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skzsauce01 · 3 years

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Angel Sent From Up Above

Anniversary Request Special

Synopsis: Hyunjin, a new guardian angel, has fallen in love with a human. His human’s girlfriend, to be precise. Angel AU, background college AU and skater AU.

Warning: violence

Word Count: 8.3k

Pairing: fem!reader x guardian angel!Hyunjin; fem!reader x human!Jeongin

“Is she healed now?” Hyunjin asks the moment Jisung flies in. He knows Jisung is probably exhausted from keeping maladies away from you, but he needs the answer now. “Is her flu gone?”

“Yeah.” Jisung’s wings are tinged gray with ruin, but he keeps them on display for all the other guardian angels to see as he walks past them. They are proof that he has been doing his duty. They’ll return to white soon enough anyway. “Your human’s her boyfriend. Why didn’t you try to check through him? He visited a few times even though she told him not to.” Jisung sighs and shakes his head. “What an idiot. He’s going to get sick himself.”

“He hasn't visited recently, so I haven’t been able to check through him. The Archangel’s forbade me going to Earth unless it was something serious. I think he’s worried I'm spending too much time with humans.”

Jisung shakes his head. “I think he’s worried that he’s going to have to Seungmin you.”

“I'm not going to get expelled.”

Jisung shrugs, and ruin falls from his wings like ash. “You better watch out. You checked up on her too much last time she got sick, so he's probably trying to make sure you won't abandon your human. He's banished people for less. Case in point: Seungmin.”

“She's important to Jeongin, so she's important to me."

Jisung sighs. “Sometimes I think you’re more protective of her than I am.”

He says it as a joke, but Hyunjin knows it’s the truth. He cares deeply about you, maybe even more than his own human, but he will never say that last part aloud.

Hyunjin used to believe that becoming a guardian angel was the best thing that ever happened to him. All of his afterlife, he had wanted to be promoted, to be granted the pure white wings and the crown of sun rays. Regular angels had wings and halos but never white wings and golden halos; silver and silver was the “regular” combination.

Watching over a human was considered the highest honor an angel could receive, and everyone clamored to gain the attention of the Archangel. Hyunjin was not immune. He worked as a messenger for years, delivering even the most inane notes between the higher ups. He endured the attacks, verbal and sometimes physical, and kept his mouth shut. Eventually, the Archangel recognized his efforts, and before dawn broke on Earth, Hyunjin was named the new guardian angel of a baby boy, Yang Jeongin.

“You will protect him. You will guide him,” the Archangel said. “He is your responsibility now and yours alone. Do you understand?”

From Heaven, Hyunjin could only look at the wet, wrinkled face of his human. His human. “I understand.”

Then the Archangel flew off, and Hyunjin flew to Earth for the first time to meet the baby. No one noticed him as he phased through the hospital walls nor as his giant wings folded back. Only Jeongin would be able to see his guardian angel.

“Hello there, little one,” he whispered to the swaddled baby. The boy was fast asleep, and Hyunjin gently stroked his face. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Hyunjin, your official guardian angel. I’ll always be nearby now, and I’ll always make sure you’re safe. Sometimes you won’t be able to see me, but I’ll always be watching over you. I promise.”

Jeongin stirred awake and stared back at Hyunjin. Two sets of eyes blinked at each other, one full of curiosity and one full of tenderness.

“Go back to sleep,” Hyunjin said. He drew his hand over the baby’s face, and Jeongin’s eyes fluttered shut. “Sweet dreams, little one.”

Guardian angels talked about their humans like parents, bragging about how gifted they were and sharing complaints about what unbelievable thing they did the other day. Hyunjin mostly did the latter. Jeongin was an adventurous child, which was just a nice way of saying that he liked to play with danger. Hyunjin often had to fly in to save him or to redirect the threat somewhere else. The other angels joked that Hyunjin stayed on Earth more than Heaven sometimes. He didn’t mind though. Even with his human’s shortcomings, Hyunjin adored him. He watched from above as Jeongin said his first words, attended his first day of kindergarten, and got into his first fight.

“He’s a troublemaker,” Minho observed.

Minho was a guardian angel as well, but he tended to lurk on the outer edges of the realm as the other angels avoided him for a reason Hyunjin hadn’t figured out yet. Hyunjin liked him well enough and treated him like a mentor, sometimes a friend.

“Hey, you’re not one to talk. Your human started a black market of candy at school.”

Minho shrugged. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

Jeongin didn’t end up growing up into a troublemaker, to Hyunjin’s relief. The impulsive streak was still there, but he utilized his judgement more now. There were no car crashes or cases of alcohol poisoning, and when Jeongin asked out girls, it was with daisy bouquets and a suggestion to get lunch. Hyunjin slowly stopped making routine trips to Earth and chose to view Jeongin from the comfort of Heaven. It was there that Hyunjin noticed you.

“I think she’s upset with him,” Jisung abruptly says. “She cried after a video call with him, so if your human starts acting strangely, that’s why.”

The news makes Hyunjin stop mid-step, and he turns to his friend. “She cried? What? What did she cry about?”

“I don’t know. I was too busy trying to lower her temperature. Can you believe that she almost hit—”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I just got back! There is no ‘earlier!’ Besides, we aren't allowed to interfere in anything that isn't dangerous. Heartbreak, if this is even what this is, is temporary."

“Humans do drastic things for love.” The movies has seen while watching Jeongin have told him that much.

“Which we will attend to when it happens. You’re a new guardian; you’ll understand them better over time. Not everything is life-threatening, fragile as they are.”

Hyunjin turns away from Jisung and glances down at Earth. The clouds part, and all of the brick buildings of the university rush towards his eyes as he focuses on Jeongin. He’s asleep at his desk, his lamp still burning bright above him. How long has it been since the video call? Or perhaps he’s just tired from the events of his day. But he looks so small and vulnerable in his chair. Jeongin isn’t fragile — the amount of situations he has gotten out of covered in bruises and blood is astronomical — but he is mortal.

“But she loves him,” Hyunjin softly says, “and he loves her.”

“Exactly. Humans fight over small things all the time, and this is one of those times.” Jisung places a hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder to placate him. “Trust me.”

“... I trust you.”

“Good. I need to rest, but we can catch up and see what stupid things they do after.”

The moment Jisung flies off to the rest area, Hyunjin goes against the Archangel’s orders and flies to your apartment. When he peers inside your bedroom window, he spots you sitting in bed in the dark, your phone screen illuminating your face. He phases inside and sits at your desk chair, resting his forearms at the top rail. You can’t see him, but he wishes that you could.

You mindlessly scroll through messages, sniffling every few seconds. Whether it’s from your crying or your illness, he doesn’t know. He can’t hand you a tissue or tell you comforting things or hug you like Jeongin can. When you wrap your blanket tighter around your shoulders, he wraps his wings around himself as well.

Suddenly you throw your phone beside you and let out a heavy sigh. “It can’t get any worse than this,” you say to yourself.

Hyunjin waits for you to say more, but you only stare at the ceiling with blank eyes. He can’t compel you to talk; only Jisung can, but he’s not here. So instead, Hyunjin knocks over the glass of water on your bed when you shift into a more comfortable position.

“Of course it can,” you sigh again and blot as much water as you can with your tissues. You pull another one out of the box with more force than necessary and furiously dab your sheets. “First I get sick, then I miss a homework deadline that I can’t make up because my professor lost his heart thirty years ago along with his hair, then my boyfriend breaks up with me for like no reason, apparently I have an exam tomorrow, and now I’ve spilled water all over my bed, so I can’t even sleep. Thank you, universe. I really needed this.”

He immediately regrets his decision.

“Worst freaking week of my life,” you mumble as you throw away the wet tissues. Hyunjin almost reaches out for your arm when you pass by, but he retracts it just in time.

When you climb back into bed, you draw your blanket up to your chin and begin murmuring numbers. They come out calm and even at first, but they become more tense as time passes. Hyunjin half-listens as he scans the contents of your desk. A laptop, a shopping bag, an open notebook with doodles on the margins, an uncapped black pen, and a pack of gum. He presses his forefinger to the point of the pen, drawing a tiny heart by touch. Then he stamps the heart among all your misshapen stars and imaginary flowers. You might just think it’s an ink smear, but he hopes you look at it and smile.

You hit three hundred and forty-seven before you begin to sound drowsy. Hyunjin stands at the foot of your bed, watching as you finally drift off in the middle of three hundred and ninety-three. Serenity settles across your features.

“I’m sorry for what I did earlier. Good night and sweet dreams,” he whispers. He pats the corner of your bed before flying off into the night.

He needs to see Jeongin.

It was hard not to notice you when you were on a collision course with Jeongin. You were going too fast, and Hyunjin’s wings couldn’t carry him to Earth in milliseconds. With horror, he watched as you sharply turned the building corner on your skateboard and just barely jumped off in time when you saw Jeongin about to make the same turn.

“You okay?” Jeongin asked as he hurried to stop your runaway board.

“I should be asking you that!” you exclaimed as you followed him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have veered that close to the wall. You’re not hurt or anything, right?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Good. I can’t risk getting sued again.” Unsure of how to respond, Jeongin nudged back your board to you. You neatly stopped it mid-roll with your foot. “Thanks, by the way. See you around.”

“Yeah, see you.”

You kicked off, but before you left the area, you turned around and gave him a wave. Jeongin waved back, albeit more shyly than you. After a moment’s hesitation, he yelled out, “Be careful!”

“I’ll try!”

Jeongin laughed and turned the corner, looking at the brick wall with more wistfulness than most people usually did. Before he entered the building, he peeked around the next corner, as if he expected you to come speeding by again. You didn’t.

After that, he noticed you more often, usually swerving around strangers as you cut through campus. Whenever he had the opportunity to say hello, he did so with a smile, and you returned it with a waggle of your fingers before disappearing into the crowd. Once, you nearly crashed into a railing. You laughed it off and gave him another wave along with a funny face. Hyunjin felt something inside him melt. Jeongin must have too since he headed to his next class with the most lovestruck expression Hyunjin had ever seen on him.

It was then that Jeongin began forming a plan.

Two weeks after the first meeting, Jeongin waited in the quad for you to show up. Just as he hoped, you came walking down the steps fifteen minutes later, skateboard tucked underneath your arm. It was supposed to seem like a coincidence, but Hyunjin had followed Jeongin as he scoured nearby skate spots, asking around about you. Yesterday, he had learned where you liked to practice tricks. He got up from his bench, hands hidden behind his back, and approached you with the same moves and confidence he had rehearsed in the bathroom mirror.

“Hey! How have you been?” he called up from the very bottom.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin groaned. Jisung, who Hyunjin had tracked down two days prior to this, also did so.

“You said he was a charmer,” Jisung complained. “Look at him. He can’t even charm dogs with a treat.”

“For your sake, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Just wait though. It’s going to get better.”

Jisung huffed. “It better. She deserves the best.”

Fortunately, you took it all in stride and waved hello at Jeongin. When you were finally beside him, you answered, “I’ve been good, thanks. You’re not here to sue me, right?”

“No! I was actually wondering if you could teach me how to skateboard. If you have time, that is.”

“Really? But I almost killed you that one time. I mean, I’d be happy to, but it’s kind of weird after what happened.”

“I’d rather skateboard than walk, and you seem pretty good at it.”

You shifted your weight to one foot, and Hyunjin chuckled when he saw Jeongin’s eyes wander to your jutted-out hip. Jisung made a noise of disapproval.

“Okay, what is this really about?”

“Skateboarding,” Jeongin said. Then he took a step closer and held out a bundle of daisies towards you. “And lunch, if you want.”

You broke out into a grin. “I am a little hungry right now. L/N Y/N, skateboarding extraordinaire and ramen enthusiast, at your service.”

“Yang Jeongin, also a ramen enthusiast. Nice to officially meet you.”

Jeongin is still sleeping at his desk when Hyunjin arrives. He shifts and exhales when the wind from Hyunjin’s wings create a small breeze but does not wake.

“How could you break up with her?” Hyunjin says. “She’s amazing and wonderful, and you decide that you don't want to be with her? Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in your head.”

Silence.

“If I were human, I would have never done that, but…”

Jeongin shifts again, burying himself deeper into the crumpled hoodie he’s using as a pillow. The table squeaks, and a mechanical pencil rolls off the desk. Hyunjin quietly places the pencil back to its initial place and shuts off the lamp.

“Take care of yourself, and make good choices, okay? I can’t do that for you.”

Instead of flying back to Heaven, he perches on the roof of the building across from Jeongin’s. Jeongin finally wakes up and notices that his light is off. He glances at it confusedly for a few seconds, wondering if he misremembered leaving it on. In the end, he decides it’s not worth the effort and falls into his bed. He didn’t even spare you a thought, a crime in Hyunjin’s eyes.

Then he realizes he may have a bigger problem on his hands.

Jisung.

Jisung is going to be very upset when he finds out about this.

Over the weekend, you brought Jeongin to the quad to learn the basics.

“Put both feet on the board now,” you said as you walked alongside a skateboarding Jeongin. He was borrowing yours to practice, so he treated it with more reverence than a well-used board would need. Even though he was pushing with his back foot, he was going at a snail’s pace.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m going to lose my balance and fall.”

Perhaps it wasn’t reverence after all.

You shook your head. “No, you won’t. You’re not going that fast anyway. You can just step off if you really feel like you are. Give it a shot.”

To his credit, Jeongin lifted his foot a few centimeters off the ground before planting it back. “I’m going to lose control.”

While you did your best to persuade Jeongin to give it another try, Jisung gave Hyunjin a dissatisfied look. “I remember you telling me he was a daredevil. What is happening?”

He didn’t exactly know either. “He’s in front of his crush; give him a break.”

“These two better not end up dating. She deserves so much better than him.”

Hyunjin gave him a dirty look, Jisung gave him a “What? It’s true” type of a shrug.

You step in front of the board. “How about this?” you said. “You stand on the board with both feet, and I’ll pull you along so you can get used to the feeling and be less of a scaredy cat.”

“Okay.”

You took both of his hands and slowly guided him backwards. At the same time, you instructed him to put more weight on one side to change directions. Jeongin was surprisingly stable, and Hyunjin watched proudly as his human suggested that you increase your speed a little.

“See? It’s not bad?” you said. “Keeping balance isn’t that hard, right?”

“Yeah. Also,” he grinned, his meek demeanor completely gone, “we’re holding hands now.”

Your eyes widened as you glanced down at your joined hands, and you let out a delighted gasp. “You sneaky little—” Much to Jeongin’s alarm, you let go and smirked. “If you go past the bench without constantly pushing, I’ll let you hold my hand when you walk me home.”

“Kind of presumptuous of you to assume that I would offer to walk you home,” he teased, resting one foot on the floor. “Or is that what you want me to do?”

“You asked me to lunch with flowers. You were going to.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Then he kicked off, skating past the bench with ease. Still going, he looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Do you want to grab doughnuts before you head home?”

“Watch the lamp!” you yelled as you ran towards him. “Jeongin, stop looking at me and turn around!”

The collision with the lamppost was unavoidable, so Hyunjin simply watched as Jeongin took a flying leap off your board and took a tumble on the concrete. While you fumbled for band aids — Jeongin’s knee was scraped and bloody — Jeongin patted his pockets to check that his phone had not fallen out.

“So doughnuts?” he sheepishly asked.

“Sure. I’ll buy.” You finally found one hidden in the bottom of your backpack along with an alcohol wipe. “Guess you get to hold my hand after all.”

“How are you so prepared?” he asked, nodding to the contents you had unceremoniously dumped out whilst rummaging. “You have tweezers and gauze?”

“My mom made me carry a first-aid kit with me when she found out that I skate to class. It comes in handy.” You ripped open the package. “This might hurt.”

“You can kiss it to feel better.”

You laughed and pressed the alcohol wipe to his knee. “You’re such a flirt, I love it. Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, hurts a lot.”

You opted to kiss the band aid instead, causing Jeongin to pout and Jisung to sigh in relief. When you stuck it onto his skin, Jeongin made a big production of being relieved from pain, which made you laugh and shove him.

“No! She’s in love with him,” Jisung groaned. His wings drooped, and Hyunjin swore his halo actually dimmed when you kept your hands in Jeongin’s after you pulled him up. “Well, Hyunjin, looks like you and I are going to be best friends.”

Hyunjin personally saw no issue with that. Like Jeongin, he had been charmed by your antics and your easygoing nature. Protecting his human’s friends, family, or lovers wasn’t part of Hyunjin’s duty, but he felt compelled to watch over you too.

Because if he were human, he would have fallen in love with you too.

In the midst of his lamenting, Jisung flies down and sits beside him on the roof. His wings are still slightly gray, and Hyunjin strangely begins to feel self-conscious of his pure white ones.

“Didn’t the Archangel forbid you from doing frivolous things?” Jisung says in lieu of a greeting. “I saw you at her apartment earlier.”

“I just wanted to check up on her. Not that I thought you lied,” he hastily adds. “I wanted to see for myself. She’s a little… distraught.”

“She got into a fight with her boyfriend. It’s normal.” When Hyunjin doesn’t reply or even make a sound, he grows concerned. “Is it something else? She’s getting sued, isn’t she? I knew it was going to happen someday. When I find that smug richie-rich, I’m going to—”

“Jeongin broke up with her.”

“What.”

Hyunjin repeats his sentence, trying to block the view of Jeongin’s bedroom with his body. Jisung looks like he’s ready to rain judgement onto him, and while Hyunjin is rather good at his job, he’s not sure if he can hold back an enraged guardian angel. Jisung takes several deep breaths before regaining the little composure he can muster.

“I knew I hated him for a reason. I knew he didn’t deserve her,” he spits out, though the venom in his voice wavers. “Why would he even break up with her? She loved him so much.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “That’s what I want to find out.”

“When you find out, let me know. I’m going to see her now.”

Hyunjin stays on the roof until sunrise. Jeongin sleeps without any trouble, and when he wakes up, he looks fresh-faced, no guilt hanging over his head. Hyunjin feels something inside him cracking apart.

You truly don’t deserve this.

“Do you think they’re going to crash and burn?” Jisung asked as he studied you and Jeongin walking through the park, practically glued to each other’s sides. “I think they’re moving too fast. It’s only been a month.”

Hyunjin really didn’t care about that. As long as you and Jeongin were happy, he was happy. “A month is a pretty long time for them. Mortal lives are short.”

“Exactly. They should be more selective about their life choices.”

Hyunjin only rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to you. You were pointing at the tiny carousel in the middle and tugging at Jeongin’s sleeve. You dragged him over and pushed a coin into the slot for the ride. The lights lit up and a carnival theme played while you struggled to wedge yourself between the saddle of an elephant and the roof of the carousel. Jeongin sat on the edge, beside the tiger, and chuckled at your flailing limbs.

Hyunjin suppressed his own laugh. You were something special. Just last week, the two of you had made it official and started dating. You had done it in the sweetest possible way.

You had taken him to a local skateboarding shop to help him pick out his first board. Once he had chosen one — the ‘one’ being a light blue deck patterned with multicolored doughnuts — the staff at the shop sent him to the back to try it out. Meanwhile, you made the age-old excuse of needing to use the restroom when you were actually getting the flowers you had hidden in the back.

Hyunjin had turned into a pile of fluff when you gave Jeongin the daisy bouquet and asked if he wanted to officially be your boyfriend. You were so earnest. Jeongin playfully pretended to think it over, a feat Hyunjin knew he wouldn’t have been able to do if he were in his position. There were no fireworks or confetti when Jeongin finally said yes, but the staff did clap and cheer. Jisung looked on with contempt. Hyunjin looked on with envy.

“You know,” Jisung abruptly said, snapping Hyunjin back to the present, “when her last boyfriend broke up with her, she had ice cream for dinner for a week.”

“Oh.”

“You see why I’m being wary of him now?”

Hyunjin did, but Jeongin was different. His previous relationships always ended well, and on one occasion, he remained friends with his ex. He sighed and decided that a change of topic was necessary so he wouldn’t have to potentially endure a tirade. “Did you hear about Minho’s human? The bank he worked at got robbed, and he got held at gunpoint.”

That caught the overprotective Jisung’s ear. “What? Is he okay?”

During Hyunjin’s recountment of Minho’s recountment, the carousel ride ended. You squeezed out of your spot, hitting your head on the roof, and Jeongin pulled you in for a forehead kiss. The world grew brighter when you smiled, he realized.

Hyunjin shadows Jeongin around all day, hoping to learn the reason for the breakup. Unfortunately, Jeongin doesn’t say anything. He does show some regret though, as he scrolls through past messages and old pictures. When he heads to classes, he opts to walk instead of skateboarding like usual and avoids the quad whenever possible.

In the evening, while Jeongin is chewing on his salad like a cow to cud, Hyunjin pays you a visit. He finds in the freezer section of the grocery store with three pints of ice cream in your basket. From the looks of it, you’re about to add another three to your haul. Peanut butter pretzel sounds equal parts delicious and confusing.

Hyunjin studies your expression, frowning at the same time you do. Your eyes are ringed with red, your jaw tight, and your eyebrows seem permanently furrowed. When he follows you back home, he half expects you to start crying on the way, but you hold fast and manage to open a pint of the salted caramel flavor before the tears finally come. There’s no wailing, just sniffling and the sound of you furiously wiping at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. In the midst of it all, you find the strength to reorganize the freezer to make space for the other pints. Something about that makes Hyunjin’s heart drop.

By the time your roommate discovers you in the kitchen, the entire refrigerator has been reorganized and the ice cream finished. You sit in a dark room, your finger hovering above the ‘SEND’ button of a message to Jeongin. Hyunjin can see it if he flies above you: “Can you please just tell me why? You keep saying you did something wrong, but I don’t even know what it is. Please let me decide if it’s worth breaking up over.”

“Rough day?” she gently asks as she flips on the switch.

“Yeah.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe tomorrow. I just wanna process it right now,” you hollowly say. You grab your skateboard — the same black, paint-splattered one you had last year — and unlock the front door. “I’m going out for a ride, but I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Stay safe.”

After you leave, Jisung phases through the kitchen walls and hisses at Hyunjin, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Jeongin?”

He nearly forgot about him. Eating dinner isn’t a dangerous task anyway though. Besides, if Jeongin does get physically harmed somehow, Hyunjin will feel an echo of the pain. Hyunjin glances at the door, and Jisung shakes his head.

“I’ll take care of her. Go back to Jeongin, and make sure he’s okay. You can’t keep leaving him all the time.”

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“Good.”

Hyunjin reluctantly goes back to Jeongin, who is still eating his salad. His resolve from last night is clearly gone as evidenced by his melancholy expression as he scrolls through even more photos. The one of you in mid-air makes him clutch his phone.

“Let me get one of you when you’re really high up,” Jeongin suggested. He was comfortable gliding around on a skateboard now, but nowhere comfortable enough to try any tricks. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop you from trying to get him to learn. The “pop shove it” was your favorite, solely for the amount of height you could get.

“Okay.”

As you did over and over again for your enthusiastic boyfriend who was unfortunately not that great of a photographer, Hyunjin observed from a rooftop behind Jeongin. Sometimes you looked like you were flying. He could imagine wings protruding from your back, and if the sun hit you just right, there appeared to be a halo as well.

“I got one!” Jeongin exclaimed as he held up his device to you. “Look.”

Hyunjin couldn’t see for himself, but your mouth dropped into an ‘o’ once you took a first glance. A flustered smile made its way onto your face, and everything about you turned soft.

“This looks amazing,” you said. You sidled up to him and rested your cheek against his shoulder, turning your head towards him. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air for a few seconds as both Hyunjin and Jeongin tried to process them. This was the first time you had ever said them, and it came seemingly out of nowhere. Hyunjin recovered first.

“Say ‘I love you’ back, you moron,” Hyunjin whispered, like Jeongin would be able to hear him from this distance. “‘I love you too.’”

“I wanted to say it first,” Jeongin finally said. “Ugh, I had it all planned out too. We were supposed to get doughnuts after this, and I was going to buy you one of those heart-shaped ones.”

You kissed him on the cheek and intertwined your fingers with his. “We can still do that.”

At the doughnut shop, he said the words second, and you kissed him again, leaving a crystal of glaze on the corner of his mouth. Hyunjin licked his lips as if you had left it on him instead.

“Did you find out?” Jisung asks when Hyunjin leaves Jeongin to check up on you. You’re skating around the city, making sharp swerves and weaving in-between lampposts. Jisung is trailing behind you in the sky, but he slows when he sees Hyunjin approaching.

“No, but—”

“Then go back to him. Hyunjin,” Jisung sighs, “I know you care about her, but she’s not your human. Jeongin’s your responsibility.”

“I know but—”

“Go back. And I’m telling you this not as your friend but as your senior. You’re a guardian angel, and you need to take your responsibilities seriously. I’ll get the Archangel involved if I have to. Do you want to get Seungminned?”

The threat of the Archangel strangely doesn’t scare him anymore, however. In fact, the Archangel being involved may solve many of his current issues.

“I’ll find you again when I find out,” Hyunjin slowly says.

Jisung nods in approval before racing after you again. Hyunjin heads to Heaven, not to keep an eye over his human but to become human.

Ten months into Jeongin’s relationship with you, Hyunjin asked Minho, “Is it possible to give up your divinity?”

Minho gave Hyunjin a curious look. “Is being a guardian angel that taxing for you? You haven’t even experienced a full lifespan yet. I know, twenty year-olds are annoying, but it’s not nearly as bad as forty year-olds and their mid-life crisis.”

“I’m just curious. Or, as a last resort,” he added, hoping that Minho would stop being suspicious if he joked about it. “My human’s been making some dumb choices.”

A lie, but Minho fell for it.

“I told you he was going to be a troublemaker!” he cackled. He sympathetically patted Hyunjin’s back. “If I’m being honest, I thought about it a few times. I always get assigned to the troublemakers. Probably because the higher-ups hate me for not tolerating their BS. They’re always playing favorites. Anyway, the easiest way is to get expelled by the Archangel. It’s happened a few times before.”

“Can’t you just ask him?”

Minho smirked. “You don’t think other angels have tried that? He only expels the ones who don’t want to be. It’s supposed to be a punishment.”

“What’s the hard way then?”

“Same thing minus the Archangel getting involved: your wings getting cut off,” he matter-of-factly answered. “The halo will break once your wings are detached. It’s only been done once, by the way.”

Hyunjin absentmindedly rubbed the area where the bones of his wings met with his shoulder blades. All he needed were two clean cuts across his practically impenetrable back.

“How do you do that?”

“With the Archangel’s sword. Another angel has to cut it though; you can’t do it yourself.”

The Archangel would likely banish him to Hell for even asking about his weapon. If Hyunjin ever did manage to steal the sword away, Jisung would never agree to it. He couldn’t just ask any angel to help him.

“How do you know about all this?” Hyunjin asked.

Minho hesitated, something he rarely did. He quickly recovered, hiding his sudden apprehension with his usual devil-may-care nonchalance. “I can’t give away all of my secrets.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Friends. The word hung in the air like the sun, and Hyunjin knew that Minho would tell him because underneath all of his bluster was loneliness. Because no one liked Minho, or if they did, they still avoided him anyway.

“Yeah, we are,” Minho answered, smiling for a second before a strange expression crossed over his face, pride mixed with a touch of sadness. “Do you really think the Archangel would have expelled one of his favorite guardian angels that easily?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Seungmin. He asked me to cut his wings for him.”

“I need you to cut my wings,” are Hyunjin’s first words to Minho after not speaking to him for days.

To his credit, Minho is only speechless for a few seconds. The dove in his hand pecks at him for more headpats before he recovers. “Well, do you have the sword?”

“No, but I think I can get it. When I do though, would you do it? You’re the only one I trust.”

Minho sighs and tosses the bird out of Heaven, grimacing a bit when he hears it squawk. When he faces Hyunjin, he smiles the same smile he did when he talked about Seungmin. “It’s always me, huh? I’ll do you one better. I’ll steal the sword for you. The Archangel’s been pissing me off anyway.”

For once, Hyunjin’s thoughts are not on you but his friend. He imagined that Minho would be willing, but perhaps he’s too willing. “Are you trying to get expelled as well? We can go together.”

“No, I like being immortal. I hate all of the BS I get put through sometimes, but the Archangel can’t kick me out. He swore an oath to me a long time ago before he got promoted, and it’s pretty much unbreakable. Besides, even Heaven needs a scapegoat.”

That explains why virtually no angels interact with Minho, Hyunjin being the exception. He has never heard of the Archangel being oathsworn, though it seems likely that the Archangel wants to keep that a secret.

“How are you going to get it?” Hyunjin asks. “How did Seungmin even get it? The Archangel always has it with him.”

“Seungmin was one of his favorites,” Minho reminds him. “He had easy access to him, and the Archangel trusted him enough to let him borrow it for ‘a study.’ Don’t worry about me though. Just wait for me on Earth. Somewhere where no one goes. I’ll find you, slice off your wings, and the Archangel won’t even know what happened to you.”

“That’s not possible. He always keeps it on him.”

Minho shrugs, a gleam in his eyes. “I’ve done it before. Why do you think I’m the scapegoat?”

Seungmin. For Minho and now Hyunjin, being Seungminned didn’t mean being expelled for being frivolous anymore; it meant leaving of your own accord.

“What happened to him?” Hyunjin asked. “Why didn’t the Archangel grant his divinity back? Someone should have spotted him on Earth.”

Minho’s wry grin was back. “You think the Archangel wanted everyone to find out the golden boy of Heaven no longer wanted to be an angel? Plenty of angels already saw him roaming Earth. It was easier to let everyone think that Seungmin was banished. So when they saw him on Earth, he was just a fallen angel, nothing important.” He nudged Hyunjin’s arm, and the solemn atmosphere vanished. “A troublemaking human isn’t all that bad. Like I said, the twenties are annoying, but they’re manageable. Is he one of those partying types?”

“He goes out sometimes,” Hyunjin carefully replied. Jeongin liked hanging out with his friends and you — mostly you, now that Hyunjin thought about it — but he wasn’t getting blackout drunk every night. At least, Hyunjin hoped he wasn’t. He usually watched over you if you were ever in the vicinity. “Speaking of which, I should check up on him.”

Minho said his goodbyes, and Hyunjin flew back to Earth once he saw that you weren’t with Jeongin. You were studying at your desk, rolling a pen between your fingers, reading through a document on your laptop. The desk light casted a warm glow on your face. You frowned, and your lower lip swelled outwards.

He wished he were human.

Just as Minho said, Hyunjin waits for him to arrive in a secluded part of the university campus. The building rooftop is devoid of anyone, and the area surrounding it is empty as well. The evening turns into night, then night into the early morning when the sky begins lightening. Still, Minho has not come.

He distantly wonders how Jeongin is faring and his promise to Jisung. When he’s human, he’ll ask Jeongin directly, maybe in disguise of a survey: “Why did you break up with your last partner?” Even to him, it sounds stupid. However, that’s not the real reason why he’s giving up his divinity, so it hardly matters to him. Jisung is resourceful; he’ll find out eventually.

Finally, when the sun peeks over the horizon, Minho descends from Heaven, a familiar silver sword in his hand. He lands beside Hyunjin, a triumphant smile on his face. But his usual humor has been replaced with solemnity.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks as he rests the blade on the top of Hyunjin’s wings.

He has never felt so sure of anything in his life. “Yes.”

“It’s going to hurt.”

“Then make it quick.”

Searing pain shoots through his body as the sword pierces through the thin skin and into the bone. The process is not as nearly as seamless as Hyunjin hoped it would be, and Minho breathes heavily as he pushes the blade down. Bones snap, feathers drift to the floor, and blood trickles down his back. The pain only grows greater near the end, but Hyunjin grits his teeth and keeps quiet. Dawn breaks when his wings finally fall to the floor, no longer white but splattered with red. Soon they fade into dust, and the remnants scatter into the wind. His golden halo shatters into sunlight. The world dulls as the last of his powers disappear, but everything feels much better than when he was an angel.

“Thank you,” he whispers to Minho, who he cannot even look at anymore. His eyes would be burned.

“You’re fallen, not quite mortal and not quite divine. You won’t be affected by all of an angel’s power.”

When Hyunjin cautiously glances at him, Minho waves the bloody sword at him. “See?”

“Yeah.” He wanted humanity, but this is good enough for him. He just needs you to be able to see him, hear him, touch him.

“I need to go back before Heaven becomes Hell, but find Seungmin if you can. He can help you figure things out. Last I heard, he’s living somewhere in the mountains.”

“Thank you,” he repeats. “Minho, I can’t even put it into words about how much this means to me. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Minho pats his shoulder before stripping off his clean shirt. “Clean yourself before you leave. No one wants to witness a walking crime scene this early in the morning.”

When he flies back to Heaven, the last thing Hyunjin sees are his wings, still pure white.

“Hey,” you said as you laced your fingers with Jeongin’s. He had just finished class, and you had waited for him outside the building. Hyunjin had sat on the other end of the bench, savoring the proximity. That was the closest he would ever get to you. “Are you busy tonight? The skate shop just announced — literally an hour ago, those jerks — that they were doing a midnight drop, and I kind of want a new deck.”

“Ugh, I’ve been meaning to buy new trucks, but I have to meet up with my group tonight. Send me pictures though.”

Disappointment only momentarily flooded through Hyunjin. If it was anything like the last two meetups, it would be at the library, and the library was a safe place. Jeongin would be fine there. Hyunjin would be free to shadow you as you went to the skate shop.

“I can get it for you,” you offered.

He shook his head. “It’s fine. Maybe I’ll just wait for a sale.”

“Don’t be surprised if I do get you new trucks,” you warned. You let go of his hand and held his arm. “I still owe you for last month’s dinner.”

Jeongin shook his head again, a smile making its way onto his face. “You don’t owe me anything but a kiss.”

“Flirt,” you laughed as you pressed your lips to his cheek. “Never change, Yang Jeongin.”

That night at the skate shop, Hyunjin hovered above you as you stood in line, chatting with others. There were no unscrupulous characters around, but he stayed with you, only going back to Jeongin when Jisung insisted. However, by then, Hyunjin had already seen you eyeing the shiny teal trucks through the window. Hyunjin knew nothing about skateboards even after all those months, but you seemed pleased by them.

“You’re only getting trucks for sure?” your brand new acquaintance asked. “This is, like, the biggest drop they’ve ever done.”

You shrugged. “I’m kind of on the fence about the decks I saw on the email. I don’t know. Maybe wheels too?”

Meanwhile, Jisung hissed, “Hyunjin, go before something happens. What if a fight breaks out?”

Hyunjin sincerely doubted that one would happen at the library. He lingered around, taking his time unfolding his wings and stretching them.

“Your boyfriend’s lucky,” your acquaintance sighed.

“Nah, I’m the lucky one.”

Daisies, that’s what he needs right now. Choosing the rooftop of a building was not a smart decision, but the access door is thankfully unlocked, and Hyunjin races down all of the emergency stairs. However, with no form of currency on him, Hyunjin heads to the quad, hoping that he can pull up some dandelions for you. You need to be supported, and bright yellow flowers are just the thing.

What he doesn’t expect though, is to find you doing pop shove its at your usual spot. It’s so early in the day; did you even go back to your apartment to sleep?

“Good morning,” he calls as he walks closer. He waves at you, and you can see him! You tentatively wave back and give him a halfhearted smile. “How are you today? You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, and I’m fine,” you politely reply as you take a step back away from him. “What about you?”

Hyunjin curses in his head and takes another step towards you. “I’m good. Really good, actually. I was wondering if you could teach me how to skateboard. I’m new here, and skateboarding seems like an efficient way to get around.”

You flinch at his words, and he desperately wants to take them back. How did Jeongin do it? Why do his statements come out so stiff? “You seem pretty good at it.”

“Are you not cold?” you blurt out. Hyunjin curses again as he realizes that he’s shirtless. His old one was stained, and Minho’s was as well as the result of his cleanup. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. “You know, I have to get going, but it was nice meeting you.”

“Hyunjin. My name’s Hyunjin.”

“Nice meeting you, Hyunjin.”

You grab your board and immediately head off to the direction of your apartment. Hyunjin is tempted to follow, but he stays where he is. A bad first impression isn’t the end of the world. The only thing holding him back is his lack of a shirt.

He wanders through the quad, scanning the grass for some flowers. Most of them are the white, fluffy dandelions, but he needs the bright yellow version. However, he takes the white ones anyway in case he can’t find any. The wind scatters the seeds, and he—

“Hyunjin, I told you not to come back.”

Jisung.

Hyunjin turns around, dropping his bouquet onto the ground. To his horror, not only is Jisung present but also the Archangel. His sword is strapped to his side like usual, not a blood splatter tainting it. Minho did an excellent job of cleaning up the crime scene.

“Jisung, Archangel,” Hyunjin nervously greets. The Archangel frightens him now. “How can I help you?”

“Jisung, why did you bring me here?” the Archangel asks. “I have other things to attend to.”

“He’s abandoned his human too many times, and I don’t think he’s fit to be a guardian angel anymore.”

The Archangel grasps the hilt of his sword and studies Hyunjin, up and down, back and forth. He circles him, and Hyunjin can almost feel his mortality-divinity shining through his body. Jisung hasn’t noticed yet, but there is no doubt the Archangel hasn’t.

“Normally,” the Archangel begins, “the punishment for not fulfilling your duties as a guardian angel is being expelled from Heaven. But you have already fallen.”

“What?” comes Jisung’s shocked voice.

“It was a mistake,” Hyunjin tries. Minho’s words ring in his ear: He only expels the ones who don’t want to be. “I thought I wanted humanity, but I’ve realized that being a guardian angel is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please. Grant me my divinity back. I will never abandon my human again. I will swear an oath if I have to.”

The Archangel smiles with no teeth, and a chill runs down Hyunjin’s spine. “I’m in a forgiving mood today, so I will do just as you ask. Your divinity will be granted back, but you will no longer be a guardian angel. I’m stripping you of those powers and those duties. You will be replaced immediately. It was my mistake for tasking you with such a large responsibility when you weren’t ready yet.”

With just a snap of the Archangel’s fingers, Hyunjin’s senses sharpen, and the world comes hurtling at him. Nothing is dull anymore, but everything feels so dark and wrong. You will never be able to see him, hear him, or talk to him again. And he will never be able to either. Power surges inside of him, and new wings burst through his shoulder blades, fanning out once they reappear. A silver halo hangs over his head. There is no physical pain into becoming immortal again, yet he wishes there was something. Everything he and Minho did was erased with ease.

Hyunjin swallows the lump in his throat. “Thank you,” he chokes out.

“You’re very welcome. Come along now. Only guardian angels are allowed to be on Earth.”

Hyunjin follows the Archangel back to Heaven while Jisung goes after you. The Archangel loudly deliberates on who he should be replaced with, and Hyunjin knows that his request was not granted with kindness. The Archangel informs that he will be a messenger again. Hyunjin barely hears him as he takes one last look at Earth. Jeongin is there. Jisung is there. You are there.

Hyunjin avoids Minho’s eyes as he flies inside the realm behind the Archangel and hides among the rest of the regular angels until he is called to send a message. The higher-ups recognize him, make snide remarks about his demotion, and make pitiful faces at him. He barely registers them. There is a hollowness in him, and no matter how many memories he recalls, it isn’t enough to fill the void.

A few weeks later, Jisung approaches him, but even he stays a healthy distance away. “Hyunjin.” The disdain is clear.

“Jisung.”

“You knew about the reason all along, didn’t you? You were there when it happened.”

“When what happened?”

Realization dawns upon Jisung, and he shakes his head in disgust. “I should have known. You weren’t with him that night because you left him like you always did! You could have done something. Make him fall off his chair or something. Make the girl lose her balance. Instead, both of our humans suffered because you weren’t there.”

“What happened?”

“A girl from his group project randomly kissed him, and he thought he had been leading her on and cheating on his own girlfriend, so he broke up with her because he thought that would be the right thing to do instead of just telling her what actually happened. They’re back together now because he finally got the nerve to give her closure. It took nearly a month. They were miserable for a month. All because of you.”

It stings. “They’re okay now, right?”

“They’re fine, no thanks to you.” Just when Hyunjin thinks he’s going to leave, he takes a step forward, lips curled into sneer. “You know, angels and humans aren’t allowed to be with each other. It’s been forbidden for millenia.”

“I know,” he whispers. “But I loved her, and I had to try.”

“She would have never chosen you anyway.”

He never had a chance, did he?

~ ad.gray

Yes, you did! I remembered it and wondered if you were going to come back! Hope you enjoyed this! <3

#stray kids #skz #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #stray kids angst #skz angst #hyunjin angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin x reader #guardian angel au #anniversary special #20210816

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cloudteawrites · 3 years

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chapter: five ( 4.7k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

The grocery store was a mess of color and light. You swore you’d never seen so much food in one place.

Back when your mom had been alive, you’d never really gone to traditional grocery stores. You’d always just visited markets where your mom knew the vendors and could talk down their prices on ugly produce and day old bread. After she’d died, you’d eaten whatever the staff in the group home had provided, then whatever you could scrounge up from convenience stores. Most of the time since you’d aged out of social services, you survived off the free rice and kimchi available in your goshiwon.

Occasionally, you’d eat at work with your free staff meal, but you tried to avoid it. You knew the sight of you wolfing down ramyeon and cold kimbap as fast as you could made Jiah worry. If she ever saw you looking too haggard, she’d try to slip some home made meals to the front desk of your goshiwon when you weren’t looking and that was as embarrassing as it was helpful.

For as long as you could remember, the question of where your next meal was coming from had hung over your head like a dark cloud. It didn’t seem like that was going to be a problem any longer.

Aisle after aisle stretched out before you, blindingly bright. It looked like an amusement park. You were finding it hard to stop staring. You reached out in a haze and picked up the juiciest apple you’d ever seen. Sure, you sold them all the time at Quickstop, but they’d always been dull and just the slightest bit bruised. This one was perfect: fire engine red and still wet from the mister. It was cold and heavy in your hands. You almost felt like crying.

“You good?” Yoongi is beside you, leaning over on the shopping cart, his chin in his hand. He looks dreadfully bored.

“Yeah,” you tell him, setting the apple gently back in its place. “Yeah; just got distracted for a second.” You give a single tug on the front of the basket to move him along, and he follows, shuffling against the bright white linoleum.

“Why aren’t you getting that?” He calls, just before you can round the corner into the dry goods aisle. You turn and look at him over your shoulder, confusion slightly furrowing your brow. “Don’t you want it?”

Your eyes flick from his face back to the glittering heap of fruit. You gnaw at your lip. “...They’re 6,000 won a kilo.”

Yoongi purses his lips. “That’s not what I asked you.”

“I don’t need them,” you huff, trying to stave off the beginnings of another argument. “There’s more important things...like you three and getting you clothes and better furniture and-” Before you get the chance to finish, the gray haired man has ducked back around the corner. He returns with two three kilo bags of apples and dumps them unceremoniously into the cart.

He looks up at you, brows raised and his eyes daring you to say something. All you do is sigh. “Yoongi-”

“Jimin likes apples.” He says, before you can get a word in edgewise. “They’re for him.” You can’t argue with that. He pushes the basket forward and you two drift down the next aisle.

There’s a question resting on the tip of your tongue and as you compare brands of rice, you spit it out. “So...what do you guys eat? I read an article that said to mainly feed cat hybrids fish, but...”

“But we’re not house cats.” He finishes, flipping over a box of cereal to read the back. His nose wrinkles at something he finds and he slides it back onto the shelf. It’s cute, you think- or would be if you couldn’t see the tips of his razor sharp incisors poking out when his lip curled up. Yoongi senses your gaze and looks over at you. You look away quickly and make yourself busy reading a label. “We can eat pretty much anything you’d eat. Not too much processed shit or we’ll get sick. Whole foods are better.”

You nod, making a mental note to forego sodas and chips. “And when you’re shifted?”

He shakes his head. “We don’t really eat when we’re shifted down unless we plan on staying there for a long time.”

You choose a 10 kilo bag of rice, tug it out from the shelf with a little grunt and plop it onto the basket’s bottom shelf. That was good, you supposed. You were worried you were gonna have to watch three big cats rip into raw meat whenever it caught their fancy. “Why don’t I push the basket and you can pick out things Taehyung and Jimin would want?”

He nods and shifts to the other side of the aisle. “What’s my limit?”

You pause for a moment, then stand and fix him with a strange look. “What do you mean?” He isn’t looking at you. He’s comparing two brands of cereal, scanning the nutritional facts on the back.

“How much am I allowed to spend on food?” he questions, simply. “-and what foods are we allowed to eat?”

You balked at him. “.. .you want me to control your diet?”

“I don’t want you to, but most owners prefer a certain look.” He turns his flat, yellow-grey eyes on you. “So what is it? No carbs? no sugars? Low fat? No fat? Dairy-free-”

“Oh my God, no!” You yelp before he can list any more diets. You’d said it a little louder than you’d intended and a well-dressed mom at the other end of the aisle fixes you two with an odd look before hustling her twins into another part of the store. You wince, but continue in a quieter but no less urgent voice. “I mean, I’m not gonna tell you what you can and can’t eat that’s…”

“It’s not unusual,” Yoongi cuts in before you can give voice to your thoughts. He sets one of the cereal boxes, decorated with bright colors and little cartoon animals, back on the shelf and tosses the other -something in a dull green and white box with a little piece of wheat on the front- into the cart. “You didn’t feed us last night.”

A pang of guilt shoots through you. You curl your fingers around the bar of the cart, stare at your knuckles. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, with all the sincerity in the world. “I was tired -and I know that’s not an excuse- but I fell asleep without thinking of you guys. It won’t happen again.”

“Relax,” Yoongi drawls.”It’s not the first time we’ve gone hungry; I’m sure it won’t be the last.” He starts drifting toward the end of the aisle, but before he can go, you catch him by the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

There’s barely an inch of fabric between your thumb and forefinger, but the look Yoongi gives you makes it look like you’d yanked him back by the collar. He whirls on you, eyes narrowed and lips twisted into something sour. You’d overstepped by grabbing him. Still, you speak. “That was the last time. I mean it.”

The hybrid’s face shifts from irritation into something unrecognizable. He’s looking at you like there’s an equation written behind your eyes that he’s trying to work out with his own, like if he looks deep enough into them he’ll find the answers etched across your sclera. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the seconds drag on, but you don’t look away. Instead, you hold his gaze and let the moment swell under almost unbearable tension.

Yoongi gives first. He tugs his sleeve out of your grip and shuffles back out of reach. “Whatever you say,” he scoffs, stalking off into the next aisle, his ears tilted back and tail tip flicking in irritation.

You sigh. You’d done it again. The urge to catch him again wells up in you, but you tamp it down. ‘Time and space,’ you remind yourself. ‘Give him time and give him space.’ Satisfied once the distance between the two of you is enough, you go to follow after him, but hesitate as you pass the cereal he’d been looking at. You tug it off the shelf and place it in the basket underneath a few other things so it’d be hidden. You don’t know why and if he asked you about it later you were sure you’d draw a blank. If nothing else, you told yourself as you hurried to catch up with your hybrid, he’d have a choice.

The rest of the grocery trip passed in silence, just as it’d begun. Yoongi didn’t so much as look at you, but that was fine. You were focused on watching him. Anything that he gave more than a passing glance went into the basket. If the bobcat hybrid noticed your rapidly increasing haul, he didn’t say anything about it. He was silent. Even when you flinched as the cashier announced the total and you waffled between trying to walk home or calling a taxi. Even in the lobby then the elevator on the way up as Mr. Park talked both of your ears off and you had to stop him from carrying your groceries in and stocking the fridge himself, Yoongi had remained eerily quiet. It’d given you time to think.

You didn’t know much about hybrids. If you were honest with yourself, you hadn’t known anything about them prior to what you’d anxiety-googled yesterday afternoon. You were so far out of your depth, it was miracle you hadn’t drowned yet. Still, you weren’t completely oblivious.

In between Yoongi’s open hostility, Jimin’s blase attitude toward his own objectification and what snippets you’d heard about Taehyung’s early life, you knew something must’ve been very, very wrong with the people who’d had them before they’d been foisted upon you. The expectation that you were supposed to treat hybrids like actual pets made you uncomfortable enough without the assumption that you’d be dressing them up like dolls and locking the snack cabinets at night.

A spike of anger shot through you. They might’ve been different than humans but they were still people. They hadn’t deserved whatever shady things their owners had done to them and you didn’t want them to come to expect them from you. You shift the grocery bags up your arm, freeing up a hand so you can punch the code into the door. There was no way around it. The four of you would need to sit down and have a good long talk.

The second you punch the code into your door it swings open. “Hey, Jim-” the greeting dies on your tongue. It’s not Jimin who meets you at the door, but Taehyung, freshly showered, the curly ends of his hair dripping water onto the white tile and the front of his sweatshirt damp. His eyes were still hidden behind his hair but you could see more of him than you’d been able to that morning when he’d shifted.

Well, not more of him. He was wearing clothes now, for one- a dark brown version of the sweat suit Yoongi and Jimin both wore. He was taller than you, which you’d known when he’d wrapped his arms around you, but looking up at him now you have to tilt your head back a bit. “Oh,” you say, a little dazed. “Wow.”

The corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile. “Hi.” His voice is still as deep as it was this morning. Was it always like that? He turns his attention to the hybrid behind you and his lips part in a blindingly bright boxy grin. “Hi, hyung.”

Yoongi hums a hello and slips past you through the door. His shoulder brushes against Taehyung’s and the younger hybrid chuffs happily a little in his throat. He leans down as the older man passes and bumps their foreheads together affectionately. Their tails twine together briefly before the gray-haired hybrid is out of reach and dropping an armful of groceries off in the kitchen.

“You shifted up,” you remark “Did something happen?” There’s a tick of concern in his voice. You step to the side of the doorway so the pair can talk without you in the middle.

Taehyung shakes his head, water droplets scattering. His hyung let out a hiss that erred just on the wrong side of animalistic as some of them hit him. You freeze, but the tiger hybrid just laughs. “No, Jimin and I were just-” His smile falters. You can’t see his eyes but his ears have twitched downward and his tail is suddenly stiff, only the tip ticking back and forth. The hybrid lowers his head, and you finally catch sight of eyes, gleaming amber and full of fear. Behind him, you see Yoongi catch a whiff of his junior’s souring scent and his head whips toward the pair of you, ears straight up and his whole body on high alert.

Worry draws your brows together. “Taehyung?” you call softly. You reach out with your free hand to touch his shoulder, then think better of it. Your fingers hover uselessly and inch away from him. In this moment, that distance feels a mile wide. The line of his shoulders is rigid and he’s withdrawn into himself. “Taehyung, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you-”

“We went out.” He blurts, snapping his head up to look in your eyes. His own are wide and earnest. “You left your backpack open and I saw the list you made with all the phone numbers and passwords and the door code was on there and I really wanted to go to the park. Jimin told me to wait but I made him come with me; we were only gone for fifteen minutes, I swear. We didn’t even make it; the same police officer from earlier was still on the street.”

“Taehyung-”

“Please-” he cuts you off before you can even get a word in edgewise. “Please, just punish me; Jimin didn’t do anything. The whole time he was trying to make me go back. He only went with me so I wouldn’t be alone.”

Your heart wrenches in your chest. You do touch him, then. Your fingertips barely graze the material of his sweatshirt, but he flinches and you pull away. Your hand drops to your side, limp. “Can you and Jimin meet me in the living room?” You ask him, careful to keep your tone light and non-threatening as possible. “We need to talk.” His ears droop, but he nods and shuffles off to do as you ask. You trail behind him into the penthouse, making sure to give him enough space. The last thing you wanted to do right now was crowd him.

You drop the groceries on the counter in the kitchen and look up to find Yoongi squinting at you. He’s coiled up like a spring, ready to bolt at any moment. You try to give him a reassuring smile, but it comes out watery and wan. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “We’re just gonna talk.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you.

Still, he follows you into the living room, takes a seat on the couch while you settle cross-legged on the ottoman across from him. A few seconds later, Jimin and Taehyung slink down the stairs. The tiger hybrid is clinging to his hyung who, for once, isn't smiling. Jimin’s face is settled into a cool mask of neutrality. You almost don’t recognize him.

They sink into the couch on either side of Yoongi, their backs stiff and eyes on anything other than you. For a moment, the four of you sit there in uncomfortable silence. You speak first.

“Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi-”

“Y/N,” Jimin cuts in, “Whatever Taehyung told you-”

“-I’m sorry.” You finish. That seems to surprise them. You interlock your fingers on your lap and look at each one of them individually. “I’m sorry that I didn’t check to see if there was food in the house last night. I’m sorry that I didn’t make sure you had the things you needed to feel comfortable here. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t allowed to leave.”

Taehyung swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He’s got a death grip on Yoongi’s arm with one hand and the other fisted in the fabric of his sweatpants. “You...You’re not mad?” The tremor in his voice makes your heart ache.

“No,” you tell him with all the sincerity in the world. “I’m not mad at you. I’m sad that you were ever around someone who made you feel like you needed to apologize for wanting to see the sun and I’m angry that they made you think that was something to be punished for.” It was true. Beneath your sadness, beneath your shock at his expectation of punishment, anger was twisting in your gut. What type of person would reduce another to fear and trembling for the sake of leaving the house? “I’m not going to...to punish you, I need you to know that.” You tell him, before looking at Jimin and Yoongi. “Any of you. Ever. I’m never gonna hurt you.”

Taehyung’s jaw is clenched like he’s trying not to cry. All the wind has gone out of Jimin like a deflated sail and the leopard hybrid just looks exhausted. Yoongi’s rubbing soothing circles in both of their backs. You can’t tell from his face, but by the way his ears have relaxed, you think he was worried about your reaction, too.

You let out a little exhale and slouch. “Whatever happened to you with your previous...the people you lived with before? It wasn’t okay.” You’re as firm with it as you can be while still keeping your tone gentle. “They were supposed to take care of you and love you and help you grow, but if they starved you, if they made you feel this bad, if they treated you like property, then fuck them. I don’t want to be anything like them.” You admit. “I don’t want to be your owner and I don’t want you to be my pets.”

“What do you want us to be to you then?” Yoongi rasps. Despite the question, there’s no challenge in his voice. He’s genuinely asking.

One corner of your mouth quirks up and you give him a small shrug. “Friends, maybe? Eventually, if we can. For now let’s try…” you search for the word you want. “Roommates?” You supply. “We live together, but you guys don’t need to feel like you owe me anything. I’ll get you phones tomorrow, if you want, and copies of the credit card. We can get you clothes and furniture too. And if there’s anything you want to do or want to see, go see it. The door code is 0613.”

The tension that’d run between the three hybrids like a livewire is gone. Now they’re...if not relaxed, then at least relieved. There’s nothing else to be said. You stand and move to hurry into the kitchen so the trio of hybrids can have their space. The last thing you wanted to do after having a talk about their freedoms was crowd them. Before you can take three steps there’s a hand wrapped around your wrist, holding you in place. It's Taehyung's.

The tiger hybrid is looking up at you, his eyes beseeching and a nervous tremble in his bottom lip. “Don’t go,” he croaks, sounding like he’s still unsure just how to use his voice. He tugs once on your coat sleeve. “Please.”

Your eyes flick from him to his hyungs. Jimin’s looking at you with apprehension, perched on the edge of the couch like he’s a split second away from helping the tiger hybrid drag you down- but Yoongi’s face is turned away from you. As usual, you can’t tell what he’s feeling. “I’m just going to the kitchen,” you assure him. “I’ve gotta put the food away-” Your brain short circuits as the tiger hybrid flips your hand over and presses his face to your palm. His eyelashes brush against your lifeline; his lips trace the veins in your wrist.

You’d never say it outloud, but it was hard to deny you were touch starved. You could count on one hand the amount of times someone had touched you gently since your mother died. You didn’t show yourself kindness most days and you’d come not to expect it from others. The world was cold and cruel, and you were far too old to be seeking solace from strangers. You’d thought you were above it, but the feeling of Taehyung nipping at your radial artery is almost enough to make you go to pieces. “Just a little bit,” he huffs, his voice muffled against your skin.

“...The groceries will get warm,” you argue, finally managing to make your mouth move. “Do you wanna eat hot kimchi?”

“I’ll put them away.” Yoongi is up and vaulting over the couch before you can get a word in edgewise. With him gone the last of your excuses goes up in smoke. Taehyung smiles against your skin and you let yourself be pulled down.

No sooner have your legs touched the cushion, then Taehyung is snuggled up against your side, his arms wrapped loosely around your middle and the cool tip of his nose pressed into your neck. “Tell me again,” he murmurs softly. “Can you tell me again that you’re not mad?” He wanted reassurance. The least you could do was give it to him.

You slip a hand into his hair, scratch gently at the base of his ears. He chuffs happily, the sound vibrating in his chest as he presses closer to you. “I’m not mad at you, and you’re not in trouble, buddy.” You tell him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A warm presence on your left tells you Jimin’s settled in beside you. Sure enough, a second later a golden tail is tracing the edge of your calf. “Don’t leave me out,” he purrs, settling his chin on your shoulder.

You slide a hand into his hair too, letting the locks slip through your fingers as you pet him. “Never.”

The three of you stay like that for what feels like an hour. Even when their hyung finishes putting the groceries away and returns to sit with them -albeit at the far end of the sectional- they don’t seem like they’re in a hurry to disentangle themselves from you. You’re surprised to find you don’t mind it. The weight of two grown men against your shoulders was heavy, but not uncomfortable and they were warm and the steady hum of Jimin purring is almost enough to lull you to sleep. You cut a movie on and order samgyeopsal. You think they’re gonna kill the delivery man for making you get up, and they stay glued to your back even as you pay. It’s not until the first movie goes off and Taehyung and Jimin are playfully bickering over what to watch next that you’re able to slip away to the bathroom.

You shuffle quickly down the wide hallway, trying to remember which door the closest bathroom lay behind. You careen around a corner and run smack into someone. They let out a huff and you stumble back a few steps, an apology on your lips. You look up and find Yokngi there. Guilt bubbles up in your stomach. Between Jimin purring in your ear and Taehyung rubbing his cheek against your hand every ten seconds, you hadn’t even noticed he was gone. “Sorry,” you mumble.

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “For what?”

You’re not even sure you know.

He stares at you and you stare back, frozen. Finally, the bobcat hybrid sighs and gestures at you. “C’mere,” he mumbles.

You approach hesitantly, not trusting him to not suddenly snap at you. “Why?” You ask, apprehensive. Should you have not let Taehyung and Jimin scent you? He’d been around the entire time and hadn’t said anything, so you’d thought it was fine. Maybe you’d made a mistake. You gnaw at your bottom lip and creep slowly closer to the hybrid before you. Another miscalculation, another mess-up, another mile tacked on to that incalculable distance between you and Yoongi. Should you apologize again? Would taking a shower help wash their scents away?

Before you can volunteer to do any of that, Yoongi reaches forward, hooks one finger through your belt loop and drags you toward him. You feel a yelp crawling up your throat, but it’s stopped dead in its tracks by the feeling of Yoongi cradling your jaw and his lips pressed against the column of your throat. His spine is tense and his tail is ticking in the way it does when he’s irritated. “...What are you-?”

“They’ve both scented you.” He murmurs. “If I don’t, they’ll think I’m rejecting you. My job as their hyung is to put them at ease. If I can’t do that, I’m useless.” Despite his closeness, despite the way his fingers were slipping into the hair at the base of your skull, despite the little nips he’d started giving you, you could practically feel his reluctance.

You exhale and push against his shoulders. “Yoongi…” He doesn’t budge. “Hey-”

“There’s no good reason for me to not just mark you and get it over with.” There was that word again. You’d forgotten about it in the whirlwind that followed, but Jimin had joked about marking you earlier, hadn’t he? And Yoongi’d gotten upset with him. From what you were gathering, it was a lot more serious than scenting.

“I don’t want you to.” That gets his attention. The hybrid pulls away and fixes you with an odd look, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you talking about? Owners always want us to mark them.” You feel that same twinge of anger again. The articles had said scenting was a sign of trust and security. It was used to mark family members. Had the people they’d been with before forced their way into their family without the hybrids consent? Without Yoongi’s? No wonder he’d been touchy about his juniors scenting you right away.

“Well, I don’t.” You give him a gentle nudge and put a few inches between the two of you. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with or not ready for.” You offer him a smile you hope comes across as reassuring. “You not wanting to is a good enough reason for me. Besides,” you say, turning to head back to the living room, the original reason for your trip forgotten. “I’ve never been marked before, so it’s not like i’m missing out on anything.”

At that, something flashes in Yoongi’s eyes that you have no name for. It passes as soon as it’d come. “Come back when you’re ready!” You call over your shoulder, retreating back down the corridor before he can say something one way or another.

When you settle back on to the couch two minutes later, There’s a movie queued up and ready to be played. It’s an action movie, one you haven’t seen before. “Yoongi’ll be back in a second,” you tell the boys. “Let’s wait for him.”

Taehyung hums his ascent, leaning in to settle back in the crook of your neck- but something stops him. He hovers near your neck, takes a few short inhales and tosses a look at Jimin behind your back. You frown. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah!” Taehyung responds a bit too quickly, lacing your fingers together to distract you as Jimin gives the other side of your neck the same treatment. The leopard hybrid purrs, seemingly happy at what he’s found. His ears swivel up and a second later, Yoongi slinks back into the living room.

“Hyung…” Jimin starts, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

“Play the movie.” His hyung orders. He does, but there’s still a little smirk on his lips.

The screen darkens and the opening credits roll as Taehyung and Jimin settle back against your side, careful to avoid your neck. Yoongi drops onto the couch, this time only a foot away from the three of you. You allow yourself a little spark of relief. The distance was starting to close.

#bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #hybrid!bts #ot7 x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #jhope x reader #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Little Bones 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); harassment, general creepiness.

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: Another random update of a series for y’all as I toil away at drabbles in between!

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Masterlist

Your skin crawled as you walked to work the next morning. The memories of the night before made you cringe and tuck your chin down as you kept your eyes ahead of you. You feared if you looked around, you might summon the incessant biker from his hole.

The library was as empty as any other day and you claimed your seat at the curved desk. You booted up and sipped from your thermos, the coffee bitter on your tongue as you watched Melissa appear from the non-fiction section. She sat in her own chair and yawned as she signed on.

The monotony of Birch was sobering after the night in the dank bar. The bikers and their own little world, a microcosm of the worst types all in one place. You went about your usual tasks, there were a few returns on the cart to put back on the shelves and you walked the shelves and checked for out of order codes.

The hours slaked by like the peaks of a mountain against ancient gales. The stale lights made the days stretch to tedium and the grey without added to the sense of listlessness. Colin’s low snores escaped the back room and Melissa sorted through bent paperbacks in a far aisle to put out for the Sunday penny sale.

As the windows darkened, Colin gave his usual grumbled farewell and further mussed his wavy hair as he tried to smooth it out. It didn’t matter much as he covered it with the old faded Leafs toque and left through the automatic doors. His shadow was soon followed by Melissa as she looked forward to seeing her daughter and watching some new program on the local channel.

You were the last as you walked the aisles before final lock-up. The automatic doors were off as you checked for unlikely stragglers. You came back to the round desk and flipped off the lights for all but the entry way and the back office. You pushed open the door and locked the outside ones with a jangle of keys. As you turned back, you gripped the big key to the back door and shook your head.

You stepped through the space between the inner doors and stared at the man behind your desk. He sat in your chair, your purse sat before him on the counter as he shoved a large hand inside. You crossed your arms and watched Thor as he pulled out your coral coloured wallet and unsnapped it.

“What are you doing?” You asked harshly. “How did you get in here?”

He snickered and pulled out a card and lifted it up to look at it closely. He leaned back and flicked it with his thumb. “I knew you were a city girl.” He said.

“Get out. We’re closed.”

“Sorry, I’m late. I’m a busy man.” He slid the card back in place and searched the rest, uninterested by the few bills inside the fold and your various reward cards and outdated alumni ID.

“Late? You don’t seem the reading type. We don’t have that many audiobooks.” You neared and grabbed the other handle of your purse. “There’s an app for that now.”

Again, he laughed and dropped your wallet into the depths of your purse. He released it and pushed his shoulders back as you dragged the bag off the desk. He tilted his head and held up your phone in its shiny lavender case. He smirked as the screen lit up and he swiped it open. You never should have added the library as a trusted location.

“Hmm,” he turned it to face him and scrolled with his thumb, “I think you’re missing a number in here.”

“Give it.” You reached for the phone and he held it away from you like some annoying teenager. “Hey… Thor! Give me it. It’s mine!”

His blonde lashes flashed and he looked at you with delight. “Oooh, I love it when you say my name.”

“Stop. You can’t be in here and you certainly can’t--”

You swiped for the phone again and he caught your arm. He yanked you so hard you almost left the floor and you dropped your purse and keys. He held you over the counter as he twisted your wrist just a little.

“And who exactly is going to make me leave?”

He kept his thick fingers locked around your wrist as he searched your phone. You struggled with him but it only sent a violent jolt up to your elbow.

“I can do whatever I want and you can’t do anything to stop me. In fact, there’s no one in this town who can.” His jaw clenched and he locked your phone. “Well, kitten, I’m going to hold onto this.” He let go of you and stood as you retracted your arm and rubbed your sore wrist. “And when you want to be a good girl for me, you can come find me and ask for it nicely.”

“Ask? You’re crazy. It’s mine. You’re--” you sputtered.

You swallowed as his hand balled to a fist and his brow twitched. It was the first hint of anything but amusement. It was much more troubling, a slight tell. He was angry.

“I’ve been nice, kitten. I like you and your claws but don’t scratch too deep.” He warned as he backed away. “I’ll see my way out unless of course… you would take me up on my offer from last night.”

“Go. Keep the fucking phone.” You snarled and reached for your purse and the keys.

You stood and watched as he ran his tongue just below his teeth and turned away. He snaked his way through the back office and you heard the heavy metal door whine in his stead. You locked the inner doors and grabbed your jacket from the rack.

You went to the same door and hit the lights. You activated the security system and stepped out with a cautious look around the vacant parking lot. You locked the door and headed around the side of the brick building and out into the glow of the streetlights.

You could get a new phone, that was nothing, just a chunk out of your check. He could search your contacts, your apps, your phones, he’d find nothing but the pathetic life of a thirtysomething wash out. That wasn’t what worried you.

He was watching you. He had to be. He knew when you were alone and he knew how to get in. You might not see him but you were certain he could see you. You shivered and pulled your hate over your head and puffed out a cloud.

💀

You went home angry but slightly addled from the encounter. You watched over your shoulder the entire way home and locked your door with the tarnished chain. You found it hard to settle as you debated marching over to the bar and demanding your phone back and opening the wine you hadn’t touched since your impulsive purchase. You really hated Thor but you knew you could push him much further before he did something much worse.

You ignored your wrath and ate your dinner in front of the television before hiding under your covers and watching the snowfall until you fell asleep. Every night was as dull as the one before and the morning always came too quickly.

You woke and readied for your day with a cup of home-brewed Colombian roast and packed your lunch. You searched for your phone for two seconds before you remembered where it was. Your neck prickled as you thought of Thor with access to all your information and the barren social media accounts.

The snow was even deeper that day and you fought through the thick carpet. The library felt twice as far by the time you reached it and you were panting as you entered and shook off the powder. You took your usual spot at the usual time with your usual thermos and usual disillusion.

You whiled away the hours without the distraction of your phone. You realised how easily this man could torture you and not even be in the same place as you. You went searching in the aisles for something to do and scraped the gum off the bottom of the tables. A disgusting task but work nonetheless.

When the end of the day came, you were all too happy to go home and hide under your duvet with a tea and a sitcom. You hated this. You would go to the city and get a new phone if you had too. God, how much would that cost?

💀

The days slogged by and on your first free day, you were too tired to make the drive out of town. You resigned to your procrastination, instead taking a short walk down the main street to Babs’. Your usual order, but cinnamon instead of caramel in your latte, and a scone to enjoy at home.

The snow remained as thick as days before. You looked out the bakery window in dread as you awaited your order at the end of the counter. You still caught yourself reaching for your phone. If you waited too long, you might not even be able to make it into the city. Well, you could always order something online.

The door chimed as Steve’s girl came to the other side of the counter and placed your latte out for you. She smiled and you thanked her but her eyes rounded as you heard boots come close. You turned, barely surprised by the man who was better described as your shadow those days.

Since his visit to the library, Thor had made himself known in several instances, every day as you walked home he was outside the asp, watching. Other times, he’d be waiting by the steps of the library, mocking you silent as he pulled out your phone. You had too much pride to ask for it back and you knew that it would take more than asking.

You tried to sidestep him and he blocked your path. The foam pushed out through the hole in the plastic lid and you sighed.

“What do you want?” you hissed.

“I should ask you. I don’t know many girls these days can go days without their lifeline,” he taunted, “You know, it’s dangerous how much of ourselves we keep on these little things.”

He patted his jacket where he no doubt had your phone hidden. You looked down at your latte and thought of popping the lid off and tossing it at him. That wouldn’t be any good. You shrugged and looked past him.

“I gotta go--”

“Is there anything I can get you, Thor?” Steve’s girl eked out as if her voice could barely fit through her windpipe.

“I’ve come for something sweet but I think I found it,” he smirked, his eyes stuck to you.

“Give it up,” you scoffed and elbowed past him. He chuckled and followed you to the door as you sped up, your treads squeaking on the salt-stained floor.

“On you? Never,” he purred as you pulled the door open and he caught it behind you.

“You can break the phone for all I care,” you snarled, “just leave me alone.”

He kept up with you as flakes gathered on your scarf and you peered down the street and ran across. His boots crunched in time with yours as he lingered in your peripheral. You spun as you came to a stop on the other side and scowled.

“Jesus, I thought dogs were supposed to be obedient,” you snapped.

“I can be,” he winked and reached to brush the snow from the hair poking out from under your cap, “I’ll gladly get to my knees for you, kitten.”

You snapped at his hand and he pulled away with a surprised laugh. You gritted your teeth and took a step back.

“I won’t tell you again and I’m getting real tired of this.”

“You keep forgetting who you’re meowing at, kitten,” he stepped closer and you backed away again.

You turned and flitted away from him. You had not planned for him in your day off and you weren’t going to let him ruin it. You wanted to go home and enjoy your coffee, alone. However, that meant leading him to your front door. You stopped again.

“Go,” you pointed across the street at the Asp, the town’s marquee.

“Oh, kitten, you’re so cute,” he tugged on your scarf and you swatted him away.

“Alright, that’s it!” you smashed your cup against his chest and the hot liquid steamed as it splashed across his front and dripped down his leather jacket.

He held out his arms as he looked down at himself and slowly back to you. His blue eyes dilated as the ends of his golden hair sopped with caffeine. It was too late to apologize, too futile. You sputtered and quickly turned away.

You were thankful when you didn’t hear him behind you. You stopped and peaked back at the corner of the next side street. He watched you still and even at a distance you could see his rage.

If you hoped he’d lose interest, that optimism was dead.

💀

A snow storm stagnated the already stale town and you could guess that the highway was even worse. You could replace your sim online but that would take at least a week to arrive and with the weather, likely longer. It might be quicker to wait out the blizzard. You stayed in limbo, reluctant to pull the trigger.

You kept to your apartment for the rest of the weekend, with no reason or want to leave. On your way, you didn’t see him. You sighted a few figures through the falling powder but they were faces familiar to the streets. You kept an eye over your shoulder, glancing around every few steps.

You avoided the cafe. He might look for you there, he might even be waiting for you. You sat down at your desk but felt out of place. He could walk through those doors like he had only days before. He could taunt you and tease you. What made you so antsy was that he could do worse than that. You knew it but you’d let your temper get the best of you. A wasted latte might have cost you everything.

By the end of your shift, it was decided. You were leaving Birch. No one could know until you were gone. Not Melissa, not Colin, no one. You old all-weathers would have to get you down the highway, just to the city so you could lose yourself there until you had a real plan. Even as the snow piled higher and higher, there could be no delay. You’d waited long enough.

Paranoid, you were certain you’d be met again on your path home. The town was dead as the soft blanket covered the ground. The flakes turned to mounds and the tops of your boots let in errant clumps of snow. The store may as well been closed for the day, the library had been little different but its lethargy was expected. Even The Asp seemed to have dulled with the pale gusts.

You packed a bag. One. The apartment came furnished and you never cared much for miscellany. Anything you left behind was replaceable. You went down the back stairs and cleaned off your small Focus. Used but reliable. You were out of breath as you climbed into the driver’s seat and threw the brush in the back.

You drove carefully down the side streets, snaking around as you knew the main fair would give away your escape. You stopped at the sign that pointed to the highway ramp and wondered.

What if he had got the clue? What if you were running from nothing?

You remember the look in his eye and shivered. No, that glimmer assured you that return to your mother’s was as wise as it would be torturous. You followed the arrow and took the curve steadily with your foot planted on the gas. The traffic was slow and cautious as headlights were barely visible through the snowfall.

You gripped the wheel tightly and let out a breath. You would be gone before he knew. You’d get a new phone, a new job, a new life. Even if it was just pay-as-go, a McDonald’s visor, and your mother’s couch for a while. What good was a job in a place like Birch anyway? Just as good as your irrelevant degree.

You were startled and nearly lost control as a set of lights appeared behind you in the next lane. They were dangerously close to dinging your rear bumper as the reckless driver took a u-turn right before the upcoming barriers. You wrinkled your brow as you glared at them through the white haze. What kind of maniac was pulling shit like that in this weather?

And then, they did hit you. A nudge but enough to send you veering in the thick lines of snow. You clutched the wheel and tried to steer into it, tried to right yourself as you were knocked again. Your heart was in your throat as the engine revved and you hit your brakes, not knowing what else to do as a third collision came.

You spun out and hit the cement wall along the far lane, narrowly missing another car as it pulled ahead. You stilled, your seatbelt saving your face from a smack against the wheel, and stared down the highway as you stared at oncoming traffic. You were completely turned around on the arm.

You caught your breath and reached for your purse. Fuck, you had no phone. What was that asshole thinking? It didn’t seem like an accident.

The car that had bullied you into a crash pulled up along the barrier. You watched in the rear view as the barely visible tail lights glowed and a dark figure appeared between the car and the concrete. You squinted as the man neared, a long coat flapped around his tall figure as he held his hand to his face.

He came up beside your car as you heard his voice muffled through the glass and tapped on your window. He bent and knocked again as you shot him the finger. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind. You rolled down the window with the manual crank and growled, “what the fuck!?”

“Can I have your name, darling?” he asked in a sinisterly familiar accent.

“Screw you! You almost killed me!”

He turned his phone out as you screeched at him and quickly put it back to his ear, “that sound like her?”

A deep voice rumbled in the speaker and the dark-hair man nodded as he shielded his face from the blowing snow, “you owe me, brother.”

“Who the fuck are you?” you spat and reached to your glovebox. You grabbed the heavy flashlight and swung it at him, “get away--”

He caught with a leather-gloved hand and glared back at you. He tucked away the phone in his jacket. His nostrils flared and his green irises caught fire.

“Let’s not do this, darling,” he warned, “my brother has given me clearance to use whatever force necessary…” he pushed the button and pulled open your door as he wrenched away the metal flashlight, “and while he seems the bigger brute, I assure you his cruelty cannot match mine.”

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kiwixlime · 2 years

Text

Finders Keepers - Chapter Twelve

Warnings: None, I don’t think?! Unless you want to count teasing…which I’m sorry about. Only not really. It’ll happen and it’ll be great. Patience!

A/N: Reunited and it feels so good.

One Month Later - Late Autumn 2034

“Bay’s back, open the gates!”

“Is she bit?”

“No, she ain’t fuckin’ bit. Open the damn gate!”

Home. There’s no place like it. It’s been a long, grueling month, but Bay is finally back in Jackson and so happy to not be on the road. Even hearing the banter between the guards on watch makes her feel right at home. She’s where she’s supposed to be. And everything looks the same, yet different.

Once she’s inside the walls, she’s greeted by Eric and a few others who immediately help her with Maple and her bags. As much as she wants to head home, have a shower, and crawl into bed, she can’t. She still has some things to do before she can take the night off. At least Maple’s back in the stables, eating fresh fruits and relaxing.

“Welcome home, Bay,” Ronnie says as he walks up behind her. He's bundled up in layers, barely showing his face. He bends down to pick up the travel bag that had fallen from her aching shoulders and hands it to her with gloved fingers.

“Thank you,” she says with a grin as she hoists it back up with a wince. She glances Ronnie over and chuckles. “It’s not winter yet,” she comments with a teasing tone.

“Whatever,” he grumbles and shoves his hands into his pockets. He sends her a nod to say goodbye and stalks off, back to wherever he came from.

It’s not winter yet, but it’s fast approaching. The winds are icy and the clouds are gray, just preparing to blast a chill over their town. Bay’s lucky she got back when she did. Something tells her this is going to be an especially cruel winter.

“Bay!” Ellie shrieks with excitement as her feet pound down the pavement to the gate. Bay turns her head to see the teenager running at her with a big smile on her face. It’s only been a month, but she looks so different. She looks grown.

“Ellie!” Bay yells back just as the girl jumps into her arms. She feels Ellie’s tight grip and holds her back with the same amount of force. “Damn, you got heavy,” she jokes, but Ellie doesn’t even care. She just lets out a chuckle and hugs Bay close.

She never said anything out loud during the time Bay had been gone, but she felt nervous everyday. Each passing moment that went by without Bay’s return made her sick to her stomach. She thought the worst.

But she’s back. She’s here. And Ellie is thrilled.

“I have a present for you,” Bay says and that revelation makes Ellie step back, smile widening. “I have to deliver a few things first, so how about I stop by your place after? I have stuff for Joel, too,” she says, her heart racing just saying the man’s name. She wonders if Ellie can pick up on her feelings…

“Sounds awesome,” Ellie replies in a cheerful tone. “Joel and Tommy are actually out on patrol right now…a new group came in this month so they’re out showing them the process. They should be back before dark, though.”

New people. The thought makes Bay’s heart sink, fears she didn’t even know she had present themselves. She wonders who these new people are and just how close they’ve gotten to…other people in Jackson.

Is she being ridiculous? Maybe. But she can’t help it. Being away for so long can allow for time to create some pretty unpleasant scenarios. And as much as it sucks, this feeling of worry, or jealousy, kind of excites her. It’s a different feeling. It’s not fear, or sadness, or anger. It’s some other totally normal emotion. It’s an emotion she feels for another person.

“Okay, kiddo,” Bay says lazily. “I, uhm, I gotta go find Eugene. So we’ll meet up later, yeah?”

Ellie nods. “Totally,” she answers. “I’m so glad you’re back.” Ellie’s eyes are a little misty, but she’s just really, really happy right now. Finally, she feels like things are falling back into place. Bay’s back, Joel’s been really helpful around town, making him and Ellie right at home. Jackson is truly a different place. Though she can’t help but wonder what all went down in Salt Lake, right now, she thinks maybe she can be happy after all.

Once Ellie leaves, Bay makes her way to the bar where she knows she’ll find Eugene. As she walks, she passes a few people who seem genuinely happy to have her back in town and a pleasant feeling erupts from within her. She may consider herself a lone ranger, but these are her people; this is her life.

Entering the bar, she spots Eugene’s figure quickly, mostly because as soon as he sees her, he stands up from his stool, arms waving frantically in the air. She can’t help but laugh at the man. He’s really such a dork, but Bay loves that. She’s a bit of a dork herself. And Eugene is a great person, which is why she doesn’t mind when he asks her for things that seem impossible to find.

“‘Bout damn time,” he shouts, clapping his hands. “You have been gone too long, girly.”

“I know,” she sighs as she moves over to hug him. He squeezes almost as tightly as Ellie had. “But I come bearing gifts!” She sings out and Eugene smiles wide like a kid in a candy store. He reaches his hands out in a “gimmie” motion and Bay laughs.

She sits down next to the man, bringing her very heavy bag up onto the bar. She opens the zipper as Eugene keeps talking.

“You’ve been missin’ out,” he says with certainty, taking a sip from his beer. “Lots been happening. New people coming in and the strangest thing…Joel? You know, Miller? He’s been acting real sad lately,” Eugene tsks, a sly smile slipping onto his lips. “Almost like he misses someone.”

Bay’s fingers falter with the zipper as a heat blooms to her cheeks. “Wow, that’s--” she stutters, but can’t find the words. “Wait, missing out? Who are these new people anyway?” She changes the subject.

“They’re a group from the south, old people, young people, kids. They’re harmless, but it sure has been interesting watching them try to find their way around Jackson.” Eugene finishes his statement by polishing off his beer. He looks over to Bay and points to her bag. “Come on, honey, whatcha got for me?”

“Oh,” Bay snaps out of her trance and reaches into her bag. “Pretty easy finds, but I hope you like them.” She slips the puzzles out of her bag and pushes them towards Eugene, his eyes glowing with excitement.

“Baby, you shouldn’t have!” He cheers, slinging an arm over her shoulder and pulling her close. “You know you are the coolest girl alive, right? Thank you so much. These are gonna be so much fun if we get snowed in on patrol this year.”

“You’re welcome, old man,” Bay snorts and closes her bag. “Now, do you know where I can find Johnny?”

“Mr. Melancholy?” Eugene asks. He shakes his head and peeks through the stack of puzzles in front of him. He’s giddy at the selection. “Johnny’s been in a bad mood since you left. He missed you.”

Rolling her eyes, Bay hesitates before standing up. She gives Eugene a pleading look, pouting her lips.

“No way, pumpkin,” the man scoffs. “That’s your boy, you make the delivery.”

“I don’t want to now,” Bay insists. “It’s gonna be awkward.”

Recent events have made Bay steer clear of Johnny. Ever since that night at the dance she’s been uncomfortable around him. And once Eugene pointed out Johnny’s not-so-subtle crush, she thought it was best if she distanced herself.

But Johnny always asks for license plates. He’s got a strong collection going on and Bay doesn’t mind searching for them. She just wishes she didn’t have to face him now.

“Ugh, fine,” Bay huffs. She grabs her bag and heads for the exit. “I’ll see ya later!” She calls back to the man at the bar.

“Thanks honey!” He yells back before the door falls closed behind her.

--*--

Luckily, Johnny wasn’t feeling chatty. He was elated to see Bay had returned, but aside from that, he didn’t have a lot to say. Bay wonders if it’s about what Eugene said...about Joel being sad…but how could that be? It didn’t make any sense. So she didn’t dwell on it.

Johnny was thankful for the license plate and told Bay he was thrilled to finally have a new state, but it didn’t go further than that. They shared their goodbyes and Bay felt relief. Now, all she had to do was go see Ellie before heading home for a shower and a nap.

Knowing Joel wasn’t home made Bay a little sad, but she knew she’d probably see him tonight with Tommy, so she doesn’t let it get her down as she heads over to Rancher. She byspasses Joel’s house and heads out back to where Ellie lives.

“El,” Bay knocks on the door. “Open up!”

In seconds, Ellie has the door open and is ushering Bay inside. She’s already laid out some snacks and drinks and has made her living area up for some chit chat. Bay smiles at the scene and throws her bag, now much lighter, down onto the couch.

“You have more stuff since the last time I’ve been in here,” Bay comments as she walks over and sits down next to Ellie. She glances over to a lava lamp. “Nice,” she chuckles.

“Well, I liked yours,” she giggles. “Cat and I actually found that,” she says.

Bay hums, sending a knowing smirk Ellie’s way. “So, what’s up with that? How is Cat? Are you guys…?”

“Dating?” Ellie finishes for her.

“Yes?” Bay practically squeals. “Well?” A blush dusts across Ellie’s pale face and she bites her lip. Bay coos and claps her hands. “You are!”

“Yeah,” Ellie whispers shyly. “It’s been going really well. She’s planned out a tattoo for me and she’s just…she’s so fun, Bay.”

“I’m so fucking happy for you kid,” Bay beams. The persistent smile on Ellie’s face is a beautiful sight. And a thought enters her head. “Does Joel know?” She asks and notices the way Ellie’s face twitches.

“No,” she admits. “I haven’t said anything. I don’t want to. Not yet,” she says.

Bay nods in understanding. She honestly doesn’t know Joel that well, so she doesn’t know how exactly he’ll react when, if, he finds out that Ellie has a girlfriend. She likes to think he’ll be accepting. After all, it’s obvious to anyone that he’d do absolutely anything for Ellie.

“Well, while we catch up, I thought maybe you could look at these things I brought you.” Once again, she opens her bag, now empty and ready to be cleaned, sans coffee beans, and pulls out three comics. She hides them behind her back, watching as Ellie’s eyebrows raise in curiosity.

“I can’t believe I found these,” Bay starts.

“You didn’t,” Ellie interrupts like she already knows what Bay is going to say. Her face lights up as the other girl slowly removes her hands from behind her back.

A squeal exits her lips in an embarrassing way as Bay holds up three plastic covered comics -- the three comics she’s been missing from her collection. With shaky hands, and her jaw dropped, she reaches for the comics, glancing from them to Bay with shock, excitement, disbelief.

“Bay, you are a fucking rockstar!” She insists, looking at the beautiful gifts displayed in front of her. “I can’t even begin to thank you.”

“I’m happy I found them, and oh man, Ellie,” Bay breathes, thinking back to her brief time in that small little Nevada town. “That place was so cool. I’m hoping that maybe one day you and I can head back. Joel can come, too, so he doesn’t think I’m kidnapping you.” She says and Ellie chuckles. Thinking about it, that would be a fun trip. Her little family…

“They had everything. They had comics, special editions, limited editions, and a whole bin full of new shipments. They had records and CDs, they even had cassettes! There were trading cards, figurines, and other collectibles. It was like, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” She finishes her little rant with stars in her eyes.

Ellie continues to listen as Bay tells stories from her trip. She mentions the California crew, but leaves out some personal details. She talks about the inspection they went on and how it was a lot more than they were expecting. She describes the ferocity of the stalkers and how they had transformed into a state where they just hid in the walls.

And she tells the story of the man named Roland. The one who gave Bay his shotgun and later didn’t have a weapon to defend himself. When she thinks about it, her heart breaks a little. She hopes that they’ll be able to take care of themselves out there.

Ellie just listens, invested in every tale Bay has to tell. And it’s then she decides that Bay is the one she looks up to. Of course, she loves Joel, and she looks up to the man who’s been looking after her all this time, but Bay is the one she aspires to be like. Bay is her role model. Kind of the way Joel is Jesse’s role model.

--*--

It’s dark by the time the patrols come back and Bay is at the Tipsy Bison with Maria, exchanging stories about life the past month. She tells Bay that these newcomers aren’t that skilled and that’s why Tommy and Joel have taken over. She also asks Bay if she’ll consider teaching some of them, adding the younger ones to her archery lessons and maybe showing the older ones the ropes of duties around Jackson.

After much pleading on Maria’s end, Bay agrees. She doesn’t love being a teacher, but she knows she’s good at it and she has a lot of skills to show off. It can’t hurt to have their people well-trained. Lord knows it’s what the California crew needed.

The two girls are in the middle of a discussion about coffee -- Bay mentioning just how much she managed to collect for Joel -- when the door to the place opens, the cold air from outside replacing the warmth from inside.

Tommy enters first, behind him a group of young adults, probably in their early twenties, ranging in gender, follow. She doesn’t miss the way a few of them whisper to each other while looking at Tommy. Bay has to stop herself from giggling as Maria rolls her eyes.

The woman calls out her husband’s name and he looks over, a big smile stretching on his lips when he sees his friend. “Holy shit,” he says and moves quickly to where Maria and Bay stand against the wall. “Shit,” he says once more, wrapping his arms around Bay. “It’s so fucking good to see you, kid,” he breathes in relief. “You can never go for that long again, ya hear? At least not alone.”

“Did you think I was dead?” She jokes. “Tommy, come on,” she rolls her eyes at his ridiculous theory. He just shakes his head and hugs her once more before pulling away and pecking his wife on the lips. Bay goes to speak again, but her eyes flicker up just in time to meet a pair of brilliantly bright hazel ones.

Her breath catches in her throat and she feels that familiar euphoric feeling that wraps itself around her brain every time she’s around Joel. It’s silly, the hold Joel has over her simply by existing. He’s there. After a whole month of not seeing him…he’s right there.

And he doesn’t hesitate. He eagerly brushes past the group of newbies, knocking into the small gathering of girls that had been whispering about Tommy earlier, and runs up to the girl. His girl.

She’s standing with a smile, almost frozen as Joel reaches her, embracing her in the tightest, warmest hug she’s ever received. His breath fans over her neck, sending a delightful chill down her spine. Grunting as Joel holds her closer, she giggles and wraps her arms around him, letting him lift her off the ground, ever so slightly.

“You’re back,” he gasps. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

Bay nods against him, lifting her head up from his shoulder. Behind Joel, she notices that the girls from before are making sour faces, one on the end particularly upset. But Bay doesn’t care. She expects this. Joel is attractive and single and a lot of girls here want him. And she’s the one he’s hugging like his life depends on it.

Eventually, he lets her go. He has to so that she can breathe. His tight, muscled body had been crushing her, he knows, but Bay wasn’t going to complain. So he had to be the first to break away. He missed her body heat the moment they separated, though.

“When did you get back?” He asks her. She looks around before answering, sensing all eyes on them. And she’s not wrong. Tommy is watching in curiosity and the girls from the new group are whispering again.

Joel notices and he’s quick to pick up on Bay’s discomfort. So he takes her by the hands and pulls her along until they’re outside, into the cold. It’s chilly, but he wants quiet, he wants a moment alone with her without prying eyes.

It’s hushed, the muffled sounds of the stereo carry outside, but as far as people go, no one’s bothering them. He lifts a hand, cupping her face, eyes dropping to her lips, her perfectly plush lips. He notices a cut on the skin there and brushes it over with the pad of his thumb.

“What happened out there?” He asks with a voice full of concern. He watches her face for any signs of pain and continues his pattern from before, gingerly caressing her lips, her face. He wants to kiss her, but he doesn’t want to scare her away.

“It was just a fight,” Bay exhales, shaking. “The crew out there…they needed some help. We cleared out a town. Got ambushed by some stalkers. We lost somebody, but we were lucky.”

Worry crosses Joel’s face. He hates to think of Bay getting into trouble, even though he knows she can take care of herself. Still, if something would have happened…he’d be devastated.

“I missed you so fuckin’ much,” Joel admits, bringing up his other hand, now holding Bay’s face in his hands. He brings his lips to her forehead, pressing a warm kiss down, then to her nose, and then, his lips gingerly brush against hers. “Thank you for comin’ home,” he says against her lips.

She nods, tilting her head up, feeling his warmth breath crash into hers, his beard tickles her sensitive skin. “Joel…” she whispers.

And…before anything can happen…out comes Eugene.

In a shock, they pull away from each other, but not too far. Joel’s hands drop from Bay’s face and he steps behind her, putting an arm around her waist as she backs into him. He doesn’t care at this point, he just wants to hold her close, just touch her.

“Oh, and what do we have here?” Eugene smirks. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” A hearty laugh erupts from his chest and he stumbles backwards. “Take your time, come inside when you’re done. We’re celebrating!”

“Celebrating what?” Bay asks with a giggle.

“Your return, m’lady!” He cheers and then turns around, going back into the warm building.

Joel lets out a sigh as Bay steps out in front of him.

“We should probably go in,” she says, nibbling at her lip. Joel nods, but doesn’t take his eyes off her mouth, hypnotized by her. Bay groans and throws her head back. She pulls herself together and steps to Joel. “I have coffee for you,” she says with a smirk.

And Joel groans. He lets out an actual groan that’s so deep and profound and Bay wants to hear it again, preferably while he’s inside her. She has to get inside now before she loses all control, but Joel’s not making it easy.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, pulling her close by the hips. Their foreheads touch and Bay is so ready to lose herself in him, but she can’t. Not while people are inside waiting for her.

“I’ll drop it off at your place tomorrow,” she hums in his ear, brushing her lips over his beard, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

She closes her eyes and turns around, heading back into the diner. Joel stands outside and waits for a few minutes to calm himself down. He can still feel her lips on his cheek and his body throbs. He knows that he’s about to get into the best possible kind of trouble.

Masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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muertawrites · 4 years

Text

The Dark of the Moon (Zuko x Reader)

Summary: Late night insomnia turns into a conversation about love, and Zuko makes an interesting discovery about his feelings for you.

Word Count: 2,100

Author’s Note: You can thank Avatar being on Netflix and rekindling my childhood obsession for this one. I wrote this mostly as a dialogue / pacing exercise, but it’s also a bit therapeutic since I can actually relate to Zuko more than I realized or could have ever foreseen watching this show as a ten year old. Enjoy a little emotional romantic fantasy on behalf of a preteen crush and all the toxic friends I’ve ever had. ✌

~ Muerta

Zuko usually slept with you. It started one late night during a mutual bout of insomnia, in which you ran into him as you both wandered the halls of the Western Air Temple. You hardly knew him, but he sat with you and talked about everything that night - anything that wasn’t related to the war or either of your pasts that had been torn apart by it. He surprised you with his dry, even-toned sense of humor, as well as with his intelligence in not only combat but literature and philosophy as well; being a healer and a fortune teller by trade, you found a lot to talk about with him.

As the nights awake became more common, you and Zuko spent more of them together; sometimes you’d wait until you happened upon him in the halls, others one of you would designate a place to meet. Eventually, one of you would go directly to the other’s room and you’d sit, sharing whatever light or heavy thoughts happened to plague your minds. You learned a lot about him in those nights, and grew to feel proud of how far he’d come in such a short time - you often helped others, those much older than yourselves, over months to scale the internal struggles he had, and he’d managed to do so on his own. The more you gave to him, the more he gave back, and it soon became commonplace to fall asleep to the sound of his breathing as he lay in his sleeping bag on the other end of your room.

And that’s exactly what woke you up - the strange, still energy of your bedroom that indicated his resting place was empty. You rolled over, unable to spy his silhouette under the moonlit windowsill, and you rose, your feet carrying you to where you were certain he would be.

It was a gorgeous night, with a gentle breeze ruffling the crisp air. You found Zuko in the courtyard, gazing out over the fog veiled landscape under the swell of the full moon. Without a word, you sat beside him, watching the clouds roll by like ships on a silent ocean. His chest churned in turmoil, so intensely you could feel it in your own.

“Apparently, I can’t sleep without you anymore,” you said. “How selfish of you to have problems that keep you up at night.”

Zuko huffed out a soft chuckle, though the weight in his chest didn’t lift. He leaned back onto his palms, craning his neck backward and allowing the wind to tousle his ash-black hair.

“You didn’t need to come out here,” he told you gently. “It’s not your job to help me fix myself.”

“It never has been,” you replied. “I’ve never fixed anyone. All I ever do is listen and recite a few proverbs; everyone comes to their own conclusions in the end.”

“That’s not true,” Zuko retorted. “I’ve seen you heal. You can do things not even Katara can do, just with whatever happens to be growing nearby. It’s incredible.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering in your chest.

“Physical healing and emotional healing are two super different things,” you told him. “Emotional wounds can only really be healed by the people who have them. I mean, unless you want me to crack open your chest and poke around at your heart for a little while.”

Zuko chuckled again, the tenseness of his muscles easing up just slightly. He opened his palm and spawned a softly glowing flame, both of you watching it flicker in the cool night air.

“I wish I’d been born a water bender,” he mused. “Something that would do good for others. All fire does is destroy.”

You were silent for a moment, watching the thoughts swirl, tormented, behind his eyes. You thought of all the times you’d seen him smile, how his happiness made his handsome features all the more radiant and caused your stomach to bubble with joy. The memory shot a spike through your chest.

“... You know, we only ever see one part of the moon,” you commented, breaking the quiet. “Everything behind that - the dark side - we don’t really consider, even though it’s always there and is as much a part of the moon as the side that’s in front of us.”

Zuko smirked at you, distinguishing the flame in his hand.

“Reciting a proverb at me?” he teased.

You grinned.

“This one’s more like a metaphor,” you admitted cheekily. “That tea I make, the one that tastes awful but makes pain completely disappear?”

Zuko nodded.

“I need fire to make it,” you continued. “I have to roast the ingredients over an open flame before boiling them. Without fire, I couldn’t do most of my healing; it would be too painful without the tea to help.”

Zuko said nothing, but you could sense your words sinking into the cracks in his troubled thinking.

“Fire is heat and light,” you added. “It’s just as important to life as water or earth or air. Every element is capable of destruction or creation - there isn’t a single one that’s inherently good or bad. The person that controls them is the only one who determines that.”

There was another long pause, in which you busied yourself noting the different wild plants growing between the stones that paved the courtyard. You listed the different medicines you could make with each, the process calming you.

“I’ve done some pretty shitty things to people I care about in order to embrace my goodness,” Zuko finally spat. The bitterness in his tone stung you. You turned to him, and for a split second you caught a familiar, rageful glimmer in his eye; the sight made your own temper flare.

“Zuko, don’t do that to yourself,” you said. “It wasn’t just your father who hurt you and you know that.”

“I know,” he snapped, cutting off the end of your words. “I still care about her, though. I don’t even know if she really ever cared about me, but I still… I still miss her.”

Your ribs seemed to cave in, crushing your heart and lungs. He’d told you about Mai many times, and all you ever saw was that the darkness in her drew out the darkness in him; it even hung over you, clouding out the comfort you felt with Zuko and replacing it with unease and doubt. You feared there was no place in his heart for you - not while Mai still remained in it, no matter how badly her memory made him bleed.

“It’s hard,” you choked out. “I still miss some of the people who hurt me, too.”

That was all you could manage to say. You pulled your knees to your chest, half-burying your face in the fabric of your night dress as you forced the tears welling in the corners of your eyes not to flow.

This is what you get, you scolded yourself. This is what you get for feeling things for people you know could never feel the same about you.

A sensation of warmth curling around your shoulders made you jolt. Instinctively, you inched away, glancing in Zuko’s direction as he retracted the arm that had draped around you. You expected him to look away, but he didn’t - his pale amber eyes instead locked with yours.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “You hold your head so high… I forget sometimes that you’re trying to heal, too.”

His words caused your tears to spill, though you didn’t cry; your face remained stony, and no sobs shook you. Your tears fell as easily as water from a cliff’s edge, impeded by nothing but the will of gravity.

“... The cards you lent me,” Zuko said after a pause, almost blurting the words. “I’ve been reading them, to help me let go of everything I left behind. I don’t think I’m doing it right.”

A few weeks ago, you’d given him a deck of cards you used for fortune telling. Each card depicted a different object, element, or scene, and were laid out in combinations that gave insight into a person’s spiritual path. You liked them more than other forms of fortune telling, as it encouraged its readers to make their own assumptions and drive their own fates instead of having it simply told to them. You gave your deck to Zuko so he could reflect on something finite, instead of getting consumed by his own thoughts. It was exactly what you used them for, and you knew they would help.

“Why?” you asked softly.

“I drew a card that didn’t make sense,” he told you. “I laid down the Tides, then the Crossed Blades, and then… I pulled the Badger Mole. The other two I understand - one is for movement and change, the other is for strength in allies, but I… can’t figure out what the Badger Mole is supposed to mean.”

“Badger moles are strong, powerful,” you explained, speaking dispassionately from memory, “but they’re gentle. The card represents the duality of both. They mate for life, too, so it also represents love and companionship.”

As you spoke, you felt a meteor crash between you and Zuko. His face fell, dumbfounded, as he looked at you, his eyes darting minutely back and forth as you watched the pieces mend together in his head.

“What do you feel?” you whispered, part of you terrified of his answer.

“... I feel like I’m fighting the tide,” Zuko replied, his tone awestruck. “It’s pushing me to shore, but I keep trying to swim back out to sea.”

The corners of your lips curled upwards slightly, your cheeks still sticky with tears.

“It’s really scary, huh?” you said. “Loving another person.”

“Yeah... especially when you’ve never known what it feels like before,” Zuko added softly.

You reached out, tentatively resting your palm against his cheek. His hand rose to close over yours, the sensation trembling you to your core.

“How many times have you pulled the Badger Mole?” you asked.

“Every time,” Zuko breathed. “I’m so stupid for not realizing. You make me feel wild and calm all at once. I get this crushing feeling in my chest when I see you or even think of you, and I thought it was just fear or sadness. But… you don’t make me want to lash out like I used to, with my father and Azula and Mai… just the thought of you makes me want to be the best person I can be. Even though I know you already accept me for not being that person.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, somewhat defeatedly, your knees falling away from your chest and crossing in front of you. Your body was heavy, but your head felt light.

“I love you, Zuko,” you murmured. “But I’m afraid.”

Zuko wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. His forehead fell to rest against yours, his eyes closing as he steadied his erratic breathing.

“If you’re scared, I’ll protect you,” he said quietly. “That’s what I think lovers are supposed to do.”

The word made every organ in your body jump to your throat. Lovers. Your limbs felt weak, but your heart felt strong with Zuko holding you.

Without thinking, you took his face in your hands and kissed him. It wasn’t hard and passionate like you expected, but firm, gentle, his lips pressing to yours like two palms grasped in an assuring embrace. He lay one of his large, able hands on the back of your neck, his thumb tenderly stroking your skin.

When you finally broke apart, Zuko gazed at you with a soft, forlorn expression. His fingers reached to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sorry I talk about her so much,” he said. “It must kill you.”

You shook your head, a soft smile forming on your lips, still red from where Zuko had kissed them.

“Don’t worry about it,” you told him. “I know some people from my past you’d happily drive a knife into.”

Zuko chuckled, the light, airy smile you saw when he was truly happy spreading to each of his cheeks. The spike that drove itself through your heart when you thought of it earlier was gone, replaced by the sweet warmth of a low flame on a cold night. With him, you were safe.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Zuko suggested, taking your arm to help you stand.

His hand slipped easily into yours, your fingers twining together. He leaned forward and kissed you again, his lips only grazing yours, causing your skin to buzz with the sensation.

“... Do you think we’ll have to talk to Aang about this?” you asked as you walked back to your room.

Zuko raised an eyebrow at you, confused.

“He is your great-grandfather,” you elaborated with jest. “I should probably do the chivalrous thing and ask for his blessing or something.”

Zuko laughed, nudging you with his shoulder so that you stumbled over your feet. You shoved him back, to which he took you by the waist and wrapped you tightly in his arms, kissing your cheek.

“He probably won’t care,” he replied. “But my uncle will love you.”

#muerta's works #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x you #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x you #zuko fanfic #prince zuko fanfic #atla fanfic #avatar fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #lmao when you don't know how to end a fic

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

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Words: 4,772 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, coerced marriage, gore, violence, sexuality, typical TWD stuff (recommended NC17+) A/N: This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Y/N moves forward with a plan to get both herself and Daryl out of The Sanctuary and away from Negan.

Your name: submit What is this?

You lay awake the next night, tucked into the bed beneath the cool sheets. Negan was spending the night with Tanya. All you could think about was Daryl. When it was late enough that you knew the guards would be back loafing in the guard room, you threw the covers off and bent down beside the mattress, grabbing the bag you had hid underneath the bed and pulling it out.

You went to the door of your room and opened it, checking in both directions down the hall. It was blessedly empty. You wandered around the corner, glancing at the familiar sliver of light under Dwight’s door. You slipped past it on your tip toes and rushed to Daryl’s cell.

You withdrew the ring of keys and quickly fitted the right one into the lock. Daryl was wide awake this time, waiting. You were the only thing he had been thinking about for the last 24 hours and he found that it made sitting in the dark both more and less bearable. The realization that you were in that place, with Negan, sent fear and rage through him like he’d never experienced. And the idea that Negan could do with you whatever he wanted made him see red. Every second he was wondering if his hands were on you, if his lips were… But the fact that you were close, that there was even the slightest possibility that he would get to see you that day, touch you no matter how briefly, hear your voice… it sustained him.

The door of the cell opened and you slipped inside, following the same routine you had the night before. You laid the towel down at the bottom of the door and pulled out the small lantern, clicking it on. You set it on the ground between you and Daryl. His heart skipped a beat as you gave him the best smile you could muster. “I told you I’d be back,” you whispered.

“I believed ya,” he said. This time he was the one who sat up on his knees and grabbed you hastily into a hug, throwing his arms around you. His touch was desperate, needy, and you melted beneath it.

You wrapped your arms around him in return and sank into him, leaning against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and breathing.

Daryl suddenly snapped back into reality and felt that wave of humiliation again as he remembered how filthy he was. He pulled back from you abruptly and you gave him a questioning look as he sat down again, his back against the wall. “Are ya—are ya alright?” he asked.

“I should be asking you that,” you replied.

He shook his head. “M’fine. But you—” His deep voice was heavy with gravel as he spoke. “You’re in with the wolves in a completely different way than I am.”

You didn’t say anything and just held out the canteen and some bread with meat and cheese you had swiped from the kitchen.

“Thanks,” he said, nodding as he grabbed it from you, quickly devouring it.

You were much quieter, more reserved than you were the night before and Daryl immediately noticed.

“What is it? What’s the matter?” he asked you, concern clouding his face.

“Nothing,” you said. “It’s just—I wanted to warn you. You may hear a bit of a commotion in a bit, after I leave. It’s nothing to worry about.”

His brow furrowed more deeply and his blue eyes narrowed, peering at you intensely through the strands of his hair hanging around his face. “Y/N… what are you doin’?”

“I told you. I’m getting you out of here.” You sighed and glanced at your bag. “This is just Part 2. I’m not busting you out tonight. But we’re getting closer. And don’t worry. They’ll never know it was me.”

He stared at you, chewing his bottom lip as he always did when he was worrying or deep in thought, the canteen clutched tightly in his hand. “What are you doin’?”

“Can’t get out of here on foot. It’s not fast enough. Once they realize you’re gone, Negan will send out everything they have. Gonna need a vehicle. They store all the keys for the motorcycles and trucks on the first floor, but there’s a patrol through there frequently at night… unless they’re distracted.”

“You’re gonna somehow distract them and steal a key to a vehicle,” he said.

“Yep. Not just a vehicle. Your bike. We’re getting it back.”

Daryl licked his bottom lip nervously. “How are ya gonna do it?”

You gave him a look. “Uhh… blow a steam pipe on the first floor…”

“How the hell—” he stopped himself, remembering your speedy assembly of those nail bombs in the hospital, which felt like a lifetime ago. “Ya build a bomb? Ain’t they gonna know it was deliberate?”

You shook your head. “No. It’s a tiny charge, just very strategically placed. But it will make a noise, and steam is going to be pouring out into the room. It should be long enough to distract them so I can get into the room and get the spare key.”

Daryl just stared at you. You could see his mind spinning, but he didn’t say anything.

“It’s gonna work. Just—if you hear a commotion, don’t worry. There’s supposed to be one.” You grabbed the plastic the food had been wrapped in and gave him an apologetic look. “I have to go. If I’m doing this tonight, it needs to be now,” you said. “I wish—I wish I could stay with you longer. I hate leaving you in here…” He handed you the canteen back and nodded.

“S’alright. Just be careful.”

“I will.” You studied him for a moment and then threw your arms around him again in one last hug. You squeezed your eyes shut as you held him tight. “I’ll try to come tomorrow night.”

He shook his head. “Nah. You’re risking too much. Ya should just be worryin’ ‘bout yourself.”

You met his eyes and sighed. “No. I’m only worried about you. I’ll be just fine.” You slipped from him, leaving an empty feeling in between his lungs. You grabbed the lantern and clicked it off, followed by shoving it and the towel in your bag. Slipping out and locking the door behind you, you snuck around the floor and the small charge you had built from its hiding place in a janitorial closet down the hall. You crept down the stairs and through the halls until you were outside the guard room. There was a rowdy game of poker going on inside.

Everything worked flawlessly. You placed the bomb and raced around the corner to wait for the commotion to begin. The uproar was so loud it even drew guards from the floor above, but you were safely stowed out of sight. As soon as the ruckus was reaching a crescendo, you slipped into the room where the keys were stored and quickly found the spare key for Daryl’s bike. You grabbed it off the nail and shoved it in your pocket, heading up the stairs around the back way. You were crossing in front of Dwight’s room again, almost back to your own, when he stepped into the hall. You froze.

“Hey,” he said, shutting his door softly behind him. “What the hell is going on down there?” he asked you.

You shrugged. “I think I heard someone say one of the steam valves broke,” you explained.

He nodded. “Oh. Huh… Well, this building isn’t exactly brand new,” he said. “Can’t sleep again?”

You shook your head. “No.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Seems to be a habit.” He paused a bit awkwardly. “Hey, do you, uhh, have a smoke?” he asked you.

You shook your head. “No. I don’t smoke.”

“Ahh, right,” he nodded. “Ya know, Sherry used to get on me about it but now she smokes, too,” he said, leaning back against the wall. You nodded.

“I remember.” You watched his face turn sad and had a sudden realization that even though you did want to beat the shit out of him for what he was doing to Daryl, for having no backbone and becoming one of them, he’d had a pretty fucked up run himself… “She talks about you still,” you said softly. His eyes shot up to meet yours. “Sherry. She talks about you.”

“Huh,” he nodded slowly, staring back down at his boots. “Well, that’s over,” he said. “I’m sure Negan is taking real good care of her. And you too.”

You felt like a knife had just been twisted into your chest. You nodded. “Yeah. Night.” You left him behind and rushed back to your room, leaning heavily against the door behind you after you shut and locked it.

You felt like you couldn’t catch your breath for a long time.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You were sitting in your room reading, not absorbing a word of it, when there was a knock on the door the next day. Your heart startled at the thought that you had been discovered and it was essentially the Grim Reaper calling, but you quickly dismissed it. You’d been careful. No one knew. You went to the door and pulled it open to see Negan standing there with a charming smile on his face.

“Y/N,” he said, looking you up and down. You were wearing jeans and a tank top with a loose flannel button-up over it. He let out a low whistle. “Hot damn. You look good in anything. I’m tempted to just have my way with you right now,” he said.

You glanced away from him briefly, licking your lips, before meeting his eyes again, raising your eyebrows. “What do you want?” you asked, purposely giving him a sassy response.

He chuckled again and straightened up from where he was leaning on the doorframe. “And that’s why I like you. You have the guts to try and put me in my place.”

You crossed your arms, surveying him, your heart pounding. “Sometimes you need it.”

He leaned in close to you his eyes flitting down to your lips and back up to your eyes repeatedly. “Sometimes so do you.” There was a deep, almost animalistic growl in his voice. He bit his bottom lip after a moment and broke into a smile again. “God, if only you were on board with my process. You’d probably be the best damn soldier I had. And then you’d come home and slip into a dress and turn every head in the damn room. Beautiful and badass, a rare combination.”

“You know I don’t approve of what you do out there,” you said, unable to prevent the cold edge in your voice.

“I know. That’s why I said if. It’s a damn shame. Anyway, why don’t you throw on something and come join us in the lounge? I put in a special order with the kitchen.”

“Alright. I’ll be there soon,” you said.

He gave you another smile and turned to leave. You did your make up and grabbed a short, form-fitting dress out of the closet, pulling on some heels, and left your room behind, feeling like a parading piece of meat as you walked through the halls. You had a suspicion that you wouldn’t be able to slip away to Daryl later and it left you feeling vaguely lightheaded and sick…

You arrived in the lounge where the other wives were milling about, chatting, all drinking cocktails. As soon as you came in, Negan grinned at you from his place in a cushy chair and he tilted his head at you, beckoning you over. “Come and sit down right here,” he said, patting his knee.

Your stomach twisted, but you obeyed, crossing the space to him and sitting down sideways across his lap. He pulled you against him and you draped an arm around his shoulders.

“My special request,” he said, dipping a strawberry from a nearby tray into a bowl of chocolate fondue and taking a huge bite, closing his eyes as he savored it and tilted his head back. “Mmm. Goddamn. Holy shit, is that good! This is the life, isn’t it?” he asked, catching your eyes.

You managed to give him a small smile and he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You forced yourself to kiss him back and pressed a hand to the stubble along his jaw. You could taste the chocolate on his lips and tongue and felt a wave of revulsion.

He pulled back and gave you a satisfied and fiery look. “You are making it up to me, aren’t you?” he asked in an undertone.

Just then, movement in the hall caught his attention.

“Dwight!” Negan yelled. It was Dwight going past the doorway, pushing Daryl ahead of him. They stopped and backed up, Dwight forcing Daryl just over the threshold.

Negan tilted his head. “Bring Daryl over here. I want to talk to him.”

Dwight pushed Daryl hard in the back until he walked over and stood in front of you and Negan. You were very consciously controlling your breathing and stared down at the carpet, but you could feel Daryl’s eyes on you before he too looked down at the ground, unwilling to take in the scene before him with you cozied up on Negan’s lap. His blood was boiling and he was starting to feel out of control.

“Hot enough out there for you, Daryl?” Daryl was red-faced, dripping with sweat, and there was walker blood splattered on his clothes. “Rhetorical question because you look like shit,” Negan said laughing. He cleared his throat and smoothed a hand up and down your bare leg.

“You see this, Daryl?” Negan asked, gesturing around the room. “All of this? You could be a part of this. I’m sitting here with a beautiful woman on my lap, eating chocolate covered strawberries.” Negan quipped. He glanced at the bowl of chocolate beside him and dipped his index finger into it, biting his own lip as he raised it to yours, watching your expression with relish. You felt a hard pit form in between your lungs, like indigestion. My God, how could you do this in front of Daryl? But you had no choice. You met Negan’s eyes for a brief moment before glancing back at his waiting finger and parting your lips. Negan slowly inserted it into your mouth and you closed your lips around it, pressing your tongue gently to it, tasting the dark chocolate. He pulled it back out excruciatingly slowly, the smile on his face growing all the while and you felt his growing erection below you, too. He laughed with satisfaction and you felt it deep in his chest as you licked your lips and averted your eyes away again.

Daryl saw every moment of it. He was shaking with rage and disgust and horror…

“Did you see that shit?” Negan continued. “And later, I’m going to take this beautiful woman upstairs and fuck her brains out,” Negan said, looking back at Daryl, clearly pleased with himself. You felt your face flush with embarrassment and anger. You’d never felt so horrified, humiliated in your life. Negan didn’t seem to notice. “Now, I’m not saying if you start to play nicely that you’ll live as good as me, because—well, no one lives as well as me. But you’ll get a little slice of it.” Negan ran his fingers up and down your bare thigh absently as he talked. “So, I want to remind you of your three choices here. You can die and decorate my fence, you can live in that hole for the rest of your life, or you can join up, be a man like Dwight here, and get a little slice of paradise for yourself.”

You ventured a glance at Daryl and his blue eyes were narrowed in hatred as he stared at Negan. The muscle in his jaw was flexing as he ground his teeth together and you thought you could see him shaking slightly. Negan laughed. “Are you trying to stare me into submission, Daryl? Because that shit don’t work on me. Think about what I said. We’ll talk about it soon.” Negan straightened up a little in his chair, adjusting you on his lap and turned his attention back to you. He leaned into you and pressed his face into the crook of your neck and took in a deep breath, closing his eyes, breathing you in, the scent of your hair and your skin, letting out a satisfied smile and trailing his hand up your thigh. “Dwight, take Daryl back to his little hidey-hole. I have some other matters to attend to.” Negan pressed his lips hungrily to your neck and you had no choice but to shut your eyes and receive it, knowing Daryl was watching the whole thing.

You couldn’t get away that night. Negan was asleep beside you in bed as you again laid awake, staring at the ceiling. You didn’t know how much longer you could do this. You felt like you were carving off a piece of yourself each day and giving it away. You slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom, shutting the door and clicking on the light. You pulled on a t-shirt and some shorts and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your fingers found a bruise on your neck, left purposefully by Negan’s lips. He liked marking you. It was ownership. It wasn’t tender or loving or reciprocal. He might as well brand you with the iron.

That night, Daryl seethed in the darkness in his cell. After what he’d been forced to see, he didn’t expect you to show up and you didn’t. All he wanted was to stop thinking about you on Negan’s lap, you taking his finger into your mouth, Negan’s hand trailing up your bare thigh, Negan’s lips on your neck, Negan taking you back to your room and—but he couldn’t think of anything else.

Daryl’s breathing was coming hard and fast and he finally let out a growl and punched his fist into the wall repeatedly before breaking down, letting out an agonized cry, cradling his now bleeding knuckles. He hated this. He hated that you were there because of him. The guilt was threatening to crush him. It wasn’t worth what you had to do to get him out. It wasn’t…

Sometime the next afternoon, Daryl heard a soft noise beside him and felt the floor blindly. His hand pressed down on what he knew was a slice of bread. He held it in his hands for a moment, feeling his stomach rumble. The bodily hunger was replaced with a deeper one, to get you out and make sure you were safe. To make sure Negan never touched you again. But how helpless he was… locked up like an animal in a cage, while you submitted to what you had to in order to rescue him. He felt useless. He felt like a burden. You’d be better off if you’d never met him. Then you wouldn’t be here. He rubbed his fingers over the swelling on his hand from punching the wall the night before and heaved a sigh. He gratefully ate the bread and went back to strenuous waiting, doing everything he could to keep his mind blank.

That night, you again laid awake in bed. You wanted to see Daryl. You wanted to give him more water, more food… make sure he was still in one piece, but you weren’t sure if you could face him after what had happened with Negan the day before. You were overwhelmed with shame and revulsion and just the thought of it flushed your face and turned your stomach. But Daryl’s well-being was more important to you than allowing yourself to avoid facing the ugliness, so in the early hours of the morning you slipped out of bed and grabbed your bag, making your way silently to Daryl’s cell.

He heard the key slowly insert into the lock and turn and he breathed in a hurried breath, straightening up. The door opened just enough for him to see you silhouetted in the dim light. You stepped inside and shut the door.

When the lantern clicked on, your eyes were downcast and he noticed you were taking deep, slow, measured breaths. You wouldn’t look at him.

He studied your expression, his eyebrows furrowing over his narrowed eyes. “Y/N,” he rasped. He saw you gulp but you still didn’t look at him. “Hey. Look at me,” he said.

Your face contorted slightly as you fought emotion, but you eventually raised your eyes to his and Daryl saw that they were glistening more than they should have been for the dim light. Far from what you expected, you saw no contempt, no disgust on Daryl’s face. You should have known better. All you saw was anger and concern and worry. “Ya ain’t gotta do this,” he said softly. “Not this.” You watched his eyes find the bruise on your neck left by Negan’s lips and you reflexively covered it with your hand. A flash of anger exploded in Daryl’s eyes for a moment and he let out an exhale that was mostly a growl, clenching his teeth. You stared back down at the floor of the cell, half wishing you could melt into it and disappear. Daryl gulped at the tightness in his throat and felt his stomach twist.

“I do have to. It’s almost done,” you said in a harsh whisper. You pulled out the food and water you had brought for him and he accepted it but he didn’t start eating. You could feel his eyes on your face still.

“Hey,” he whispered again, sounding a bit hoarse. “Y/N. C’mon, look at me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling tears pouring down your cheeks. You covered your face with your hands and shook your head. Your shoulders heaved with shuddering breaths.

Daryl got up from where he was seated in the corner and moved over to you. “C’mere,” he said softly. You felt his arms around you, pulling you to him. “S’alright.” You were stiff at first but soon collapsed against his chest, your fingers clinging to him almost desperately. Daryl gently smoothed your hair. He rested his chin on the top of your head and held you tighter, his heart aching and fury burning in his stomach. “Ya ain’t gotta do this anymore,” he said. “Just get out.”

That snapped you out of it and you pulled back from him so you could look up into his face. You wiped the tears from your cheeks, shoving your shame in a box you could open later. Daryl’s hands stayed steadily around you. “No,” you said quickly. “I knew what I signed up for when I came back. And I wish—I wish you hadn’t seen any of that yesterday.” You straightened up and took a steadying breath. “But you’re getting out. Tomorrow,” you said softly, again meeting his eyes.

“Ya mean we are,” Daryl said.

You gulped again and averted your eyes away from the intensity of his gaze, anxiously chewing on your bottom lip.

“Y/N. Ya mean we are,” he repeated vehemently.

You shook your head. “Just you.”

“Like hell!” he growled.

“Daryl, if I stay in, I can help Alexandria and everyone from in here. I can—I can get information. I can sabotage whatever they—”

He shook his head firmly. “Nah. Nah. Fuck that. No. Ya ain’t stayin’.”

“Daryl—”

“No!” he exclaimed as loudly as he dared.

“Just listen—” you pleaded.

“No, ya listen to me!” he rasped. “If ya ain’t comin’ with me, then I ain’t leavin’. And that’s that. I won’t leave this goddamn cell. I’m not leavin’ ya in here with them, with him! I ain’t. So, you can forget about it. I’m not leavin’ ya behind. So, either adjust your plan, or we both stay in.”

You stared at him and from the look in his eyes and the way his jaw was set, his chin stubbornly inclined, it was apparent that there would be no changing his mind. There were flames in his eyes, like a wildfire. You nodded almost imperceptibly. “Alright. Okay.”

He nodded and grabbed the canteen and food you had brought him. As he raised the water to his lips you saw that his knuckles were swollen and bloody with dark bruises across them. “Your hand,” you murmured, reaching out and taking it in yours, inspecting it carefully, your fingers light on his skin.

“S’nothin’,” Daryl said, shrugging. Your touch raised goosebumps on his skin.

“What happened?” you asked him, again finding his blue eyes.

He just shook his head and didn’t say anything more. His eyes moved back to your hand on his and they caught on the silver wedding band Negan had slipped onto your finger. You suddenly realized what he was looking at and you withdrew your hands from his and ripped it off your finger, shoving it into your bag.

Daryl watched the turmoil on your face for a moment before he spoke. “What’s the plan?” he asked, taking a bite of the apple you had brought.

Your mouth dropped open and you thought for a moment. “I’ve got the keys to get you out of here and get us out of the building. And I got the key to your bike. Negan will be gone tomorrow with a lot of his best soldiers. I heard them talking today—they’re going for a pick up at Alexandria.” You sighed. “We sneak out through the south side, where they keep the bikes and trucks. I can walk around freely and make sure the coast is clear before I come and get you. We get on the bike and we go.”

“Go where? We can’t go back to Alexandria obviously.”

You nodded. “Hilltop. I’ll bring some clothes for you to change into when I can before we leave. We gotta get you out of that awful sweatshirt,” you said gently.

Daryl considered you for a long moment, his blue eyes drinking in your face. He nodded. “It’s simple. S’good. It’ll work.” He paused again. “What about weapons?” he asked.

You shook your head and he read worry on your face. “That’s the one thing I haven’t been able to solve. I don’t know where they keep them and I don’t have access to anything. I could maybe slip away with a knife from the kitchen but—”

“Nah. It’s fine. We’ll figure it out,” Daryl said. He nodded again. “We’re gettin’ out,” he said. “Both of us.” You thought you saw his bottom lip quivering.

You nodded back at him. “Yeah. We are.”

His face contorted a little as he bit back emotion, his head slumping forward and his broad shoulders rounding. Your hands flew to his shoulders, and you brushed his hair aside gently. He gripped onto your wrist tightly. You moved closer to him, your heart breaking. You pressed a kiss to his forehead as his eyes were downcast but they snapped up to yours in surprise again at the tenderness you were showing him, despite where you were and what you were being subjected to. Your face broke into a teary smile and he was amazed at it. Everything you had been through… and you’d thrown yourself into it again, for him, risking everything. You were sitting in this shithole with him, smiling at him. He couldn’t make goddamn sense of any of it.

“We’re getting out,” you whispered.

Daryl nodded and straightened up. “We are.”

It was safe to say that even after you left, locking Daryl back into his cell for what you hoped was the last time, neither of you slept at all that night.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 5

Golf

Hannibal and cult girl have a long-overdue conversation about their future.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: slight emetophobia, threats of violence, workplace sexual harassment, sexualization of a minor, body-shaming, ED

"[F/N], wait!" Anna called after you, snatching your arm in both hands.

You pulled your arm away and seriously held back the urge to smack her across the face. "What? What could you possibly have to say?"

"You can't just storm out of a funeral like you did my wedding!" She protested. She said this as if you leaving her wedding after being purposefully triggered was the worst affront to her existence to ever happen to her. Given her sheltered life, it very likely was.

She was looking for remorse and you had none to give. "Watch me."

You shoved the heavy doors open, only to find that the room was silent. Everyone's eyes were on you. Hundreds of eavesdroppers who saw your life as their soap opera suddenly caught a glimpse of the defiant, ungrateful granddaughter.

Their faces began to loosen and they started to go back about their business. Just when you thought it was of their own volition, you felt Hannibal's hand on your shoulder. You realized you were witnessing the effect his stony glare had on the room.

You grinned and watched the crowd part in your path. For a moment, you knew what true power felt like, even if it was just vicarious.

"Why won't you give your poor grandmother what she wants?" A particularly bold onlooker blurted out. "If I had a daughter like you, I'd beat some sense into you."

Hannibal fixed his gaze on the man, but you beat him to it.

"If I had a father like you, I'd put you in a home." You snapped back.

The path to the door seemed to stretch further and further away. By the time you reached it, you were practically tugging Hannibal's arm out of its socket.

Outside, the golf course slowly turned white as larger and larger clumps of snow fell from the clouds. In the absence of sunlight, the ocean was black as ink. You suddenly felt very lightheaded. You let go of Hannibal’s hand and clutched your forehead. The courtyard began to spin.

Hannibal gently guided you to a nearby bench before you could collapse. “Darling, are you okay?”

You knew it wasn’t what he meant, but your physical wellbeing was far from your mind. “I don’t think I’ve ever been okay even once in my life.”

“You know what I mean, [F/N].” His voice was firm. “We can talk about the will in a moment, but I need to know that you’re not sick.”

You wordlessly scooted closer to him, allowing him to examine you.

He removed his glove and placed his bare hand on your forehead. “You are a little warm.”

You saw what he was trying to do. You felt a bit comforted by it, but needed to assure him that you weren’t sick. “It’s twenty-five degrees outside. I think I’m going to feel a little warm comparatively.”

“Weren’t you nauseated this morning?” He asked, feeling your cheek with the back of his hand.

You released a breath, which froze as soon as it hit the air. “That’s what I said so I didn’t have to say what it really was.”

Hannibal clicked his tongue. “Menstrual cramps?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Those.”

“I was a surgeon before I was a therapist, my love.” He reminded you with a soft smile. “I know what menstruation is.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I should hope so.”

“This is a lovely country club.” Hannibal said after a moment of taking in the view. “Not exactly to my tastes, but the view of the ocean is beautiful.”

You leaned back in your seat. “It gets old after a while. But I always preferred seeing the golf course all snowed over.”

“Because it meant you didn’t have to spend your school holiday doing free labor for Beatrice, right?” He asked.

“Yep.” You said, folding your hands into your armpits to keep them from freezing up.

Theresa was seventeen, Anna was fourteen and you were ten.

Theresa learned how to drive a drink cart before she could drive a car. She was the only one allowed to make tips, so you coveted her job. You wouldn’t have, if you knew what all those disgusting old men were saying to her as the money passed into her hand. It shocked you, how many of the club members knew the age of consent off the top of their heads. Grandma made her wear tank tops and barely-passing-for-shorts shorts. She said it was empowering to use her ‘blossoming womanhood’ to make money.

Anna was a student athlete in middle school. She ran track and field and brought gold home to a struggling athletics department. She was made to carry bags of clubs that weighed more than she did. Grandma reduced her to a beast of burden. She said it was to work off all those carbs. That one day, she might receive the honor of taking Theresa’s place on the drink cart, and that she too could be ogled at by men four times her age. But only if she made up for all that weight she had the audacity to put on.

You were a blank slate. A tablet to be written upon. Grandma decided that she would put you in your place before you could develop a healthy sense of self. You fished balls out of the water trap. Grimy, disgusting golf balls that would just be thrown away regardless. It was Sisyphean, spending grueling hours in the summer sun, collecting perfectly useable golf balls, only to see them tossed out without a second thought.

“Hannibal?” You said, bringing an end to your pensive silence.

“Yes?” He answered.

You kept your eyes facing forward. “I’m really sorry that Beatrice took away the opportunity to have this conversation in our own time.”

“You are not responsible for your grandmother’s actions, [F/N].” He said, softly.

“But I am responsible for getting you involved.” You bit back a sob. “You’re like, the best thing that has ever happened to me. But every time I try to look forward, my past drags me backwards. And now it’s dragging you down with me.”

"You've clawed your way out before." He assured you. "You can do it again."

You forced a laugh. "I guess the trick is to stop telling myself that it'll be the last time."

"Would you like to have that conversation now?" He posed.

You shook your head. "You already know my stance."

"Your stance is that you don't know." He corrected.

"So what's yours?" You said, realizing you only talked about this as a doctor and patient. Never as a couple.

He looked away from you. "In the affirmative. Strongly so."

"I didn't realize you had strong feelings either way." You answered.

"Just because I don't talk about them unless asked, doesn't mean they don't exist."

"And you want to do it with me?" You asked. "Or just, in general? Like, someday?"

"Darling, I am not in the habit of planning my life in abstracts like 'someday'." He admitted. "I know what I want, I know what I don't."

"Well," You said, stretching out your legs. "What does it look like, to you?"

"We get married this summer." He recounted. "I whisk you away to Italy for a romantic honeymoon. Then, you return to school. You finish your doctorate. Once you've established yourself as an authority, gotten a job, then we settle down. We'll have a child."

You felt yourself smiling. You rested your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you and held you tight.

"I like that. I like it a lot." You whispered. "But you know that means we probably won't get any money, right?"

Hannibal laughed. "We don't need the money."

"I know." You conceded. "But it would be nice to just... burn this whole place to the ground."

He tightened his embrace. "That could still be arranged."

"Please don't buy the golf course just so I can destroy it." You pleaded through laughs.

"Goodness, no." He shook his head. "Who said anything about buying it? I was thinking about some good, old-fashioned arson."

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #cult girl 2 #cult girl doctorate #cult girl

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

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ELEVATED SURFACES

RATING: R/smut (sex, heavy alcohol use, smoking, lots of cursing)

WORD COUNT: 11.6k

CATEGORIES: fratboy!harry

MASTERLIST (check it out for extras) | INSPO TAG | PLAYLIST

a/n: as a recently graduated srat girl and lover of a good frat party, this one shot was intended to fill the whole in my heart which is LEGIT frat Harry. he is fratty and hot and long haired and a mess. if u like this try out TEMPTATION which is my other frat!h series and the first thing i ever wrote on this gd website (he’s not as fratty but we love him a LOT)

a/n pt.2: as a note, i want to make very clear that frats and greek organizations frequently harbor predators and abusers. i do not in any way condone that behavior or that reality, and i would like to bring attention to a petition to remove a fraterity that had done truly many horrible things--your signature would be a huge help. for survivors of assault, you are not alone, and it is not your fault.

As you rose up, your eyes locked on a figure in the doorway of the basement. His long hair was loose, curls that had been pulled out from the hair tie he always had on his wrist, a tight white shirt that you knew meant all of his tattoos were on display. Harry was watching you, you realized as you twisted your hips and bounced your arms up and down with the beat, singing the words. So you kept his gaze, and just to taunt him, when the chorus hit again, you dropped down, ass hitting your heels, eyes on his the whole time.

Harry is a very fratty frat boy and Y/N is a really good dancer

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

“We really should not be still going to our own mixers,” Emily said to you, fluffing her hair and rotating to check her ass in her jeans. You looked up from where you were sitting on your bed, a gin and tonic in one hand to get your blood flowing before the party started. Emily sighed, and then turned from the mirror to you, grabbing the coffee cup that had never seen coffee, just alcohol. “Are people even going?”

You nodded, tossing your phone next to you and leaning against the bed frame. “Alexis is on her way over—she got held up finishing an essay. Maya said she might come, I tried to convince her by promising I’d bring my flask and you’d have your Juul.”

“I swear, she has to just give in and get one of her own.” Emily took a long sip and crossed her arms.

“She claims that will make her addicted.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “She’s already addicted—she uses half my pods and ends up hanging out with whatever guy will let her take a hit. Is it just going to be us and all the new members?”

“No, I think some juniors are going. And definitely the sophomores—they’re all on the little hunt.” You got up, going to your computer to change the song, scrolling through your comprehensive and well-curated pregame playlist. “Plus, who gives a fuck, we’ll only be there for an hour or two for the free alcohol and then we’re hitting the bars.”

“True.” A knock came from the door, and Emily hollered to come in, and Alexis appeared in the doorway, her makeup looking utterly flawless as always. You had always wanted Alexis’s wardrobe and told her constantly, to which Alexis always replied that she wished you were the same size. Unfortunately, Alexis was a solid five inches shorter than you and had a completely different bra size, making sharing quite difficult.

“Bitches, I brought tequila!” Alexis swung into the room in a cloud of perfume, and threw her arms around you and Emily’s shoulders. “Come on, we need to get tipsy before we get to this mixer. Nick already texted me making sure I was coming.”

“Grab the shot glasses,” You replied, nodding to the makeshift bar cart in the corner, which as laden with glasses of all kinds and all your alcohol. “Are you hooking up with him tonight?”

Alexis shrugged, pulling her tequila from her bag and setting it on your desk before turning and going for the shot glasses. “Probably. I don’t know, he’s been weird lately—we hooked up on Monday night, but then he got all weird and left like immediately after and hasn’t texted me since. Barely acknowledged me when we saw each other in the library.”

“Was the sex weird?” Emily asked, unscrewing the top on the tequila so she could pour.

“Yeah,” Alexis replied, holding the glasses steady while Emily poured. “Like weirdly…intense? I let him come inside me which was probably a stupid idea, but I’m on the IUD so we should be all good. And then I offered to let him stay and he just got all flustered and said he had to go.”

You took your full shot glass, and you all clinked before tossing them back, the alcohol burning on your throat. You hated tequila shots but Alexis loved them, and you did admit they did their job. “Do you think he’s caught feelings?”

Alexis’s eyes widened. She had been pining after Nick for ages, his tall basketball stature and surprisingly good fashion sense a dime a dozen. Much less, apparently the sex was insane, so what wasn’t to like? “You think? I thought it might’ve not been his vibe.”

Emily grabbed the bottle. “Another?” You all nodded, and she poured again, The Weeknd crooning in the background. “Just see what happens tonight, feel out what his vibe his.”

“Good idea.” You slammed back another shot, hissing before setting down the glass. “Okay, that’s enough tequila or you two are going to be carrying me home tonight.”

Emily and Alexis laughed, before taking seats on your bed, continuing to chatter about the night ahead. It was a Friday, your favorite night because it was usually just mixers, no general parties, which as a senior you had grown to despise. The fighting for watered down alcohol, packed bodies and horrific gender ratio was simply no longer something you had the energy to deal with. Mixers were your preferred zone, filled with your sorority sisters who you adored, the opportunity to actually hang out with the frat brothers whose presence you enjoyed, and usually pong. Sometimes they even let you DJ because you had the best party playlists. The president of Sig Ep had actually asked for the link one time and you’d heard they used it sometimes when the brothers didn’t want to man the computer anymore.

You surveyed your outfit in your narrow mirror, the black denim jeans and simple white tank that showed a bit of stomach and your tan you’d worked hard on during your winter escape to the Caribbean with your lineage. It was simple, yet it suited your needs—after three and a half years of college parties, you had discovered getting dressed up for frat parties was a useless activity, since your clothes would get drenched in jungle juice and sweat anyways. You left your best outfits for Saturday nights spent clubbing downtown.

If you were being honest, the whole reason you were going tonight was because at the last mixer you’d had with Beta, you’d turned around on the dance floor to find Harry’s eyes on you. You were already dancing with another one of the brothers and ended up making out with him in a corner until you got bored, but you hadn’t been able to get the sight of his eyes on you out of your head.

You’d known Harry since freshman year, your interactions limited mostly to mixers and the occasional run-in in the dining halls when you exchanged pleasantries, or the one time he’d volunteered for a karaoke team for your sorority philanthropy event and you’d been in charge of his team. But the two of you had rarely ever spent time together. That didn’t mean you hadn’t had a lingering crush on him since you’d first laid eyes on him, though, and over the years he’d only gotten more attracted. A body that filled out his white t-shirts and black jeans, hair long and sweeping his shoulders to where he wore it in a bun most times, a jaw that could cut glass. He was hot and he knew it, as did everyone else on campus.

As juniors you had both been on the executive boards of your respective Greek organizations and had ended up in meetings together about housing violations and social calendars, but it hadn’t ever led to much more than you both complaining about how fucking annoying FIJI and their insistent requests for a house was, considering they’d trashed their last one. But this year, you’d found his eyes on you multiple times, and you wondered if perhaps your time had arrived. You’d both always danced around each other and you were curious after all these years if he was finally interested in hooking up. Not that you really expected much more, or were looking for much else—you were a senior, after all, and you were enjoying it.

“Y/N.” Alexis’s voice ripped you from your musings over Harry, her fingers snapping from her spot on your bed. “What’s got you thinking hard over there?”

“Harry?” Emily guessed, one eyebrow raising. “Emmett said he’ll be there tonight.”

“He’s always there,” you replied, because he was. Like you, he seemed to enjoy the mixers, but usually avoided the open parties unless he was on door duty.

“You’d hook up with him, right?”

You looked at Alexis. “Obviously. He’s so fucking hot.”

She laughed, as did Emily. “Then go for it, girl. It’s not like he’ll say no.”

You shrugged. “He might. Never know.”

“I seriously doubt that. You look hot as fuck, as usual, and are the life of the party. Beta adores you. They literally asked you to move in this year when they had an open spot.”

“It was a joke,” you reminded them, because it was—you wouldn’t ever be allowed to live in the house and they knew that. It was true though, you had become a bit of a groupie over the past few years, preferring the more laid back vibe in their house. You’d become friends with all the senior guys, except the weird or obnoxious ones, and had become a regular invite to Bachelor Monday watch parties in their second floor living room. You brought snacks and your friends, they provided the booze and the cable.

“Still,” Emily said, nudging you the toe of her black booties. “Don’t sell yourself short, babes. He is missing a brain if he’s not interested in you.”

“And seriously missing out,” Alexis added. You shot her a look, but she just chuckled. “Bitch, I lived next door to you last year. You are loud.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, laughing, but she was right. You were. Guys had told you on countless occasions, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to care all that much. “Come on, we should go. Maya is texting me asking when we’re leaving.”

“Do you have your cigs?” Alexis asks you, downing the rest of the drink she’d made while you had been staring into space.

It was your vice, one you had picked up during a semester abroad and only did when you were drunk. You knew you should stop, but something about it made you feel powerful, a bit badass, so you kept doing it. “Obviously. Emmett will have a fit if I don’t.” You swiped your pack from your desk drawer and your trusty pale blue lighter, and shoved them into the pocket of your jacket. With one last swig of your drink, your veins buzzing with alcohol just the right amount, the three of you were off, singing an old Hannah Montana song in the elevator down to the lobby of your dorm.

One of the pledges was working the door, but happily let you three into the frat house. The lights on the main floor were off, except for the ones in the front study that doubled as a coat room, where you tied the arms of your jackets together and set them in the corner so you didn’t lose them. Your cigs were transferred to your back pocket, and you just prayed you didn’t forget they were there and crush them again.

Josephine and another junior were the sober sisters, and offered you three hugs before checking your names off the list. You got positive points for being there, as if that was the main reason you had shown up.

“Emmett!” Emily called, and the blond-headed boy’s head flipped up from where he was standing behind the bar. A Gatorade water cooler was sitting on the high bar, stacks of red solo cups and boxes of white claws and beers sitting on top of one another.

Aka, your happy place. “He’s bartending, thank god,” you said, and grabbed Emily and Alexis, weaving through the crowd. Girls stopped you all as you moved, hugs and squeals at your appearance. You had to admit, you were popular in your sorority, but mainly because you had made it your mission to get your money worth. As a result of your exec position, you’d gotten to know the sophomore member class and you adored them all, chaotic messes who always turned up with you and made you laugh hysterically. Honestly, you were sad to graduate because it meant leaving behind so many fun friends and memories.

“We’ve been waiting for you three,” Emmett said when you arrived in front of him. He was wearing the frat’s homecoming shirt from the previous year and his eyes were dilated, obvious that he had smoked before. “What are we drinking?”

“What’s the mix?” You asked, pointing to the cooler.

He grabbed three cups, knowing you would be taking it. “Shit ton of vodka, Kool Aid, water, the usual.”

“My favorite,” you replied, blowing him a kiss. “How is it downstairs?”

He filled the cups and handed them to you all. “They just wrapped up pong so it’s still getting moving.”

Alexis took a long sip before grabbing your hand. “Sounds like we need to get people dancing.” With that she turned around, her long slick black hair moving in a circle. “Let’s dance!” She called, and the girls around you cheered, following the three of you down the slippery steps to the basement.

Downstairs, The Motto was playing and you bobbed your head along with the beat, moving your hips as you entered the large basement space. It was dark except for a glowing sign with the Beta letters in narrow neon lights, casting the room with a tint of green. Your battered frat shoes, an old pair of white Vans, stuck against the beer and jungle juice-covered floor as you made your way to the middle. A couple of other girls and brothers were scattered around the floor, and you broke from Emily and Alexis’s hands as you twirled on the floor.

You raised your cup above your head and started dancing, rapping the lyrics by heart, moving your hands and hips along with the song. Emily and Alexis sang along with you and some of the younger girls showed up, then some other seniors who shared your love for frat parties. All of a sudden your little was screaming and running towards you, Mallory’s arms wrapping around your waist.

“Oh my fuck god, MOM,” she screamed, using the nickname she’d had for you since you’d taken her as your little two years ago. You laughed and threw your arm around her shoulders, screaming the lyrics. There was a specific reason you had taken Mallory as your little, and it was because she lost her shit at parties just as much as you did. You two were a dynamic duo like no other, and if your grand little didn’t have a huge exam on Monday, she’d be here too and you would all be dancing together as usual.

You downed your jungle juice, the sugary drink combined with the loud music blasting and your friends making your adrenaline kick into high gear. And then Maya appeared, arms waving like crazy, and then she dropped it low and you remembered why you adored her, even if she always stole Emily’s Juul. She had a beer in one hand and a white claw in the other, ready for the night ahead.

Then Emmett appeared, trailed by some of the other brothers in tank tops and t-shirts, one carrying a six pack on his shoulder and handing out warm beers to the brothers he passed. Emmett beelined for Emily, his arm thrown around her shoulder, their completely platonic friendship on show for everyone. The song ended and you took a breath, crushing your cup and tossing it into the corner so you could have your hands free. Emily pulled her Juul free and took a hit, passing it to Maya next without a question between them.

The opening notes of Come Get Her started and you immediately grabbed Alexis and Emily, beelining for the bar that the speakers rested on, something you weren’t even sure how it got there, but it was your favorite elevated surface of all time. Wide enough to dance, tall enough to be high but not too high where you couldn’t mostly stand. You clamored up, coming to nearly full height and turning to your friends.

“Somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper!” You screamed, your friends coming in a circle in front of the three of you, some other girls getting up on the bar. When the line came through again, you decided fuck it, and you dropped your ass low, bending your knees and tipping your head back.

When you danced, you didn’t give a single fuck about impressing guys or any of that. You just simply loved to dance with your friends, move your hips, and didn’t care what you looked like. Mallory screamed when you got low, your name falling from her lips in a squeal of joy.

That had him moving. He joined a circle where Emmett and some other senior guys were dancing with some other girls, beers in hand as they shifted back and forth. But you knew what would have them all actually dancing and screaming and jumping along with you. You needed to see Harry like that—loose and free. So you turned around and grabbed the attention of the sophomore on aux, his name something along the lines of Justin, and screamed your song choice to him. He gave you a thumbs up, and then you turned back around. Your hair was sticking to the back of your neck, and you rolled it into a loose, high bun, pulling the elastic on your wrist around it as you swayed to the song.

You could hear the song ending, and with your eyes on Harry, you decided you would get down. He was next to a pledge with a six pack, and you wanted a beer. You were mixing alcohols like nobody’s business tonight, but you’d done worse. You squatted down and kicked your feet out, Mallory’s hand coming out to help you down. “You good?” She asked, leaning in to you.

“Yeah, just hot,” you replied. “Going to get a beer.” She nodded and let you go. There wasn’t a need to watch your friends as much in a normal party, since you knew all the girls here. Maya pulled you in for a hug as you moved, and then the current president called out your name from where she stood with her boyfriend, a white claw in her hand.

Squeezing next to Emmett, you nudged the waist of the pledge next to you. “Can I get one?” You asked, pointing to the beers.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling one from the case and handing it to you. It was a Natty Light, but you really could’ve given fewer fucks—they were a frat after all, they didn’t buy the good stuff.

You popped the tab and took a long swig, the liquid quelling your rough throat from singing. And then, the song changed, and you smiled, eyes meeting Harry’s. You decided you were going to draw him out. “I got hoes, callin’!” You screamed, the song starting the speakers, and the boys all joined in. Fuck it, you thought, and chugged the rest of your beer so that you could jump, your arms outstretched and pumping up and down. Your bun was bouncing on your head and you were grinning, the music flowing through you.

Harry was watching you, his head tapping, hair swishing back and forth. You needed more. So you moved into the center of the circle, knowing the guys would hype you up, and reached for him. “Why aren’t you dancing?” You asked him playfully, and his eyebrow shot up.

“Fuck! Shit! Bitch!” The best lines of the song ran through the speaker and you just grabbed his hand, which was warm, and pulled on him. Suddenly his body was in front of you, close, and you tried to process what your original plan was. But then, Harry started moving, back and forth, head bopping, rapping the lyrics in time, and you knew you had gotten him. “I be ballin’, like a motherfuckin’ pro,” you sang, starting up to jump, and to your surprise, Harry joined you, a carefree expression finally crossing his face. He was screaming the lyrics then, hair bouncing as he moved. He rotated, grabbing the shoulders of another one of the boys, who joined in with him, them screaming the lyrics at each other.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the change in his demeanor so sudden. When the song changed, T-Shirt by Migos coming on, he turned back to you. All of a sudden, his lips were next to your ear and you choked on air. “Fuckin’ love that song,” he said, accent smooth in your ear.

“You and every other frat boy,” you replied, stepping backwards. You had ended up at the side of the circle closer to the wall, and so you moved towards it, freeing yourself from the heavy circle of boys.

The song was slower, not a jumping and dancing song, but one that suggested the slow grinding of hips and closeness of bodies. Which fuck it, you wanted. Desperately. He was looking at you with an intense stare, smile sloppy from alcohol, Harry sweaty on his forehead, arms straining under the fabric of his shirt. He was following you, taking a step away from his friends and following your body as if magnetic. So you just went for it, putting your weight lower, and rolled your hips back and forth to the music.

Mama told me/not to sell work/Seventeen five/same color T-shirt

Your eyes met his, and the shared intensity of his gaze stirred something inside of you. Desire. A need to know what his skin felt like, a desire that had been lingering since you first saw him. Your hands moved on their own, draping over his shoulders, and his hands found the curve of your waist, and suddenly you knew what his skin felt like on yours. They found the bare skin between the hem of your shirt and the top of your jeans, burning your already warm skin.

Justin-something on aux changed the song, deciding that was enough, and then No Role Modelz was on, and you moved, swaying back and forth, your chests coming closer and closer. His face was inches from yours and you wondered what his lips would taste like. The slow rap and smooth feel of the beat had your eyes fluttering shut, mind twirling from the alcohol and the lowlights, the heat of the packed basement. If you didn’t have Harry under your hands, you might have left for a smoke break, an excuse for air. But you weren’t letting go of him anytime soon. So you turned around and when your ass touched his dick you couldn’t help but smile—he was already hard. You felt his arm move and watched him sip his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank. You rolled your hips against him and then reached up, grabbing the can and bringing it to your own lips, taking a sip and watching him watch you. The two of you were taunting each other, acting on a feeling that had always been an undercurrent in every one of your interactions, a slight sexual tension that if you pulled on would become taught.

Which as you pressed against him, you fucking yanked on. His free hand clasped around your hip, holding you close and swaying in time with you. You could feel the sweat that had soaked through his t-shirt a bit, but you didn’t care—you were sweaty yourself, so was everyone in the room. It was part of the appeal, the fact that everyone was a mess and no one cared. He was rock hard between the denim of both of your jeans, and you could feel the power racing through you, the fact that you had him like this going straight to your head.

When Mr. Brightside came on, you decided that was your smoke break time. You couldn’t stand the song after so many years, and the feeling of bodies pressing together as they jumped was too much for you. “I’m going to get some air,” you said, turning around so you could face Harry.

He was so close to you, just inches away, when his tongue licked over his lip. “Can I come with?”

“Sure.” You grabbed his hand as you moved through the crowd, pushing between frat brothers and your sorority sisters who were all dancing together to the song. When you made it through the exit you sighed, the stale air of the stairwell even feeling better than that room.

“Fuck it was hot in there,” Harry said, your hand dropping from his. He followed you up the stairs and you nodded. You pushed open the door and a Doja Cat song was playing, some people upstairs scattered around, drinking and talking, some sitting on couches together. You waved to Maya, who seemed to have also needed a break, and nodded to the door as if to tell her you were getting some air.

“I’m going to smoke if that’s okay,” you told him as you made your way to the door, pulling your cigs and lighter from your back pocket.

He nodded. “Can I bum one?”

You opened the heavy oak door and said hello to the handful of guys sitting on the steps, who were manning the door and making sure no one random got in. “Sure,” you responded to Harry finally, sitting down on the concrete half wall that lined the landing. You could hear the slight thump of the music, but for the most part it was quiet, the the frat house a couple yards away not throwing anything tonight.

Harry leaned against the wall close to you, taking your offered cigarette. You flicked the lighter and raised it to your cigarette, taking a drag when it lit. Then you handed it to Harry, who accepted it gladly, doing the same. The smoke filled your lungs and your drunken mind considered that you should quit, but at the same time, you liked having something to do when you got air, an excuse to be on the steps. One of the other guys asked for one, and you handed one over, making a new friend.

And then you looked back to Harry. “So,” you said, tapping the ash on your cig. “How have you been?”

You hadn’t seen him since your last mixer with Beta, but you two hadn’t talked in ages. “Good,” he replied. “Busy with classes and stuff.”

“What are you studying again?”

“Political science,” he answered, and your eyebrows shot up. You had expected business or economics, like most of the Beta brothers.

“Why poli sci?”

He shrugged, tapping the ash before taking another drag. “Dunno, really. Took a class freshman year and liked it enough.”

“You don’t want to work in politics or something?”

“I don’t really know what I want to do, honestly.”

“You make it sound like that’s unusual,” you tell him. “Most people don’t.”

He chuckles, a low sound from the back of his throat, and you like the sound of it. “I’ll tell my dad that next time we talk.” You could tell there was a story there, but didn’t push. It wasn’t that kind of moment. “What about you?”

“Psych and pre-law,” you reply, the answer rolling off your tongue with ease.

“Oh? What kind of law?”

You took another drag before answering. “Criminal defense, but I want to work with people on death row.”

His eyes widen, just as you expected. It’s the usual response from people. “Fuck, that’s awesome. What made you interested in it?”

“I just got really into true crime when I was in middle school and ended up doing research on the criminal justice system and what a fucking disaster it is. Death sentences and death row especially. So I want to overturn false convictions.”

He puffed a cloud of smoke, and you watched his lips form a circle, a dark pink color that drew you in. “And you said most people don’t know what they want to do.”

A breeze made the hair on your arm hair stand up, and you rubbed the skin to warm up. It was cold tonight. “I’m unusual,” you told him. “Most of my friends have no idea what they’re doing after graduation.”

You had reached the end of your cigarette, so you dropped it to the ground and stamped it out, the combination of the nicotine and alcohol making your head deliciously hazy. “I’m going back in.”

Harry dropped his cigarette too, putting out the bud. “Lead the way.” He swiped his ID card on the door to let you both in, and you held the door for him, the sound of Post Malone sweeping through the house. “Want another drink?”

You mentally considered how drunk you were, came to the conclusion that you could take some more, and nodded. “White claw, please.” If you laid off the jungle juice you would last a bit longer, and you weren’t particularly wanting to get wasted tonight—you wanted to see where this went.

Harry nodded and walked towards the bar, while you turned to the group of girls closest to you, who were drinking juice and chattering amongst themselves. They immediately started asking you about Harry, about what was happening, and you shrugged because you truly didn’t know. “He’s hot,” one of them, a sophomore named Cat said. “You going to go for it?”

“If the opportunity presents itself,” you replied. You weren’t going to push with Harry, the last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in front of him. You’d follow his lead, see what he was interested in, matching his flirting and see where it went. Not to say you weren’t forward, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. “What about you guys?”

Cat launched into an in-depth analysis of the weird flirtation she’d been having with a junior guy in Beta, how they’d hooked up once but not again, but he kept looking at her. You encouraged her to go for it if she wanted, and she grinned, perhaps just needing an extra push. All of a sudden, you felt a hand on your back, and Harry was next to you, a Black Cherry white claw in one hand, a Heineken in the other.

“If I’d know there were Heinekens I would’ve had that,” you told him, accepting your white claw.

His hair fell behind his shoulders when he tipped the beer back. “Most girls don’t like beer.”

“Well you’ve met one now.” You liked messing with him, dropping flirtations into the conversation and pushing buttons. It made him smirk at you and you loved it, the twinkle in his eyes and the pinkness of his lips.

“H.” A guy appeared behind Harry. “We’re out of vodka.”

“How are we out?” He asked, taking another sip of his beer.

The guy, a pledge from the looks of him, grimaced. “Someone took one of the bottles.”

“Fuck,” Harry said with a sigh. “Have one of the other pledges go get more and keep the receipt. Get more claws while you’re out, we’re running low.” With that, he turned back to you, exhaling sharply. The boy disappeared, sensing that was his cue.

Right as you were about to speak, you heard the opening notes of I Love It from downstairs, and you turned to the girls around you. “Downstairs,” you told them, and they all tossed back the rest of their drinks before tossing them into the trash can a few paces away. You opened the door to the basement and then looked back to Harry. “Coming?”

That made him move, following you down into the dark stairwell that smelled of stale beer and sweat. He stayed close to you, and when your foot slipped on a stair he reached out to steady you, a hand to your side that made your body warm with more than just the temperature of the room. The girls in front of you streamed into the room, screaming the lyrics to the song.

“You’re such a fucking hoe/I love it!” You joined in, laughing at the lyrics in spite of yourself, but the truth is you fucking loved the song. It was absurd and was filthy, but you liked screaming the lyrics in a room with a bunch of your friends.

You twirled around and walked into the room backward, moving your body with the beat, taunting Harry to follow you. Which he did, as if connected to you by a magnet. You could see his lips moving, the lyrics falling from his lips to match you. You stopped moving in the middle of the room and Harry’s hands found your hips. Turning in his hands, a coy smile on your face, you knew what this song was going to involve. Hips moved on their own accord, grinding hard against him. You could feel his breath on your neck, the lyrics I’m a sick fuck/I like a quick fuck/I like my dick sucked/I’ll buy you a sick truck in your ear. Hearing the words on his lips for some reason had your blood pumping, and you wanted to hear them again on a loop.

His dick was hard against your ass and your hands stretched behind you, finding his hips to hold him close. His head fell to your neck, nosing at your skin, his fingers on the bare skin at your waist clenching. Your hips moved in time with each other, his body dropping to be at the height as yours, chasing the desire that was running between you. Your head tipped back against his chest and eyes fluttered shut, letting the alcohol in your veins and the music pounding in your ears take over. All you could feel was him, the cut of his body and the strength of his arms next to you, his hips insistently rubbing against yours and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually grind on him.

The song changed, Work Out by J. Cole sounding through the speakers and you pulled away from him and turned to face him. You were going to put on a bit of a show, you decided, because why the fuck not. It was clear at this point that he wanted you as much as you wanted him, so why pretend like anything else was happening?

So when the lyrics Let me see you get/High then go low/Now, girl won't you drop that thing down to the floor? fell through the speakers you dropped to the ground, Harry’s eyes following you came back up slowly, your body just inches from his. His hands fell on your body, grabbing at your waist to keep you close, pressing his hips forward to grind right over the front of your jeans and you panted from both the heat in the room and the pleasure ripping through your body. When the chorus came again, you dropped down, and this time you ran your hands down his legs lightly as you moved, fingers dancing down and then back up the seams of his jeans.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said and you could barely hear him over the music.

His eyes met yours, searing into yours, a question passing between you. And then you were moving towards each other, an answer to the question in the way your lips met, slotted together and pulled at one another. Your hands were pulling at his shirt, grabbing at the material and the skin underneath, one of his hand holding your head close to his, the other at your waist. It was fast and messy, your lip pulling on his bottom one, before chasing him, his tongue brushing at the seam of your lips before dipping inside.

Kissing Harry was hot. It was like setting your whole body on fire with desire and you just wanted to know what the rest of him felt like because his lips were sending you to another planet. He tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth and a moan escaped you, desperation clear in your throat. You could feel bodies press around you, the notes of Fire by Louis the Child ringing through the room. When the beat dropped, you knew people were jumping, the guys doing that thing where they slammed into each other like some kind of mosh. But Harry just stayed there, pulling his lips into yours, drawing wet pants from your body. He was holding tight to you as if you were going to slip away, even though that was the last place you wanted to go.

But you decided you wanted to tease him a bit more. Not let him get away, but just…push him a bit. So you drew away, enough to where you could dance, your sorority sisters at your back—you had seen Alexis move behind you. You grinding on her, your asses touching, and you could hear her laughter, before moving against you. It was something you two always did, dancing partners since the moment you met.

“If I go down in flames/The smoke going to spell my name,” you sang.

Harry watched you, his eyes burning a line down your body, the ministrations of your hips against Alexis’s. And then he was moving towards you, his front pressed yours and his lips were at your ear. “Drink?”

You nodded, and let him pull you through the crowd and towards the stairs. People were moving down them and you pressed yourself to the wall to let them pass, before following Harry up the stairs to the main floor. “Is there anything better than that shit?” You asked him when you stood next to him, his arm loosely around your waist, holding you to him.

His gaze drifted to the bar and then back to you. “I’ve got some stuff in my room.”

You knew he lived in the house, the result of being on exec last year and having first dibs after the current exec board was placed, the hierarchy the same as in your own sorority house. “Do you have mixers?” As much as you drank, you still hated drinking most straight alcohol, especially if you were going to be sipping on it. When he nodded, you replied, “Let’s go.”

You caught the eye of Emily who was standing on the other side of the room, watching you, and you pointed upstairs to tell her where you were going. After she gave you a thumbs up, letting you know she’d check in before leaving, a silent conversation well rehearsed over the years, you followed Harry up the stairs. Other guys and girls streamed down them, coming from rooms where they were smoking or using the bathroom or drinking just like you.

“What floor are you on?” You asked when you passed the first floor, twisting to go up the second flight.

“Third,” he replied, not pausing no the stairs. “It’s quieter.”

That made sense, as you could imagine if he didn’t feel like partying one night it would be kind of hard to avoid. You followed him up, the sound of the music fading as you made your way higher into the frat house. You passed other girls on the way you exchanged hugs and promises to catch up after chapter on Monday night. Finally, you made it to the third floor, and Harry pushed open the door to a room with his name on it.

You followed him in and the first thing you noticed was how much of a boy’s room it was. Messy comforter, clothes on the floor, alcohol bottles lining the window sill, the frat’s flag above his bed. Some posters and photos littered the opposite wall, a single framed photo of what looked like his family on his dresser, along with some random items like cologne and a brush and hair ties. A pair of athletic shoes and boots were shoved into one corner, and a tub of protein powder sat on top of his mini-fridge, along with a stack of solo cups. On his desk was a bong and a couple of lighters, his computer sitting next to it on a charger. The dorm room was narrow, most of it taken up with a double bed that you were a bit confused by, since most rooms just had a single.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” he said, shutting the door behind you. If you focused on it, you could hear nerves in his voice, a low laugh in the back of his throat as he surveyed his room. “Didn’t expect to have people up here.”

“It’s fine,” you told him, moving into the middle of the room to get out of the doorway, taking in the space.

“Uh, I’ve got Tito’s, Jack, some gin one of the guys got me.”

It drew you back to the whole reason you were in his room. He was standing next to his mini-fridge, a solo cup in his hand as he looked at you. “What mixers do you have?”

“Coke, juice, and tonic,” he replied. “Sorry, it’s not much.”

You shook your head. “Tito’s and tonic,” you told him. Usually you would’ve been all over the Jack and coke option, but considering how much you’d already drank the last thing you needed was to mix clear and dark liquors.

You watched him pour, leaning against his desk as you waited. He handed you the cup, asking you to try it and tell him if it was too strong. You took a sip and it was strong, but not too much. Then, he made a whiskey and coke you were jealous of, and the two of you stood in his room, not quite sure what to do. You didn’t want to go back down the party, the feeling of fresh air—even though it smelled vaguely like college boy, a mixture of sweat and cologne that you keenly recognized—feeling good on your skin.

“Want to listen to some music?” He asked, moving towards you. There was a bluetooth speaker on his desk, you realized, and shifted away so he could get at his computer.

You decided to sit on the bed, thighs resting on the soft comforter. “Sure.” You pulled your cigarettes and lighter from your back pocket, before looking back at him.

He fiddled with the speaker, the sound of it connecting ricocheting in the small room, before clicking keys to wake up his computer. “Any preferences?”

“I’m good with whatever,” you replied. “I like pretty much everything.” It was true, you had everything from country to Top 40s and rap on your Spotify, a variety of playlists to fit the mood.

He pulled on his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger as he perused his Spotify and you tried not to focus on the sight. Low music began to sound in the room and you immediately recognized the beginning notes of Let Her Go by 6LACK, a smile drifting onto your face. He must have noticed, because he turned around, his cup in his hand. “You like 6LACK?”

“More like obsessed,” you replied and he chuckled.

He sat on the edge of the desk, his knees falling open, his back slumped a bit. “I don’t know a single girl who even knows who he is.”

You took a sip of your drink before replying, resting your body back on one hand. “They must not have good music taste, then.”

Harry gave you a small smile, an edge of playfulness to it. “Where’s home for you?”

“Denver,” you responded. “You?”

“Holmes Chapel.”

“Where’s that?”

He brushed a hand through his hair, the long locks slipping between his fingers and you couldn’t help but wish you were the one doing it. “South of Manchester. It’s a small town, lots of fields and shit like that.”

You’d never been to England so you had no idea of where Manchester was, but you didn’t ask. “Do you like it?”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t want to like, move back or anything. But it’s a good place to go home to.”

Denver felt the same way to you—it was home, but it wasn’t a place you saw a future in. You’d go where law school took you, and then the work, wherever you could make the biggest impact. “Where do you want to go?”

The solo cup hung in his hands, and he twirled it a bit, the rim of the cup pressed between his fingers. “LA, maybe. New York. Not sure, really. London, most likely, unless I can get a job and someone to sponsor my Visa so I can stay.”

“Do you like the states?” You knew you were asking a lot of questions, but you’d never had a conversation like this with him and you were curious. Curious about him, about who he was, underneath all the frat shit that he loved so much.

“It’s different than home,” he replied, and you understood what he meant. “I don’t think I’ll want to be here forever, but it’s good for right now. Got friends here now.”

You took another sip of your drink, and then pushed yourself up, the need to pee suddenly overtaking your body. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall. Make sure you slam on the door before locking it—it got fucked up during homecoming and hasn’t been the same ever since.”

You nodded and took your cup with you, four years of college ingraining some lessons into your bones. Down the hall, you found a blond wood door and a doorknob that was barely attached to the door. You pushed it open and shut it quickly, shoving against it with your shoulder so that you could flip the lock. Inside, you wondered for the millionth time why boys were in capable from having a properly stocked bathroom. Head & Shoulders shampoo littered the floor of the shower, a flimsy shower curtain that had come free from a couple of the rings. You squatted to pee, grabbing the toilet paper roll that sat on top of the toilet, no one even bothering to properly put it away.

As you peed, you scrolled through your phone. Mallory had texted saying she was going bar hopping with some of her friends and you told her to text you if she needed anything and a heart, before checking her on Find My Friends to see she was, in fact at a bar. Then you texted your group chat with Emily and Alexis and Maya, who had asked how you were doing. You told them you were with Harry and most likely going to be here for a while, which got excited responses and Alexis sent the eggplant emoji, which made you snort. They told you to text you if you ended up staying the night so they could keep track of where you were, which you agree to do.

When you went to wash your hands, you rolled your eyes because of course they couldn’t even buy hand soap. You went to the shower and found a bottle of body wash, and squirted some into your hands before going back to the sink, rinsing them off. Then you looked at your face in the mirror, eyeliner and mascara still in tact, but your hair was a disaster. You pulled the bun free and let your hair tumble down your back, running through it with your fingers to calm the strands that were askew.

Standing the mirror, you had the opportunity to consider your choices. Did you want to hook up with Harry? Yes. That was a clear answer, despite your alcohol-hazed mind. Did he want to? Most likely—every indication had pointed towards yes. So your mind was made up as you pulled the door open and made your way back to his room, your phone tucked into your jeans and solo cup in your hand.

“You guys really need soap.”

He was still sitting on the edge of his desk, scrolling through his phone and sipping on his drink when you came into the room. At the sight of you, he put his phone down. “I know—it’s fucking disgusting. I have my own, though. Sorry for not sharing.”

You set your cup on his dresser, deciding you were done, and moved towards him. “It’s fine. I made do.” His eyes trailed down your front, the sexual tension thick in the room. When he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it, you decided fuck it you were done waiting.

You crossed the space between the two of you in second, slotting yourself between his knees. His hands found your waist immediately, his solo cup moving to rest on the table once your body was pressed to his. Without pausing, you pressed your lips to his, reconnecting them in a fire—you needed him, you wanted him, you craved his hands on your skin. Now that you were alone, it was like you couldn’t hold yourself together and neither could he. His hands moved up and down your back, tugging you into his chest as your hands curled in his long hair. Lips fought for dominance, teeth tugging and tongues pressing for more. When he licked into your mouth a wet moan left your lips and you pressed into the crotch of his pants without even meaning to.

6LACK was still flowing through the speaker, and the smooth RnB just adding to the desire rolling through your body. When his lips dropped to your neck, sucking and biting on your skin, a desperate, filthy noise fell from your mouth and you couldn’t help but smile when Harry grunted into you. “I—fuck,” he mumbled, squeezing at your hips.

Suddenly your clothes were too warm, burning against your skin. You leaned back and pulled at the hem of your tank top, pulling it up over your head and letting it fall to the floor. Harry’s eyes went wide, blown out irises from alcohol and desire criss-crossing over your body. “You can touch me,” you said, confidence coursing through your veins and just desperate for him to do something.

He didn’t hesitate, pulling you back into him and attaching his mouth to the swell of your breast, right above the lace of your bra. Hot breath on your skin had you keening into him, back arching up into his mouth, your fingers tugging into his hair. You loved his hair, having something to hold onto and anchor yourself, and from the pleased hums he liked it too. His hands fumbled with your bra clasp, and when he got it free and pulled the material away, he pulled your nipple into his mouth and you audibly sighed. When he sucked on it, then laved over it with his tongue you couldn’t help but buck into him. You were putty in his arms and he had barely done anything.

Your hands pulled at his shirt, the desire to see his skin overwhelming you. He didn’t make you wait, helping you tug it over his head, and let it drop to the floor. Black ink scattered across his skin, words and images that made a million questions swirl in your mind. The G on his shoulder, the ship on his bicep, the name Jackson scrawled above a rose, the swallows across his collarbones and a butterfly on his stomach. He sat there, chest heaving as he caught his breath and your fingers brushed his skin, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Y/N,” he rasped, “bed?”

“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with ease, and he was backing you into it immediately, hands in your hair and lips on yours. Your bare chests touching sent you into overdrive, the brush of your nipples on his warm skin, a sheen of sweat covering both of you from dancing all night.

The comforter was plush underneath your back as you scrambled up the length of his bed, his body following yours immediately. Your legs fell apart so he could fit between you, and when he did, his dick rested right against your clothed clit and it made you gasp. “Feel good?” He mumbled, the words a haze in your ears as he plucked your lips between his.

All you could do was buck up, your knees finding either side of him. You wanted to be on top, to be in control. You wanted to grind on him properly, after waiting for so long. With a hand at his chest, you pushed slightly, enough for him to move back. He must have understood what you wanted because he flopped onto the bed next to you, one hand on either of your thighs and you mounted him, your ass sitting on the top of his thighs.

When you moved your center over his dick, both of you groaned, deep and drawn out, your head thrown back in pleasure. It was bliss, after so much waiting, to finally be able to do this, his hands crawling from your thighs to your hips to hold you in place, exactly where he wanted you. You put your hands on his chest to hold yourself up, and let your hips find a sinful rhythm, one that was making pleasure curl in your stomach. Pants left your mouth, matched by Harry, who was watching you as if you were a fucking art exhibit, eyes trying to take in every inch of you. Fingernails curled into his skin, red marks that you expected to be there tomorrow, when he nudged at your clit, and you rubbed that spot a few more times, his name falling from your lips in a beg. “Harry.”

That had him moving, pulling your lips down to his so he could kiss you again, his fingers cradling the back of your head. It was just rough enough where you were scrambling to catch up and it felt good, that this was consuming every part of your brain. You rolled your hips again, your hands pressing into the pillow under his head. Then, you felt his thighs agains your ass, and he was pushing up into you, making him snugly flush against you, the only thing between you two being your clothes.

Which you wanted off, and wanted off now. You moved back, crawling between his legs, and his eyes followed you, panting as he watched you pop the button on his pants. He lifted his hips to help you and you tugged the tight skinny jeans that showed every inch of his thickness underneath them down his legs. Then, you pulled on his briefs, and he was bare in front of you, exactly as you wanted him. Your jeans were constricting your movement so you turned tot he side, pulling the denim off of your body so you were left in your underwear.

Then you were on him again, but this time, it was your hand on his dick, fingers running up the length of him.

“Fuck,” he said, voice husky in your ears. He was gorgeous underneath you, desperation making his eyebrows crease, his long hair a mess on the pillow. Why had you waited so long to act on this desire? You suddenly couldn’t remember.

He watched you spit onto his most sensitive part, and then slide your hand over him, spreading the moisture. He hissed at the feeling and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long here—he was already hard, his tip red and throbbing. The fact that you had him this turned on and you’d barely done anything made your ego soar, to be honest. You pumped him three times before licking up the underside of him, his hands curling in the comforter, a stream of curses falling from his lips.

When you took him into your mouth, a low, rough grunt filled the room and you smiled. You hollowed your cheeks and immediately took him all the way into your mouth, resisting the urge to gag when he hit the back of your throat. “Shit,” he rasped. “You—shit.”

You’d done what you were about to give him just a handful of times before, only with people who you knew you would feel pleasure from too when they did it, and trusted. And Harry fit both of those categories, because he could fucking smile and you’d want to fuck him. So you grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of your head, before taking him all the way to the back of your throat. Your mouth was full of him and it felt so good.

“Want me to fuck your mouth?” His eyes were glimmering in the light, completely focused on you. You were happy you had left the lights on, because it meant you could every inch of him, every reaction you drew from him.

In response, you licked at his tip, hoping he knew that meant yes.

He seemed to, because he curled his fingers into your hair and pushed his hips up, his tip hitting your throat immediately. You groaned around his dick and he cursed at the vibrations. Then, he kept his hips on the bed and instead pulled you up and down him, fucking your mouth just as you had wanted. You couldn’t do much from this position, so you focused on inhaling through your nose and running your hands over his skin, scratching at the butterfly on his torso. Leaving reminders of this night, of you, on his body.

“Shit,” he mumbled, pulling you off. “I—I have to stop. But, shit, you feel so good, babe.”

The pet name made you smile, sitting back on your heels to wipe at your mouth, the taste of his salty precum still on your tongue. “Do you have a condom?” You asked, because all that you had done had left you more than ready—you needed him inside of you.

Harry’s eyes went wide and he scrambled up. “Fuck,” he exhaled, grabbing at his desk drawer and pulling it open. Watching him look through his drawers completely naked was, you had to admit, a bit amusing, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. He wrenched another drawer open, tossing the contents about as he looked. Then he sighed, and looked back at you. “I’m out.”

“Go find one,” you told him, leaning back against the wall, letting your knees drop open to show your underwear. You could feel the wet spot on them and you knew he saw it too. “I’ll wait here.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll—yeah I’ll find one.” He pulled on his jeans, not even bothering with his briefs, eyes flickering to you every once and a while. “Shit, I’ll—I’ll be back.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at how flustered he was, pushing open his door and letting it slam shut behind him. Through the door you could hear him knocking on the door next to his, some muffled words, and then him knocking again. He was going fucking door to door looking for a condom, you realized with amusement. Then, the patter of feet on the stairs, and you knew he was going downstairs, that no one else was in their rooms.

While you waited, you grabbed your phone and scrolled through it. Caught up on texts, liked shit on Instagram, checked Snapchat even though you barely used the app. Most people were at bars, as far as you could tell, but it looked like they’d set back up pong downstairs according to Emily’s story.

All of a sudden, feet pounded on the stairs and you knew it was Harry. You pushed your phone back onto the desk, and when the door opened, he was standing there holding probably ten condoms. “How many did you get?”

He looked down at the wad in his hand and visibly blushed. “I—I thought I’d re-stock.”

You let it slide, even though you knew exactly why he got so many. He was hoping you’d have a couple rounds, and you were not opposed to the idea. “Come here,” you said, and let your legs fall back open.

He was on you in second, his pants kicked down his legs as he moved and you were surprised he didn’t trip. Hands found your skin and he pushed you up the bed, this time he was the one hovering over you, lips drawing eager mewls from you. You pressed your hips into his unclothed erection and he cursed, a grimace crossing his face that you knew was from him restraining himself. “Can I take these off?” He asked, fingers pulling at your underwear.

“Please,” you replied and that made him smile at you. He peeled them down your legs, tossing them to the ground, a forgotten memory. Then he brushed a finger over your slit and you gasped, cool touch sending waves of pleasure through you. “Need you.” The two words made his head snap up from where he was looking at your pussy, eyes connecting with yours.

“I was going to go down on you,” he said, and although the thought was tantalizing, you needed him inside of you.

You shook your head. “Later.”

Harry wasn’t complaining. He grabbed one of the condoms from his desk and ripped it open, rolling it down his dick with a concentrated gaze. Then, he crawled up your body, reconnecting your lips, and you both sighed at the feeling of his dick rolling against your center. “Okay?” He asked, pulling away just a hair to check in.

“Please,” you begged, and that had him moving immediately.

He tugged one of your legs around his waist, and then he gripped his dick, brushing his tip to your slit once, twice, three times. On the third time, though, he pressed in, and your wetness accepted him immediately, allowing him to push in about halfway before he stopped.

It burned a bit—mainly just from his size, which was bigger than most other guys you’d been with. You hands scrambled across his chest, grabbing at his skin, struggling to get your breathing under control. “You’re big,” you said, unable to stop the words that fell from your lips.

A cocky smile drifted over his face and you mentally kicked yourself for adding to his ego. “Can I move?” He asked though and you nodded. His head bobbed down, and you realized he was watching where you two were connected as he pulled back and then pushed in all the way. A choked moan left your mouth and a similar one sounded from Harry’s, although his had a string of curses attached. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he rasped, hands adjusting so they were next to your head, his face above yours. “Fuck.”

You were about to tell him to move when he did it on his own accord, pulling out and back into you, the impact making your body shift on the comforter. There was a very real possibility of you having sore legs tomorrow, but you really didn’t give a fuck because he felt so good. “Holy shit,” you babbled, those words the only ones you could find as he thrusted in and out of you, finding a rhythm that made you both pant with pleasure.

Sounds drifted out of you without you even realizing, something that always happened when you had drunk sex. You couldn’t control yourself as much, unable to process how loud you were being, what you were saying. Looking back you couldn’t even remember exactly what you had said, but you knew it was a mess of curses and his name and God and just pants and mewls that were feeding Harry like a fucking three course meal.

He loved your sounds, used them to figure out what you liked, where to move and shift. You could tell because when you’d let out a sharp gasp he’d say, “Yeah, there? That’s the spot?” and drive in and out of you, hitting your g-spot perfectly with every move of his hips. Your hands were clutching at his hair as he thrusted into you, your ankles hooked around his lower back, and your body was desperate for release.

But you could also tell he was not going to last. His eyes were heavy, eyelids drawing shut with pleasure, fingers curling in the pillow next to you. Shoulders tensing and abdomen tight as he swiveled his hips, a broken moan falling between you. “Close,” he finally said, and dropped down to his elbows, so his face hovered above yours, only a hair away. “You feel so good, shit, oh my god—how do you feel so good?” His words were broken and that made them even better, that he had no control over what he was saying.

“Want you to come,” you babbled, “want to feel it, come on Harry, come for me, please, I need it.”

“Holy fuck—“ that had him snapping into you, hips slapping against yours, the sound of skin on skin overpowering the music that still played in the background. You gripped his shoulders when his head hung in the crook of your shoulder, and you knew he was about to come.

So you said one more thing. “I need you to come, Harry, please.” The words came out as a beg, exactly as you intended. His hips were stuttering immediately, curses falling between you like a broken record, repeating over and over again as he shot into the condom. He smattered kisses on your shoulder as he collapsed into you, sweat sticking to your skin.

He laid there for a second, panting, and you didn’t mind, even though you desperately needed to come. Perhaps it was how you clamped down on him, or you shifted your hips to feel slightly more of him, but Harry seemed to figure out what you needed. He lifted his head, took one look at you, and then pulled out, ripping off the condom and tossing it into his trash before crawling down your legs.

When his tongue licked your slit, you mewled his name, your hands moving into his hair immediately. You tugged and pulled on it as he licked over you, drawing circles that pulled desire from your flesh. And then he went inside, darting his deftly skilled tongue into you and practically thrusting it into you. His thumb brushed across your nub and you let our a shuddering moan, bucking up into his face. You were close—insanely close—the combination of his tongue inside of you and the thumb on your nub drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Harry,” you rasped, voice broken from panting. “I’m close.”

He seemed double his effort, tongue moving in and out of you at double time, his thumb brushing a brutal pace over you. You were twisting in his arms, hips bucking, curses leaving your lips. And when he pulled his thumb away and sucked on your clit, that’s when you came, in a mess of his name and broken gasps, choking on air. Your fingers curled tightly in his hair, anchoring his face to your center as you came, bucking up into him. He didn’t mind though, he just held your hips and took it, licking at you to draw out all of your aftershocks. Your eyes squeezed shut and your mind was a mess, swirling without the ability to grasp onto a single thread of thought, just a mess under his lips.

When you finally regained the ability to breathe, you pulled your hands from his hair and he sat up. You watched in awe as he licked his lips, gathering your juice, and swallowed them, a smile on his face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really good at that?”

He gave you a cocky expression and then flopped down next to you. “They have, in fact.”

“Good. I’d be concerned about the other girls if they hadn’t.”

He laughed, and then pulled you into his body. You were surprised at his desire to cuddle, but you weren’t mad. “You can stay if you want. There’s people downstairs still and it’s cold out.”

You propped your head up on his shoulder. “There’s also all those condoms.”

“That’s true. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.”

You trailed your fingers up his torso. “Might have to just stay the whole weekend if we’re trying to use them all.”

His eyebrows quirked, but he wasn’t mad at the prospect. “Wanna be my study break for the weekend?”

You smirked, leaning up to quickly peck his lips. “As long as you’re mine.”

He hauled your body on top of his and curled his fingers into your hair. “We’ll get your shit in the morning, then.”

“It’s a deal.” You kissed him, lips slotting against one another, slower and less hurried than before, but that same undercurrent of desire stringing between you two. You were already grinding into him, hips brushing over his as you moved.

Suddenly, a pounding sound came from the door, and you froze. “Fuck off!” Harry called, pulling the comforter that had ended up at the bottom of the bed over the two of you.

“Fuck—sorry—I need a condom, man.” The words were muffled, but you heard them all the same.

Harry snorted, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go ask Nick,” he replied, “and leave me the fuck alone.” His hands grabbed at you, kneading into your ass, and you licked at his nipple.

It was going to be a long weekend.

SEND ME CONCEPTS ABOUT Y/N AND HARRY!

#frat boy harry #frat boy au #frat boy fan fiction #Harry Styles #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing

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stephspurs · 3 years

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A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. This is a window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the Italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

hey girlypops! here is part 5!!! thanks for the feedback on the last part - i've gone back through and edited slight bits to make it more straightforward who her brother is and who it isn't. Nothing has been changed to the story line so no need to go back and re-read (unless you want to lol love yas). Part 5 is a whole lot of fun! As the warning suggests, you can expect a few too many drinks, some heavy flirty & a very smug italian.

Love always, Steph xx

Part 5. | parte quinta

warnings; a few too many drinks, heavy flirting and a smug italian.

word count; 1704

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Wed 04/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

Day rolls into night, which rolls into the next day and before she knew it Amelia had been under the Mykonos sun for 5 days. Her brother and his teammates, who she should now probably refer to as her friends as well, did nothing but welcome her into their group with open arms and tried to include her in every activity they were doing. Most times she declined their invitation, opting to just relax on her own. She was very comfortable with her own company, she never felt like she needed another person to be able to exist. It was something she was proud of.

No doubt there were times she often missed companionship. She had her fair share of flings that gave her what kind of satisfaction she needed at the time, but she never felt like she needed someone else’s air to be able to breathe. This Mykonos trip, however, reminded her of how much she was beginning to miss her players. They had a group chat, La Cosa Nostra, which was probably a pretty poor group chat name but she was inducted into the already established group when she became close with some of the players & besides it was just Our Thing.

She missed the gentle bullying that she received on the daily from the serie a superstars, and also missed dishing it out to them so that they could keep their feet on the ground and their heads out of the clouds. Laying on her bed in a towel, after a nice shower, she contemplated taking up her brother’s offer from earlier in the evening. Does she go out and meet him and their mates at the club? Why not?

Getting up off her bed, she put on some makeup for the first time in a few days, making her feel somewhat human again, blow dried her freshly washed hair and put on her favourite Camilla bikini, covered up by a white slightly-sheer and flowy mini dress. Putting on her white sneakers and grabbing her cross body bag, comfort was the theme of tonight, and also because she wasn't in the mood to break her ankle on the grecian cobblestones.

Walking to the club that her brother had messaged her the name of, she noticed a ridiculously long line to get in which was honestly long enough for her to consider just going home, but she had committed to the plans & her brother was already expecting her - plus she had already put on her mascara and she was not wasting it. Approaching the line she went to join the back when her arm caught that of someone else walking past her.

_____________________________________________________________

“Sembra che tu non riesca a starmi lontano, vero?” (you can't seem to stay away from me, can you?) Looking up, I had linked arms with my midfield maestro, Jorginho. Who was smiling down at me with the cheeky grin that told me he saw me coming and couldn't help himself.

“Ciao! Come sei stato? Che sorpresa incontrati qui!” (Hi! How have you been? What a surprise running into you here!) I begin to say to him as I kiss both his cheeks in greeting.

“I’ve been good, enjoying time off as a double champion” He joked with me. He was right, he was a double champion and no one could take that away from him.

“Bella Amelia, this is Thiago. I play with him at Chelsea, which I'm sure you already knew. Thiago, this is the brains behind the organisation, Amelia” Jorginho introduced me to his Chelsea counterpart, which he was correct about - i did already know exactly who he was.

“Are you guys coming into Tropicana? I’m meeting up with my brother and his mates - some of them play with you guys at Chelsea. You should join us!” It took very little convincing for the two footballers, who looked like they were a couple hours into their long night, to join me in the club.

Unsurprisingly, we got let into Tropicana quite quickly. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the two mega famous and ridiculously good looking footballers I had looped around each of my arms. Walking through the club, the smell of cigarette smoke and vodka wafting around me, I managed to find the british players.

“Now now boys, no bad blood here! I know you all managed to get over my Italian affiliation so don’t hold it against my boy Jorgi here!” I address the group jokingly, as I wrap my right arm around his neck and he wraps his left around my waist.

Of course the Chelsea boys welcome him with open arms, they’ve known both Thiago and Jorgi longer than they’ve known me. The other boys offer their hellos before continuing to dance and drink with their mates. I say hi to everyone, give a big hug to my brother and Kyle (my chosen brother) before I'm wrapped into another hug I wasn't expecting.

“I’ve got to admit, you give a good hug” I say as I whisper into his ear.

“You’re a pretty easy person to hug, Mils”

“Always a smooth talker you are, Jack”

We parted and I grabbed myself a drink before spending the night dancing on top of the table with the girlfriends of the boys that I had only just been introduced to. Bonding over the fact that I was desperate for some female companionship, and also that I was the only single girl in the group, leading to the conclusion that they needed to be my wingwoman...all of them.

The night thereafter was spent finding suitable prospects for my whirlwind night of fun and romance, which I insisted wasn't necessary but also couldn't help but admit that it excited me just a little. It had been a while since I was close with a guy in that sense, and to be honest, the tequila shots that the girls had me doing was loosening me up in more ways than one.

Feeling the need for a break and some fresh air, I grabbed my purse and walked outside to sit along the retaining wall. We had reached that part of the evening where there was no chance I wasn't going to be allowed back into the club - the bouncers and security guards becoming more relaxed and carefree as it neared the time that the sun would reappear. Without thinking twice, I asked for a cigarette from some guys standing outside and a quick light, before returning to my little spot on the wall.

“They’re right bad for you, ya know” A voice to my right startled me.

“Jesus! You need to stop scaring me like that!” I shrieked.

“Nah not Jesus, just Chilly. However the beard has me thinking I do look a little bit God-like these days..no?” He says as he runs his fingers through the barely-there beard. Sure I could agree with stubble, maybe even a little bit more than stubble, but a beard? Not yet. However, I wasn't about to dim his sparkle.

“I like the beard, Chilly.” I confirmed.

“I like you, Mils” Wow ok. Straight to the point then.

“Well thanks, you’re not so bad yourself.” I tried to play it off, it was obvious we had both consumed far too much alcohol this evening and the cigarette was currently working wonders in its purpose of sobering me up.

“Ya know, the girls were out there tonight looking for your Greek Adonis to come and sweep you off your feet. They were looking a bit too hard though, if you know what i mean” he sweet talks me, and its working.

“Wow Ben, you’re really out here laying it on thick tonight - factor 50 i would say. I’m sure you’re just looking through rose coloured glasses right now” I joked back with him. I can’t say I didn't notice all of his longing looks, extra attention to me, constant protection when we would be out in public, but I knew at the end of the week that I would be going back to Turin, so there wasn’t any point.

Finishing up our little chat (read: heavy flirting session), we headed back inside together to join the group. Before long, Jorgi comes up to me with a drink and a smug smile on his face.

“Che cosa?” (what?) I questioned him in Italian, trying to limit as many people understanding our conversation as possible.

“Cosa succede a mykonos, rimane a mykonos, no?” (what happens in mykonos, stays in mykonos, no?) He says as he leans into my ear. To anyone else it would just look like two friends trying to have a conversation in a loud club, but I understood his message loud and clear.

“non sto facendo niente di male, né l'ho mai fatto. non voleva etichette, quindi è quello che ha ottenuto” (i'm not doing anything wrong, nor have i ever. he wanted no labels so that’s what he got.) I say back firmly. Jorgi let go of my shoulders and moved to stand in front of me.

“It’s ok tesoro (darling), I’m sure Federico would agree with you” He said back to me in English, it was obvious that he wanted someone around to understand the premise of our conversation. He smiled cheekily at me, before taking a swig of his drink and dancing backwards into the crowd as I shook my head at him.

Jorgi and I developed the kind of friendship that would last through time. We were equals. We listened to each other's problems, offered the advice that we needed to hear & not necessarily wanted to hear. We promoted each other's happiness and tried to get each other to not take life too seriously. This was his way of bringing me back down to earth, reminding me of what I have waiting for me back in Turin, but also making sure I knew what was right in front of me. He left the decision up to me to make, but he played his part to make sure I knew all of my options. He really was a good friend, which would make my next career decision a little bit more challenging than anticipated.

Part 6. | parte sesta

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hisoknen · 4 years

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pairing: terushima yuji x fem!reader warnings: noncon/dubcon, alcohol, weed, virgin reader, exhibitionism/public sex, sleazy teru, unprotected sex, lil blood wc: 2.6k summary: you meet terushima at a bar while waiting for your date to show up

a/n: thank you @linestrider for reading this over, giving me your brain and encouraging me!! and @sawamooora for putting me down this path of no return,,, if you haven’t read lee’s false god you gotta check it out!

The air in the dingy bar was thick with clouds of smoke wafting in from the outside. No matter how many times you wiped at the table in front of you, it remained sticky.

The stool you were perched on felt off-balance, rocking each time you shifted, as though there was a bunched up piece of paper holding up one of the legs. Each time the door opened and the sound of voices flooded in, you glanced over to see if he was here yet.

Checking your phone it was already well over an hour since he told you to meet him. Never having been fond of dating sites, you grumbled with irritation, giving off a cold air to the drunk men who would slink their way over to hit on you.

“Hey there, cutie.” You turn around, ready to tell another off when you find his face. Your eyes lowered, taking in his carefree impish grin. He was blond with broad shoulders, wearing black jeans and a sleeveless grey shirt. The stranger pulled out the barstool beside you and waved over the bartender ordering a drink.

“I’m not here alone,” you looked straight ahead, trying to brush him off. You looked over the beer tap reading the labels over for the hundredth time that night. Your head tilted when he hummed.

You turn toward him, taking a second to look him over. He had an undercut and spiky blond hair that was slicked back a small tuft in the center of his forehead, and earrings.He gave off the vibe of a sleazy frat boy who hit on drunk girls. Someone who didn’t take things too seriously and wanted to ‘just live in the moment.’

He cocked his head to the side, looking you up and down. He quirked an eyebrow looking around the room. With exaggerated movements, he leaned back on his seat and nodded to the empty seat on your left before shifting his gaze back to you with a playful gleam in his eyes.

“You sure?” His elbow rests against the table, cupping his chin while his eyes dance along your body. Your cheeks heat up at the probing, you roll your eyes, glancing down at your phone.

“Supposed to meet someone.” Picking up your drink, you swirl the straw and watch the ice clink against the glass. The icy liquid slides down your throat, coating it with cranberry juice and cheap vodka that makes you grimace.

What should you have expected, the drinks to taste good in a seedy place like this? You laugh to yourself, tipping back the glass and finishing it off. Your words seem to float in one ear and out the other as he inches closer, snatching your phone. You dart out to grab it, but he leans out of your reach, typing. He pulls out his phone checking it before tucking it away.

“He’s just late,” you huff, your defense falling on deaf ears.

“Looks to me like you’ve been blown off,” he chuckles, scooting in closer. You can’t help but wince at the remark feeling the booze bubble in your gut.

“Sorry I couldn't make it. Something came up.” He drawls, reading from the screen. You rip the phone from his grasp, plunging it into your bag. His arms raised in mock defense, laughing. “Can we get another round?” The blond man ignores your furious gaze, waving over the bartender. Resigning, you shrugged your shoulders. If your prince charming wasn’t going to show up, the least you could do was get some free drinks.

“Anyway. What’s your name, pretty thing?”

“Y/n. you?” you grumble

“Yuuji.”

—

Your mind felt foggy, Terushimas shitty jokes managing to pull laughs from you. The more you looked at him, the more you found him attractive. It was either that or the bottle of vodka pooling in your gut.

Now and then, his tongue would dip out to wet his lips, and you’d see the glint of his tongue ring. The way his hands rested on your thigh, thumbing your flesh, sent a warm hum through you—your breath hitches when you rub your thighs together. Everything about him screamed at you to run away, but you were stuck in place. Staring at him in awe and slurring your words as he fed you drinks.

Under different circumstances, you’d never give a guy like him the time of day, but his playful energy was refreshing. But with a bruised ego and enough alcohol pumping through your veins, you almost found him endearing.

“It’s late. Lemme walk you home.” He drops a set of bills on the table and tugs your arm; you follow him stumbling over your feet. The cold air brushes past your face, bringing bumps to the surface of your skin. He didn’t know where you lived, but he was walking with purpose, dragging your body close to his and slinging a sweaty arm over your shoulder.

“You smell delicious,” his breath reeked of booze and heavy cigarette smoke. You hated the smell, but the warmth of his body enveloping you felt too good against your shivering skin.

He brought a rolled joint to his lips, pausing as he lit it. The smoke lingers as he takes a few short puffs. You watch him as he inhales, the smoke curling as he blows it out.

“Wanna taste?” He brings the joint to his lips. You nod hesitantly, watching as the end of it sizzles, turning red as he sucks in, puffing out his cheeks and letting a cloud out. He quickly sucks it back in, grabbing your jaw to tilt your face up.

You open your mouth, and he blows the smoke in. You breathe in as he blows, his finger brushing at the corner of your lips. You exhale, coughing as it flows out of your lungs. “First time?” The tears prickling at your eyes answers his question. He brings it to his lips, taking a long drag and relaxing his hold on you. Terushima lets out a laugh patting your back and ushering you around the corner.

You choke back a cry when your back meets jagged brick, Terushima’s body pressed tightly against you. One hand is at your side, trapping you against the wall.

His mouth latches onto your neck, leaving behind wet kisses and bites while his hand snakes between your legs. He quickly moves under your skirt, pulling your panties to the side.

“Wait,” you freeze; he continues his sloppy assault against your neck, letting out a soft laugh and inching his fingers closer to your heat.

“S’okay. No need to be nervous, pretty thing.” He pulls away from your throat, a thick line of saliva trailing on his lips. His mouth crashes against yours, tongue eagerly sweeping out to taste you. You try to keep up with him, feeling the cold metal ball intertwined with your muscle.

He pulls away, panting, crushing the joint beneath his feet. He drops his hands to tug at the belt of his jeans. You can’t help but stare down at him as he pulls his cock out from the confines.

Your heart hammering against your chest, watching as he wraps his fingers around his length. It’s thick and veiny, the tip red and weeping. He looks down, pumping it a few times before letting go. You can’t help but shudder when it slaps against his stomach.

“I’ll take care of you.”

Terushima brings two fingers to his mouth, wrapping his lips around them. You can make out his tongue swirling around the digits before pulling them out coated with saliva. He smiles at your lust blown eyes, lips colliding with yours.

You moan against him, tugging at his shirt. His wet fingers easing back into your underwear and brushing against your clit. His tongue lashes out, pulling whimpers from you, leaving you winded and trembling.

“See?” He grins against your lips, kissing the corner before nudging past to find the sweet spot of your neck.

“I’ve never-” you stare up at him with uncertainty. Your blood runs cold. You only learned his name a few hours ago, while waiting to meet someone else.

You didn’t know where he lived or what kind of person he was when he wasn’t trying to get into your pants.

“Fucked somewhere you could get caught? First time for everything, yeah?” His eyes were low, lazily drinking you in, a smile tugging at his lips. Your mouth parts, but you can’t seem to get the words out.

“No way,” his eyes widened, “a virgin?” His jaw drops, voice picking up. He looked excited, eagerly grabbing your thigh and pulling it under his arm, wrapping it around his waist.

He reaches for his cock dragging it against your slick folds, searching your eyes for confirmation. You nod meekly staring back at him with a small smile.

“I’ll be gentle,” he hums. His voice is sweet and deceptive, the feeling of his cock tapping against your clit, pushing away your thoughts. His hand is wrapped around his cock, flicking the head against your bundle of nerves and back through slick folds.

“I promise.” He presses the tip against your tight hole, holding your hip tightly with his other hand. You let out a yelp when he pushes forward, fingertips digging into your flesh.

“Might wanna be quiet.” he purrs against your ear, “unless you want an audience.” Your hand clamps around your mouth, stifling the cries. A daze begins to creep in, your mouth dry and body shivering under his hands.

“Shh, just a bit more. You’ll look so pretty with my cock filling you up.” He talks to you as though his words alone can ease you onto his cock. Your walls are fighting against him, threatening to push him out each time he moves.

“Condom-” you stutter, trying to pull away. His grip tightens as he pushes deeper, pulling your hips in to meet him.

“I won’t cum inside s’fine,” he groans, landing his forehead against yours. His eyes are downcast, watching his cock disappear inside of your fluttering hole.

“Just relax a little,” he grunts, pulling out and easing back in. It feels like you’re being torn in half, only able to take the tip with each pump. His fingers reach down to tug and spin your clit, movements hasty and lust-driven. “Fuck, that’s it.” His hisses at the feeling of your cunt slowly sucking him in. Your eyes shoot open when his other hand slams inches from your face, boxing you in.

Terushima presses a sloppy kiss to your lips, dragging his teeth against your puffy lower lip. He tugs on it, a breathy moan falling from your lips. Your mind is swimming in a haze, cunt quivering and releasing slowly around him.

“Just like that. Fuck.” His fingers languidly roll against your clit, his hips stuttering. The drag of his cock easing in and out of you burns.

“Yuuji, it hurts,” you hiccup, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Your hips ache, thigh trembling around his waist. His cock impaling you and his hold on your leg are the only things keeping your shaking leg on the ground.

“It always hurts the first time. It’ll feel real good soon, promise.” His words don’t help the sharp pain radiating between your legs. Looking down, you see a white sheen mixed with blood covering his cock.

“If it really hurt that bad, you wouldn’t be gushing around me like this.” The words spewing from his mouth are filthy. You felt filthy. Moaning and letting a stranger hump into you like some back alley hooker. Terushima’s fingers swipe against his cock, gathering your slick and spreading on your clit. He pushes down, circling it with each thrust.

You feel breathless each time you go to bring air into your lungs. He plunges into you, forcing it out. All you can manage is holding onto his shoulders, pulling him against you while he fucks into you.

“Anyone could find us. Isn’t that exciting?” He laughs, pounding into you relentlessly searching for his release as you cry out against his neck. You bite down on his shoulder, muffling your moans, pulling a low growl from his throat.

“God, you’re fucking hot,” Terushima rolls his hips into you, fucking into you with rabid intensity. Thick tears flood down your cheeks as he pulls out of you. The release of pressure has your mind swimming, not noticing he’s flipped you to face the wall until he shoves his cock into you, pushing your cheek against the brick. A burst erupts in the hollow of your belly, being tugged and lolled around with each piston of his hips.

His hands snake under your shirt, kneading your tits while his other hand dives between your thighs, rubbing sloppy circles into your swollen clit.

It’s hard to make out if he’s grunting praise or filth against your neck, his stomach colliding with your back as he drives against you with reckless abandon. His cock grazes your cervix, and you let out a scream in the empty alley. Cheeks raw from rubbing against the brick. Your fingers dig into it, nails scraping down the wall. Terushima pinches and pulls at your nipples,

“S’ too deep Yuuji,” you cry out, the pain morphing into a twisted pleasure that riddles through your brain and stomach. You hiccup choking on your tears and moans, body pushing back to meet each of his sharp thrusts, chasing the warm tingle in your gut.

“Fuck, so tight.” His fingers push down on your puffy clit sending you over the edge. Your body shudders, jerking against him, and he bites down on your shoulder, groaning at the strong pulses of your cunt gripping him.

Your body falls limp in his arms, no strength left in your legs. You're held up by Terushima’s grip on your hips, his cock desperately humping between your folds. Only the lewd sound of your squelching cunt and his balls slapping against your skin fills the alley. You mumble, pleading with him to pull out but he keeps driving into you, not caring for the incoherent babbles that flood past your lips.

Your stomach flexes as he falls still inside of you, holding your body down onto his cock and filling you with ropes of cum. Your head falls back against his shoulder, knees buckling.

Terushima holds for a moment soaking in the feeling of your tight hole fluttering around his cock, milking him before pulling out of you. He eases you onto the concrete, catching your head before it crashes against the wall. He tilts your chin up, pressing a kiss against breathless lips.

“That was fun. We should do it again sometime.” Terushima kisses your quivering lips standing and buckling his pants. He runs his fingers through his hair, using his shirt to wipe away the sweat coating his face.

“Should clean up soon. It’d be bad if someone found you out here all alone like this.” You nod, your head limbs numb and unmoving. Cold air hitting your cunt, the feeling of his cum slowly oozing out of you and slicking up your thighs as his footsteps fade out of sight.

Your hands shake, reaching to push yourself off of the ground with quaking legs. You hold onto the wall, brushing your skirt down and grabbing your purse.

Taking a breath, you step away, slowly making your way to the entrance of the alley. You glance back to the spot where you just were, thinking back to what had just happened before turning the corner.

You dig your hands into your purse, pulling your phone out to call a taxi. Typing in the number your eyes flicker to notification appearing at the top of the screen, stopping you in your tracks.

There’s a first time for everything

—

#terushima x reader #terushima x reader smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #terushima yuuji x reader smut #hq x reader smut #terushima smut #tw blood #tw dubcon #tw drugs #tw: exhibitionism #tw weed #tw virginity #tw manipulation #tw noncon #tw alcohol

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pascalpanic · 3 years

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At Last (Frankie Morales x gn!Reader)

Summary: you, Frankie, and your fur baby go camping! Little does Frankie know what you have planned.

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: flirting, innuendo, alcohol, food, language, otherwise, this is toothaching fluff!

A/N: SAMMY MY BELOVED @sanchosammy GAVE ME THIS IDEA! I hope it’s as cute as I think it is :) also, Charlie (Frankie’s pup) isn’t involved in this fic but she is still part of the fam :)

Pine trees surround you on either side, tall and majestic. You can see the blue-gray sky patching through the canopy; the clouds are leaving, but some linger a little longer to clog up the sky. The air is warm and slightly humid, but a wonderful breeze rustles through the trees and rushes across your bare arms. Your trail shoes squelch underfoot in the damp ground. You sigh, totally content with this moment.

Frankie’s flannel is tied around his waist, leaving him in his khaki cargo pants and t-shirt. A couple of curls peek out from under his ball cap, turning into little ringlets at the nape of his neck. He walks in front of you on the trail, his boots pressing prints into the soft ground. His back profile is beautiful, even with the large camping pack, and you can’t help but grin.

Foxtrot embodies her name- Frankie is holding her leash, and the auburn and white dog trots up ahead of him, sniffing along the mulched and muddied path. The air smells of humidity that’s just passed over and that wonderful accompanying petrichor. Fox’s white paws are surely getting dirtied, but that’s only to be expected. You don’t care, too excited to watch your boyfriend and dog walk ahead of you.

Frowning at the bend of Frankie’s back, you catch up and take his free hand. “Let me carry something, baby.”

“No,” he shakes his head, lacing his fingers through yours. “You have important cargo,” he teases and pats your back lightly.

Strapped to your back, in a backpack-style blue case, is your ukulele. One hand carries the cooler, slung over your shoulder, filled with food and drinks for tonight. Frankie carries the heavy-duty stuff- the tent, stakes, more essential supplies. “At least let me take Fox.”

Her red ears perk up at her name and she stops, turning and growing excited, as if she forgot you were there. “Yeah, hi Foxy!” You coo as she runs towards you, jumping with her front paws in the air in excitement. “Yeah, you love it out here, don’t you?” You ask her in a baby voice, scratching behind her ears as she circles around your legs and prevents you from moving. Frankie drops her leash in order to prevent your legs from being tourniqueted by it, and it drags behind her in the mud.

When you pick up the leash, it’s sludgy and damp, but you don’t mind too much. You continue the hike forward and Frankie and Fox follow at your sides, both beaming ear to ear and enjoying the serenity of the woods.

Frankie picked the campsite, so he’s technically leading the way, but the trail is fairly straightforward, meaning you don’t need to be led. Frankie points out wildlife here and there: chipmunks, rabbits, cardinals and chickadees flitting through the pine-needled canopy. He’s in his element, and you’re in yours: with him.

The mud gives way to drier ground ahead, and luckily enough Frankie pulls off to the side. It’s the perfect spot, with a beautiful little field of wildflowers. “Welcome to your five-star hotel for the night, babe,” he assures you and kisses you softly, making you giggle and kiss him back with excitement and a pinch of nerves in your stomach.

There’s a routine the two of you have silently adopted. Frankie sets up the small tent, just big enough for the two of you and Fox. You gather kindling, set up a fire, arrange the chairs and all-around make the outdoor area of your campsite ideal.

Frankie is a man of patience, truly, but sometimes the little portable tent proves to be a challenge. You allow Fox off of her leash, knowing she’s well-trained enough to stick around the site, and find your way to the mess of fabric and stakes covering the man. “Baby. For the love of God, we do this all the time,” you tease.

“Well, something must’ve fucking changed,” he grumbles as he fiddles with the parts. You get on your knees on the soft bed of dried pine needles and help him out. With your help, the tent takes no time at all to put up, and you stand and brush off your hands. Frankie gives you a sheepish smile and you give him a kiss.

The two of you don’t need to converse while you set things up. You enjoy the woods, the rustling of the wind and chirping of birds. Fox curls up on the blanket you set out for her, and when everything is done, you unzip the cooler and hand Frankie a beer. “Well, now we’re all set.”

“Let the fun begin,” he chuckles and twists the top open, clinking his glass bottle to yours.

“So, Francisco,” you smile over at him. “What do you have planned for this trip? I know you have some sort of plan laid out up there,” you tease and rap on his head softly, through the trucker cap resting there.

He blushes a little and looks away. “I don’t always have a plan.”

“Hey.” You turn his face back to yours by the chin. “You do and I absolutely love it. Now tell me about it, please, baby.”

Frankie removes his hat and runs a hand through his curls. “Well, I figured we could start the fire soon, cook dinner over it. It’ll get dark pretty quick. Then hang around the campfire, maybe play some of the games I packed.”

“Is a quiet tumble in the tent on the cards?” You ask him with a teasing grin, nudging his side.

He shrugs, jokingly, as if he’s considering it. “I don’t see why we couldn’t squeeze that in. We only have, oh… three hours of time in between these plans.”

“Then we’ll use all three of those hours,” you shrug and steal a kiss, smiling into his lips. “I love you. And I love it out here.” You were never a nature person before Frankie, usually preferring indoors adventures to hiking or camping. Frankie looks like he belongs out here, and he probably thinks he does. Even if you didn’t enjoy the fun of outdoors adventuring, you’d have at least one thing to enjoy: Frankie’s excitement and enthusiasm over it. “Thank you.”

Fox is curled at Frankie’s feet, and he bends over to scratch her ears, running his fingers through her scruffy fur. “Thank you, baby. For coming out here with me and putting up with all of this. I couldn’t ask for a better adventure partner.”

You do, indeed, cook dinner over the fire. You’d prepped all kinds of chopped vegetables to be grilled over an open flame, and had additionally packed pre-cooked hot dogs as well as s’mores ingredients. Frankie is a firm believer that it’s not camping if it doesn’t include graham crackers, chocolate bars, and marshmallows.

Luckily, your Frankie is a skilled griller. He always is, always has been. He takes care of the cooking part, since you prepared everything else, though he lets you hold the hot dogs over the fire to roast. “I feel like I’m at camp again,” you laugh as you slowly rotate the food over the fire.

Frankie is taking charge of the vegetables, expertly. They’re getting a beautiful char, you notice. “It’s much better, because you don’t have to sneak around to make out with your boyfriend at night, huh?” He teases and tosses you a grin.

“But I get my boyfriend all to myself,” you nod and confirm. “And I have my baby girl with me,” you coo as you rub Foxtrot’s head, where she’s resting at your side.

The meal is delicious, of course, when the two of you work together and each used your strong skills. Frankie slips bites to Fox when he thinks you’re not looking, of course, but it’s endearing, the way the dog’s big brown eyes mirror those looking down at her.

There’s not much conversation while you eat, mouths occupied with food rather than speaking. That’s alright. There’s plenty of time for that tonight and tomorrow.

The sun starts sinking lower when Frankie brings the marshmallows from the tent. “Guess what time it is!” He exclaims as he rips open the bag, skewering two marshmallows and holding them over the fire.

Like he’s a skilled griller, he’s also a wonderful marshmallow-toaster. Frankie toasts yours to perfection, just the way you like it, and you do your part as the s’more-sandwicher, shoving the marshmallow between the graham crackers and chocolate.

There’s no signal out here, and you agreed neither of you would use your phones unless an emergency happened. Frankie frowns as he sees your phone. “Hey. Put that away. Don’t use that.”

“There’s an emergency, Frankie,” you whine, opening the camera app with one hand and eating the sugary dessert with the other.

“And what’s that?” He asks, taking a bite of his s’more.

Strings of gooey marshmallow connect the sandwich to his lips, making him laugh, and you snap a picture at the perfect moment: Frankie’s closed-lipped smile as his s’more falls apart on him. “You’re too damn cute, that’s the emergency,” you laugh and set the photo as your lock screen, tossing it away.

Frankie’s schedule actually worked itself naturally. After the s’mores and a wet-wipe hand-washing to remove the endless marshmallow from Frankie’s hands, you find yourself sitting around the fire, no light left in the sky. When you look up, all you can see is inky blue and pine trees, the stars yet to make their nightly rise.

“I have a song request,” Frankie asks and raises his hand like a child in a classroom.

“Yes, Francisco?” You tease as you walk to the tent, grabbing your ukulele and returning with it, sitting back in your lawn chair with it. “Hit me.”

“Only The Good Die Young by Billy Joel. No, wait- Country Roads.”

Laughing, you noodle around with the strings for a moment. You knew this moment would come, and here’s the opportunity. “I can play all of those and more, Frankie. We’ll do the Billy Joel first,” you nod decisively.

Frankie sounds like the forest wolves at night when he sings along. He absolutely howls, taken away by the song, taken to a place where his voice isn’t just a little on the rougher end of good. He belts the words and dances along in his seat, like you do.

Then Country Roads. You thought the last one was bad before you hear Frankie’s booming voice echoing the ballad of West Virginia through seemingly the entire preserve. But you don’t care in the slightest. You sing along proudly, strumming your ukulele harder and harder until you’re sure you can’t add any more volume before snapping a string.

After the song, you pause and rest your ukulele flat on your lap. “Frankie, baby. Can I ask you something?”

He nods, smiling over at you. “Any time. What’s up, buttercup?” He asks, taking one of your hands and kissing the knuckles.

“Will you marry me?” You ask. The question is straight and to the point, blunt and honest. Your face conveys your hope, and the grandiose speech follows. “I love you beyond belief, Frankie. I love you almost as much as you love these woods. I know you love me too. I just… think it’s time. We’ll be perfect for it. What do you say?”

You can feel Frankie’s slightly-chapped lips curve into a smile against your hand. He’s grinning and then he’s crying, soft water droplets forming in the corners of his eyes. “Of course I’ll marry you,” he grins, grabbing your ukulele and setting it aside.

Once the ukulele is on the ground, Frankie stands in front of your chair and lifts you to your feet, kissing you with such fervor you can’t help but gasp. When he breaks away, you smile, eyes watering too. “I know it wasn’t the most elegant of proposals, but-”

“It was the most us,” Frankie cuts you off with a teary grin. “I would be honored to be your husband, my love. You really want me enough to do that?”

“Frankie,” you coo, cupping his face in your hand. “You are the best husband I could ever want, could ever dream for,” you assure him and kiss his nose gently.

The man laughs, wiping his tears away. “Then let’s get married,” he whoops excitedly, then lets out an excited shout to the woods. “We’re getting married!”

You laugh at his loud and booming declaration, but nothing can detract you for the love and joy in your heart.

When you and Frankie settle down in your chairs again, you pick up the ukulele and finish off with one last beautiful song that you and Frankie have always adored, with a title that truly fits: At Last.

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