absentmindedly, keeping your eyes trained on the wound. “We definitely don’t want this one to get infected.”

“Yeah,” he grunts, because he can’t exactly nod with your fingers probing around.

“This is going to be the worst part,” you warn, pulling back and opening the pack of stitches.

You unwind a piece of thread from its spool, taking the string between your lips and severing it with your teeth. Harry watches you closely, anxiety frothing in the pit of his stomach. In all of his years spent boxing, he’s only needed stitches once—the procedure hurt like a bitch, especially since there had been no anaesthetic available. He remembers the pain like it was yesterday, and he’s not looking forward to having to endure it again.

When you guide the first stitch through his skin, he balls his hands into tight fists. His lips tuck themselves into a thin line, and an agonized moan bubbles up in his chest. You squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment; upon reopening, they glisten with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you whisper. Your voice shakes.

“It’s okay,” Harry grits out. His blunt nails dig into his palms. “Keep…keep going.”

“A few more,” you babble; he’s not sure whether you’re trying to comfort him or yourself. “Just a few more.”

It takes you roughly fifteen minutes (you haven’t really had much practice, after all) to sew his wound closed with five stitches. It is by no means the cleanest application, but it’s not bad. You retrieve another cotton swab and dip it into the bottle of disinfectant, running it along the seam of his injury one last time. After that, you finally blow out the stale air that has accumulated in your lungs.

“Thank you,” Harry mutters. “Truly.”

“No problem,” you breathe. You busy yourself with gathering up all of the supplies, cradling them to your chest and making your way around the bed. As you dump everything back into the top drawer of the cabinet, you say, “Harry. Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it,” he hums. He’s nervous about speaking too animatedly, afraid to disrupt the work you’ve just done on his cheek.

“How long have you been boxing?”

He peers at you from over his shoulder, eyes following your movements as you return to his side of the cot and sit down next to him. “Er…,” he pauses, thinking, “…about ten years, now.”

“You started at sixteen?” you say, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

He smiles softly before remembering the sutures sewn into his skin. A beat of silence passes.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions.

You nod. “Of course.”

“Why did you want me to teach you how to box?” he says. You open your mouth—to feed him another lie, surely—but he carries on before you get the chance to speak. “And don’t say it’s because you were just curious, or some bullshit like that. I want the truth.”

“Harry…,” you begin softly, looking at him with pleading eyes. He shakes his head, adamant and unmoved.

“The truth.”

Your shoulders slump in defeat. Instinctively, you reach for your throat, tugging at the rose-gold chain hanging there and fiddling nervously with the pendant nestled between your collarbones. It looks like you’re trying to figure out what to say, how to approach the situation without revealing something that could potentially make it any worse.

“Do you remember that guy I was seeing a few months ago?” you say, your voice small. “James?”

And oh, Harry remembers. He remembers watching the two of you swap spit on top of the bleachers at one of his matches. He remembers imagining James in the place of his opponent, and then making sure to aim all of his punches directly for the face (he won, that night.) He remembers seeing the sparkle in your eyes slowly start to dim the longer you stayed with him. He remembers the aftermath of your breakup, when James had shown up at the gym and screamed at you to come outside, deterred only after Portia threatened to call the police.

He fucking remembers.

“Yeah,” he spits. The affirmation is coated in a thick layer of venom. “What about him?”

His eyes widen a touch when it all clicks, then, like pieces of a puzzle falling perfectly into place.

“What did he do?” he demands immediately, fixing you with a stern glare. “Did he fucking touch you?”

“No!” you exclaim, shaking your head quickly. “No, no, it’s just…I’ve been seeing him around. A lot. And I’m not sure if I’m just being paranoid, maybe, but—,” you inhale deeply, “—it feels like he’s following me.”

Your name slips past Harry’s lips in a hard, firm tenor. When you look up at him warily, he stares straight into your eyes, leaving no room for you to break away.

“You need to tell someone about this,” he says steadfastly. “You need to go to the police.”

“I don’t even know if I’m right,” you tell him. Your mouth curls down into an apprehensive frown. “I don’t want to cause a fuss, especially if it all just turns out to be one big coincidence.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Harry asks. A bitter taste settles on his tongue. “How often has this been happening?”

You tilt your head to the side, lost in thought. “Two days ago,” you finally say, shrugging helplessly. “And…I don’t know. I’ve seen him, like, nine or ten times in total.”

“Ten times,” he hisses, “in a few months? That’s not normal, and you know it.”

“Harry,” you plead, tugging nervously at the hem of your t-shirt. “Please. Don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

“How can you—?” he starts, but then you lurch forward, putting a dainty hand on his thigh.

“Please,” you repeat, shaking your head softly. “Just…keep this between us, okay? The last thing I want is for my dad to find out.”

And maybe it’s the tenderness brewing in your eyes when you meet his gaze. Maybe it’s the wilt in your voice, the feeblest he’s ever heard. Maybe it’s the feeling of your fingers on his leg, burning a hole through his shorts and searing a mark—a brand—into his skin. Harry sighs, looking away from you and running his fingers anxiously through his curly hair.

“You’re bloody stupid, you know that?” he asks, scoffing quietly.

“Yeah,” you reply, the corners of your mouth kinking up into a half-hearted smile. “I know.”

“Got you a latte, gioia—”

The dinky curtain in front of you is pulled back by none other than your father, who is holding a tray of coffee in his right hand. He blinks at the scene laid out before him—you and Harry on the small cot, sitting a bit too close for comfort. Your hand on his thigh. You both jump, breaking away from each other and inhaling sharply. Harry clears his throat as you cough into your elbow, standing up and reaching for one of the drinks nestled in the tray.

“Thank you,” you murmur quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to your father’s cheek.

His eyes bounce between the two of you, forehead wrinkling in curiosity as he asks, “What’d I miss?”

You peer down at Harry from over the rim of your cup, panicked and beseeching. He just shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly; the tattoos inked into his skin ripple with the act. His tone is steady when he meets your father’s gaze.

“I’ve got some bruised ribs and a wicked headache, but aside from that—,” he lies, “—nothing at all.”

~*~

Your father ends up driving him home.

He parks the car just in front of Harry’s apartment complex, watching with worried eyes as he slips out of the passenger door.

“You sure you’ll be alright?” he asks.

Harry just nods, waving away his concerns. “I’m fine, Coach, really. Thanks for the ride.”

Your father nods—still looking a little unsure—before speeding off.

Climbing up four flights of stairs with bruised ribs is hell, Harry soon learns. By the time he reaches his floor, he’s panting and wiping a thin sheen of sweat from his brow. He pulls his keys out of his coat pocket, unlocking the front door and staggering into his apartment. A pained whimper slips out of his mouth as he shrugs the jacket from his shoulders.

He slowly makes his way into the bathroom, cupping his battered side over the material of his t-shirt. The water is cold when he first turns the shower on. He grits his teeth, fiddling with the temperature and meticulously removing his clothes as it warms.

The moment the first droplet hits his skin, he lets out a deep, guttural groan. He hadn’t realised just how tense he was until now. He stands under the spray of the water, tipping his head back and letting it wash away every trace of dirt and grime on his body. His hair grows heavy with moisture, sticking to his scalp and his forehead. He leans against the wall of the shower, inhaling deeply. His eyelids flutter shut, and your smiling face appears amidst the darkness.

Almost subconsciously, his hand finds its way to his cock.

Part of him is disgusted with himself. He shouldn’t be thinking of you. He shouldn’t be thinking of you. He shouldn’t be—

He moans.

In the realm of his perverse imagination, you’re straddling him, your arms looped leisurely around his neck and your whimpers echoing into the cavern of his mouth. Your hips roll against his, unhurried and languid and deep. So fucking deep. Harry reaches down with one hand, squeezing greedily at the curve of your ass, and you whine in response, encouraging him to do it again.

He pumps his length in the shower, panting quietly.

Your fronts are pressed together as you rut into his lap, your nipples brushing against the ebony birds on his chest and your silky walls wrapped around him like a vice. He grunts; you swallow the sound down, your hot, heavy breaths wafting out onto his chin. His fingers dig into your thighs when you steady yourself on your knees, doing your best to bounce up and down on him properly. It’s frantic, it’s uncoordinated, it’s sloppy, but…it’s perfect.

Your nails scrape down his back as the two of you move together, a steady series of push and pull, like water under a bridge. If you’re the moon, then he’s the tides, bending and swirling under your gentle light. Every time you rock forward, he meets you there, your bodies connecting with faint slaps of skin on skin. You gaze at him with hooded eyes, lust simmering beneath your lashes. Electricity tingles across his shoulders.

The noises that you emit are music to his ears. Delicate sighs when he nips at your breasts, earthy groans when he hits that special spot inside of you. And woven between them, imploring pleas, murmurs of right there and oh, yes and so good.

It’s embarrassing, how quickly he finishes.

He stands there, leaning against the tiles with his cock in his hand and his release dripping from his fingertips. He has the decency to feel appalled by his actions, at the very least. If you were aware of what he had just done, he knows for a fact that you would never speak to him again.

He cleans himself up, shampooing his hair and scrubbing down every inch of his body. When he steps out of the shower and shuts the water, a wave of exhaustion washes over him, making him sway on his feet. His lips vibrate with a soft sigh.

His phone chimes from where it’s perched on the bathroom counter. When he taps on it, he finds a message from you.

Feel better soon, it reads. The guilt festering in his chest increases tenfold.

Thank you, he says back, shoving the remorse down. Good luck on your midterm tomorrow.

A moment later, your reply comes through.

Thanks! Goodnight, Harry.

Goodnight, he types. He pauses for a moment, debating over whether he should include a little red heart after the word. But then he shakes his head, rolling his eyes at his own insolence and sending the text without a second thought.

He doesn’t even bother drying himself off before padding across the hall and into his bedroom. He collapses onto his mattress, still covered in tiny droplets that bead along his shoulders and trail downward, wetting the duvet. He doesn’t care. It’ll dry, and so will he.

He falls asleep moments later, the repaired skin of his cheek tingling in the dark.

~*~

PART III: Hook

PART IV: Uppercut

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #eeeeeee okay here it is!!! i love this part a LOT so i hope u guys do too 💘 #harry writing #boxrry

[lewdbabies]

Part 2

~my pet~ Sukunaxreader smut

Dom sukuna

warning: 18+ MDNI, raw sex, breeding, degradation, praise kink, choking, BDSM

part 3 posted on my page enjoy 🥵

“I refuse to wear such a thing” You huff.

The small elderly woman stares up at you with tired eyes pleadingly.

“Please mistress My lord has ordered me to make sure you wear this robe specifically” you look down at the slinky red floral robe with dread. This seemed highly inappropriate you ball your fist crushing the material in your hands. You nod slipping your arms into the silk sleeves. The servant woman walks circles around your body tucking and tying as she goes. You can barely breath as she pulls tighter around your waistline creating a hour glass shape and hoisting your breast up. Just yesterday he was breathing down your neck about you being a threat and now he is forcing you to dine with him. Your eyes roll at the very thought of him, the servant woman ties a final bow on your robe before slipping a gem Incrusted hair clip into your wild mane. You turn to the mirror and there you stood glistening with beauty from head to toe. The light makeup complemented your natural features making them stand out, the red tight fitting robe accentuated your curves, the long red silk fell in a pool around your feet while leaving a gapping slit to see your legs beneath, your breast sat perched struggling against the fabric,You nearly didn’t recognize yourself.

The woman runs a delightful oil on your skin engulfing you in the scent of wild flowers and lavender. She nods motioning for you to follow her down the hall. This is the first time you’d been anywhere in the temple apart from the room you were held in. Each footstep bounced off the large walls and pillars, The ceiling was an artistic vision of heaven, paintings of tales you’d only hear in religion,Angels, beast, and Demons.

You play with a loose string on your gown nervously, keeping your focus away from your awaiting fate.

“My lord” The woman bows her head.

“ You may go” she turns immediately swiftly walking down the long corridor.

You are alone now, the only thing separating you is a grand dining table which Sukuna sits at the head of.

“Sit” he swirls the wine in his glass watching you intently.

He takes a sip never taking his eyes off you as you slide hesitantly into your seat. His bottom lip is stained a bright red he licks the remnants his stare glued on you. Your legs cross tightly in a attempt to calm the throbbing in your clit.

‘I want a taste’ you think to yourself before you realize what you’re doing. The thought was intrusive a pure surprise, you begin to eat in silence.

“You look Delicious “

“Excuse me?”

He smirks “ I asked if the food is delicious...” Your eyebrows wrinkle in suspicion.

“ the food is delicious thank you” you bow your head.

Glancing up you’re met with his piercing gaze you begin to squirm.

After a while of nervous eating and silent tension Sukuna speaks finally.

“ Would you like dessert as my guest I’ve ordered the kitchen to prepare an array of sweets for you “ what could you say you had a sweet tooth.

“That sounds...lovely” you say cautiously afraid to turn down any of his Generous gestures. He stands walking slowly like a predator sneaking up on its prey, you feel so small under his gaze, so fragile compared to his power. He reaches a giant hand out to you, you place your small hand in his rising from your seat. He walks you down the hall holding your hand firmly. You struggle to keep up with his pace being that your legs were extremely short in comparison to his.

He leads you to a luxurious room covered in satin and Golden treasures. He leads you to the edge of the bed.

“Rest your feet, my pet” he coos staring hungrily at your exposed chest.

You sit on the soft bed crossing one leg over the other exposing your thighs. He rolls a cart in front of you a silver platter covered by a sterling top sat before you. Sukuna reveals what is inside, a platter of ingredients?

Strawberry’s,black berries , fresh cream, sugar cane, cherries, And molten cocoa. It looked mouth watering you begin to salivate.

Sukuna picks up a bright red strawberry dipping it slowly into the cocoa maintaining eye contact, your body trembles as he approaches you. His free hand slides behind your neck his thumb massaging the soft skin as he traces your lips with chocolate. You’re going insane blood rushing through your veins as the sweet taste invades your tongue. He pushes the berry between your lips gently urging you to bite into its sweetness. Red juices run down your lips as you bite down savoring the taste invading your senses. Sukuna’s eyes light up his grip on your neck firming, he leans down trailing his tongue along your chin lapping up the spilled juices.

His tongue is long almost serpent like it swirls across your lip leaving a warm tingling in its wake. You moan softly leaning into him, he responds by crashing his lips to yours in a fervent greedy heat. It was senseless you didn’t know him at all and yet your body ached for his touch.

Your hips swirled as you tangled your hands in his blazing red hair pulling him closer. He grunts slipping his Eager tongue between your lips, he leans forward placing his knee between your legs you lay back pulling him slightly on top of you. Your gown is bunched up around your waist your breast barely contained, he’s hovering over you panting quietly. He pushes his knee deeper into your core spreading your legs further apart, the pressure against your clit causes you to whimper. He smiles devilishly down at you soaking in your lust drunken face, he can feel you throbbing against him making his cock twitch in excitement. He captures your lips again, grinding his knee gently into your pleading slit. You’re soaking wet and gasping between kisses He is intoxicating, all reason and logic were gone there was one thing you wanted no, needed in this moment. Your hands reach down blindly, your finger tips graze the tented material of his robe his length twitches in response. He groans pulling away from your lips only to attack your breast with his mouth. He rips the fabric from your chest with ease exposing your yearning hard buds, he waste no time suckling your sensitive spot . Your back arches, your hands pull him closer playing in his hair.

“Please ...”

“ please what, use your words like a big girl “

“Ah, fuck, I-I can’t “ your words are choppy almost in coherent

“Yes you can Doll ,cmon tell me what you want “ he moans.

“Touch...me...more Ah ah”

“ Ask nicely or I might just have to punish you” he nibbles lightly on your aching nipples.

“P-Please touch me My lord” you cry out eyes rolling back.

“Good Girl” he growls fingers pushing past your thighs in search of your wet entrance, he slides his middle digit along the length of your slit brushing lightly over your throbbing nub.

“Oh my god Ah-!” You we’re losing your mind, you’d touched yourself there many times before, waking up late nights to play with yourself in secret but this...this was different it was a pressure that resided deeper than you’d ever experienced, Like a volcano waiting to erupt.

Your hands impatiently work to try and free his Hard member but he pulls away from you suddenly leaving you laying there a heaving mess.

“Did I say you can touch me “ he growls in your ear you wither beneath him.

He grabs a piece of torn fabric grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head. He wraps the satin tightly around your wrists rendering you helpless,You’re at his mercy.

He trails kisses all the way down your body, kissing every stretch mark and scar in sight. You’re quivering and bucking your hips impatiently, he reaches your thighs pushing them up digging your knees lightly into your chest. You’re folded in half your wetness completely exposed to him, he blows lightly on your hot swollen labia causing you to squirm and clench your insides. He chuckles at your excitement soaking in the sight of you.

“Mmmm such a pretty little pussy” he spreads your lips apart running his tongue over your pearl. He waste no time devouring your satin folds, he sucks desperately on your clit slipping in two fingers stretching you so much you almost cum right then and there. He pumps into you filling your walls with pleasure, you clamp down on him as you grind into his tongue. It’s too much to take you’re about to explode , he pumps faster your juices flowing down his fingers he moans into your pussy vibrating your entire soul, it was enough to send you over the edge. Your ass arches off the bed as you reach your mind numbing climax sukuna finger fucks you harder riding out your orgasm with you. Your juices sprayed soaking his lips and the sheets beneath you, he smiles licking up the mess you made.

He slides up shoving his tongue in your mouth so you can taste yourself.

“Mmm desserts is always better than the main course” he kisses your forehead before standing up pulling you into his arms. He picks you up bridal style and begins walking down the corridor despite your obvious displeasure and silent protest. How dare he make you cum like that and send you off to bed!

He lays you in your bed pulling the covers up to your neck. He kisses your lips as he unties the makeshift handcuffs with your hands free you reach up pulling him closer desperate for more. He humors you grabbing your throat and pulling you deeper into the kiss.

“Uhn fuck-“ he moans grabbing your exposed breast rolling the bud between his fingers.

You attempt to pull him on top of you... he pulls away.

“ Such an impatient Girl, It is time to rest” he kisses you one last time before walking away leaving you stunned and angry by his strange behavior.

‘ why won’t you fuck me?!’

#sukunaxreader #sukuna #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #smut #sukuna fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader

[hualianff]

Untethered (Bonus II) 《Bonus I》

For the first time in his life, XL feels like he can speak without the pressures and expectations of being a prince weighing down on his shoulders. He watches his facial expressions in the mirror as he rambles about the various meetings he had for the day. The subtle dancing of his eyebrows, rapid blinking of his eyes, and pinched corners of his lips—all indicative of how animated he is when summarizing his duties that seemed more like work than anything else.

The fact that HC is here, brushing his hair, and listening with occasional intrigued hums make XL reinvigorated as his role as prince. Despite the demanding energy, control, and fairness the role takes, XL is incredibly grateful for the privilege and promises himself to continue to fulfill this purpose to the best of his abilities.

So far, XL believes he’s done a sufficient job, preparing to ascend to the throne. After hearing him speak, he secretly hopes HC thinks so too.

“Ah, San Lang, thank you for kindly tending to my hair. It looks wonderful,” XL says once he feels the final knots come undone by HC’s broad strokes.

“Of course it looks wonderful. It is His Highness, after all,” the pirate captain comments smoothly. XL can’t help but smile at the compliment.

HC goes to place the comb back on the vanity. He switches it out for a short ribbon that shimmers silver when hit by the moonlight.

“Allow me to do one more thing,” HC adds. He gathers all of XL’s hair to fall behind his shoulders, the strands still a bit damp. With practiced movements, HC parts the prince’s hair into three sections, then begins braiding the pieces into a thick, tight section.

XL licks his lips in anticipation. Though he’s had his hair styled a thousand times before, this is HC who currently braids his long locks, a gesture that seems a bit intimate.

Not that you mind, XL briefly thinks.

“How have the last few weeks treated San Lang?” He asks, reminding HC of his promise to talk about his days on the ocean. HC pulls the pieces of hair tighter, focused on creating a simple yet consistent and neat braided pattern for the prince.

“Troublesome. There’s a new pirate ship we have encountered several times. They said they want to challenge us for our water territories, which is a load of shit because the sea belongs to no one,” HC spits out heatedly. His tone is harsh but his touch is gentle as ever. “I honestly think the captain wants to mess with me. Make me question my reign as the ‘most feared, ruthless, and violent pirate to sail the waters.’”

“Oh. I see,” XL says hesitantly. He’s not very familiar with the inside knowledge of pirate ways and society other than what is generalized by the public. And the palace’s gossip, of course.

Suddenly, a rush of hot air tickles XL’s ear. XL locks eyes with HC through the mirror, heart stuttering at the dark, hungry look in the pirate’s eye.

“What does His Highness think?”

“Think about what?”

“My reputation. Does the real thing live up to your imagination?” HC questions with a sly smirk, quickly tying the ribbon at the end of the braid, then moving it to fall over XL’s right shoulder. XL only has a few seconds to marvel at the stunning handiwork before HC leans forward even more, urging XL to turn toward him, their faces mere centimeters apart.

The pirate captain smells like manly musk mixed in with the ocean breeze. XL nervously gulps.

“I- um,” XL starts, feeling his face heat up. “Hmm, maybe not entirely...”

HC’s eye slowly flits down XL’s face. XL remains still, mentally kicking himself for wondering what it would feel like to close the small gap and-

“Fair enough,” HC remarks, pulling away, leaving a rush of air in his wake. “I suppose I’m not the madman people say I am. After all, His Highness wouldn’t have let me into his room otherwise, no?”

Something hot burns inside XL’s gut. He had to let HC in! If the pirate were discovered by the palace guards, he’d be imprisoned indefinitely for sure! XL was simply doing an act of service for HC...nothing too outrageous like HC implied.

Nope, none at all.

“You’re blushing.“

“San Lang better take a good look around lest this is the only time I invite him into my room,” XL huffs out, resolutely facing forward and avoiding HC’s penetrating gaze.

“Forgive me, Your Highness. I was simply teasing,” HC says, though he doesn’t sound all that apologetic. “A prince like you must have many admirers to choose from. I shall not take this privilege for granted.”

“Admirers? Where on Earth did you get that from?” XL asks, appalled. He hasn’t taken interest in any of the brides his father provided, much less traveled to other kingdoms in a serious pursuit to find one to marry.

“Is there not a ball happening this coming week? For you to choose a suitable woman to become your queen?” HC inquiries nonchalantly. He tucks a rogue curl behind XL’s ear, the prince subtly leaning into the touch.

XL whips around in astonishment, braid flying to his other shoulder.

“How did you know!?”

“I have ears on land, my prince. Even when I’m out sailing the sea,” HC says. “We have also passed numerous royal ships carrying your guests for the celebration.”

XL wilts in his seat.

It’s not much of a celebration if XL hadn’t wanted to host an engagement ball in the first place. Years of his father’s insistent pushing have led to more frequent gatherings with other royalty in hopes that XL finds a fiancé.

Unlike his parents, XL wasn’t betrothed from a young age. Furthermore, he hasn’t expressed  any interest in marriage even once becoming an adult.

(“Your mother and I were married at twenty. You, my son, are already twenty-two,” the king always said. “You should quickly find a princess who catches your eye. The sooner you get yourself a wife, the sooner she will start learning her duties as queen.”)

XL has successfully put off marriage for a couple of years, deferring to his rigorous training schedule and duties as prince as an excuse. Fortunately, his mother is willing to let XL take his time, as the king isn’t set to retire anytime soon. After all, XL learning his responsibilities as king is the most important task.

HC instantly notices XL’s deflated expression. He attempts to backpedal.

“I had no right to bring that up. If this is something Gege does not want to discuss, then, by all means, he may change the subject,” HC says quietly. Respectfully.

“No. It is fine. It is by no means a secret at all. The ball has been scheduled for weeks now,” XL murmurs while looking at his bare feet. He fiddles with the long braid, smoothing over the tightly wrapped strands absent-mindedly. “I’m not actively looking for a wife or anything. At least, I don’t want to...”

“Your Highness-“

“San Lang.”

HC’s mouth snaps shut. He straightens his back with his shoulders set square, standing at attention in front of the Prince of Xianle.

“Could you do something for me? A small favor, if you will.”

“Anything,” HC immediately answers.

XL subconsciously chews on his lower lip, a habit that his closest friend SQX reprimands him for doing because it tears up both the old and healing skin. Easy to overdo, not a quick fix, SQX claims.

XL rises to his feet. He holds his hand out to the pirate, palm facing upwards.

Where’s My Love – SYML

“Will you dance with me?”

“I’m afraid gege will be sorely disappointed with this one’s lack of skill,” HC says as a matter-of-fact, but he doesn’t hesitate to accept XL’s hand, his long fingers blanketing XL’s own.

The prince’s heart skips a beat as the pirate pulls him close until their chests almost touch. XL feels small; HC’s heeled boots to XL’s bare feet exaggerate their height difference, XL only coming up to HC’s chest.

XL feels small but strangely, he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“San Lang needs only to follow my lead,” XL says, looking up with a smile. He properly intertwines their left and right hands, then places HC’s other hand on his shoulder. Finally, XL goes to hold the pirate’s waist, the thin fabric giving way to the hard muscle underneath.

“Gege must have danced with a lot of pretty women before,” HC muses, moving his feet as XL slowly guides him into a waltz. XL hopes it isn’t just him imagining a slow, romantic piece to harmonize their movements.

“Is San Lang jealous?” XL asks without thinking.

Goodness, did those words seriously just come out of his mouth? Other than his eyes widening in slight horror, XL schools his face into a calm expression, not wanting to seem conceited or even desperate.

HC peers down with a lazy smirk, almost crowding into the prince as they turn to dance in a circle. Despite XL’s effort to appear unfazed by the prospect of HC envying those who’ve had the opportunity to dance with the Prince of Xianle, the pirate still catches the hopeful flicker of XL’s eyelashes.

“A little bit. Though in a way, I’ve had my fair share of dances with Gege myself,” HC states proudly, referring back to their previous sparring sessions. The break in focus has HC stumbling over his feet, prompting XL to squeeze his waist as a reprimand to concentrate.

“Ah, yes. San Lang’s skill is undeniable in that aspect,” XL says, laughing. “He’s also the first and only man I’ve danced ever with.”

“What an honor,” HC purrs out, and then he lowers XL into an abrupt dip, holding the prince by his hip and upper back.

XL’s breath hitches, wondering how they seamlessly switched positions. HC tenderly stares down at the prince, a twinkle dimly reflecting in his left eye.

“San Lang...” XL whispers, clutching onto HC’s shoulders. His long braid feels heavy like rope where it hangs down, nearly touching the ground.

“Your Highness.”

Their faces are millimeters apart, skimming each other’s noses. They’ve never been this close before, especially not in the absence of any sort of weapon. No one besides the king and queen, palace servants, and bodyguards are even allowed to touch the prince.

Now here he is, in the arms of the infamous Crimson Rain, on the verge of letting himself want.

Tentatively, XL licks his lips before asking, “Why do you always come back?”

“Gege knows this answer too,” HC solemnly says.

XL tilts his chin up, eyelids starting to lower.

“I come back for you, my dear Prince.”

As HC leans down—still supporting XL’s weight—XL meets him halfway for their first proper kiss, alone together in the prince’s room where the pale moonlight spills through the balcony doors. It’s a light and airy peck, one that ends way too soon for XL’s liking.

When they pull apart, HC stands XL back up. The pirate notices XL’s robe has slid off one shoulder. He goes to pull it back up but XL quickly grasps his jaw for another kiss instead.

They part again.

“Just...one more-“ XL breathes out, adrenaline coursing through his veins. HC’s lips are warm and firm, easily pliable as they press deliciously against XL’s own. “...one more.”

HC gladly obliges.

Their kisses gradually pick up in pace, HC’s hands respectively exploring the span of XL’s back, his hips, and sides. XL eagerly pulls HC over to the edge of his bed, spinning them around so he can climb onto the pirate’s lap.

HC groans low in his throat, comfortably looping his arms around XL’s waist.

At this point, all of XL’s reservations have been cast aside and he’s going to act on the desires concerning a certain pirate that have been taunting him for months now, damn it.

XL surges forward with a force that knocks HC back against the soft mattress.

“Your Highness,” HC growls between kisses, still trying to cover up XL’s shoulder, and now his chest where the robe is loose enough to reveal noticeable cleavage. XL shifts a bit to align their hips, unintentionally rubbing against HC. “Shit-“

“Hua Cheng-“ XL hums, belatedly realizing his slip up. HC nips at his lip for his mistake.

“San L-lang,” XL mewls like the starved for affection prince that he is. HC’s tongue darts out to swipe across XL’s upper lip. Then, his lower lip.

XL naturally opens up for him, gasping as HC’s hot tongue licks inside his mouth with a dominance that consumes XL. The more XL lets his lust cloud his movement, the faster he feels himself harden.

When XL’s hands brush along HC’s hair, they accidentally graze onto his eyepatch. HC grunts in surprise, which has XL springing back as the situation of the last five minutes dawns upon him.

He sits up on HC’s thighs, placing his palms on the pirate’s chest. Underneath him, HC is a gorgeous vision–thick, wavy hair splayed out on XL’s pillow, lips swollen and spit-slicked.

“Oh my- oh my lord,” XL chokes out, completely breathless. “Was- was that t-too much?”

“Not at all, Your Highness,” HC replies with a rogue-ish smirk. “Come here.”

HC embraces his prince with long arms, squeezing tightly and pressing a series of kisses to the top of XL’s head. XL hesitantly rests his cheek on HC’s sternum, aware of how close their bodies are pressed together.

“Who knew Gege could kiss like that?”

“Like what?” XL questions petulantly.

“Like a shameless minx,” the pirate captain answers, chuckling when XL whines at the implication.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” XL shyly admits.

“Me too,” HC murmurs. XL lifts his head, crosses his arms on HC’s chest, then sets his chin on them. “Since the moment I saw you sitting alone at the pub.”

“You wanted to kiss the crown prince at first sight?” XL asks, pretending to be scandalized. HC kisses the tip of XL’s nose. XL scrunches it up in response.

“Hmm, my prince now.”

“Well, your prince would very much like it if San Lang stays the night.”

“I must be back at the harbor before dawn,” HC says, stroking XL’s hair. “However, I can most certainly afford to accompany Gege while he sleeps.”

XL happily snuggles close to HC, not worrying quite so much about the ball now that he has something going on with HC. To his astonishment, the pirate seems to return his affections quite enthusiastically. As a prince with the duty to serve his people, XL reckons he deserves this moment of happiness.

After another hour of blissful exchanging kisses and aimless conversation, XL feels himself begin to drift. He hears a whispered promise from HC who protectively curls around him.

“I will never bring you harm, Your Highness. Your heart is safe with me.”

XL falls asleep into a dreamless slumber.

***

Present...

As if it happens in slow motion, XL swings the sword with all the power he possesses. HC’s arms stretch open in vulnerability, lips forming into a small, understanding smile.

“Gege.”

Something inside XL shatters. The familiar term of endearment is for XL���s ears only. His heart pounds against his rib cage with the ferocity of an imprisoned soul, screaming at XL to ask not what he would wish for in death, but what is he willing to live for?

The answer is right in front of him.

“I’m back.”

Three things happen at once.

A deafening BOOM fires at the royal ship from the opposite direction, pitch-black flags with the symbolic skeleton of a fish piercing through the chilly air.

Simultaneously, a blinding flash of lightning strikes across the sky, signaling an even more intense downpour of rain that obscures everyone’s vision. Surprised screams echo somewhat mutely among the roaring winds.

Lastly, XL swings his sword so it barely skims the open blouse HC wears and keeps rotating until it crosses behind him, where he lets it go flying back to the royal ship.

At that moment, XL leaps forward into HC’s embrace, where those long arms encircle his waist, and both men are sent tumbling down into the crashing waves of the raging ocean.

《VI》

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian #hualian au #xie lian #hua cheng #pirate & prince au #cerdrabbles #TBC #tian guan ci fu #the bonus had to be split into two #I really just wanted to write Hualian’s first kiss here hehe #we back in the present babyyy

[herstroywritten]

Their Aching Firsts.

I still have no excuse for my obsession with them. Not sure how I feel about this particular story, but I wanted to post something for the start of Rivusa week for the hell of it. It’s about 7k words (I apparently can’t stop writing them once I start and their works end up being endless). Oops.

Fair warning, there is a umm *spicy* scene near the end there. I don’t usually write those and I tried to keep it as vague as I could, but I thought I’d mention it anyways. Other than that, enjoy and let me know what you think!

The first times they kissed, it was fueled by anger- he grabbed, she pulled, they crashed.

The first time they talked about it, it wasn't so much a conversation of words as it was one of looks. His eyes said "I want you and it terrifies me." Her eyes said "I think I want you, too. And I think I'm finally ready to admit that."

The first time Musa realized her new favorite jacket was once his, she stares at herself in the mirror for over an hour. She misses lunch with the gang and Riven comes knocking at her door and opens it to find her standing in front of that mirror in a state of awe. She's bathed in black leather, sleeves reaching the tips of her fingertips.

"You ok?" Arms wrap around her waist as she toys with the hem of the jacket. She looks at him through the mirror and smiles.

"I just want you to know I'm never giving this back."

He huffs a laugh as he lets his head fall to her hair, breathing her in. Lavender and something sweet that he's never been able to pinpoint. "Not even if this falls apart?"

She whirls around to face him. "I don't intend on letting that happen." Her hands are on the collar of his shirt, eyes blazing with stubbornness. He knows then that her words are a promise, a commitment and not just a comment in passing.

"I don't know, Muse. You still have time to regret all this. Regret the ruin of your reputation. What will people say?" His words are teasing, but she can see right through them. She senses his vulnerability, his apprehension.

"There are a lot of things I regret in life- yelling at my mother when I was fourteen because I didn't want to clean my room, being a bit of a bitch to my suitemates at the start of the year, hiding instead of fighting because I was too scared to see what my powers could really do. The regrets are endless. But, you, Riven, are not one of them."

He frowns, blinks away the swarm of feelings within  him. "Yeah?"

She bunches her hands on his collar and pulls him down to her mouth. "Yeah."

"And what if I'm the one to end this?"

"And do what? Date some other girl for the hell of it?"

"Maybe, " he grins. "I hear I'm hot on the market now that I'm on the good side." She pulls him all the way down then, kisses him hard.

"Give it a try. Whoever she is, she won't last more than a day. And she'll defiantly never have you. Not really. I have you right where I want you, Riven. You're mine and you know it." She blazes a fire in him with her words.

"Oh yeah? And how would you know that?"

"You're here, aren't you?" She's all sass as she cocks an eyebrow at his question. "And, plus, it's kinda hard to lie to an empath."

And then she's kissing him again. This time with so much passion that he can't make sense of the world around him any longer. She pulls away only to tell him, "And I bet she'll never get that reaction out of you."

"No. No, she won't."

________________________________________________________________

The first time he calls her his girlfriend, it's not exactly in the situation she had imagined.

"Girls, I need to tell you something." Musa's voice wavers slightly as it rises above the noise that is their friends' laughs and chatter.

They're on the roof of Alfea, clustered among one another on the edges of old, shabby stones. The sky above them is dark and heavy. Stars wink at students from behind perfect clouds, ones that Musa remembers seeing in old cartoon movies that she used to watch with her parents when she was younger. From up here, the rest of Alfea seems like their whole world, its students miniature figures in a dollhouse. It's a perfect night, just as it should be. Rosalind is gone, out of the school and although that's not good enough, it's something. And Headmistress Dowling is alive and back in charge of the magical boarding school, where she belongs. From her perch up here, she can make out the headmistress' perfectly done hair as she leans back and laughs at something Silva is saying. She sees Professor Harvey heading towards their table, scolding students along the way to back away from the school's boarders. She's surprised that they haven't tried to stop all the drinking that going on. It seems that even the professors have had enough of the fighting, so much so that they're no longer focusing on the minute details of teenage life. Plus, she suspects that when they called for a party to celebrate the revival of Dowling and their taking back the school, they had fully expected the drinking. In fact, Musa had even seen Silva sneaking a few drinks to the teacher's table, but she'd never tell him that.

She can still hear Terra's squeal when Dowling had announced the party. And she can feel the toll of the  heels Stella had insisted she wear on her feet. It has brought everyone so much joy, this little piece of heaven that they're being allowed, and she's been so very glad to just bask in it. After months of walking around with her headphones constantly on, trying desperately and failing to block the thoughts of despair, gloom, and pain, she welcomed the change. It had taken a lot out of her, but she had even worked up the nerve to leave her headphones behind for the party. The girls had been surprised at first, but then Bloom had stepped forward, wound their arms together, and led her outside the suite. She's been getting weird looks from them all night, little side glances with small smiles and questioning eyes, asking her if she was okay or if she needed to head out for a bit, take a breather. She'd returned them all with reassuring smiles of her own, letting them know that she was fine. And she was fine, but probably not for the reason they thought. Yes, the students around her were happy and she didn’t have much negativity to deal with from them right now, and yes her powers were getting better. But the reason she was doing so well had to do nothing with the students around them or her ability to control her magic and everything to do with the specialist across from her.

Riven and her had been a bit of a dichotomy since the start of her second semester at Alfea. They were paired together for combat classes from the very beginning of Rosalind's reign at Alfea. He'd flirted, as he did with everything that had a pulse and walked his way, and she had shut it down. Odd how that had only encouraged his behavior. Odder how she'd eventually come to appreciate it.

It was a slow transition, their thing. She had been resistant to accept she liked someone so very opposite to her last boyfriend, hesitant to give herself to that natural disaster that seemed to be Riven. Honestly, it seemed like a loss for a long time. She'd lay in bed some nights, staring at her ceiling, listening to Terra's slow breaths as she slept, and just think about the fact that just a few months ago (God, it boggled her mind that it was only a few months ago… where did time go? And how did they get here, in a school run by a once presumed dead war leader and a woman that seemed to exude death from her presence alone?) she had been perfectly happy with Sam and the silence that he brought. Sure, they had eventually called it quits once she had realized she couldn't live in silence forever and he realized she needed to learn to shield herself from harm. It had been tough, but they were friends. And she had been okay being single again. Truly, she had. So how she'd come to crave noise- his noise, loud and obnoxious emotions that sent her body tingling and her mind reeling- she doesn't know. But it had happened and once she's finally just accepted it, the ball was in his court. Too bad for her though, because just as hesitant as she was, Riven was ten times more resistant to the pull that existed between the two of them. Musa remembers all the nights they'd sneak out and he'd teach her new moves with a staff and sometimes he'd let her use his swords, teasing her as she struggled under their weight. She'd head back to her suite before the sun came up, always frustrated because couldn't he see?! Couldn't he tell? Why else would she show up every single night without fail? Why else would she stick around when the training turned to teasing and taunting turned to conversations in hushed tones? Long story short, it took him being under mind control and her breaking it for him to just finally, finally kiss her. And from then on, it had been secret meetings in different corners of the school, in their rooms when no one else was around, and anywhere else they could find some privacy.

She's itching to cross the space that separates them currently and slip her arms under his jacket, an action that she'd first done on instinct but which had quickly become a habit once she had realized the effect it had on him. She's been eyeing him the whole night, fully aware of his gaze on her. There's a reason she hadn't argued with Stella when she'd been handed the lavender slip of a dress that she currently wore. She'd even managed to forgive the light fairy for the strappy silver heels she had practically forced into Musa's feet when she caught Riven staring up and down her bare legs. 

"Musa? What is it? Are you ok?" 

Bloom's worried tone pulls her back to reality and she forces herself to face away from Riven and toward the girls. She'd avoided this conversation for so long, but it had to come out at some point tonight and it had to happened before one of the girls found them in some shady corner with their clothes half off. 

"Oh, no I'm fine! It's not that." Now, how to approach what it actually was? 

Aisha's confused tone follows her reply, "Well, then, what is it?"

"Um, it's kind of a little complicated…" Musa's voice trails off and she has to physically stop herself from turning back to Riven to see if he's ok with this, with what she's about to say.

"Musa you're freaking me out a little here," Stella's eyes narrow at Musa's fidgeting her hands. Huh, she hadn't even noticed herself playing with the hem of her dress.

"Oh no! Did you actually kill that poor guy that tried to hit on you?" Terra sounds worried as Musa just groans at her words.

"Ughhh. Terra, we said we wouldn't talk about that."

"What guy?" Riven's question comes at the same moment as her whine, except his is louder and much more aggressive. All heads turn to him, and Musa curses the jealousy that she feels coursing through his veins right now. Damn it, couldn't he just keep it in long enough so she could explain to her suitemates what the hell was going on between them? His eyes are all rage and warning as he stares Terra down. And for some reason, she's all worked up at his gaze and doesn't know what to do with herself. She really shouldn't be so attracted to this side of him.

"What's it matter to you?" Aisha questions, eyebrow raising in his direction.

"It just does."

"Really, Riven? The middle school comeback? Classic."

"Stay out of it, Aisha. I wasn't talking to you."

They're bickering back and forth, and Musa can sense both their patience straining. This is not how she was hoping this would go. Finally, she steps between them, one hand on Aisha's shoulder and the other on Riven's chest. "Ok, that's enough."

Aisha glares his way one more time but steps back, Riven does not.  Instead, he turns to Musa and asks her, "What guy, Musa?"

"It doesn't matter, Riven."

"It does to me."

"Well, it shouldn't. It was just some drunk dude with a bad haircut. That's it." She's trying to reassure him, to let him know that this thing they have going on isn't just something she's going to drop the first chance she gets for any guy that makes eyes her way. She knows that's one of his big insecurities. He has it in his head that he's not good enough to deserve this, something that isn't completely fucked up from the very beginning.

They're trading glances, a secret conversation of their own  happening between them.

"No!"

All heads snap toward Bloom. The second she turns around, Musa knows that her redheaded roommate has figured it out. Bloom is grinning at the two of them, practically bouncing on her heels as she grabs onto Sky's arm and tugs on it. "Did you know about this?! Why didn't you tell me?!" 

Sky (bless his soul) looks at his girlfriend with confusion evident in his face, "Know what?"

Except it's Stella that answers, "They're dating."

And then mayhem ensues and Musa suddenly wishes she had thought this through because she's feeling so much from so many people right now and she's not quite sure how to handle it. She tries to hide the wince that forms on her face as she tries to answer all the questions her friends are practically screaming her way, but Riven must have noticed it because he reaches for her hand and pulls her out of the circle the girls have formed around her and closer to him.

"Alight, that's enough." It's the rasp in his voice that sends her spiraling every time he speaks, and she's putty in his hands. It's pathetic, she should have more self-control than this. "Yes, we're dating. Yes, she's my girlfriend. And, Aisha, no I did not pay her or threaten her into it. Gods above!" He takes a sweep of the room, gesturing to all their friends with a hand as if to say 'you're all very welcome.'

"Any other questions?" No one speaks up. Not that Musa would have heard any of them because good gods, did she hear him right? Did he just say what she thinks he said? Is she his… girlfriend? They'd avoided so many labels for so long that it had completely slipped her mind to actually name this thing between then by the time that they had finally become something substantial. And she's been fine with that deal, with not having to name their relationship, but hearing him call her his girlfriend has send her body trembling, fire coursing through her veins and butterflies bursting in her stomach.

And then he's pulling her away, down the stairs that led them up to the roof and between hallways that blend into one another as her mind focuses on the way his hand grips hers and the lust (his? hers?) that seems to be engulfing her whole being.

She lets him lead her into his room, onto his bed, and just as he leans down to kiss her, she moves down and places a kiss on his neck instead. Looking up at him, she tests out the word that's taken over her brain since it left his lips, "Girlfriend?"

"Fuck. Is that not what this is? I, I don't know- I kind of figured- I don't know. Shit, sorry-" If she wasn't so very in love with the idea of being his girlfriend, his something (just his), she would have let his ramble continue. She didn't get to see this often, a flustered Riven, and it was a sight she found quite adorable. But, alas, she had other plans for tonight.

She bends her neck upward, uses her toes to push herself up the bed, and kisses him ever so lightly on the lips. Just enough so that he stops talking. A feather's whisper of a kiss, against which she purrs "That is exactly what this is if that's what you want it to be." 

His eyes are black with want when he closes them and his hand comes up to trace the edges of her jaw. His breathing speeds up as he leans his forehead against hers, and that's how she knows he's trying to collect his thoughts, watching his words as he often does when he's scared he's about to make the wrong move, say the wrong thing. She swears she's going to get him to stop doing that around her, because she wants his thoughts, every single one of them, as raw as they are. She doesn't want the filtered version. And she can feel them, mingling into the background as his insecurity takes over. Her hands find their way to his jaw and now they're holding each other, "Tell me."

He opens his eyes, opens his mouth to tell her, just as she knew he would. He'd never deny her anything and she's learned that in the short time that they've been together. He'd collect the stars and fashion them into a necklace she could wear around her neck if she asked for the universe. He'd start and end a war if she so much as suggested it. He'd give her his soul, she thinks. All she needs to do is ask, and he breaks for her. Crack by crack. Splinter by splinter. Until he's cleaved wide open and she sees all of him.

"I do, want that. I want you." His voice is gruff, guttural. "What about you? What do you want?"

God, how does he still not get it?!

"You." A whisper, and then a kiss.

_______________________________________________________________

The first time he makes her cry, it's not because of something he said. It's because of something he did.

It had started like any other day- breakfast, classes, social gatherings at the end of the afternoon. Musa and Terra had just left botany lessons and were heading towards the specialists training grounds to meet up with Sky and Riven before they all went to grab dinner together. It had been all fun and games, Terra and her grumbling about how ravished they were and laughing along at each other's comments. But Musa had sensed the uneasiness that radiated from the training grounds the second they had rounded the corner of Alfea's large lawns. Silva was especially on edge, and the fact that he had all the upperclassmen and the best of the specialists lined up as he walked back and forth between them shouting orders could not be a good sign. And with an insane mastermind on the loose, Musa had feared the worst as anyone else would. She'd taken off running, and Terra had followed without any questions, trusting her instincts.

She only caught glimpses of Silva's orders. "… Five burned ones… Two upperclassmen faries out there already… We need to leave now- I'm going to need ten of you out ASAP. Five more will guard the school grounds… Any volunteers?" 

Her heart stopped when in her peripheral vision, she saw Sky and Riven's hands go up. This would be the third one this month that they had volunteered for, and the last time they left the school grounds Riven came back with a broken foot that he's still limping along on. The word left her mouth before she could think about it, "No!"

He turned to her, surprised to find her standing among the specialists. "Musa?"

She can't be bothered to greet him, not right now, not when he's practically signing up for his own death. So, instead, she stares him straight in the eye and says it again. "No." 

But Riven is as stubborn as she is, and she knows he's been itching to prove himself again, to make up for what he did under the control of Rosalind just a short while ago. His words crush her soul, "I volunteer for the outside team." He's talking to Silva, who's eyeing the two of them with an intrigued look on his face. He nods curtly at Riven's words. But Riven is looking at her, his jaw set and tilted upward with determination.

"Alright, Sky and Riven, you'll lead the charge. Get your weapons. We leave in five minute. Go!" And then he and Sky are running toward their weapons bags, Musa and Terra hot on their tracks.

She catches up to him just as he's strapping on his swords. Her hand comes to pull at his wrist, motioning for him to face her.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" He won't look at her, won't meet her eyes. "Riven, I'm talking to you! You can't just volunteer yourself up for everything that could kill you! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Whatever you're trying to prove, stop it!"

He's reaching for his fighting boots, switching into them. Whether he's just not listening or if he just doesn't care, she can't tell. She wants to kill him. She wants to kiss him. 

"Please," she can't believe she's begging. "Please, Riven. Your foot. You can't-"

"I'm doing it, Musa." She sees fury, internalizes it before her insides form it into something tangible and she can see it, feel it. It's red and blinding and raging.

"I'm asking you not to." He won't say no to her, he hasn't done it yet. She asks and he cracks for her right? Right?

Wrong. 

"LET'S GO, SQUADRON 1!" She barely registers what Silva's command means until Riven is standing up.

"I'm sorry, Musa." And she knows he means it, because when his hands fall to her shoulders, quick and rushed, they're firm. He leans down to kiss her goodbye or as a form of apologizing, she's not sure, but she turns her head away from him and he ends up kissing the space between her cheek and jawline. If he won't look at her, then she won't look at him. And if he won't listen to her, then she won't give him the satisfaction of her approval. It's petty, she know that. She senses his emotions deflate at her actions, the feeling of rejection cutting into his heart like a shard of glass ripping through flesh. But she's seen this movie before, she knows how this story ends. Too many specialists have left the school's walls wounded and eager to pick a fight, only to come back on the brink of death or even worse, they haven't come back at all. And the idea of him becoming one of those statistics hurts more for her than her rejection will ever hurt him.

She doesn't turn to watch him leave, but she hears his boots beating against the pavement as he rushes to catch up with Sky… and then silence. 

She's so numb by now. Numb to death, to feeling, to crying. She doesn't cry. Not when Terra comes to hug her from behind. Not when they're back in the suite and Bloom is practically sizzling with anger at the fact that they didn't think to bring her along on the mission and that Sky is being sent on yet another mission. Not when it's midnight and Dowling informs that the specialists made it back safely.

She doesn't go down to greet them when the other girls rush out the door. Terra lingers in the doorway.

"You sure you don’t want to come?"

"I'm good." She's staring outside the huge window of their living room, refusing to look down at the ground and try to make out if someone is missing in the mass of specialists standing in the courtyard.

"Musa-" She feels pity and worry coming from Terra, and she doesn't want to deal with it right now. She just wants to be numb for a little while longer.

"I said, I'm good."

Once Terra is gone, she turns away from the window and goes to sit by one of the couches. She counts the floorboards by the main doorway of the Winx suite. One, two, three, four, five, six…

She counts them three times over before the door finally barges open, it's hinges creaking from the immense force of the push just enacted upon it.

Riven's eyes frantically search the room before they finally fall on her. He walks towards her, limps actually. (She knew his foot wasn't healed, no matter how much he insisted it was.) He has blood splattered on his right side. His or someone else's, who knows? And when he finally reaches her, and falls to his knees in front of her so that they're eye level with one another, she finally cries.

He reaches for her. She pushed him off. "Fuck you, Riven. Really, fuck you."

"I'm sorry. Muse, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I-"

"Why don't you ever listen? You keep walking into wars as if they're welcoming parties. Do you want to die?! Do you have a death wish? What the fuck is wrong with you?!" She's being mean, unfair. She doesn't care. If asking won't work, maybe screaming will. And she's exhausted. Exhausted of worrying about him every time he leaves. Exhausted of wishing he would listen. Exhausted of fearing he's the one that didn't make it back, because it's almost been him so many times by now.

"I had to Musa." His voice is soft, odd in comparison to the loud tone he usually takes when they argue about this topic.

"You always have to! You don't have to prove anything Riven. And you most certainly don’t have to die for no fucking reason!"

"You don't get it-"

"So explain it to me!" He sighs deeply, and closes his eyes. "No, Riven. Explain it. What don't I get?"

He finally opens his eyes, throws a string of colorful swears at the ceiling before moving his gaze back to her. "It's not just proving something. It's that if I go and… if I go, then one less specialist has to go. And that's one less person with people that care about them having to go. And that's one less tragic death, and then a whole lot less people hurt. If I go… who cares, you know? And, honestly, shouldn't it be me? A taste of my own medicine and all that. After all the shit I helped Rosalind do." She senses his bitterness, feels his anger and destitute.

He's an idiot.

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

"And you're beautiful," he quips back. She watches that smirk that she's come to love make its way onto his face.

"Flattery won't get you very far in life, Riv." Except, maybe it will. Because somehow and for some reason she's here, and she's crying over him.

It's like he can read her mind, not the other way around, "I think it's gotten me pretty far as of right now. I mean, you're here." The look he gives her has her twitching in her seat and she has to remind herself that she still has more to say to him. She can't just let him off the hook that easily. He leans up to kiss her, and she places her hands on his chest, gently pushing him away.

 "I care."

"What?" He's confused by her words.

"I care. If you go, and something happens. I care." She feels the surprise bloom from within him, and then a sense of overwhelming tenderness takes up his mind, and hers along with it. Her hands reach for him, " Come here."

This time, he obeys her. And as she kisses him, he cracks for her. Splinters for her. Lets her see him while he kisses her as if he's kissing her for the first time ever, ravaged and hungry for her. She sees it all- all of him falling into her and consequentially falling into place in her mind, in her heart. His insecurities, his fears, and his wishes. She doesn't shy away from him, but kisses him harder. His thoughts are exactly what she thought they were from the very beginning- a natural disaster. But she doesn't fear falling into them anymore, and in fact she thinks she likes them. She thinks she likes the way his mind works- ten emotions at one time battling to win out over one another. And when he pulls away, she likes the way his green eyes look at her like she's the whole world and the way his hands hold her tight enough for her to know that he doesn't think she's fragile but with enough care that she feels like she is all that he owns.

"Don't you ever," he's panting as he moves to place kisses along her jaw and at her collarbone, above her shoulders, anywhere the collar of her shirt will allow him. "Don't you ever pull away from me again."

She knows he's referring to the other afternoon, when he had left for the mission and she had closed off. "Why? Did I hurt your fragile ego?"

She's teasing, he's not. His hands are in her shirt and moving up, up, up until the offending piece of clothing is off of her. He's eager to kiss down her body, hands roaming the planes and curves that he must have memorized by now. He's kissing, kissing, kissing. Kissing away her tears, kissing right above her beating heart, kissing along her waistline. Frantic, needy, and- 

Oh.

Oh. She thinks she's in love.

________________________________________________________________

The first time they slow down, she feels as though she has seen heaven.

Riven's lips on her lips, steady and firm yet gentle, as his hands lay splayed over her bare sides and his thumbs dig softly into the dips of her hipbones. One of her legs is tangled in the sheets around them and her other is hiked up above his hips, her heel digging into his spine. He moves inside of her, and when she feels her hips meet his, she slides her hands over his shoulders and lets her nails graze his back. He watches her below him, eyes asking if she's ok, she smiles at him and says, "Just… stay. Don't move for a bit."

And he does, closing the small space between them to catch her bottom lip between his teeth and pull on it before he continues with his love bites down her neck, behind her ears, onto her chest. He's making his way as far down as he can in their current position, and she's melting into him and fuck, she wants him to keep going. But she also wants him to slow down because she's on cloud nine right now and from up here she can see the stars in his eyes, can catch them between the kisses of his lips. Her hands move from his back, leaving behind what she can only assume is a mass of fresh red marks. They move to his chin as she drags him back up to meet her on that very cloud and then they're eye-level with one another once more. She feels the want form within him, she always does, but it’s an odd thing to actually see it emulated in his eyes. And there's something else there too, something she can't quite place and doesn't dare to assume of. When his lips brush hers for the umpteenth time, slowly shaping her name between them, she feels herself sink farther into him, a feat she had previously deemed impossible.

And her lips part in a whimper because oh good god, how had they never done this before? They were always so rushed, pulling at each other's clothes and stumbling into bed,  falling into one another in a tangled mess of limbs and lust. Perhaps it was the fact that they had kept it in for so long, refusing to admit they liked each other and once they were together, not wanting to tell others for fear of shattering whatever fragile state they were in. Their relationship had started with fighting fueled by longing, innuendos charged with so many suggestions, and eventually an aching want that Musa still couldn’t wrap her mind around. Really, she shouldn't be surprised at how touch hungry the two of them had been at the beginning of the relationship. (How touch hungry they still were.) But right here in this moment, as she opens her eyes, she regrets not slowing down and taking him all in sooner.

He is a sight to behold, with tiny and larger scrapes all over his body that somehow added to his physique instead of taking away from it. They are tens of thousands of stars and she traces them over and over, forming constellations with his imperfections. The pads of her fingers run over the features of his face, committing every bit of him to memory, and as they skim the tiny scar above his left eyebrow, the question slips from her lips before she can stop herself.

"When did you get this one?" 

He pulls away from her, just slightly so that he can see her face, and his eyes are darker than she's ever seen them as he lazily responds with a "Hmm?"

She's high on want and adrenaline, but she vaguely wonders if this is something he might not want to talk about. Too late to back out now. Plus, she'd like to know. "This scar. Above your eyebrow. How did you get it?"

Riven stiffens at her answer. She can feel his insecurity downing upon him, clouded by the desire and the want that still course through his body but slowly easing its way to the forefront of the battle that is his mind.

"I have them too," Musa whispers as she braces herself against his chest and heaves her body upward, brushing her lips against that very scar in question.

She moves back down again, and pulls her left arm slowly away from under him. She turns her head slightly to her left shoulder, using her index finger to point to a sliver of skin that's more taught and whiter than the rest of her. "I got this one when I was twelve. Tried to climb a tree that was too high off the ground. Had to get six stiches. My mom freaked out."

His eyeline follows her movements, and he stares at her shoulder for a few minutes. His gaze has her squirming a little, suddenly aware that she's naked in front of a boy she's very much into and that she has just pointed out one of the many flaws on her body. But then his eyes flicker upwards and he leans down and kisses her scar, just as she had kissed his.

"You're fucking perfect, you know that right?" She could cry.

"If you're trying to get in my pants, hate to break it to you, but they're already off," she teases, her voice soft and a smile on her lips. How else was she meant to respond?

He chuckles at her words, his laugh causing her to catch her breath as it does each and every time she hears it. It's an occasion that has become more common since they got together but which is still far and few in between. The sound vibrates off his body onto hers and has her writhing under him.

"Love, I would never consider your lack of garments a disappointment." He circles his hips above her, and she groans at the pressure. "And I would most certainly never forget being the one to take them off you, especially when you insist on making those noises."

Her eyes are blown wide as she grabs onto his forearm at the side of her head, where his fingers are buried in her hair. Her chest heaves up and down, up and down, heart beating so fast she's certain its rhythms are all in her mind and that it's no longer there. She's fairly sure she lost it somewhere between meeting him and getting here, to this moment.

He stops his teasing, opting instead to arch down once more and kiss the scar on her shoulder. He kisses it over and over until she feels her heartbeat slow down and her breath return to a somewhat normal pacing.

She tugs on his locks, silently motioning for him to come back up. Up he comes, and she's glad that she's somehow convinced him to continue denying her nothing. 

"Tell me."

He knows she's referring to his scar.

They're nose to nose, foreheads touching, brown eyes boring into green ones.

"About a year and a half ago. Right when things started to get messy in my life. Messier than usual, I mean. Back then I was a bit of a nerd, hung out in the greenhouse all the time-"

"Yeah, I've heard a few stories from Terra," she cuts him off, a smile playing on her lips at the idea of Riven hunched over a lab bench with pretty vines all around him.  It's a sight she hopes to one day see with her own two eyes, a side of him she knows she's so very close to opening up.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure you know how much of a dick I was after I started distancing myself from them. Sky, he got real mad one day. We were in Specialism class, learning some new sword tricks. I said some shitty things and then he tried to play the Saint Sky card. I got mad, I fought dirty. Scraped his arm with the sword. He finally snapped at me, landed a good blow right above my eyebrow." He laughed a bitter laugh at the memory. "Nearly missed my eye, the wanker. He apologized for two months straight. Either way, we both ended up in the infirmary and I figured I couldn't get rid of him. He kept me around and I stayed, almost like when we were children and we fought over dumb shit like who was the taller. Only difference now is that his scar healed and mine stayed."

That last sentence was loaded with so much, and Musa wanted to ask more but she didn't want to push her luck. She smiled at him, nudging his nose with hers. "So you used to fight over who was taller? The mental image of a baby Sky and baby Riven getting angry over something like that is almost, dare I say, adorable?"

He scoffs. "We were not adorable! We were two very manly twelve-year-olds with very some very manly, very reasonable arguments."

"Mmm," she hums against his skin. "Is that what you two have to this day? Manly arguments?"

"Are we really bringing Sky into the conversation while we're in bed?" She laughs, a full on laugh that comes from within her because his words were not what she had expected. "If you must know, now we argue over who’s got the hotter girlfriend."

His eyes are all mischief when she shakes her head at him. "Glad to see you two have really grown up."

"And I'm glad that I got the hotter girlfriend, because I'm not sure how else you've managed to keep me completely turned on while bringing up my best friend in the middle of us fucking."

And then it's her turn to tease him, turning her head slightly to the side so that she can catch his earlobe between her teeth and whisper in his ear. "I'll make it up to you."

And then she's flipping them over so that she's on top and she feels his breath catch. She smirks down at him mischievously and then they're off again, finishing what they started. She makes sure to go slow, to feel every bit of him as she moves, catch every angle of him below her and store it in her mind for safekeeping. 

And when it's over and he's lying on his stomach, back facing the ceiling, she moves herself on top of him once more. Only this time, she kisses every scar on his body, sometimes asking where and how he got them until he finally gets the hint and starts sharing their stories before she can even ask. There are so many of them, some tiny and some much more noticeable. All of them have stories. She vows to herself that she will one day know all of them. That she will be there to soothe the next scrape, the next trauma. With each one of her kisses, she can feel the natural disaster within him reach a rhythm, not quite silenced but at peace.

They don't sleep that night. Only once she's sure she's kissed every inch of his body does she finally worm her way back into his arms, but they're both wide awake at that point. His eyes watch her in the dark, hair loose and splayed around them like some sort of blanket. It had been in pigtails at one point in the night.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks.

"I…I just," words knot in his mouth. His eyebrows furrow at her in frustration as he tries to untangle and spell them out for her. "God, I love you."

Just for that, she kisses his body all over again. And again. And again.

________________________________________________________________

Their first times have been nothing short of unexpected. It's never how either of them imagined all these firsts would go. They're not soft and tender, though there are moments like that in-between, but neither had expected that. Their raging passions did not allow for it. But what they had expected was a lot more arguing, a lot more push and pull. Instead, they seemed to somehow fall right into each other- crash and burn style, no holding back.

Their firsts were painful lessons that needed to be learned. They were gnawing pains that needed to be had, throbbing emotions that had to be felt and delt with. They were stinging feelings, these firsts- stinging because they felt too much too soon and too fast and neither knew what to do with all of that expect for let it bubble until it exploded before them in an aching manner.

Their aching firsts.

#rivusarevolution2021 #rivusa #this is pure angst #I can't say I'm sorry for writing it #firsts

[svnflowervol666]

harry doing baby bubs hair in the bathroom while she’s facetiming mitch 🥺

Word Count: 2.4k

Author’s Note: This made my heart melt. It’s in a puddle on the floor right now. That’s all.

“Baby, ye’ gotta sit still,” Harry huffed as he resituated his daughter on the bathroom counter for probably the fifth time that morning.

She was normally a patient and well-behaved child despite her ripe age of three, but today she was really showing her age.

“Want mummy do it!” she whined, smacking her pudgy toes against the inside of the sink.

“I know ye’ want mummy t’ do it. I want mummy to do it too, but she had t’ go t’ work early. ‘S just me and you today.”

Harry reached for the spray bottle filled with water with his right hand while keeping a firm grasp on his daughter’s unruly head of curly hair with his left, determined to tame the frizzy strands that seemed to have run wild while she slept the night before. A ponytail shouldn’t be this fucking hard. Should it?

He spritzed the bottle a few inches away from her head, trying to smooth down the baby hairs that littered her hair line. And he almost had it. That was, until his daughter tucked her head downward in agitation and caused Harry to lose his grip and the poofy tufts of chocolate brown hair to fall once more around her forehead and ears.

A exaggerated (but not really, it was well-deserved) groan erupted from Harry’s chest, and a feeling of defeat washed over him. He rubbed his tired eyes with the knuckles on his fingers. It wasn’t a big deal and he knew that, but the fact that he couldn’t do his daughter’s hair was making him feel like a failure of a father. 

“What’s it gonna take for ye’ to stop squirmin’, huh? Will ye’ just be good so daddy can do your hair and we can get ya t’ nana’s?”

She was getting restless now, the hard stone making her tiny bum ache and her attention span dwindle down to the point of non-existance.

“Daddy, I want dowwwwwn,” she fussed as she balled her hands into fists and hit them on her knees in protest.

“I’ve got t’ fix your hair, lovie. Can’t have it hangin’ in your eyes. Just be still for a few seconds. Ye’ know what? Here. Play with this.”

Harry fished his cell phone out of his back pocket and placed the sleek device in his child’s lap. He was normally against letting her mess with his phone in fear that she’d accidentally delete an important file or call one of the dozens of influential figures he had saved in his contacts, but at this point he’d do just about anything to make her stop moving so that he could put her damn hair up.

Her eyes seemed to light up when she realized what she now held in her possession, fingers moving quickly to unlock the screen and cause whatever damage her heart desired. It didn’t take her long to realize that unlike her mother’s, Harry’s phone was locked with a passcode and she was unable to get into it.

“Fix it, daddy!” she exclaimed, raising the phone over her shoulder while Harry had finally managed to regather her hair into a somewhat presentable bundle.

He cursed under his breath and let her curly mane go once more, then took the phone back from his daughter. It was unlocked and back in her arms in a few seconds flat, to which Harry’s millionth attempt at corraling the curls he undoubtedly passed down to her began. 

In an instant, she’d forgotten all about how antsy she was, now busying herself by opening random apps that caught her eye and pressing random keys that meant absolutely nothing to her because she was a three year old that couldn’t read, but it didn’t deter her from thinking she was a proper adult doing adult things on her very own cell phone.

Harry let out a sigh of relief when she seemed completely content, reaching once more for the spray bottle to rewet the comb he had been using to smooth over his daughter’s scalp. She put up no fight when he pulled her hair taut against her head, almost as if she had forgotten he was even there as her pudgy fingers tapped away on the glass screen.

The silver lining was now in reach, the finish line only a handful of long strides away. He was satisfied with his work. Sure, there were a few lumps and bumps, but nothing his wife or mother would fuss over, so he raised his arm up to his mouth to pull the neon pink hair band from his wrist with his teeth. As fate would have it, just as he began securing her ponytail with the hair tie, the flimsy elastic snapped and shot to the floor, leaving the toddler’s hair in a bird’s nest on top of her head and Harry’s patience at it’s end. 

“You’ve got t’ be bloody kiddin’ me,” Harry groaned, having to turn his body away from his daughter as if the fuse attached to his last nerve was going to implode at any second. 

He was now certain that whatever higher power in the sky was planning his demise on this bright and sunny Tuesday morning.

With the last bit of his dignity, he knelt down to open the cabinets and rummage through the bin with all of his daughter’s clips and bows until he found another hair tie that would match the outfit he’d picked out for her to wear. He kept a firm hand on her back as he jumbled around the contents of the container, just in case she lost her balance and fell backwards off of the counter (she didn’t really need the extra reinforcement, but he’d not quite been able to shake the over-protective dad persona that he’d adopted whenever she was much smaller and prone to flinging herself backward without warning). There was no additional pink hair tie in sight, so he was forced to go with a bright green one that didn’t compliment what she was wearing in the slightest, but it was just nana’s house, so who gives a shit, he thought to himself. 

As he was regaining his stance from where he was balanced on his haunches, he heard a deep voice that wasn’t his daughter’s echo off the walls of the master bathroom.

“Hey, man! What’s goin’ o-,” the voice, which Harry now recognized as his best friend’s came to an abrupt hault when the camera focused and the man was able to see who was actually facetiming him at seven o’clock in the morning.

“Oh. You’re not Harry,” he toyed, trying to amuse the tiny girl he’d known and loved since the minute she was born.

“Mitchy!” Harry’s daughter yelled directly into the speaker of the phone, causing Mitch to hold his own phone several inches away from where he had it resting on the arm of his sofa.

“Hello, princess. Where’s your dad?”

“Right here,” Harry interjected with a grunt as he willed the pain in his knees (and back) away.

“Sorry, she’s messin’ with m’ phone. Must’ve called you on accident.”

“No worries. ‘S a lovely surprise. What’re you two doin’? You on baby duty this mornin’?” 

Mitch could see Harry messing with the toddler’s hair, a purple comb balanced in between his teeth and locks of wavy, brown hair slipping in and out of the frame as he gathered it on top of her head.

“Yep,” Harry spoke through the comb, “And it’s not goin’ s’ great.”

“Judgin’ by the look on your face, I’d say so.”

“Haha. Very funny.”

“Mitchy!” Harry’s daughter called for him again as if to refocus the attention of this conversation back on herself.

“Yessss?”

“I see kitty?” her voice raising an octave as she asked to see the kitten he’d adopted a few months ago that she adored oh so much.

“Kitty’s sleepin’ with Sarah right now, bug. Can’t wake them or they’ll both be grumpy for the rest of the day. Why don’t you come over and visit and you can see all of us? We miss you,” Mitch pouted dramatically at the camera, making the small girl giggle in a way that made him smile right back at her.

He’d always been rather reserved, but had quite the soft spot for his close friend’s bub and couldn’t help but show her all of the affection that he could.

“Daddy, I go to Sarah’s house?” she jerked her head back to look at her father, whose life flashed before his eyes when the sudden movement almost caused his to drop her hair again.

Harry quickly turned her jaw back towards the mirror with his thumb to keep another disaster from occurring.

“Maybe later, petal. You’re going to nana’s today. Daddy and Mitch have to go t’ work.”

“You play songs?”

“Yeah. Gonna play some songs,” he laughed at his daughter’s earnest attempt at understanding what he did for a living.

“Are you bein’ good for ye’ dad?” Mitch asked, seeing Harry’s struggle and doing what he could to distract her while Harry smoothed the final lumps over her delicate head with the fine-toothed comb.

“Yeah, I bein’ good,” she gloated, flashing her tiny baby teeth.

“If that’s what ye’ want to call it,” Harry mumbled under his breath.

He wasn’t quiet enough for Mitch to not hear his snide comment, to which he let out a chuckle towards Harry.

“I take it you’ve got a bit of a fibber on your hands?” Mitch directed at Harry.

“No kiddin’,” Harry huffed, face concentrated on one stubborn tendril of hair that wouldn’t lay flat no matter how many times he brushed over it, “’Ve been trying to put her hair in a bloody ponytail for twenty minutes. I swear I’ve never seen a three year old with this much hair before in m’ life. Don’t know how her mum does this every mornin’.”

“’M afraid that hair’s all you, lover boy. Those curls are unmistakeable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Is your dad good at fixin’ your hair?” Mitch asked the toddler, knowing good and well he was giving leeway for Harry to be teased mercilessly by his ruthless toddler.

“No, I like mummy do my hair more. Daddy pulls it too much.”

“Listen here, you little monster. If ye’ would have sat still for two seconds, this would have been done ages ago and we could’ve been halfway t’ nana’s by now,” Harry stated very matter-of-factly.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mitch intervened, “Take it easy, mate. She’s three. It can’t be that bad.”

“I would absolutely love to see you babysit her for twenty-four hours. You’d be choking on your words.”

“I’d love that, actually,” Mitch snided, “What d’ya say, princess? Sleepover at uncle Mitch’s house with Sarah and the kitty?”

The three year old cheered excitedly, her chubby cheeks widening on the sides of her face at the thought of spending time with her favorite people in the world (aside from her mum and dad, of course).

“No, no, no!” Harry yelled frantically, “Hold still. ‘M almost done.”

He quickly looped the brightly-colored elastic around her bunch of hair that he held tightly in his hand as if an imaginary stopwatch was about to go off and signal that he was out of time and he’d lose control of her curls once more, for which he’d certainly burst into tears.

“Aha!” he held his hands above his head in victory when he was satisfied with the number of times he’d wrapped the hair tie around her hair.

“Finally.”

Harry was breathing heavily as if he had just run a marathon, making Mitch cheer him on sarcastically.

“Super dad does it again.”

“You’re not funny, Mitch.”

“‘M very funny, actually. Isn’t that right, bubs?”

“Uh-huh!” Harry’s daughter agreed, earning an eye roll from her father.

“Alright, we’re very late. Need t’ get goin’ before Jeff yells at daddy n’ I’m not sure I can handle much more today.”

Harry scooped up the pint-sized child from the sink by the belly and helped her stand, her hands still clasped around the phone surrounded in a baby pink case. 

“See ye’ in a bit yeah?” Harry asked Mitch as he straightened his daughter’s shirt that had crinkled at the hem from sitting on the counter for so long.

“Yeah. Reckon it’s probably time to go wake Sarah. You be good for your dad and nana today. Alright, stinker butt?”

“I not stinky!” the girl cried, almost offended.

“You’re right. ‘M sorry. Your dad’s the stinky one.”

“Goodbyeeeeeeee, Mitch,” Harry sang monotonously into the speaker.

“Bye, Mitchy!” his daughter called after him.

“Bye, sweetheart. See ye’ at the sleepover.”

She began rattling off another excited spout of words, but was cut off as Harry reached down and pressed the red button on the screen, ending the call. He took the phone from her hands and slid it back into his pocket. His daughter was too busy buzzing from the high of being invited over to Mitch’s house to play with his kitten to throw a fit over being deprived of it, to which Harry was thankful.

“Did ye’ put your bunny in your backpack?”

She nodded her head, yes.

“And your blanket?”

She paused, lips pursing as she tried to recall whether or not she stuffed the worn, yet still comforting wad of fabric that she’s had since she was born into her bag.

“Better go check then,” Harry added, watching her as she booked it down the hall towards her room as if she was in a race against herself to make it there.

“Got it!” her tiny voice came trailing back into Harry’s bedroom, the corners of the blanket sticking out from the giant backpack that was nearly the size of her body strapped to her back. 

The sight of her wobbling back into his line of sight with the oversized bag made him want to cry. She was still so tiny, but where had his sweet baby gone?

“Good gir-” he began to praise her before he realized what he was currently looking at.

In the midst of her running, she must have exerted herself a bit too harshly, for her curls that were styled perfectly just minutes ago were floofed around her head in a (not-so angelic) halo and the hair tie had slipped down dangerously low, mere inches from falling completely out.

Her inherited curls were one of the cutest things about her and anyone with even the worst vision would agree. But, god. At what cost?

“-YOUR HAIR!”

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #dad!harry #dad!harry x reader #asks

[rosyfingereddawnn]

heart of gold (chapter four)

pairing: robert plant x florence bennett (oc)

warnings: allen being a weirdo as usual, fluff, angst and friendship :’)

words: 4.3k

summary: trapped in a loveless marriage to a powerful man, florence bennett lives every day in despair. after a chance encounter with a golden-haired actor, florence finds that her life will never be the same again.

author’s note: folks!! this took a lot longer to write for a number of different reasons but hey!! it’s here now :) not much to say in this one cause i don’t wanna spoil, but if anyone has any theories, feedback or suggestions please let me know! hope you enjoy <333

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

masterlist

playlist

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“Dear angel, I hope you are faring well. This note, unlike the rest, is rather short. I felt I should be quick, and frank, too. If you happen to find yourself at the Bennett manor for the upcoming ball, I will be present as well. Perhaps, if fate allows it, we may meet, finally. I will be wearing a silver gown, with chiffon detailing. Look for me, and I will do the same. Forever yours, stranger.”

Stunned silence fills the elegant dressing room as Robert reads the short letter over once more, his fingers tracing the letters as though the action would reveal a devastating brand of trickery. For all intents and purposes, however, the letter seemed to be perfectly earnest; a fact that Bonzo, sitting next to him with a cigarette dangling from his lips, enjoyed reminding him of.

“Robert, she wants to meet with you. You want to meet with her. We must go to the ball. I’ll even help you pick out a suit,” he drawls, lazily throwing his head back against the plush cushioned chair as he gazes over at Robert. “I am convinced this is the longest you’ve gone without talking, to be quite honest.”

The blond sat unmoving, eyes never straying from the slip of paper clenched in his hands. He hasn’t spoken a word since reading it, and his eyes roam over each line as though he was unable to fully take in the words that flow across the page. Slowly, the man's eyes raise from the letter, meeting Bonzo’s as shock swims in the cerulean pools.

“Bonzo.”

“Ah, he speaks!”

“She wants to…”

“Meet you? Yes, she does,” Bonzo finishes the man’s sentence with a hearty chuckle, and his arm raises to pat Robert on the arm. The chestnut-haired man continues, shaking his head at the blond’s nervous antics. “We need to find you a suit; an expensive one, at that. The Bennett’s are just short of nobility after all. We might have to cut your hair, too.”

“What? Why would we do that?” The blond’s hands fly towards the tips of his golden ringlets almost unconsciously, and he cards long fingers through them. Uncertainty is painted upon his handsome face, and Bonzo smirks, a chuckle leaving his mouth.

“Just because you’re an actor, Robert, does not mean you need to look like one. Long hair signifies that you’re loose. Easy, if you will. Even if it does have a kernel of truth to it…”

“And you’re definitely sought after, are you not, Bonzo? Quite suave, if memory serves.”

Bonzo huffs out a laugh, and gazes over at Robert, as he blows a gauzy cloud of smoke into the air. A smirk graces his features as his lips twitch in an attempt to hide it, and he shoves Robert’s arm amicably. “All in due time, my friend. All in due time.”

“I’m sure.”

“Regardless of how I am faring in that particular department, we were talking about you, were we not?” Bonzo replies, locking eyes with Robert, earnest now, as he searches the man’s face. Seemingly not finding what he was looking for, his dark brows furrow. “Why are you so nervous in the first place? Women almost flock to you, yet you’re quivering at the possibility of meeting this one.”

Robert sighs, shifting uncomfortably under Bonzo’s penetrating gaze. He was as nervous as he is, because this woman… it’s as if she had known him all his life. She was charming, and intelligent, talking of wonderful novels and intricate poems. To Robert, whenever he read a letter she had written, he could almost hear her twinkling laughter, and see her smile that sparkled in his mind. Her soul was utterly beautiful, and it seemed to have entwined with his. Robert can only hope, however, that she feels the same.

“I… I do not know what she looks like, or how she is in person. That’s all,” Unable to let those thoughts linger in the tense air of the dressing room, Robert comes up with the best excuse he could muster under the circumstances. “I do think it is a cause for concern, is it not?”

“Well, Plant,” Stilling the shaking of one hand with the other, Robert returns Bonzo’s stare, until the moustachioed man smirks once more. He had obviously seen through the ruse, and it was only a matter of time before Robert became the laughing stock of the entire theatre. The two are locked still in a staring match, without a single movement from either. Oddly enough, though, Bonzo looks away first. The smirk still dangling from his lips proves that the conversation will be continued eventually. “I wish you luck, then. Truly, I do hope it goes well tonight.”

“Thank you, Bonzo. I appreciate your support. Truly I do.”

“I’m sure. Now,” Bonzo stands with a huff, stretching an arm out towards Robert. The blond takes it and raises from the comfortable chaise, and the two friends saunter out of the room, laughter following them. “How about we get ready for the ball? You must look put-together, and oftentimes, you’re not exactly the picture of elegance…”  Bonzo’s voice trickles out past the crack left in the door, and Robert’s squawk of offense rings across the empty room.

-----

Florence steps in front of the floor-length mirror that decorates her room, and she feels beautiful, for what may very well be the first time in years. In the beginning, Allen had showered her with compliments, and made her feel truly loved. His words soured, eventually, and she bore the brunt of his treatment ever since. Finally, though, she was doing something for herself. To make herself happy. If you ask anyone that truly knows her, they would point out that Florence was altruistic, almost to the point of self-effacement. She had lived much of her adult life playing an impossible role. Tonight, she meets her beloved actor.

Appearing suddenly behind her in the mirror, almost like a mirage, Emma takes in the way her friend is fiddling with the dress they had picked out together. It was a beautiful silver that gleamed in the dusky moonlight, with accents of soft chiffon that could only add to the ethereal quality. Dressed in her own gown, a canary yellow that made her eyes gleam like gemstones, Emma dares a smile of her own.

“Florence, you look lovely. Are you excited?”

“Oh!” Florence turns, dress swaying with the motion, as she finally notices Emma standing behind her. A fair blush rises on her freckled cheeks, and a carefree giggle leaves her cherry-red lips. “You look wonderful, Emma! James will not be able to tear his eyes away, I reckon. As for your question, I’m… incredibly nervous. I will be honest with you.”

“Nervous? Florence, this could be an incredible night. It will work out.” says Emma, purposefully not touching on the first half of Florence’s sentence. She didn’t want to think about James at the moment, or she would get distracted.

“I can’t help my nerves, because… what if this is all for nothing? What if he isn’t nearly as kind as he seems, and I am trapped once more? Emma, I do not know if I could bear it.”

“Ever the pessimist,” Emma sighs, a smile growing on her tanned cheeks. She grasps the other woman’s arm, thumb rubbing circles into covered skin, bringing Florence much-needed comfort. As soon as she lets the arm fall, Florence begins to pace around the room. Emma sighs and moves closer in an attempt to still the woman’s frayed nerves.  “Luckily for us, I am quite the optimist. Florence, he cares for you, and that is plain to see. You proposed that he wouldn't be quite what you imagined, but what if he’s more? In addition, if he is treating you unkindly at any point, you have the right to leave.”

“I… suppose you are right, Emma.”

“As always,” Emma scoffs jokingly, as she saunters closer. Her hand brushes a tendril of hair, which had fallen in Florence’s face in the midst of her panic, back into the sleek bun of golden brown. “Now, as much as I hate to subject you to this, Allen is waiting in the main hall. He needs you for the grand entrance, after all.”

“Oh, goody.”

“Ah, some sarcasm to start off the night.”

The women chuckle softly as they make last-minute adjustments in the clear surface of the mirror. Satisfied, they lock eyes, and arm in arm, they walk out the door and down the winding staircase to the main floor. Allen is leaning against a carved column, and, detecting the disruption, he scoffs and pushes to stand straight.

“Finally. I thought you would never be finished. Come, Florence,” Allen, seemingly for the first time, notices his wife’s companion, and the sneer that was almost permanently etched onto his face appears yet again. “Always a pleasure, Ms. Weston.”

“Likewise, Mr, Bennett.”

A tense silence permeates the room, until Allen clears his throat rather impolitely, and whisks Florence away with a final smrk drowning derision, and they’re gone. In the stillness of the room, Emma whispers, “Good luck, Florence.”

The woman reckons that she’ll need it.

-------

As Florence steps into the ballroom, her mouth falls open, a gasp tumbling past her lips. Flowers of every shape and tint decorate the gold-gilded walls, and lanterns pour faint yellow light across the room. The magnificent chandelier, crystals twinkling like stars, casts faint shadows across the faces of the guests, who promenade across the dance floor, mingling and laughing. Sets of double doors lead out onto a beautiful, moonlit balcony, the glow of bright starlight filtering in through the windows.

Stopping at the entrance, arm in arm with Allen and Emma at her side, she marvels as she takes in the sights. The ballroom, of course, was always as elegant and luxurious without the celebrations taking place, yet it seemed that Allen had wanted to go the extra mile. For what he lacked in kindness, Florence thinks, he makes up for in his apparent prowess regarding interior design. A quiet laugh flutters involuntarily past her lips, and Allen looks down at her, confusion drawing his dark eyebrows together.

“Florence, dear, what is it now?”

Caught, she shakes her head, a pliant smile gracing her features. Apparently satisfied, Allen looks back to the crowd that had gathered to celebrate him, propelling her forward with a hand that sits dangerously low on her lower back. Disgust souring her expression for a split second, she recovers, and plasters on that ever-present smile that feels like a lie.

“Welcome all. I am truly grateful that we could all gather, to celebrate…” Allen’s words seem to simply evaporate before they could reach Florence’s ear, as the woman’s gaze roams around the ballroom, searching for a head of perfect golden curls. Unable to spot the man she’s been writing to for the better part of a month, she sighs quietly, holding onto the sliver of hope that he had really come. Wrenched out of her thoughts by the hand at her back slipping perilously lower, she registers how Allen coaxes her to move, and she steps forward, staring at the scowl full of irritation on his lips. Locking eyes with Emma, who had moved further into the crowd, she is greeted by a comforting smile, and Florence nods her head in gratitude.

Allen, his hold firm, almost bruising on her arm, leads her around the room. She greets guests, many immersed in the same secret lifestyle as Allen, and Florence knows that she will forget their names completely come morning. Their smiles always seem to be too wide, and their eyes hold an intense look that Florence has spent years trying to decipher. She’s used to her role by now, pasting on a beaming grin that almost hurts the longer she holds it, and curtsying at every man they greet. Oftentimes they are ‘dear’ friends of Allen’s, no doubt just as sycophantic as her husband.

An hour or so passes, though it feels like an eternity to Florence, as Allen pulls her off to an unoccupied corner of the room. His hand slithers to land at her shoulder in what was possibly meant to be a loving gesture, though it sends chills down her back. Tilting her head up with a thick finger, Allen leans closer to her, his hot breath fanning across her face.

“I must go speak to a very important friend of mine. Roam around the ball, if you wish, but Florence, dear?”

“Y-yes, dear?”

“One wrong move, and this night could be ruined. Do try and be careful. I do hope you haven’t forgotten our previous conversation.”

With the thinly veiled threat hanging heavy in the air, he is gone, navy waistcoat fluttering behind him. Florence, shoulders falling from their tensed position around her ears, gazes out at the sea of faces, amusement and glee etched onto their features as they twirl around the room. The atmosphere is suffocating, and the woman glances back at the festivities, shaking her head solemnly as she slips out of the ornate French doors. Safe under the soft, starry cover of moonlight, Florence allows herself a deep, almost world-weary sigh, as her eyes sweep across the immaculately-tended gardens that decorate the back of the manor.

She’d lost Emma around the time Allen had paraded her around like a prize, and, come to think of it, she hadn’t seen James for quite some time, as well. He and John had busied themselves with serving beverages and appetizers on shining silver trays, but it seemed as though James had slipped away. She hopes Emma and James are together, finally working out the feelings they so clearly have for each other.

The clipped sound of footsteps against the cobbled floor of the balcony brings Florence out of her thoughts, and with another heavy sigh, she addresses the intruder, face still turned upwards to gaze at the glowing crescent moon.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid that I am simply not in the mood to—” The sentence trails off, words dying in her throat as she finally turns around. Familiar golden curls sway in the light evening breeze, and cerulean eyes send ice water pooling in her veins. The slight smirk that sits elegantly on thin lips seems to waver slightly, as though the man was nervous, though he seems to recover quickly. He takes a step closer, and Florence can smell the soft, irresistible scent of sandalwood.

“I’m… It’s… It’s you.”

“Astute observation, love. You did tell me to look for a certain silver gown, did you not?” The smirk that her actor is sporting only serves to set every nerve on fire, and Florence sputters, all semblance of confidence leaving her, already lacking as it was. Her indignant expression only serves to make the man chuckle and shake his head fondly, silken ringlets swaying with the movement. His hair is much, much longer than what was thought to be socially appropriate, yet the man does not seem to care. He looks comfortable, rather easy-going, and his relaxed smile sends her stomach aflutter.

“It seems you take instruction well. That is certainly good to know.” Florence recovers enough to reply, her smile growing as she takes in the amused look on the tanned, handsome face of the man in front of her. Somehow, he was even more attractive, almost magnetic, to her the closer she looked.

“One of my many talents, I assure you,” Robert chuckles, eyes gleaming like jewels in the dim evening light. The stars were reflected in those deep blue depths, and if Florence stepped any closer, she swore that she would drown. “That is a lovely gown you’re wearing. The colour, especially, is remarkable. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from you, inside.”

“You… noticed me?”

“You act as if that is difficult to do. If I’m honest, I was waiting for the right moment to steal you away. When you stepped out, I knew it was my only chance.”

“I-I must say,” Florence starts, chancing a look up at him through her eyelashes. She, hesitance clear on her face, steps closer to him, finally, and the beaming grin that lights up his face is the reward. “I’m glad you took that chance, then.”

The music that filtered, muffled as it was, through the doors seemed to swell and grow louder. Robert’s hand raises, ghosting his knuckles across her cheek as though he were afraid of breaking her, and he smiles, charming as ever.

“May I have this dance, love?”

Florence can only nod, as her hands slip into his, the friction caused by the warm, calloused feel of his palm somehow exhilarating to the young woman. He pulls her closer, placing his free hand on her hip. He was tall, much taller than Florence, and he gazes down at her as they sway together. Being here, in the arms of this stranger that she swears she had known her entire life, she feels content.

Hopeful.

Robert, subtle control in the way he leads Florence through the dance, is graceful in his movements, and perfectly respectful. His hand never strays from its place on her hip, and with a light squeeze to the hand in his, he spins her around, perfect synchronicity in their movements.

Florence’s eyes lock on something behind the man, then, and her lips turn up in a subtle smile. From her place on the balcony, Florence could see the staircase in the grand hall, just out of view of the ballroom. Through the window, hidden behind a carefully-carved pillar, she spots Emma and James, locked in a dance of their own. Emma’s hand, resting on James’ shoulder, rises to trail across the man’s cheek. Traces of the bruising that had marred the man’s face still remain, and Emma’s face contorts in a look of sadness at the sight. James shakes his head, lips moving with no sound to follow, and Emma gazes earnestly back at him. Slowly lowering her head onto James’ shoulder, they continue to rock back and forth. A beautiful private moment, for sure.

“What is it, love?”

“It was nothing. You’re quite good at this, aren’t you?”

“This is but a perk of being an actor, I’m afraid,” says Robert, twirling her around once more. Moonbeams dance around them as the light fall wind whistles in harmony with the music. “You know, I must say that I was quite surprised, that a single performance of mine endeared you enough to send me a note. Was it truly that enjoyable?”

“You are a wonderful actor, but that smart mouth of yours might get you into trouble.” Florence replies, a giggle marking the end of her sentence. Her eyes light up in bliss as blue meets muddy hazel, and they are alone, everyone inside fading into the background; simply an array of colours in a painting.

“My smart mouth? You are not exactly innocent in that respect. Speaking of… your letters. They were incredibly poetic. I enjoyed each one, I will admit.”

“A childhood dream of mine, if you can believe it, was to be a poet, or perhaps an author.”

“I would read every volume.”

The blush that blooms on Florence’s freckled cheeks makes Robert smile, and the laugh that tumbles from his lips makes Florence wish she could simply stop time, and live in that moment forever.

“You know what they say, love.” The confusion clear on the woman’s face brings a satisfied smile to Robert’s face, which Florence frowns at. She had never enjoyed not knowing, and the man had taken full advantage of that.

“And what, pray tell, do they say?”

“The shortest poem is a name. May I have yours?”

“I-I don’t simply give my name out to strangers. Perhaps if I knew your name, however…” The smirk that plays across Florence’s rosy lips makes Robert laugh, and unconsciously, he pulls the woman even closer. The music continues, ebbing and flowing, and the couple continue their dance, both physically and verbally.

“Hm, you are very cunning.”

“One of my many talents, I assure you.”

“And witty, too. It’s quite refreshing,” Robert squeezes the woman’s hip lightly, playfully, and she smiles up at him innocently. As beautiful as she was, which, in Robert’s opinion, could not be overstated, the actor detected a hint of sadness that hung around the woman like a shroud. He could see the way her smile never lasted for as long as he’d like, and how her eyes seemed to dim, a faraway look replacing the gleeful expression he had put there. Despite this, she seemed to have an inner strength that often remained under lock and key. She had shown a glimpse tonight, and he longed for another. Shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts clouding his mind, Robert continues, smiling easily. “My name, love, is Robert. Robert Plant.”

“Robert…” Florence repeats, almost testing the name out on her tongue. “It suits you.”

“Now that we are no longer strangers, may I put a name to that beautiful face?”

“O-okay, I suppose it’s only fair. My name is Florence… Bennett.” The moment of hesitation was long enough that confusion paints Robert’s features, until recognition, and not long after, shock, wipes it away.

“Bennett, as in…”

“Yes.”

The couple had stilled, now, though Robert’s hand still warmed the skin of her hip through the gown. Florence, gaze firmly on the ground, refuses to look at Robert, whose mouth opens and closes, stunned.

“Robert, I-I’m sure this has changed everything, and… maybe it is better if we leave this here. I—”

“Florence, it’s—”

“I should go.” As soon as the words leave Florence’s mouth, she disentangles herself from Robert, and moves to re-enter the ballroom. Almost to the door, she feels a warm hand settle on her wrist. It’s soft; the hold. She could easily slip out of it, if she had wanted to. But she hadn’t.

“What—Where are you going?” Florence is still facing away from him, but she didn’t pull away, and Robert counts this as a good sign. He takes a step closer, the hold on Florence’s hand never wavering, and she winces when she hears the tap of his pointed shoes drawing closer.

“This is not fair to you… I hurt everything I touch, it seems, and… I don’t want you to be caught in the crossfire, Robert. Please understand.”

“I don’t care.”

“Robert, I’m serious.”

“And you believe I’m not?”

“I will break your heart. Don’t do this to yourself… I’m not worth it. Please.”

Robert scoffs, then, and Florence doesn't have to look at him to see the determined line of his lips. She doesn't have to look at him to see how he is shaking his head almost bitterly. His thumb traces over the fine bones of her wrist like a feather, and as much as she wished with all her heart that it hadn’t, it brought her comfort.

“Break my heart, then. It would be worth the pain, being close to you. You, Florence, are worth everything. Anyone that says otherwise is delusional.”

At this, Florence turns around abruptly, and the storm swirling in her dark eyes is clear to see. A droplet of salty water trickles down her red cheeks, flushed with conviction, and she struts closer to Robert.

“You don’t know what Allen Bennett is like, and you do not deserve to. I will beg, if I must. Please, don’t do this.”

“Love, you will not sway me on this. I feel a genuine, special connection to you, and this month of writing to you has been… truly perfect. I am not giving up on you… on us, because I could get hurt.”

Florence knows that if he insists once more, she could not stop him. She wants Robert, and everything that comes with him; of course she does. She would be irrational not to. But she knows how Allen is. How possessive he is, even as he revels in the arms of another. Robert is an amalgamation of everything that is good in the world, it seems to her then, with a heart of gold to drive the point further. She could not forgive herself if anything changed that.

“Robert…”

The man in question slips into her space, a long finger lifting her chin to face him. A traitorous tear trickles down her cheeks, and Robert wipes it away with a thumb, looking into Florence’s eyes all the while. Enraptured with each other, they press closer, and Florence can feel Robert’s breath fan over her face. His hand caresses her cheek lightly, and her eyes flit down to his lips. Their noses touch, and then, as if divine intervention, the door opens. John steps onto the balcony, smirking into his hand as he watches the couple spring apart.

“Terribly sorry to interrupt. Florence, your… husband is looking for you.”

“T-thank you, John. I will be right in.”

John nods, and disappears back into the ballroom, with a private smile directed at the woman. Looking back at Robert, Florence takes in the hint of a flush on his own face, and knows that she must look the same. Tentatively taking his hand in hers, she interlocks their fingers in a loose hold, in case they are forced apart once again. That is as close as she’s willing to get in such a public area, now that she knows Allen is on the prowl, but Robert smiles at her all the same.

“When can I see you again, Florence?”

“Allen is… I believe he is out often, this coming week. I will write to you.”

Robert nods, and squeezes the hand resting in his, a smile playing about his lips. He pulls away, then, and moves to the door, when a hand curls around his once more.

“Robert?”

“Yes, love?”

“Be careful.”

With that, she slips around him, opening the door and stepping through. The scent of her perfume, something light and floral, dances around him as she passes.

------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmypages @kyunisixx @sophiazeppelinchick @reincarnated70sbaby @grxtsch @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @thebeatlesuniverse @dreamersdrowse (let me know if you want to be added!)

#heart of gold #robert plant #led zeppelin #robert plant fanfic #robert plant fanfiction #robert plant x oc #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

[erminecore]

I really liked @doodledrawsthings’s A Hat in Time “Coffee Shop AU” idea… but also got me to thinkin. What if Vanessa’s poison was rather more immediate, so she had time to gloat, and so poor Luka had to deal with the idea of coming home to Harriet as a big snakeghost… who won’t recognize him at all?

--

“I’m not here to talk about custody.” Vanessa says, her smile angelic, perfect. She flicks a strand of hair from her shoulder, just to complete the illusion of the person Luka thought she’d been.

Luka’s emptied cup hits the saucer with a clatter. His nerves, which were screaming at him the whole time, rise to a fever pitch. He sharply stands, his stomach rolling, his hands hitting the table with the clatter of cutlery - but if anything, Vanessa’s smile only widens at the show of frustration. “...If this isn’t about custody, then what is this about?”

Vanessa laughs even as Luka’s stomach winds knots like dancing snakes, even as he bends double with the roiling pain of it. She laughs even as he hit the floor, his arm coming up to grip the tablecloth for support - and failing, his nerves turning to jelly, his muscles screaming as if melting under an acid kiss. “Oh, Luka. You should really know better by now. I’m here for revenge.”

From his vantage point on the floor, Luka gets a good view of the tableware as it comes crashing down around him. Forks and knives twirling like dangerous silver dancers around his spinning head, the graceful fall of a teapot in slow motion… but it is his own cup that, rolling to a stop near his arm, that draws his attention. In the tea, he sees the same purple, the same stain that is creeping down his arm - the purple of night, of pouring ink, of scribbled over legal documents and things gone wrong. Luka is aware, painfully aware, that he may be dying.

“What,” he rasps, aware of the spasming of his own arms, of the distant sound of his shirt tearing. His entire body was nothing but a ball of fire and nerves, somehow nebulous, but growing longer all the time, growing larger. “Have you done to me, Vanessa?”

In response, Vanessa stands - perhaps was always standing. Luka doesn’t know. His sense of time, of continuity, is near shattered. But he sees her perfect pink shoes, ribboned and sweet, as she walks over, and deftly kicks the cup away.

“I never wanted the child, you know.” Vanessa says, her voice full of spite. “You should have known that. I just wanted to make you suffer - to remind you whose you were.”

Luka tries to speak, tried to form the words to tell her just how awful she was, just how awful she still is. But the only sound that comes out is a soft gurgling, a pained wheeze. It’s like trying to breathe through a straw. His hands come to his neck and he feels them - large and clumsy, clawed and fumbling, two fingered, inhuman.

“You know? I don’t think you’ll be winning custody now.” Vanessa says, her voice sweet and pleasant. As pleasant as when she cut his hair while he was sleeping. As pleasant as when she told him to choose between her and Harriet. As pleasant as when she told him to stop talking to his tutor at law school. “No one would give a child to a monster like you.”

“You’re the monster!” Luka manages to spit, coughing up something black, something wretched onto the carpet. He forces his gaze upwards and yes, Vanessa’s glaring at him, glaring, but smoothing her face quickly, tightening it into a smile just like always…

“You think so?” She says, with a little chuckle, reaching into her pocket to pull out a silvered hand mirror, no bigger than her palm. It shows very little. But what it reflects nearly stops Luka’s heart.

Glimpses of black, of yellow eyes like a lantern, of fangs lit by an endless glow set above a gaping maw. He’ll never work at a law firm again - he’ll never fit in a law firm again. A long slithering tail where his legs should be… it is no wonder he cannot feel them anymore.

“You always were a little snake, my prince…” Vanessa croons, her eyes twinkling even as the monster in the mirror begins to cry. “Now the whole world will know.”

“...How could you? How could you?!” Luka sobs. He’s not thinking about Vanessa. He’s thinking about poor Harriet. He’s thinking about his job. He’s thinking about his life, in tatters. About the child he has to support. About the case he has to win. How in the world is he even going to get through courtroom doors like this? How is he going to navigate the formal attire required to be his own lawyer? What, is he going to just wear a tie on the day of the hearing and nothing else?

“How could I? How could you?” Vanessa snaps right back, crossing her arms and glaring, glaring as if Luka’s the one in the wrong. “You took my heart and ran away with it! You left me, alone, all alone in the world over a child!”

Luka sees frost beading at the edges of Vanessa’s clenched fists. Sees the tears of fury in her eyes. It explains everything. Magic? Magic. God, of all the people in the world to have magic, it has to be his ex…

“Now you understand, though, don’t you?” She says, her smile smoothing crookedly, uneasily over her face. Jagged lines and uncertain swoops. “You’re mine. Mine and mine alone. You can’t go anywhere else. No one else will accept you. No one will love you, not like me. That wretched child won’t even recognize you now.”

Vanessa reaches down, her pale hands coming to caress Luka’s cheek. Her fingers are still icy, horribly cold, all the worse on Luka’s freshly burned skin. “There’s nowhere else for you to go…”

“...I…” Luka whispers, shivering, trembling in her fingers. He sees her eyes widen. He sees the hope there. It’s the old hope, the hope he fell in love with, the light that was brilliant, that drew him in like a moth to the flame. God, he’d loved her so much, when he first saw her look up from her books, when he saw the boredom drain from her eyes to be replaced by this fire…

But that was then, and this is now.

“...I’m going to be pressing charges.” He hisses, pressing his hands into the dirt, scrabbling, sliding, slipping away into the night, however he can. He doesn’t think about it, can’t think about it - to think about it is to not be thinking about the furious howls of rage behind him, the wintry blasts of ice that shatter and smash tree branches above him - flash frozen in an instant.

Somehow. Somehow he gets away. Hauls himself up to a park bench somewhere, puts his head in his hands. Somehow, he finds a moment to think, but there’s only worry, only the same burning fear, over and over.

“She’s right.” Luka whispers, the horror dawning on him. “There’s no way the kid will recognize me now.”

--

He said he was only supposed to be an an hour, maybe two.

Luka had never been home late before. But, then… he usually didn’t make appointments this suddenly either. Not the day of, not thirty minutes before. But… it was with Harriet’s mom. So maybe that’s what made it special?

Harriet wasn’t supposed to know where, or with who but… she’d kind of listened in. Heard the phone call. It was… easy enough to pick up the details through the shouting, even without poking her head through a crack in the door. Subcon park, eight pm, sharp. They were going to talk about things. Talk about her.

It felt like the only thing anyone ever talked about anymore was her. But not in the way Harriet liked. Not talking about how brilliant she was, or how bright, or what she brought home from school. Talking about who she’d be happier with. Where she belonged. Who owned her.

Luka still talked about how bright she was, of course. How brilliant, how beautiful. But when he spoke about it, he was always… defensive. Or tired. Harriet wasn’t sure which one was worse.

Harriet… isn’t supposed to go out late. Or alone. But her dad is really, really late now. Maybe… maybe he got lost? Maybe it’s time to go look for him, to make sure he’s okay…

Harriet checks her phone again. Still no calls, no texts, nothing. Except, exactly as she’s looking the phone lights up, with a text from her dad -

“Dad

11:48PM

idmworot994 w”

-and nothing else. Not even the usual “Sorry I forgot it was in my pocket, kiddo!” that her dad always sends after scrambled texts. That seals it. He really must be in trouble, or he wouldn’t be so sloppy and un-Luka like…

Harriet snatches her hat from the hatstand, grabs her coat, and rushes out of the front door, into the night, unaware of the bright yellow eyes anxiously following her the whole way…

Luka follows along behind his own daughter, clumsily, awkwardly, anxiously, his body ribboning through the trees like an eel. He feels horrible doing it, but who else will keep an eye on her? Except, now he’s the embodiment of everything that he’s warned her to be afraid of in the night, the very essence of a “stranger.”

How is he going to be able to talk to her? How is he going to warn her about Vanessa, Vanessa who is even now, on the prowl, hunting for the both of them?

He waits until there is light, at least. A light and a bench and… hope. It’s risky. But he can’t wait any longer. He calls out, his voice rasping, low. Will she even recognize it?

“Hey, kiddo?”

Harriet jumps nearly out of her skin, starting back from the light - gazing around wildly into the night. She sees nothing. Just trees, darkness… and two glowing yellow eyes, suspended above a grinning mouth.

“M-monster!” Harriet shrieks, fear tingling up her tiny spine as she scrambles for the bench, crawling under it, losing her hat her haste to take cover and hide. Trembling like a leaf, too scared even to cry…

Luka feels his heart fall out of his chest to shatter on the cold ground below. Wasn’t it just like this? When things started getting rough. When him and Vanessa started fighting, and he had to turn the whole house upside down just to find the poor kid cowering under the bed…

Vanessa was right, of course. He doesn’t see any recognition in Harriet’s eyes. For the first time, he is a stranger, someone new, someone terrifying. Someone awful - a monster. He can’t blame her for hiding. But it still hurts him, leaves a sucking wound that sinks down to the pit of his soul, a chasm that might never heal…

“...H-hey, I’m not gonna hurt ya.” He chuckles, clumsily flopping down from the tree tops. The ground is hard, and the impact is harder as he lands in an ungainly heap. But the little giggle Harriet gives is worth it, even if the humor is lost as he shakily pulls himself into the light. “Don’t you recognize me, kiddo?”

Nothing. No reply, no recognition. Not even a response. He’s raised his kid well, even if it’s to his detriment. Don’t talk to suspiciously friendly people. If anything, she crawls further under the bench, keeping a wary eye on him. Luka sighs, running a hand over his head. Of course… it wouldn’t be this easy.

He spots the forgotten hat, lying on the ground, and reaches for it, stretching his arm far, grabbing it - and in that moment, when his eyes shift, Harriet makes a run for it. Smart girl. But he sees her hesitate, as he’s lying there with her favorite thing in the world. In response Luka slowly lifts up his girl’s favorite little topper, smiling forlornly.

“Come on Harriet. It’s me, Luka. I know it might be hard to believe right now but… don’t you recognize your father?”

Harriet stops. Not because she believes him. But because those words are familiar. Because when she was under the bed, sobbing her eyes out because her parents were splitting over her, over her… her dad had leaned down, with that same, forlorn smile, and had said…

“Come on, Harriet. I know it might be hard to believe right now… but it’s going to be okay.”

...In that same tone of voice…

“...D...dad?!” Harriet whispers, leaning down to take the hat, her eyes practically boggling. “What happened to you?”

Luka just laughs. That nervous, over-loud laugh he does when he’s losing a case, and pulls himself closer, wrapping around his daughter for a hug. Harriet tenses under him for the suddenness, the strangeness of it - but she doesn’t try to run. Instead she holds him back, comforting and being comforted at the same time.

“I have no idea. But we need to go. It’s not safe with Vanessa still around.”

#ahit #a hat in time #ahit 'coffee shop au' #the snatcher #hat kid #queen vanessa #writing #fanfiction time

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

looking so camera-ready

Fandom: Mashin Sentai Kiramager

Characters: Oshikiri Shiguru, Oharu Sayo, Takamichi Crystalia

Song: "Pretty Please," Jackson Wang and Galantis (playlist here)

Note: This story probably has a wildly inaccurate idea of what filming a movie is like, but honestly I'm not too worried about it.

The interview

.

“So, Mr. Oshikiri,” says the interviewer, “what made you want to do a boy’s love film?”

Shiguru smiles winningly at her, and she visibly blushes as he’s answering. “Well, I’ve done a few romances before, it’s always a nice change of pace from serious period dramas, and when I was approached about this one, I thought, why not? And then of course the premise of the story is very enjoyable, I’ve never done science fiction at all before. I do all this sword-fighting on Earth, it might be fun to have a sword fight on another planet.”

She nods, still blushing. “That makes sense! Now, there are rumors that the movie’s going to be fairly racy; are you nervous about filming those sorts of scenes with another man?”

“Oh, not at all, why should I be? A kiss is a kiss no matter who it’s with, right?”

---

The crew

.

“Hey, Sugiyama,” says one of the grips to another “what’s a big-name heart surgeon doing on set? Seems a little extreme for first aid, don’t you think?”

Sugiyama grins. “Didn’t you know? She and Oshikiri are dating, it was all over magazine covers a few months ago when it got out. And apparently she’s a fan of the director’s, so she got Oshikiri to bring her. She’s real cute, ain’t she.”

“Shit, y’know, I do feel like I saw something about that, I don’t read those magazines but my girl eats ‘em up.” The first grip peers at where Dr. Oharu is standing, chatting pleasantly with the director. “Who’s the guy with her, though? The one in the silver jacket? Don’t recognize him from any magazine covers.”

A shrug. “Not sure. I think he’s affiliated with the company doing all’a this wild jewelry?”

---

Take 1—The first meeting

.

“All right, masquerade ball, take one!”

.

[They circle each other in an open space on the otherwise busy dance floor. The PRINCE’S costume is a rich, glowing blue; his antennae, rising up above his elaborate mask, have been gilded. The GUARD is dressed in a simpler brown, with a plain black mask, antennae unadorned.]

PRINCE: “What system are you from, stranger? What planet? Your costume is very striking.”

GUARD: “I’m no one special. And you don’t need to be polite about it, I know I’ve got the least interesting outfit here.” (openly looking at Prince’s body) “You look very nice.”

PRINCE: “But that’s what makes it so exciting! Everyone else here is overdressed, me included. Really, who are you?”

GUARD: “Isn’t it a little rude to ask someone their name at a masquerade? Your Highness?”

PRINCE: “Well, now you’re just teasing me, if you know who I am.”

GUARD: “Maybe I’m trying to tease you.”

PRINCE: (reaching for Guard’s hand) “Here, dance with me.”

.

“Cut! That was great! But let’s try it again from the top, gentlemen, with a little more, a little more mystery this time!”

---

There’s a break between takes, and tucked away in a briefly-quiet corner of the studio, Sayo says, “You should take me dancing sometime,” and beams up at Shiguru. “You look good out there.”

“You thought so? I only ever really feel confident dancing when I’m on camera.” Shiguru eats an energy bar in careful, delicate bites, working to not smudge any of his makeup, especially not the dramatically blue lip stain. “Although I suppose with everyone watching me like they do when we’re out that’s fairly similar to being on camera. I don’t really know places to dance, but we can go sometime if you like.”

“I would like, thank you.” She eyes him for a moment thoughtfully and then elbows Takamichi. “So, what did you think of it? As our resident alien prince?”

Takamichi shrugs, grinning. “It’s very interesting! Doesn’t look like any party I ever went to, though, most aliens look a littleless human than that.” He reaches out and flicks one of Shiguru’s antennae fondly.

“Take us to a party on Crystalia, then, show us what one of those looks like.” Sayo watches as Shiguru eats the last of his energy bar and then grabs his hand. “Show me how to do the dance you’re doing in that scene.”

They dance in their small space, Takamichi quietly clapping time until there’s a call of, “Five more minutes, people!” from nearby, at which point Sayo reaches up, grabs Shiguru by the collar of his costume, and pulls him into a lengthy kiss.

“You look good as an alien,” she says.

Shiguru blinks, blushing. “I, um. Ah. Thank you—oh dear.”

“What—oh, I forgot about your makeup.” Sayo’s hand flies up to cover the blue marking on her lips. “Quick, Takamichi, give me a handkerchief.”

As Takamichi produces a handkerchief and passes it to her, badly suppressing laughter, Shiguru pulls a compact mirror out of one of his sleeves and inspects the damage. “Excuse me, I have to go back to makeup to get this fixed, and ask them about a better setting option. If isn’t going to hold up to kissing then I’m barely going to make it through a quarter of the movie.”

---

Take 25—The dramatic kiss

.

“All right, let’s try this from the top!”

.

GUARD: “While we still have this time alone, though, I want to take the chance to do this.”

[He grabs Prince and sweeps him off his feet.]

PRINCE: “What are you—”

.

Thump.

“Ouch, oh, I’m sorry, Ray, was that your foot?”

“I should be apologizing to you, this is what, the third time I’ve dropped you?”

The director sighs. “Cut! What’s going on with this one?”

Shiguru winces as his co-star helps him off the floor. “I’m typically the one doing the dipping, is the problem, I’m not sure where to put my feet when I’m being dipped.”

His co-star looks similarly faintly embarrassed. “And I have dipped people before, but he’s a little bigger than my usual. No offense meant, Shiguru.”

“Oh, none taken.”

The director looks like she can’t decide being between frustrated and being amused. “You know, that’s fair, why don’t we take fifteen minutes so Oshikiri can get a break from being dropped on his tailbone for a little bit.”

---

“I can dip you without dropping you.”

Shiguru sighs, rubbing the small of his back. “Honestly, some of the problem’s me, I keep losing my footing mid-sweep and then over I go. I hope I didn’t hurt Ray’s foot too badly when I—whoa,” and he’s swept off his feet, as behind them Sayo claps delightedly.

“It’s all about supporting the back,” Takamichi says cheerfully as Shiguru stares up at him. “And you should maybe worry less about keeping your feet under you, you keep falling because you’re fighting to keep your balance instead of letting him do his thing. Do I have something on my face?”

“Ah. No. No.” Shiguru stares up at him, going red. “This is just. Different when it’s you.”

“I suppose it is.” Takamichi stares thoughtfully down at him, not letting go. “They figured out a better way to set your makeup, right?”

“Yes…? Why do you ask—”

Several minutes later Takamichi lets Shiguru stand up, and he kisses Sayo on the cheek, looking dazed. She reaches up and taps his nose with her finger. “I think you might need them to fix your hair before they start filming again.”

“Right, yes.” Shiguru nods slowly. “I imagine I do.”

---

Take 42—The racy bit

.

[Fade to black]

.

The lights come up on the set, and there’s a long, tense silence as the director and several other members of the production team fan themselves. Shiguru’s co-star stares down at him as he, in turn, is staring up, and then, after a moment, they both start to laugh, and the tension in the room breaks, and the director says, breathlessly, “Perfect, guys, got it in one, I don’t think we need any retakes on that one. But I do think we all deserve a breather for lunch, and then when we get back we’ll be doing the morning after with the attack by the insurgents and the prince’s big duel.”

Shiguru can’t get up until his co-star does, but when he is able to get his feet back on the floor he stretches and looks around. “Where did I put my socks, I know they’re somewhere around here—there they are.” Socks back on, he pads over to the edge of the sound stage, absently pulling the remains of the prince’s shirt up to cover his bare shoulder as he reaches the spot where Sayo and Takamichi are standing. “I forget, did we have plans for lunch?”

No answer.

“…guys?”

Sayo says, after a beat, “Takamichi and I thought of a good idea for lunch, yes.”

He nods expectantly. “Which is…?”

Takamichi grabs his hand, causing his shirt to fall back down off his shoulder. “Here, it’s this way.”

About forty-five minutes later, Shiguru wanders back out to the set. He’s eating a sandwich from the craft services table, somewhat absently, and he looks disheveled and flushed. There’s a noticeable red mark on the side of his neck. His shirt is, somehow, slightly more torn.

One of the women on the makeup crew looks at him and blinks. “Oh my god, come over here, let me fix you back up before we start filming again.”

As she’s reaching for him, though, she’s stopped by a hand on her arm. “No, don’t, this is perfect, he’s perfect.” The director looks him up and down. “I don’t know what you were having for lunch, darling, but this is the exact look we need for that morning-after scene.”

#oshikiri shiguru #oharu sayo #takamichi crystalia #fanfiction #30 day shuffle challenge

[kaitoujokerscans]

The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH1

Notice!

"Tonight, I'll come to take the 'Crimson Crystal' from Mister Kaneari's possession! Phantom Thief Joker"

<1> The Usual Battles

A plump full moon was shining that night. A man's cry rang through the banquet room of the striking mansion seated right in the middle of the city.

"JOKER, YOU'RE SO UNDER ARREST!"

The voice belonged to Oniyama Dokusaburou, member of the international Anti-Phantom Thief Coalition and chief of Japan's Metropolitan Police Anti-Phantom Thief division. Next to him were his subordinates Ginko and Momo, similarly bristling in their police uniforms. Long-haired, short-and-stout Oniyama, lanky and bespectacled Ginko, and the petite blonde Momo looked as different from each other as could be, but their eyes were all fixed on the same thing. Standing in the direction they were glaring toward was a boy in a red suit. His translucent silver hair grew in pointy spikes, and his blue eyes gleamed with pools of light. Perfect teeth sparkled in his huge mouth, which was curved into a beaming smile. A golden badge in the shape of the letter J shone on his chest.

This was the man himself — Phantom Thief Joker!

"Ha ha ha. As promised, I've taken the 'Crimson Crystal'!"

Joker held a red gem in his hand. Another man shouted, resentfully eying the crystal. "KEEEH! Return my treasure, indeed!"

His big rectangular face was framed by rectangular glasses, and his big mouth was contorted as he glowered at Joker. He was master of the mansion, Mister Kaneari. He was also the owner of the 'Crimson Crystal' which Joker had just stolen.

"Sorry, Kaneari, but I'm taking this with me!" Joker twirled his purple cape.

"Not if I can help it! GET HIM!" Oniyama bellowed, at which the officers waiting for orders behind Ginko and Momo fell upon him.

"Whoa, here comes trouble♪" Joker gave a nonchalant smile before snapping his fingers. Just as he did, a peeling sound came from under Oniyama's sprinting feet.

"Hmm, what was that?"

Then suddenly, the carpet on the floor sprang up in front of Oniyama's eyes and tossed him into the air.

"Waaagh! What's going on here!?"

Once Oniyama landed, the carpet rolled him up like he was a sushi wrap.

"Uwaaaaaah!"

The supersized sushi wrap rolled up Kaneari and all of the officers in the room as it whirled towards the center of the banquet hall.

"There we go♪" Joker, in the very same center, said as he jumped over it. The carpet had been rolled up from all four edges and was now a giant ball stuffed with the officers and Kaneari. Oniyama and the rest of them, their heads sticking out of the ball, all yelled at him at once.

"Joker, you rascal, what did you do!?"

"I set it up from the start so that it'd shrink, by making a carpet out of Image Gum!"

The Image Gum that Joker mentioned is a phantom thief tool. A mental image is transferred into the gum being chewed, which then takes the form of anything one can imagine. There are no limits to the shapes it can take, and it can be used to create large things like a banquet room carpet or for wrapping oneself in a disguise.

"So you set up a trick!"

"Get us out of thiiis!"

Ginko and Momo, their heads squirming out from the gum, glared at Joker up above.

Joker grabbed hold of a large balloon and floated upwards. This is also one of his phantom thief tools, Balloon Gum. By blowing it just like chewing gum, the gum’s ingredients chemically react to form a gas lighter than air which is trapped inside the balloon. If held above one's head, it can lift up the weight of about one person.

"Ha ha ha! Well then, everyone, au revoir!" Joker threw a card up at the ceiling, where it exploded and opened a gaping hole. He was about to fly into the night sky, when— A large silhouette jumped in through the hole and popped Joker's Balloon Gum.

"What!?" Joker pivoted around and jumped down. As he did, the silhouette alighted in front of him. "Shadow!?"

The boy was the spitting image of Joker. He wore a purple suit and black cape. Like Joker, his cyan hair was growing in pointy spikes. However, his golden eyes had a colder glint in them.

The boy called Shadow glared sharply at Joker. "Hu hu hu, you're not getting away with the treasure so easily. I'll always be chasing after you!"

"Heh, it's a bit late for you to show up. You're always getting in my way every single time."

"Getting in your way is my purpose in life!"

"Your sights are set way too low!"

"Shut up!" Shadow pointed the umbrella he was holding at Joker. Energy focused at the tip and shone in a circle of light. "Bloody Rain!" At Shadow's yell, a beam fired from the umbrella tip.

"Ghh!" Joker threw himself in a hurry to dodge. The beam grazed Joker's cape and hit the wall. BOOM! It exploded, leaving a yawning hole in the wall.

"AAH! My house!" Kaneari cried from the gum.

—Just then, the sound of tremors came from somewhere within the house.

"W-What's that?"

"What's this sound...?"

Joker and Shadow looked all around, when Kaneari gave a smirk. "Oh yes, indeed. I have my beloved wife here with me!"

"Wife?"

"Now do come, indeed! My darling honey, Sacchan!"

Immediately, the chandelier swayed, and then a huge door flew open with a bang right off the hinges. The door crashed like a shot into the wall and splintered into pieces.

"HRMMMMMMUUUUUUUUH!" In came a bestial roar, along with a massively beefed-up, over-two-meter tall person. "Person" because their gender could not be immediately determined, but one could conjecture that she was probably female because of the lock of braided hair hanging from her head.

The woman entered the room with heavy, thudding footsteps and took a look around. "Ruffians have broken in, have they?" her throaty voice boomed. In contrast to her fearsome figure, the eyes she turned toward Kaneari were filled with gentle light.

"Yes indeed, Sacchan! That right there is Phantom Thief Joker!"

"Joker!?" The woman Kaneari called "Sacchan" spun around and glared at Joker. She was staring daggers at him. She was like a jungle tiger that had just spotted its prey.

"Eek..." Joker and Shadow instinctively cowered.

"Phantom Thief Joker, you have some nerve to sneak into our nest of love. And to steal treasure at that — a heinous crime! I will punish you!" No sooner than she had spoken, the woman swung down her gargantuan fist down.

"...!" Joker and Shadow threw themselves out of the way before the fist plummeted into the floor with a BAMMM! which made the whole house shake.

"She's too powerful..." Joker was recoiling, and for good reason too.

Sacchan, or Commando Satsuko, was a combat expert who had undergone special training in the world's strictest army. She could run faster than a cheetah, bite down harder than a hippo, and was mightier than an elephant. She knew survival techniques for every situation, even how to cook and eat a savage crocodile. A strange turn of events had led to her marrying Kaneari, but her combat capabilities had not declined at all.

"What IS she...!?" This was Shadow's first time seeing Satsuko, and he was stunned still by her appearance. Joker didn't miss this chance.

"Okay!" Joker seemed to have thought of something, as he took out cards and held them up facing Satsuko. "Straight Flash!"

The fanned-out Ace, Deuce, Trey, Cater, and Cinque of Hearts cards shone. Blinding his opponent with their glaring light was Joker's trademark move.

"Ghh...!" The brilliance made Satsuko close her eyes for a moment. Yet when she opened them again, she saw something unbelievable.

"Just what is the meaning of this...?"

Strangely enough, there were two Jokers. Both of them were in red suits, and they were completely indistinguishable. Inside one of them was probably Shadow, disguised in Image Gum.

One of the Jokers grappled the other. "You! What the hell is this!?"

"The hell are you saying!? You did this, didn't you!"

The two of them grabbed at each other's lapels and squabbled. They looked like mirror images; seeing the pair with the same appearance and same face feuding with each other was somehow bizarre.

Satsuko watched them, not quite sure what to do, before she came to her senses. "E-Enough of the games, Jokers!" Satsuko fell upon them, trying to seize both of them at once.

Yet both of them were phantom thieves with equally impressive physical aptitude. Joker, as well as Shadow in the guise of Joker, nimbly bounced around to dodge. Even Satsuko was bewildered. Two people who looked exactly the same were jumping all over the place, so it was very disorienting. It was like she was fighting a ninja who had used a cloning art.

"Stop flitting about so much...!"

If she tried to seize just one of them, she would be distracted and the other one would get away, meaning there was a chance that she wouldn't get the real Joker. To prevent that from happening, she had to catch both of them at once no matter what, or so Satsuko thought.

If only I could tell which one was the real Joker...

Satsuko observed the two more closely and then noticed something. Something she had seen for a moment previously was now gone. Bloody Rain, the umbrella that only Shadow possessed. When Joker disguised Shadow, he had probably taken and hidden it. If Joker were to hide an umbrella he had stolen abruptly...

Satsuko cast her gaze around and spotted the black umbrella stuck in the chandelier. "There!"

True to form, Joker. Not only is he quick on his feet, he also makes good judgement calls... Satsuko stomped her foot on the ground with a thud, shaking the ground and making Bloody Rain fall from the chandelier.

"...!" The two Jokers took a quick glance at the umbrella. Written on one of their faces was: "Why was my umbrella there?", while the other's expression read: "Oh shoot, she figured it out!"

"There you are, Joker!" Satsuko ran up to the Joker who had "my plan's been exposed" written on his face and grasped him whole in her hand. "I've got you now, Phantom Thief Joker!"

"Guhh, oh shoot...!" Joker couldn't move, and his face contorted with pain.

"I've got him!" said Satsuko as she turned back around to Kaneari.

"Well done, indeed!" rejoiced Kaneari from the gum. "Now, return my Crimson Crystal!"

"...ha... it."

"Hm? What was that? I can't hear you, indeed!"

Then Joker raised his chin, looked at Satsuko, and grinned. "I don't have it."

"Huh?"

"What?"

"I said I don't have it. I don't, anyway."

"You don't? Then that means..." Satsuko looked up in realization, only to hear laughter from somewhere.

"Hu hu, is this what you're looking for?" She saw the other Joker standing at a distance. There seemed to be a colder glint in his eyes than usual.

Then that Joker's body puffed up and burst apart with a pop! Shadow, clad in his purple suit, appeared from within. In one of Shadow's hands was Bloody Rain, and in the other he was holding the Crimson Crystal.

"That's my Crimson Crystal, indeed!"

"Yeah, that's right. It's your treasure, the genuine article!"

"Why! Why do you have it!?"

Then Joker wriggled out of Satsuko's grasp and landed on the floor with a click. "Phew, that's some grip."

"Answer me, Joker! Why did you hand over the treasure?"

"Easy," Joker responded nonchalantly. "What Shadow wants most is to fight me. The treasure's secondary. So I promised to fight him at a later date if he'd just hold onto the treasure for me for a while."

"Hmph..." Shadow was averting his gaze, but that was enough proof to see that Joker was telling the truth.

"But willingly giving one's prized object to an enemy during combat is inconceivable. He could have run off with it."

"Ha ha, you don't get it. Shadow wouldn't do that."

"Tch..." Shadow scoffed.

"Regrettably, fighting me means more to Shadow than anything else. He wouldn't try to beat me through unfair methods like that."

"Hmph, course not," Shadow muttered after Joker spoke.

Then Satsuko chuckled and said, "I see, so he's not an enemy, but rather, a rival..."

"Well, guess you could say that!" Joker inflated his Balloon Gum and began to float toward the hole in the ceiling. "Shadow, gimme the treasure!"

"A week from now! Don't forget your promise to duel me!"

Shadow tossed the treasure up to Joker. Once he had securely caught the Crimson Crystal, Joker shouted down below. "All right, Kaneari, I've taken the treasure! Inspector Oniyama, Shadow, see you later!"

"You had so better wait, Joker!"

Taking one last backwards glance at Kaneari and Satsuko grimacing, Oniyama shouting, and Shadow tsking, Joker flew into the sky. His airship, the Sky Joker, floated in the night sky above him.

Just then, a panicked voice came from the communicator on Joker's wrist. "Joker-san!" It was the voice of Joker's assistant, Hachi.

"Oh, Hachi. What's up?"

"Terrible news!"

"Ah, sorry. If it's about the pudding that you were hiding in the fridge, I ate it this morning."

"You did!? ...Wait, that's not the problem! An advance notice has been delivered here, and it's addressed to you!"

"An advance notice?" Joker looked at the device with a puzzled expression.

#kaitou joker #light novel