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blackwolfstabs · 1 year ago

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Parker's Secret Santa Gifts🎄for @alphawolfstabs

YOUR HEART OR MINE

One knew what he wanted but didn’t know how to persuade. The other knew how he wanted to take it but was holding back.

fandom: Scream pairing: Billy Loomis × Stu Macher characters: Billy Loomis & Stu Macher a/n: i've never written about stuilly before so i have no idea how accurate this may or may not be. i'm so sorry for all the billy and stu writers that gag at this haha. anyways, enjoy :)

While it had only been a little over an hour since Billy had been submerged into his homework, it had felt like hours for Stu. He had gone through as many activities as he could to keep him entertained, while the other was still reading, writing, or doing whatever it was he was doing for class. He liked having him over, but he didn’t like spending it without talking or engaging in anything together, at all. There was no telling when he would be summoned home by a phone call.

On the other hand, Billy didn’t mind not actually doing anything together. They didn’t have to talk or even acknowledge each other. Just being in the same room was enough for him, even though staring at the same formatted words and questions over and over again made his head pound.

“Billyyy…”

Stu’s voice interrupted his concentration, but he didn’t look up. “What?”

“I’m bored. Are you almost done?” he asked, tossing up a tennis ball as he slouched his computer chair.

“You said it’d be fine if I worked on homework here,” came the flat reply.

His friend sighed a somewhat dramatic sigh and stopped throwing the ball up in the air. “Yeah, but do you think you could, like, take a break or something?”

He put his pencil down and glanced over his shoulder. “I guess.” There was a look in the blue eyes that stared back at him that said he wasn’t just looking for something to do. He knew what he wanted, he just needed acceptance. “What do you want to do?”

Macher’s signature grin grew on his face, however he still tried to play it cool as he got up to make his way towards the bed. “Well, I dunno—”

“Yeah, you do,” the other immediately cut him off with a light scoff, turning back to his homework.

“Just… chill out, maybe?” He jumped onto the mattress and crawled over to the head of it. He craned his neck a little to see over Billy’s shoulder. “If you can put your fuckin’ homework down, you teacher’s pet,” he teased.

“Hey.” Billy turned his head enough to look at him. “At least I actually do my homework. How many classes are you failing again?”

Stu took no offense, just continued to tease him, “You only do yours because your mommy tells you to.”

This time, he set his homework on the bedside table and turned to grab a pillow, which he smacked him with.

“Oww!” the older teen cried in mock pain, the impact knocking him off balance.

“Serves you right.”

Macher scoffed—in his now-lying position—and reached behind him. “Oh, yeah?” He pulled out another pillow and returned the slap. “Take that!” He hit the other’s upper back, which had him earning a sarcastic smirk.

“Was that supposed to hurt me?” Loomis turned around to face him, still holding his weapon as he crept onto the bed fully.

The way his voice sounded—steady and cool—sent a shiver down Stu’s spine, those dark eyes only influencing that flustered feeling that had been taunting him for months now. “No-ho,” he laughed as he shook his head, when Billy stalked closer to him. “This is!”

The flash of color that came towards the younger teen didn’t reach him like it was intended to, for he caught it with his free hand. Ocean eyes lit up before him, and he knew the exact words running through his head.

“Aw, I fucked up!”

Billy grinned a wolfish grin, “Yeah, you did.” He ripped the pillow out of Stu’s grip, then pelted him with both cushions at once. “Now, what are you gonna do?!”

Macher shouted in a playful way as he turned his back and put his arms over his head for protection. “That’s cheating!”

But the attacker didn’t care and pounced on his prey by straddling him with his knees. It was somewhat awkward, but he wasn’t thinking about that at the time. “How’s it cheating? You made a stupid move, you’re the one who got yourself into this,” he taunted, continuing to hit him.

“Billyyy!”

“Fight me! Fight me, like a man!”

By now, they just looked like two rambunctious puppies barking back and forth for the upper hand. As Stu continued to take the bombardment, he could hear Billy start to laugh, and it made his face burn. Billy didn’t laugh much, not in the playful, genuine way like this was. It was a little higher than the laughs he gave when making a snide comment or being sarcastic. It was a young-at-heart kind of expression, and that sent the underdog blushing immediately. He broke his makeshift cover to grab both of Billy’s wrists and hold them in a firm grip.

This caught him off-guard, which allowed the older teen to make his next move. Being taller, he was able to twist beneath his friend’s straddling knees and push himself into a semi-slouch, using the support of the headboard. He brought his knees up, which pushed Billy forward to have his knees corralling his hips and his backside supported by Stu’s thighs.

Suddenly, the lighthearted moment the other was immersed in vanished for one of surprise as he dropped the pillows. The words that he always managed to spit out around his friend were lost for mere silence as he could only blink into the bright eyes gazing at him.

This just made Stu smirk. He knew he had just taken control without giving any combative retaliation. He also knew his face was bright red with the amount of heat that surged through him at being that close to Billy, let alone having him basically locked onto his lap. “Now, what are you gonna do?” he used his own words against him.

Loomis swallowed, his heart racing while he instinctively tried to twist his wrists a little bit. He glanced away shyly, “U-um…” He was drawing a major blank, emphasis on major.

However, while it was awkward for one, it was endearing for the other. Macher released his wrists to then wrap his arms around his waist, holding him in place.

The tension between them had grown heavy in a matter of seconds, somewhere between hope and despair. It was uncertainty. One knew what he wanted but didn’t know how to persuade. The other knew how he wanted to take it but was holding back.

They were best friends, nothing more… right?

Billy braced himself to avoid falling onto Stu’s chest, one hand against the headboard and the other pressed against his shoulder. He couldn’t seem to glance up, not to meet those wild eyes that hid nothing, even though they were begging for his dark ones to comply. It was too risky. That’s the way he was. Once he started something, he wasn’t able to stop. A forged relationship was no different, especially with the amount of emotions involved. God, that was rough. “W-we can’t…” was all he managed to get out, his voice suddenly quiet and almost fearful of ears lurking beyond Stu’s bedroom walls, even though they were the only ones in the house.

“Says who?” came the retaliating challenge. It wasn’t strong or defensive. In fact, it was the softest Stu Macher had ever sounded in their time of knowing each other. And that was because he had finally found himself in this moment—the moment he’d been waiting for. He was fun-loving and dimwitted, but he knew how to make or break a chance. Billy was someone that he had never known before. He was like a stray dog that owned the streets, an artist before he made any art, a wild horse without any cowboy to tame him. He was reckless and rugged. He showed up, when it was least expected, and he was promised to give anyone around him plenty of trouble. That kind of person was nothing but the perfect match for Stu.

He wanted to be more than friends.

Billy tensed as he felt the older teen’s arms stretch farther around his waist, nearing the hem of his shirt. His voice steadied a little more, “My parents will kill me.”

The right half of Stu’s mouth turned up, dipping his head a little to catch his friend’s gaze. And with a gentle touch of his hand, he lifted his chin to do so. “Your parents don’t have to know,” he practically whispered.

The younger was locked in. He couldn’t look away or try to get out of the arms holding him still. His heart was beating so hard, he swore that it could be heard between the two of them. He wasn’t necessarily an anxious person, yet the feeling was strong in his stomach as his breathing began to deepen and trembled slightly. Being a teenage boy, he was often put under oath that he wasn’t scared of anything—that no matter what, he could take what he was given. How else were you supposed to survive? But this was the first time in years he could say that he felt fear. He could see Stu’s eyes jumping from his own to his lips, which made him tempted to pull away. He just wasn’t sure, so all he could think to say, if he even was thinking, was, “What?”

Because why was he looking so calm, yet excited? So hesitant, but sure? So careless, yet longing?

And for a response, Stu kissed him. He didn’t ask before he did it, but he didn’t seem to mind, actually leaning into it. One of Stu’s hands retreated from his lower back to hold the side of his face as he tilted his head to secure his lips.

He earned a soft moan from doing so.

A sensation of peace combed itself down Billy’s spine, easing the swirling anxiety that made him twisted in the spotlight of a decision. Now, the deed was done, only needing half of a two-person commitment to take one step closer. Surprisingly, Stu’s lips were soft as they manipulated his. Being nervous already, he knew his kiss wouldn’t come off very challenging, yet he didn’t expect that from a dare-devil, like his friend.

Macher rotated his thumb in smooth, gentle circles along the younger’s cheek bone, casually slipping his hand beneath his shirt to run his fingers up his side. He felt him shift closer, which delighted him, and he edged his knees up higher to hold that close space.

Loomis didn’t even realize his hand had drifted away from pressing against the older teen’s shoulder, until his fingers threaded through his hair, slightly tilting his head back. The support from Stu’s thighs had pushed him far enough to leave his knees straddling his sides, which left him taking somewhat of a dominant lead as he had to dip his head to keep the kiss strong.

This gave Macher a sense of bravery as he stretched his arm further around his waist to have his fingertips find the frontal surface of his torso. He purred as they paused for a quick breath, then went back to it. The other foreign hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair was looped around his neck, giving him open access to move his own as he pleased. And he did as he traced his fingertips over the contoured definition of the smaller male’s abs. They weren’t heavily defined, but they were impressive.

Billy shuddered at this, but it only made him come off stronger, gripping Stu’s hair while his other hand pressured his nape. The other’s digits trailed up his ribs then found the midline of his abdomen, where he carefully retreated downward. They dipped into his navel a little when they reached it, which made an involuntary growl rumble in Loomis’s throat, and he drug the hand on Stu’s neck down his back, feeling the owner moan into his mouth.

If things started to escalate, there would be more than uncompleted homework to pay for. They had known each other for a long time now, almost swearing to know each other better than themselves. They could be called a lot of things, but tonight they were a pair of desperados. Something about this night was making them cross the line.

They were playing with fire. Love wasn’t too far behind. It was just a matter of time…

Billy felt Stu’s hand ease down his jawline and cup the flank of his neck. He pulled back a little to catch the older’s bottom lip between his teeth and tug on it. His partener smirked and jerked a little to get free.

“You’re not feeling that nervous about this anymore, are you?” he was teased.

“Shut up,” he replied and pulled him into another kiss. And it was gladly accepted.

It was just a matter of time, for sure. There was no doubt about it.

Playing with fire was something dangerous but tempting. Especially for two frisky teens, like Billy Loomis and Stu Macher.

They were good at it. They played with fire, but they didn’t get burned.

They learned how to embrace the flames.

merry christmas billy!! i've really enjoyed being your friend, and i hope we stay friends for a while. you made me feel like it was okay to be myself on social media, and i'm very thankful for the kindness and support you've given to me. hope this isn't weird, but i love you dude 🩶 team loomis!! 🎄✨🐺

- parker (BWS)

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alsjeblieft-zeg · 2 years ago

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213 of 2023

Created by bobbideanweekend

What's the first thing you do when you wake up, usually?

Turn the TV on.

Do you like to keep a routine or do you prefer spontaneousness?

I like my routine, but sometimes I need to spice things up.

When was the last time you apologized and didn't mean it?

I can’t recall.

Do you prefer to be the "talker" or the "listener" in a conversation?

Depends on who I’m with, but more a listener.

How are you feeling today?

Mentally okay, but physically sore.

Is there any particular reason as to why?

Work and physiotherapy.

What do you think defines beauty?

Personality. Appearance means nothing to me, someone can be good-looking, but having a rotten personality and they’re gonna be ugly to me.

Do you find these qualities in yourself?

I’m definitelly prettier inside than outside, that’s easy XD

Do you know anyone personally with those qualities?

Yes, both Nielsje and my husband.

Is there anything you wear everyday?

Yes, my wedding ring and jewelry in my facial piercings.

Do you actually brush your teeth three times a day?

Twice, really.

How about floss?

Can’t really do it. High-arched palate or whatever it’s called.

What's your first name?

Joeri.

Is that actually what you go by, or do people call you by something else?

People close to me call me Jelle, or Jelle-tje for real.

Do you like to sing for other people?

Sometimes, for fun.

What's a movie that you think everyone should see?

I’m not interested in movies.

A book that everyone should read?

I don’t support forcing anyone to do anything.

Do you spend a lot of your time alone?

Actually yes. I work only twice a week, the rest of the time my husband is at work, so I travel around the country.

If so, do you like it that way?

I don’t mind it, but sometimes I feel safer with him.

Do you know anyone personally who has done meth?

No. Or maybe I do, but I don’t know they’re doing it. Everything is possible.

Do you usually like bizarre people?

Depends what kind of bizarre. Not the creepy ones.

Do you have a best friend? If so, why are they the "best"?

More than one, because they proved it.

Who do you love the most in your life?

Many people. My husband, my sister, my parents, my friends.

Name something that you would never do:

Play in porn movies.

Have you ever moved to a new country?

I worked abroad for a few years.

How do you usually wear your hair?

It’s short, so hair gel is enough. I don’t like it lying flat on my head.

If you could have any hair color, what color would you want?

Blonde so I can dye it almost any colour.

Name a song that you feel describes you/your life pretty well:

Lange Frans & Baas B - Ik Wacht Al Zo Lang.

If you could have any animal as a pet, what would you want?

Cats, as usual. Maybe a German shepherd dog.

What's the strangest thing you've ever personally witnessed?

A woman peeing herself at the train station entrance. Like, really.

If you could kiss anyone right now, who would you kiss?

My husband.

Do you have any piercings?

I have eight in total.

Are there any you would want?

Maybe another one or two in my ears.

The nearest object to you (other than your computer/chair/etc), what is it?

My husband lol. Literally sitting next to me.

Do you own a kindle?

No, I read e-books on my tablet.

When was the last time you saw your "first love"?

Eight years ago? Something like that.

Name something you really like about yourself:

I’m non-judgemental.

Name something you really don't like about yourself:

I have low self-confidence. And I’m too soft-spoken.

When was the last time you were sick? What did you have?

Does brain haemorrhage in 2021 count? If not, then I had a minor cold last year.

What's your favorite smell(s)?

Vanilla, cinnamon, sea air, rain, freshly baked bread, fresh laundry.

Where's the most beautiful place you've been to?

Sint-Laureinsstrand, the beach in my hometown.

What are you going to do after this?

Go to bed.

Stretch your hand out as far as you can to the left. What are you touching?

The spot on the couch my husband was sitting on. XD Luckily my left arm is not paralysed anymore.

Do you like to wear make up?

I’m a man.

Is there anything you'd rather be doing right now?

Yeah, sleeping.

What's the stupidest song on the radio right now, in your opinion?

I don’t follow popular music.

What's a word you just can't spell right?

Probably. Even in my native language.

What's the last book you read?

I answered it million times already.

Did you like it?

Very much so.

What do you keep beside your bed?

A tablet to watch TV, a box of tissues, a desk lamp.

Do you pluck/wax/thread your eyebrows?

No. I might be gay, but still, I’m just a plain dude.

What's something unique about you?

Being gay and giving off the straight vibe. Really.

Who's the smartest person you know personally?

My husband. He’s rather street smart than book smart, though. Has a lot of common sense.

What makes them so smart?

I just said.

You can't feel pain for an entire day. What would you do?

Enjoy life.

Who inspires you most?

Nielsje. And my husband again.

Have you ever won a contest of somesort?

Yep, photography.

Are you straight?

I just said I’m not.

Are your nails painted? If so, what color?

I don’t paint my nails.

You can only eat one food group for the rest of your life. Which one?

Vegetables.

Are there any religions other than your own that you identify with?

I don’t identify with any religion.

Who makes you the happiest?

Nielsje and my husband, and all our friends.

Do you do any specific exercises to stay in shape?

Yeah, arm exercises so I can try to regain strength.

Which holiday is your least favorite and why?

Either Halloween or Valentine’s Day, both are cheesy.

Are you trendy?

Lol no. I’m an oddball and proud of it. It’s unfortunate that some parts of my style are quite popular among teenage girls these days. Oops. XD Buit I wore them before they were cool.

What color is your bedroom? Do you like it?

Green and I love it, I chose it myself, with a tiny bit of my husband.

Have you ever seriously thought you were going to die?

Well, have you ever suffered cerebral haemorrhage?

If so, what was the situation?

I just said. My life was really hanging on a thread.

What does your shampoo smell like?

Something like mint.

What's your desktop wallpaper?

A random photo of aurora borealis.

Have you ever smoked weed?

No, but my friends do and I quite like the smell.

If so, did you like it?

Never tried, so no opinion.

Have you done any other drugs? If so, what are they?

No, not interested.

Do you actually like your smile?

It’s kind of affected by muscle paralysis on my face, so yeah. Let others speak.

Leave off with a word of advice:

Don’t.

#survey #q&a survey #random survey

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jodilin65 · 35 years ago

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THURSDAY, AUGUST 30, 1990 Today’s Gloria’s b-day. She’s 33 years old. 10 years younger than Linda.

I looked back further in this book and I was shocked that I’d forgotten to write about my new pig Trixie unless I missed it. Brenda got her for me. She reminds me so much of Jellybean who I had the last time I lived here. She’s so lovable and gives me kisses just like Jellybean used to and Toffee does. I didn’t expect to buy a guinea pig but she looks like Toffee and that kind of coat is rare. I couldn’t resist. Toffee’s black with streaks of golden-like rusty brown and Trixie’s black with a streak of white that goes from the back of her neck down her shoulder to her paw. She’s also got a little patch of white under her neck. Brenda named her, so they’re the 3 Ts. Toffee, Tigger and Trixie.

Gremlin’s doing fine too, thank God.

Andy and Fran are on the phone now as Andy calls people to hear the Rick and Nervous tape that’s playing while I write but I’m gonna go listen to music now.

I’ve been beat all day. Why I do not know. I slept from 4am to almost 3pm today.

I saw Martha, and Bill was here from 6:30 to 9:30.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 29, 1990 Today Brenda, Andy and I went to the beach. We enjoyed ourselves very much but I had some slightly annoying period cramps.

By the way, before I continue to write about our day at the beach, let me say Andy will be ringing the doorbell soon. He called to say he was dying to take a walk but that he’ll only ring to say, “Hi. I’m here.” Then he’ll walk back home and call me.

Well, I got some fairly decent color but we were all sort of off to a late start so we all could’ve gotten more. Some’s better than none, though, right? We saw Tammy C and also Michelle G, the daughter of Dick and Bea who owns the skating rink where I took figure skating lessons when I was around 12 or 13 years old. That is also where I had my very first cigarette too, thanks to good old Jenny C. We all went swimming, but not really swimming as the water was kind of cold which is weird. Especially for August. What is it with this beach lately? The water, however, was a little clearer but it’s still polluted and I’m sure it will always be. We went to the flat rocks during the day and at night.

It is now 3:12 AM and Andy rang my bell about 15 minutes ago and in about a half-hour he’ll call me when he gets home but I’m whipped so I’m gonna lay down. I want to sleep as many hours as I can before having to get up to see Martha at 4:00 tomorrow. The last two nights I’ve only barely slept 6 hours each night.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 28, 1990 I’m on the phone right now with Fran who’s on the other line, and believe me, I know who he’s talking to. This girl named Liz who he recently started to date. I spoke with her for a while a few weeks ago. She seems nice, but perhaps a little young, naïve and wild. As far as Fran goes, yes he’s his usual pushy self, but it is kind of cute and sincere. He’s very lonely and I just listened to them speak to one another. They spoke for half an hour and then when they were done I called Liz and played just one line of Fran’s from the edits. The one where he tells Nervous, “You ought to do your laundry, it stinks.” I knew it was mean, but I couldn’t resist. I crossed her with some mean old hag of a lady, too.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 21, 1990 I am now watching A Current Affair which is just about over. Later I’ll watch Cops on 61 while recording Golden Girls on 22 on the big TV in the living room.

Brenda is here. She’s pretty tired. Says some lady hit the side of her cab today.

MONDAY, AUGUST 20, 1990 This weekend was sort of a depressing one as reality hit home this time. It was pretty scary, too.

As usual, the contest was fixed but I felt like I pulled off my performance better than I thought I’d pull it off. I won’t really know for sure until and if I see the video of it. It was taped.

As far as reality’s concerned, well, I just don’t like the business and I finally realized it wasn’t destined like I thought it was. I feel I’d have made it by now and also I’d never have been a smoker or have been able to quit by now. Also, I don’t feel it’s a place for a gay woman to be. I mean, I can see if you’re a gay guy or some big bull butch but I’m not. I’m a tiny feminine one who’s a prime target of rape and other violence. I’d be crazy to even try to make it cuz I will get raped or possibly killed. Believe me, God will see to it cuz for every good thing I get I get something bad with it and as far as something spectacular like that happening to me, well, I’m 100% sure something terrifying will happen to me. Also, you have to have money to make money and have backers and connections and be a druggie. No way. So, after realizing all this I asked myself, “What’s left?” I can’t have any kids and I want college to be my last resort if I can help it so I thought about the police academy but who knows if I can even do that? All I know is, somehow, some way, I have to make a living and try to get a better income for myself. I’m gonna hate it with a passion but it’s either that or disability till Mom and Dad die and I don’t want that. I’m going to miss never having my dream come true, but hey, does anybody ever get what they really want when it comes to their careers or their lovers? I just can’t keep living on dreams and fantasies forever.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 16, 1990 Well, today’s Tammy’s birthday. She’s 33 and also the only one in the family who looks her age. It’s Madonna’s birthday, too, and she’s 32.

Andy said earlier on the phone that he and a friend watched the video of the Frontier’s performance and that he was shocked when he heard me. He said, “Wow! I haven’t seen this and I was impressed. Also, you could really hear you, even in the beginning.” The night we performed he said he’d only seen a small part of my song.

For Friday night’s lip-sync contest I’m gonna do No More Words by Berlin. I wish I could sing live but this is not a talent show like at the Frontier. It’s strictly lip-synced only.

Today's therapy went quite well, as well as the lesson with Bill. He had me up to a C# above a high G for the exercises. It was very loose and relaxed and didn’t feel strained. My strength, power and even more clarity are back but sometimes I do get short of breath and have a lot of phlegm in my throat and nasally cuz I smoke. But overall it was a far cry better than a long time ago.

As for the performance at the Frontier? Well, everyone who’s seen it likes it but I feel I could be better but aren’t I always way too critical of myself? I felt it sounded too much like a kid singing. You know, like a high school girl or something like that. I felt I couldn’t be heard well and also that Gloria couldn’t be heard well and that both of us were distorted and mumbled into each other. I thought I’d overpower her, but others say I was louder and it sounded like a woman who was trained and I know they wouldn’t lie. Especially Andy.

Bill’s on vacation next week to San Francisco. Lucky bastard! He’s a great guy, though, and he does deserve it, but when the hell am I gonna get out of here for more than one day?

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 15, 1990 I didn’t get the chance to write yesterday, but I had a fantastic time at the beach and I got some awesome color. Andy hugged me and thanked me for going with him, and I told him that I had more to thank him for. He paid the way as far as gas goes and bought us a chicken dinner which we split. It cost $7.50! It was hideous, though, and tasted like cardboard.

We lay on the beach for several hours and even went swimming out on the sandbar. The sandbar was up to his waist and up to my tits, but it was fun and also so hot that it was necessary. The water was quite murky, though, and cuz of that I was paranoid about jellyfish. Several people said they hadn’t seen any this year and very few last year which to me, was unusual. Especially for August. The water was quite cool too, for August. We each took walks by ourselves to the rocks and we saw Charlotte who looked pretty good and seemed glad to see us. I played Words Get In The Way and she liked it. She also let us use her bathroom and gave me a soda. After I ate, I saw Mrs. Labriola and when it got dark we went to the flat rocks and he did his pretend interview and I was with some imaginary girlfriend.

The drive back was peaceful and enjoyable as I lay in the backseat pretty drained from the sun and after being up since 5:30. We passed someone’s tour bus, too.

I got home at almost 11:00 and quickly ran into my apartment to escape seeing Brenda cuz I was just so beat and went immediately to bed.

Today, I see Martha at 4:00, and also Bill will be here. I want to do laundry today, get some groceries and change the pig’s cages.

One of my mice died yesterday and the only reason I can think of as to why is cuz the fan was blowing on him all night and it got quite cool and he was in the wire cage, not the glass tank which is a little more enclosed. Now I fear for Toffee, Tigger and Gremlin as the disease is contagious. I sprayed the room with Lysol and I hope that cuz it’s summer, it’ll air out.

I feel so tired and lazy today. I guess I need to eat and it’s probably cuz of all the sun I had yesterday so I feel very warm.

Brenda had to go to court for the guardianship of her kids and on her way out she gave me a pack of cigarettes and said she’d call me when she gets home.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 14, 1990 I’m supposed to be going to the beach today, but I have no money to pay Andy for gas and I have no money for food. Plus, I have a slight sunburn and I don’t want to overdo it and Andy wants to be there till night to walk on the beach. He told me to cover up if I feel I’m gonna burn but that’s still a long time on the beach and it’s just being in the heat so long I can’t stand. I’ve been up since 5:30 and I’ll be up many more hours and also going so many hours with no food. Forget about cooling off in the water cuz that beach is now so murky and dirty and you can’t even see the jellyfish and now’s the time the water’s got tons of them.

Later…

I awoke at 5:30 today and I’m still not sure if I’m going to the beach today. I can’t say that I don’t want to, but I can say that I wish I had more money and I wish we could both afford a hotel.

I’m gonna go have my second cup of coffee or as Tracy once accidentally said, my second “coffee,” then take a shower and shave just in case. Part of me would rather stay here and go grocery shopping and do some laundry. I need to wash my curtains, rugs, blankets and my shower curtain. If I did end up staying here, I’d see if Brenda could take me to Forest Park. I hope Andy, for some reason really can’t go. That’ll make the decision a hell of a lot easier. However, he hasn’t been there since March so I know he wants to go for sure.

Later…

Andy mentioned leaving by 10:00 or 10:30 so we’ll see if he calls soon, but in the meantime, guess who was here the last couple of days? Jai and Jenny! I only spoke to them briefly but we had a great talk. They were arguing a little but otherwise, they seemed to be doing pretty well and it was great to see them. Jenny still told me how beautiful she thought I was and was constantly staring me up and down and Jai and I were joking about all Andy’s and my lines. He pretty much remembers them all, too.

I called Nervous at Feinstein’s Leather and told him to call me later cuz I want to talk to him about Sasha. Mom once made a comment saying, “Your problem is all due to smoking.” There’s really no big difference since she’s been gone. I still have a hard time breathing when it’s hot or humid and when the air’s very polluted or when I smoke too much. It rained badly last night so today the air is very clean, crisp and cool cuz when it rains it pushes down and smothers all the pollution. So, if things ever were to work out with Sasha, what would she do to the animals? She never hurt the pigs, in fact, she used to sit in the big cage I used to have with them, but now I have little mice. Also, I was told that there’s a spray you can use if you do have bad allergies but mine were never as bad as Philip’s. He came over one night when I lived on Oswego St. and sneezed and sneezed non-stop and his face got all swollen till he had to finally just leave. Nothing would ever bother me if I didn’t smoke, but I can’t quit. God, if I never smoked I could probably be in a very dusty room on a very hot and humid day and not really be bothered or affected in any way.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 9, 1990 I got up at 3pm yesterday and went to therapy at 4pm and it was a good session. I really like Martha now and I know I can trust her. It took me almost a year to really take to her and at first, she didn’t really understand me and it was frustrating but I really do like her a lot now and she does care and understand. She says she likes my philosophies and attitude and the way I express myself and understand myself and others. She also likes my sense of humor.

Let me get Gremlin out of his ball and in his cage and get another pen.

Later…

Ok, I’m back. Continuing after therapy, Bill was here from 5:00 till almost 10:00 and we’re both suspecting that this one student of his may be gay. A female. One who’s 5’ 9” and very friendly and the athletic type like most gay women, but she’s not a true butch. Her hair is somewhat long and I’d kind of describe her as plain, but not ugly. The type I’d get, but hey, better than ugly or a guy. She seems more stable than Brenda and again, Brenda’s not a wacko but this girl (I forgot her name) has an ok job and probably hasn’t gone through as much shit but people are people and no one’s perfect. She lives in Agawam too, this girl, and her singing’s pitiful.

Bill saw the video at the finals at the Frontier and so did Stephan, which is Steve’s real name, and they thought it was great. They both hated Carl and felt Sue and Rachel didn’t deserve to win. It’s weird too, cuz originally I figured Carl was gonna blow me away to smithereens. Bill says, “They can’t sing. Except for you, for some reason, my Springfield students can’t sing like my Northampton or Hartford ones. I can help them get better, but they’re never gonna really sing such as professionally.”

This guy named Noel and this girl Dina are his worst. They can’t sing 2 notes out of 10 on key to save their lives.

Later, or I should say earlier, I did some fantastic editing. I mean, it was awesome and very different. For example, I found an old tape from about a year ago when Nervous was here one night and I was singing, so I edited it and played it for Bill who thought it was great for just fooling around and he wants a copy of the edits. So later on the phone with Andy and Fran, I told Andy that Bill said it was good and after he told me the parts I edited he liked best he said, “You’re right. It’s fantastic and I hear traces of Donna in it.”

So, that made me feel good that he said that. I should record myself singing out of the amp.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 7, 1990 My lesson went pretty well yesterday. Bill brought the amp back and also bought me a cable to hook up my keyboard to it and it makes it sound awesome. Of course, I love singing through the mike too.

I haven’t heard from Lisa, the EMT I had a one-nighter with, since the night I performed at the Frontier, and I hope she’s still enjoying being alone. She’s a really nice girl and I can truly understand her and the position she’s been in and I do appreciate her honesty. I’m glad we can talk every now and then, too. Of course, Kacey’s still total history. Brenda on the other hand, I really do care about and am attracted to but like I said, not in an overwhelming way.

MONDAY, AUGUST 6, 1990 I am so fucking pissed off! I just remembered that I fucking forgot to see the return of Twin Peaks last night cuz I was with Brenda who really pissed me off yesterday for smothering me. I had quite a talk with her and I know she means well and truly cares from the heart but I do need space. I guess, however, I can understand how she feels cuz although my getting someone (regardless of personality) I’m overwhelmed by sexually is forbidden by God or whatever’s out there, I know what it’s like in my fantasies, and in these fantasies, I can easily be with them 24 hours a day.

Here’s what the scale looks like when it comes to my take on sexual attraction. What I will not take: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. What I will take: 6, 7. What I can’t get: 8, 9, 10.

Brenda and I went to Tammy’s yesterday and I loved seeing Lisa and Becky. Also, I showed them the video of the Frontier and they enjoyed it.

Last Friday me and Andy competed in the semi-final contest in which they pick 5 out of 10 and both me and Andy won. Next week the $100 winners do the same thing and then the week after that the 5 semifinalists who were chosen, compete against each other. Of course, me and Andy know we’re going there to perform and not win as of course it’s gonna be fixed like it always is when it comes down to the final, final jeopardy. You fuck ‘em all, you party with ‘em all, you win.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 2, 1990 Right now Andy’s on the line dialing strangers to hear the edits in which I’m playing them. Speaking of the edits, I just had a great idea! I’d love to see what’s said besides to hear them. The sentences, I mean, so I’m gonna write them all down and put a star right next to the best ones.

We also called Fat Sue and Carl and played them the edits too, as well as the Rick and Nervous conversation.

We think what happened with Big Sue is that she bought her way in and gave the judges coke and that’s how she won.

Today was a great day with Bill here. I sang very well. Three songs. Falling In Love Again, Skylark and What’s New. I sang them through this microphone and amp he’s letting me use and it’s totally awesome.

Brenda also bought me 4 shirts and a pair of shorts that are nice, and I polished her nails for her. She and I are going to Tammy’s Saturday, and sunning Sunday which I did yesterday and also last Sunday and got a little color.

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cloudteawrites · 4 years ago

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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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shadowworks · 4 years ago

Text

Compulsion

Pairing: Mafia!Dabi X Reader

Warnings: dubconish themes, flirting with Hawks, blood, murder, blackmail, fingering. NSFW, quirkless AU!

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Alright! This piece is for The Smut Pile Mafia Collab

I have to give my wholehearted thanks to @hisoknen @some-kindofgnome , @pleasantanathema, and @ever-enthralled for reading this over the last couple weeks, and making sure it reads well! I am so happy to have you beautiful souls! Also a special shoutout to Raph for brainstorming with me when I was stuck at the very end. 💕

Edit: This has fanart! Beautiful @maewoahoah created a Mafia!Hawks piece right here and a Mafia!Dabi piece here! She’s very talented! ;)

On this ominous winter evening it begins snowing.

You readjust your peacoat and step through the frosty glow of the street lamp to your front door. Your muscles ache a little more than usual, your steps a little heavier. It’s been a long and tedious day at work; far less stimulating compared to Toga’s position working for a bootlegger named Tomura. But both jobs pay the rent. You push papers and withhold your scowls towards clients. Now, you want a bath.

The sound of a muffled radio plays on the other side, and it floods your ears as you walk in with warmth and an iron smell wafting your chilled nose.

“Folks, I'm goin' down to St. James Infirmary...

Seeeee, my baby there;

She's stretched out on a long, white table

She looks so sweet, so cold, so fair.”

Toga’s playing blues again. It’s a routine she has before the graveyard shift across town. At this time, she’s in the kitchen making something before she goes, but you’re having trouble figuring out what food smells like copper.

“He-e-e-y,” you call lazily, a sing-songy tone in your voice.

She doesn’t answer, though you hear the clacking of stiletto heels on wood, which makes you amble down the hall to see what she’s doing.

“Think you can smuggle some whiskey tonight? I thought we had some, but Keigo probably polished it off last—“

You stop in the doorway.

There’s a poor bastard lying flat on his back, head twisting too far towards the sink. Ribbons of blood streak down his colorless skin, pouring out from a dark and glossy hole just beneath his jaw. You see it puddle and stain the edges of his hair a sticky red, the only sound besides your heart thudding is the soft thrums from the parlor.

“ When I die please bury me in my high top Stetson hat

Put a twenty dollar gold piece on my watch chain

So the gang'll know I died standing pat.”

You’re in a daze, one where you’re not sure how long you’ve been staring. It doesn’t seem real. Is it real? But it’s not until you hear the sound of heels clicking against the wood floors that you drag your gaze to the noise.

Toga’s standing near the stove, her features vacant, shoulders slouched, and she’s holding a knife that’s still wet.

What the fuck?

You want to scream, berate her, seethe what the fuck was she thinking, or if she was thinking for that matter. But the blonde speaks up before you do, with a voice above a whisper.

“He was going to leave me. Said he was too dangerous.” Toga doesn’t look in your direction, moving to the rim of pooled blood which has stopped spreading out, “I told him I wouldn’t let anyone come between us, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Your jaw goes taut, staring incredulously at her steely face. The lack of emotion gives you a sinking feeling in your stomach.

The man wasn’t a random suit who bled out on your floor, this moron was seeing Toga on and off for months and had been trying to be more present.

Nights spent arriving at your door with flowers and sweets, and driving her to work was becoming a staple in his routine. He preferred staying in Toga’s room if they had the day off, and he always slipped out when the morning frost dusted the grass, a soft bluish hue painting the streets before sunlight.

But that’s not the problem. See, he was a core member inside the Mafia running the northern side of the city, ‘The League’ they like to call themselves. The only men above this guy was his boss Tomura, and the underboss Dabi. You don’t know the former, but you’ve spent time with the latter.

You’re aware of his sadistic nature that flashes behind those teal eyes, and he doesn’t try to hide it, either. The sideway glances during a poker match before he fucked someone over , the smile he wore when you asked about the purple bruises on his knuckles.

So fan-fucking-tastic, the broad has some nerve.

You curl your lip, already shrugging your shoulders from your coat. You toss it over the table and start rolling up your sleeves to the elbows.

Toga finally turns towards you after catching movement by her side, brows raising confused, “What are you doing?”

“You’re gonna grab his feet and we’re gonna move him onto the rug in the hall.”

You step in the blood, grabbing him by the rusty black colored jacket and dragging him from the puddle. Of course it leaves drag marks, your heels making tracks alongside, but you can deal with the clean up later.

Toga hurries over to help, carrying him by the legs and letting you guide the body to the floral rug.

“You don’t want to know what happened?”

You stop. Immediately dropping the dead weight, his blond head lolls off to the side. Your palms sheen with red, but you straighten up and push a beach curl from your cheekbone with the back of your hand.

“Not really. All I want is this fucker out of my house.”

It’s her turn to stare at you incredulously. This is completely out of nowhere for you to be assisting in hiding a dead boyfriend, even if you two are roommates. You’ve only been living together for four months now.

“Toga, I need you to listen, okay?” you say, a bit mockingly, “I can look past the murdering business by pretending you acted in self defense, but if you don’t have the goddamn brains to realize this idiot has friends, then I suggest you don’t stab people!”

Toga flinches slightly at the lilted pitch in your voice, already suggesting panicky, “We can take him to the woods and hide him there?”

“That’ll work.” You don’t think Twice about it.

Working together, you both hoist him a couple feet onto the rug, refusing to look at his face. You didn’t need to be feeling a pang of guilt. It doesn’t take long for you to roll him towards the front door, as the material wraps around his figure.

The hardest part is retreating to the car. The moment you push through the door, you see the distance from where you stand and the car parked a little down the sloping street. You both give a hard look to the powdery snow dusting the ground, quiet and enchanting. It would be beautiful...had you not been carrying a corpse.

“Stop being a little bitch and heave!”

“I can’t! You’re making me hold all the weight!”

“He’s off the ground! How the fuck are you holding all the weight?”

“But my arms hurt!”

“Fucking hell, Toga. What if I had stayed at my sister’s tonight? What then?”

“Stop yelling at me! I get it, alright? I shouldn’t have done it in the house!”

Your bickering toils through the winds, muffled by the falling snow. The burst of cold air is running through your buttoned blouse while crossing to the 1929 Chevrolet causing a shiver to roll down your back. When you reach the car Toga plops the rug down onto the snow first, then you. Your wet fingers feel numb against the metal handle.

There’s one entrance on each side, which likely will make shimming the body to the backseat much harder. You pause, looking at the front in thought.

“I’ll go first,” you say, “when he’s in, you go and grab our coats.”

“Are we burying him?”

“Think the lake’s faster.”

“What if it’s icy? They’ll see the hole if we throw him in.”

You both ponder your options for a little while, this isn’t exactly something you’ve done before...You can’t say the same for Toga, but she seems just as puzzled, almost clueless on how to get rid of her ex.

Meanwhile, the rolled corpse behind you starts to slip downhill, little by little. The slanting street gives speed and the rug starts to roll.. Red droplets trail behind in its wake.

You just happen to see it first.

“Toga—Toga, the body! The body!”

Toga cries out, taking off after the rug as best she can on a frozen sheet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The graceful snowfall flutters with pain and chaos.

Toga skids against the fresh ice, feet stumbling under her navy blue dress. She falls to the ground with a hard thud, and you see she isn’t stopping. She keeps going alongside the body, sliding until the two disappear under another parked car.

You don’t have time to think, a chill strikes up your spine in your panic.

“Toga!” you call out, taking off after her. Unfortunately you find yourself abruptly on your back, pounding hard on the stones and stealing the breath from your lungs.

If you could sigh right now you would. Or rather, if you could punch Toga right now you would, as rage twists with a throbbing pain in your chest. Was all this worth having a mobster roommate? The odds were piling against her. You have a mind to push her in the lake when you get there.

Several silent minutes go by with you staring up at the cloudy sky. It’s brighter from the illuminating white snow, and despite the icy powder prickling your flesh, you have no choice but to wait for the ache in your chest to fade.

“Enjoying the view?”

You hear a new voice, male, and the suave tone tells you who it is before he treads near. He looks over you with half lidded eyes of honey gold.

He’s very pretty. The drifting snow flakes above his wheat coloured head manage to enhance this, though the uplifted eyes lined in black, and nicely sharp features are the last thing you want to see. You’re nowhere near ready to start lying out of Toga’s mess.

“That can’t be too comfy down there,” Keigo says, bending forward with an outstretched hand,“C’mon, upsy-daisy.”

You take his hand, feeling another leather glove hold your waist and lift you onto your feet. When you settle, he starts brushing the caked snow off your back. Mobster or not, he’s at least a gentleman.

“You alright?” he asks, giving you a once over for any fresh scratches.

You give a slow nod, crossing your arms over your chest. Fear’s got the better of you, and you look anywhere but him., “What are you doing here? I thought you were working tonight.”

“Oh I am! You could say I’m on patrol, need to pick up a few things.”

Your gaze stills to your left, heart skipping. Keigo’s not alone. Standing nearby, a slim figure dressed in black from head to toe is watching you two lazily. A thread of smoke seeps from his parted lips, clouding a handsome face and spikes of black hair. Keigo keeps talking, but you can’t take your eyes off the ghostly presence you know to be Dabi.

“Unfortunately that includes loverboy. He was supposed to be back hours ago, but we figured he’s still fooling around,” a little smirk tugs at his mouth, suggestively “He’s still inside, right?”

You blink, turning back to face Keigo, “I wouldn’t know, I just got home,” you lie.

“Look at you! You look like you’re about to freeze to death.” He starts suddenly, swiftly slipping his arms out from his heavy coat, revealing a black three piece with pinstripes, and a brighter crimson tie. In one smooth motion he twirls the long, beige coat over your shoulders, letting it rest over your figure.

“Thank you,” you say, before your eyes catch something.

Dabi moves towards the clumsy skid marks, head tilting down to the red dots in the snow near his polished shoe. You stiffen.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Your gaze flashes from Dabi’s retreating back to a politely smiling Keigo, “Yeah, I’m fine! I’m really cold is all.”

“Well, we should get you inside. You know you left your door wide open?” Shit, the door. You forgot about the stupid door—

(Dabi looms across the indents in the snow and follows down the hill like a dark shadow against crystals illuminating bright.)

“Ah yeah, I thought I left my purse in the car. It was just for a second, and then I slipped,” You force a smile. Relax. You need to relax. Keigo doesn’t seem convinced, reading something off in your features.

“Is that right?”

(He gets the edge of the old Ford, and notes the specks of red soak wider here. The spots lead underneath.)

“I know, it’s pretty foolish. It’s um...It’s a good thing you showed up when you did, or...”

Your eyes drift over Keigo’s shoulder. The underboss starts to crouch low. Your pupils shrink, a new wave of panic tingles the back of your neck. Damn him, why was he so clever?

“Dabi, wait!” you shout, pushing past Keigo’s shoulder. In your hurry you kick up the snowy crystals, rushing to the taller mobster in his long obsidian coat. Dabi quickly turns, standing up.tall before you hook onto his upper arm like a lover. “I saw an animal go under there that looked hurt. You shouldn’t mess with it.”

A smirk that breaks into a grin spreads on his face, a look of amusement blooming from your look of fright. You want to glare at him, though that could be dangerous. Why does he like seeing you scared?

“An animal, you say?” he parrots back, adopting the same mocking pitch you gave Toga earlier. He’s not in the least bit on edge, and you really don’t like that. He flicks his teal eyes up to look behind you just then, “Good thing I have the city’s best exterminator right here.”

As if on cue, you hear the crunching boots of Keigo walking to the car. “Give me a break with the dirty work, will ya?”

“What, scared of a little pest?” Dabi taunts back coolly.

“I’m not too fond of getting my knees wet, actually,” Keigo returns quite dryly, sharp eyes studying the long pattern marks. He places his gloved hands on his thighs and drops himself to a crouch in front of the vehicle.

You desperately hope Toga proves you wrong. Maybe she had the common sense to bail while no one was looking. It’s all you can do at this point, while Keigo dips his head underneath. You don’t realize, but your grip on Dabi’s arm presses tighter into the wool.

Keigo inspects below for a moment. There’s a long pause like a winter evening should be. Silent. Calming. You can almost believe in the soothing little lie. Then Keigo coughs a laugh that echoes through the street. Bursts of manic giggles grow louder from the mobster, leaving you tilting your head at his pushed back hair, confused.

“There’s a pest, alright! I think I caught something—“

Keigo reaches under, and with an impressively strong yank, Toga’s head pops out in a doe eyed stare. Her arms are wrapped around a bundled rug with a fairly familiar head sticking out.

“Hey there, Toga!” Keigo exclaims, “When did you become a rat?”

Dabi tips his head down, drawing the lit cigarette back to his lazy smile. He’s shockingly calm which does nothing to ease your shivering panic. Toga however, seems fine. In fact, she’s moved on to livelier feelings.

“Hey! Does it look like a rat could’ve done this?!” she snaps, shaking the body in her arms. It bangs against the bottom of the car sending loud echoes through the nearly empty street. Specks of blood dribble on the white ground, and a couple more drops spray her cheeks.

You stare up at the clouds, rolling your eyes. Goddamnit Toga.

“Yeah, I guess a rat can’t hold a knife, huh? Ya got me there.” Keigo turns and beams you a smug look, eyes half lidded in an expression that reads, nice try, but you failed.

You scrunch your nose, quietly shooting him back a glare. Asshole might’ve caught you both red handed, but he didn’t have to be so fucking cocky about it. It’s only charming when he has a winning hand at cards. Beside you, Dabi’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, though you don’t have the guts to flash him the same glower. He is second in command after all.

“Yeah, see? That’s what I thought!” Toga says in victory.

You blink very, very slowly at Toga when she finally meets your vastly unamused gaze,“...Nice work, Toga.”

It comes suddenly. A fiery warmth ghosts the dip in your waist as Dabi leans in. It’s not unwelcomed, raw and soothing even, but it hardly lasts. His hand curls around Keigo’s coat collar and pulls it off your shoulders. The crisp wind rushes to your exposed arms.

“You got any rat poison on you, Hawks?” Dabi tosses the coat to Keigo.

He catches it mid air as he rises to stand. “Nah, fresh out. But we have some back at the house.”

“You want to take care of our rat problem then?”

“Can do, boss man.”

Before you can figure out what they mean–what they have planned for Toga–Dabi’s pristine leather glove presses at the small of your back and directs you toward the pouring light of the open door. “Don’t wait up.”

It’s barely there, but as you shift your eyes to Keigo, his features take on a darkened look toward Dabi.

“Play nice, now,” you hear Keigo say. This time though, the joyous tone is gone.

A new song hums on the radio when you’re pushed through the threshold, you listen to the richly solemn blues as Dabi closes the door. He turns the lock with a click and pockets the key.

“I forgive you

'Cause I can't forget you.

You've got me in between the devil and the deep blue sea”

He doesn’t give you a passing glance, instead he turns and strolls down the freshly bare hall. He hasn’t removed his coat, and each room he passes he tilts his head in to search for something, stopping by the parlor. With a twist of a knob, he shuts off the radio.

“Where’d she ice him?” he asks, still not looking at you by the stairwell.

“In the kitchen.” You return. No point in hiding it now.

His steps creak the wood as he ambles further down, knowing full well where to go. He’s been here a handful of times; of course, those were happier evenings filled with drunken laughs.

You watch him stand by the doorway, staring at the vibrant mess of a crime scene. He pops the tip of his cigarette in his mouth before slipping from your line of sight. Dabi’s got the key to the door, so it’s not like you can run away—especially with Keigo just outside. It’s too risky to try and you know it, but it does cross your mind.

Summing up the courage, you decide to follow Dabi with measured steps, “What are you going to do with Toga?”

When you face the kitchen, Dabi’s near the table where you threw your coat. He has a hand in one of your pockets, and he’s fishing for something inside. It jingles in his grip as he stuffs it into his own pocket. Your car keys.

“Are you going to kill her?” you try again, a little irked he’s swiping your things left and right. He doesn’t release your coat either, laying it over the crook of his elbow.

He draws a final inhale from the dying bud, and crosses to the sink to snuff it out. An exhale of smoke blows out from his lips, “Killing her seems like a favor, don’t you think?”

“I thought it was the other way around.”

He turns, flicking teal eyes sheening with energy at you, “That lunatic’s no longer your concern. Right now, you ought to be more worried about yourself.”

Your features go taut, which in turn makes Dabi’s sadistic smirk return.

“I didn’t help her kill him.”

“No,” he agrees, taking a few strides around the blood to approach you,“but you were willing to stash the stiff.”

“Yeah, for this very reason. I didn’t want you coming after me!”

Dabi draws dangerously close, mere inches apart as he glances down with lidded eyes, the smell of tobacco perfumes from his shirt collar nestled under a violet tie. He crooks his index finger, embellished with a silver ring, ghosting it under your chin. “How’d that turn out for you, babydoll?”

With a ruthless smile, he breaks the fixed stare and rounds you to the hallway. He seems to be making his way towards the parlor again, but the swish of your peacoat in his arm, set you off.

How dare he? You don’t like how he’s walked inside, claiming what’s yours. You might have your life screwed over, but at the very least you want your coat back as some semblance of control.

You stalk after him, picking up pace to aim for his arm. The clacks of your heels are loud, but you currently couldn’t care less about being sneaky, “Give it fucking back. You’re not keeping that!”

You lunge for the black wool, but as your fingers brush the material on his left elbow, Dabi whips the coat, rotating arms. You’re not fast enough, but you try a second reach for his right arm, huffing out a growl at his stealthy reflexes.

“Dabi, I’m serious! You’re such a—”

In a twirling motion his newly free palm shoves at your shoulder, pinning you against the stairwell’s wall. He’s close, so close, the blue flames in his eyes are absurdly intense.

“That makes two of us. You’ll get this back when I say so.”

His voice is low, soft lips almost connecting to yours. You tilt your chin up, glaring at him with fearful, tentative eyes. His gaze flashes with mirth, and he huffs a small laugh at you.

“I’ve always liked this about you. That spark inside you.” He muses. The peacoat spills to the floor. Dabi lifts his slender fingers, pushing back a loose curl from your cheek.

Your stomach flips, as shocks tickle your skin. There’s been subtle flirting between you two before. You just wrote it off as overthinking the moment. Even though he only called you, babydoll, and he sat next to you at gatherings. How he filled your glass with water instead of booze as the nights waned. Now, you feel foolish for denying the little signs.

“You have a horrible way of showing girls you like ‘em,” you counter back, your voice’s quiet but leveled.

“Yeah?” he asks. The arm holding your shoulder tightens, while the other lowers to collect your long skirt. He traces his knuckles on the soft flesh of your thigh. As his hand trails up, his eyes remain fixed on your facial features. “Maybe this will help.”

His slim fingers reach the cotton slip, and it’s easy to pull off to the side, exposing the lips of your warmth. He tests the waters, sweeping the tips of his fingers across your folds. Your mouth parts in a breathless hitch in your throat. Dabi parts his own lips drawing near, ‘til his lips touch yours but not quite pressing together yet. His pierced nose bumps yours.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen,” he starts, just before sinking two fingers between your folds, pumping deep and slow inside. “You’ll go upstairs and pack what you need. When you come down—”

He thrusts particularly hard into you, sending a gasping moan to fall from your open mouth. His voice remains calm, a hint of glee can be detected. Fucking bastard.

“—You’ll be leaving with me. You’ll work for me...Live with me…And you’ll do everything I say. You got it, babydoll?”

He adds a third finger, soaking his knuckles deep with your slick. He’s hitting the right spots, the perfectly deep pressure. Your attention turns hazy as wakes of pleasure tighten just below your stomach. Your hips buck against his thrusting hand, yet still, you manage to nod your head.

Moans flutter from your lips and vibrate onto his smiling one. To heighten the pleasure he begins swirling your wet clit. “Ah, Dabi...Oh god, Dabi—”

He slows his fingers suddenly, which makes you cry out. He pretends to ignore it. “If you try to escape me...I will hunt you down and hurt you in ways that will marr that pretty skin of yours. I’ll make you scream so loud, and no one will be there to save you. Tell me you understand.”

He curls his knuckles, pressing into a rough spot at the top, pumping fiercely against your slippery, muscular walls. You cry out, squeezing at his shirt collar and coat. “Fuck—I understand, I understand! Baby, right there, ah!”

Dabi gives you no mercy. He tugs and twirls the bud of sensitive nerves, swirling with driven circles that clench your walls in wonderous pressure. You’re close, he’s so close to sending you in high bliss. Your moans get heavier, and your clenching more and more and—

He removes his fingers. Another cry of protest sobs from your mouth only to be swallowed by Dabi’s lips on yours. His tongue massages the moans from your breath, his scent of cigarettes and smoke immerse your senses as you drown in the kiss.

He slowly breaks apart with a wet sound, looking deeply in your lust-glossed eyes. His voice is low and arousingly husky. “Now get your things.”

Before you know it, Dabi pulls away from your shoulders, and turns for the parlor. You try catching your breath, watching his slim, muscular back...Did that happen? Did he rob you of everything? Your home, your life, your orgasm?

Eventually, with light steps you do as you’re told, and turn to climb up the stairs. What choice do you have? He has your life in the palm of his hand. And right before you make it to the top, your hand drawn on the railing, the spinning clicks of your house phone perk your ear.

A long pause. Then finally, Dabi’s rich voice speaks up from the parlor,

“Hey, I’ll be needing a few guys at Togas...Yeah, we found him….Toga did him in pretty good...No, we’ll need the good bleach for cleanup.”

***

P.S, this might be a mini series 👀

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #dabi #touya todoroki #my hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfics #mafia!dabi #tw blackmail #tw blood #keigo takami #bnha x reader #the smut pile #tw dubcon #shadow tales

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heyiwrotesomethings · 4 years ago

Text

Paws

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: (picks up S.O. turning into a cat fanfics) I just think they’re neat. Shinobu might not like it, but it's better than those toy-story-looking-baby-head-spiders from Natagumo Mountain, am I right? Word Count: 7,999

Shinobu had a choice variety of things she’d have liked to say in that moment. Many were colorful, but few could be said in polite company. Still, Shinobu let the words fly free, for she knew it didn’t matter what she yelled out to the universe. Not unless someone could translate the pitiful meows that fell from her whiskered maw.

Yes, Shinobu knew that demon she had destroyed the night prior had done something strange to her with its blood art, but she had prepared herself for every probable poison or venom that had entered her skin. She wasn’t careless, there just wasn’t an antidote she had that could cure the ailment that had befallen her as she slept.

When she had awoken in the unfamiliar surroundings of the inn she was boarding, she didn’t notice an immediate difference. She stretched groggily, yawned, exhaled... but when went to muss up her hair to scratch an itch tickling at her scalp, she caught sight of a little black paw instead of her hand.

She darted backward, getting caught in the sea of covers and clothing, ensnaring herself like a roll of fish and rice encased in seaweed. She struggled for a moment, groaning to herself. At least, it was supposed to be a groan. The sound that met Shinobu’s ears sounded more like the warning sound of an agitated alley cat. She ceased her wiggling immediately, frozen. She tentatively opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

“Meow...?”

No. Oh no, that was not at all what Shinobu had wanted to say. She tried again.

“Mew.”

Different, but no less depressing.

“Mowww.”

Now that just sounded down right pitiful.

Shinobu wiggled against the weight of the fabrics around her lithe body, somehow managing to, quite literally, claw her way free.

She took a look at her surroundings. Her haori was draped over the hanging rack near the room’s desk. On the desk sat her uniform, neatly folded with her butterfly hairpin sitting on top and her nichirin blade propped up against the worn, wooden chair. Below her she saw the yukata she had worn to bed crumpled in the sheets of the futon and the little black paw she had seen before had been joined by another just beside it.

Shinobu skittered back a meter, dismayed when the paws followed the action. She spun around on the futon and caught a glimpse of a fluffy black tail and blanched. Well, as best she could in her current predicament.

‘No, no, no...’ Shinobu thought to herself as she clumsily made her way to the desk. She recalled a small hand mirror she had seen the night before. Surely that would clear this whole thing up, right? She shimmied, preparing herself for the first jump, making it to the chair. She cringed at the sound of her blade clattering to the ground before jumping again to the flat surface of the desk. Shinobu spotted the hand mirror and cautiously pawed towards it. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply before leaning over the glass. Then she cracked an eye open, peering down.

Purple, yes, that was familiar. Those were her eyes, but she certainly didn’t have shiny, black fur and whiskers and little black, triangle shaped ears on the top of her head and—

“Mowww!” Shinobu cursed aloud, finding some strange feeling of satisfaction in knocking the hand mirror to the floor below. Yet that was quickly doused by the sense of dread that hung over her.

She, Kochou Shinobu, had been turned into a detestable, furry little creature. A cat.

“Is everything alright in there miss? I heard a couple loud thumps coming from here.”

There was no human reply of course, but Shinobu leapt off of the desk and padded towards the door, pawing at it, hoping the innkeeper’s daughter would let her curiosity get the better of her and open the door.

“Miss? Are you well?”

No, Shinobu certainly was not well. But if the girl could let her out of this room she could see herself feeling just a small fraction better. She clawed at the wooden frame. If she had to pay for the damages so be it.

“Miss, I’m coming in. Pardon the intrusion...”

The door finally slid to the side and the innkeeper’s daughter peered inside.

“Hello?”

“Meow.”

The girl startled, her head snapped down to her feet. Shinobu sat in front of her expectantly, waiting for what she wasn’t sure.

“Tou-san?” The girl called down the hallway, stepping back from the cat, “Tou-san, the woman who checked in last night is gone. She left all her stuff and, and there’s a cat in here!”

“What are you saying child? Huh.” The innkeeper appeared in the doorway and blinked before frowning deeply. “I didn’t discuss lodgings for a pet with her. Was she trying to shorthand me?”

Shinobu’s tail twitched at the insinuation.

“Well, looks like she’s long gone now. Nothing to do about it now.” The innkeeper sighed.

“But, her clothes are still here and her katana... I can’t imagine she left them there on purpose.”

“Well, we have her address in the book. We’ll have someone take her belongings there and get the money we’re owed for their safe return... and the money for any damages this animal may have caused,” he reached out to pet Shinobu, but understandably the Hashira turned cat batted the hand away. “I’ll get Daisuke on it, that boy’s been getting too comfortable anyway. Gather up all her belongings will you, Hibari.”

“Yes, father.”

The innkeeper nodded then continued on down the hall. Hibari cautiously made her way past the threshold of the room and Shinobu eyed her warily from the doorway as the young girl, probably around Aoi’s age, gathered her belongings and folded them all together with care before setting them into a travel bag. Shinobu was pleased that her privacy was kept largely intact. The only thing the young girl openly scrutinized was her nichirin blade.

“This is so cool.” Hibari mumbled to herself before laying the blade across the opening of the bag. She then turned to Shinobu, couching to the floor with the bag outstretched in front of her. “Here kitty kitty, want to go for a ride?”

Shinobu’s eyes narrowed, she didn’t much appreciate how the girl cooed at her like she was a child. She stayed in place, her nose upturned.

“Oh don’t be like that. I’m sure it’ll be a long journey home. I’d sit in the bag if I were you.”

Shinobu stood firm. If she had to have four legs, she was going to use them. Hibari sighed and stood with the bag over her shoulder.

“Alright, suit yourself,” Hibari made to exit the room, “come on, little kitty.”

Shinobu resented that, yet she pawed after the girl. They exited the inn and found a young man stretched out in the grass.

“Daisuke-nii, here are all the traveler’s belongings. Tou-san gave you the address, right?” Hibari asked.

Daisuke groaned and sat up with his hand outstretched to take the bag, “yeah,” he noticed Shinobu sitting near his sister’s feet and sneered, “do I really need to take that thing with me too?”

Shinobu’s tail swished, agitated.

“Don’t be mean. The poor thing is probably homesick,” Hibari pouted, “I can’t believe that lady would just leave her here.”

Homesick, yes, Shinobu had been off on missions for the better part of three weeks. She was finally meant to go home today but like this, as a cat of all things, was not how she wanted to do it. She just wanted to walk home like a normal person, hug all her girls and catch up with the goings on at the estate, and spend some much needed alone time with her (Y/n). Was that so much to ask for?

“Whatever, it’s just a cat Hibari.” Daisuke groused. “If it decides to run off before I get to the place, I’m not taking responsibility for it. I’m just gonna drop this off, and get our money.”

“You better take good care of this cat, Nii-chan!” Hibari frowned, crossing her arms, “I’ll never forgive you if something bad happens to her! Just look at how sweet she is.”

Daisuke looked into Shinobu’s eyes and found his distaste for the feline mirrored back at him.

“There is nothing sweet looking about that thing.” Daisuke grunted as he stood to his full height, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Just try to be nice, okay?” Hibari asked.

“Sure, yeah, yeah, come on vermin. The sooner we leave, the sooner I can get home.” Daisuke made to scoop up Shinobu, but she side stepped away, slapping his hand for good measure.

“Ow! You mangy little—“

“Daisuke!” Hibari warned, giving him a pointed look.

“Fine! Just don’t slow me down. I’m leaving.” Daisuke rubbed his hand and turned to start his journey. A journey Shinobu had no intention of sticking around for.

Shinobu was surely faster than the ornery young man. She was not particularly fond of his presence either. She decided she would go off ahead of him. If he tried to do anything funny with her belongings she would easily find them again and give them all hell. The sooner she got home, the sooner she could figure out how to revert to her true body.

“Ah. Good riddance.” She heard Daisuke say snidely as she hopped ahead and into the brush once they made it to the edge of town.

‘I could say the same about you.’ Shinobu thought to herself, ‘if anything happens to that haori especially, the problems you have now will be child’s play to what I’ll put you through.’

Though she traveled faster, leaving the innkeeper’s son behind her, Shinobu still had plenty of ground to cover. She was already tired from weeks of duty, not to mention she wasn’t used to traveling on four paws. However despite these difficulties, Shinobu managed to reach her estate’s beautiful gardens just before dinner. Her little paws ached, but she was home.

She walked through the garden, admiring the blooms and foliage as she steadily made her way to the engawa. The weather was fair, so hopefully she’d find an open door somewhere.

Then the flowers ahead of her started to shake and she stiffened momentarily before relaxing as the voices of Kiyo, Sumi, and Naho registered in her ears.

“And then— oh! A kitty!” Kiyo interrupted herself, awestruck as she and the other two girls made their way to the end of the garden where the vegetables were grown. Sumi and Naho were quick to join in, cooing at Shinobu causing her light embarrassment.

“How did you get here, little one? Are you lost?” Naho smiled, presenting her hand for Shinobu to sniff. Obviously, Shinobu didn’t go for it.

“Mow.” Shinobu shook her head, trying to show the girls she was no ordinary cat. They didn’t seem to catch on unfortunately.

“It’s so cute! Do you think we could keep it?” Sumi asked.

“Shinobu-sama would never let us. She thinks furry animals are messy.” Naho replied dejectedly.

“You’re right.” Sumi pouted.

“Well...” Kiyo spoke up after a moment of silence. “Shinobu-sama isn’t back yet. What if we could get (Y/n)-sama to agree to let us keep it?”

“Good idea!” Sumi jumped a bit with excitement, “Even if Shinobu-sama doesn’t like the idea, she’ll accept it if (Y/n)-sama said it was okay.”

‘My my, Kiyo, Sumi. I did not think you would try using my own lover against me in such a way.’ Shinobu thought to herself, begrudgingly allowing herself to be picked up by Sumi as the other two gathered at her sides, gently stroking her fur.

“I don’t know, aren’t you two worried it might strain their relationship if they don’t make the decision together?” Naho asked nervously, though she eagerly patted the top of Shinobu’s head.

“No way. They love each other too much to let one cat get in the way of all that.” Kiyo shook her head, “Besides, we’ll take care of it. Shinobu-sama won’t even have to see the kitten if she doesn’t want to.”

‘My, what schemers these girls are growing into.’

“Girls? Is everything going alright out there?”

Shinobu’s ears perked up and she wiggled in Sumi’s arms to peer over her shoulder, absorbing the sight of (Y/n) standing on the engawa with her hand acting as a visor to shield her eyes from the setting sun as she squinted at the garden. Shinobu thought it was a crime that she couldn’t perceive colors as she could when she was human. She was sure the light of the setting sun bathed (Y/n)’s figure in a heavenly way. Oh how she had missed her.

“(Y/n)-sama!” The three girls cheered rushing towards the young woman standing on the engawa. Shinobu winced at the jaunty gait, the pace Sumi had set was throwing her around more than she would have liked.

“Oh dear,” (Y/n) smiled warmly, turning Shinobu’s heart into mush, “that doesn’t look like a vegetable.”

“(Y/n)-sama, can we keep her? Can we keep her please?” The girls pleaded. “We promise we’ll take good care of her. It will be like she’s not even here. Just give us a chance!”

“I have no doubt you three could take good care of a cat. You’re all very responsible, but you know Shinobu wouldn’t be happy living with a sheddy cat under her roof.” (Y/n) said, her smile becoming more sympathetic as she stared down at the youngest residents of the Butterfly Estate.

“Please, (Y/n)-sama. Shinobu-sama doesn’t even have to know. It can be our secret.” Sumi whispered conspiratorially.

“I’m sorry girls, but I’m just not comfortable making such a big decision without consulting with Shinobu first.” (Y/n) shook her head.

Upon seeing the dejected looks of the three girls before her, (Y/n) sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “You can come in and fix something for her to eat, but she can’t come inside, okay?”

“Okay...”

Shinobu would have been very pleased with (Y/n)’s decision, except she needed to be the exception to the verdict. She needed to get inside and get to her lab, not live out the rest of her days as a garden cat getting fed scraps while she watched all her loved ones mourn her sudden disappearance.

“Don’t forget to pull out some fresh veggies. Aoi and Kanao are waiting too—ah!”

Shinobu had wiggled free from Sumi’s arms and flung herself into the air, catching on the fabric of (Y/n)’s clothes and scrambling up to her chest as surprised arms moved on instinct to hold Shinobu up.

‘I could charm you as a human, I can do it in this form too, (Y/n).’

Shinobu butted her head against (Y/n)’s chin, her cheeks, wherever she could reach. She felt a rumble start to build at the back of her throat and realized she had begun to purr. (Y/n)’s scent seemed to be all encompassing, so much stronger than what Shinobu’s human nose could smell. It made her press harder, realizing just how much she had missed that scent, how she craved the familiarity.

“Oh, hello there. You sure are friendly, huh?” (Y/n) scratched behind Shinobu’s ear, Shinobu purred louder.

“Aw, she must really like you, (Y/n)-sama. You have to let her stay now!” Naho spoke, watching the cute scene with unrestrained joy.

“Naho, you know we can’t.” (Y/n) shook her head, now trying to dodge Shinobu’s bumps of affection while also trying to loosen Shinobu’s claws from her front so she could put her back down.

‘Come now, (Y/n). Don’t start playing hard to get now.’ Shinobu continued working her charm as best as she could, continuing her nudges and purrs, gently lapping (Y/n)’s knuckles with her tongue when her hands attempted to push her away.

“Affectionate little thing, aren’t you?” (Y/n)’s smile twitched, a bead of sweat roll down her cheek as she tried to pull the cat away from her body only to have her clothes pulled with her, the cat’s claws were secured and unyielding.

‘Only for you.’ Shinobu’s eyes glinted. She could see (Y/n) was wavering, if she could keep this up, she’d let her stay in no time.

(Y/n) looked down into the cat’s eyes. They felt strangely familiar. The way the cat stared back up at her made her feel small, not in a negative sense, more like they eyes reminded her of the vastness of the universe. Maybe they made her feel safe, unconditionally loved... (Y/n) shook her head, blood buzzed faintly through her cheeks and the tips of her ears. This was a cat. She really needed to pull herself together. She hoped Shinobu’s letter detailing her imminent return home was accurate.

“Mew, mow.” Shinobu mewed sweetly, the sound, paired with the sweet kitten licks penetrated deep into (Y/n)’s heart, making her sigh and slump her shoulders in defeat.

“Okay...”

“Yay!” The trio cheered, bouncing around (Y/n) as she held onto a pleased Shinobu with a guilty expression on her face.

“But!” She added quickly, “I’m not promising anything. When Shinobu comes back we’ll come to a final decision together. Don’t get your hopes up too high, alright?”

“Okay, (Y/n)-sama.” The girls were a little more subdued, but no less excited that the cat could stay with them, if just for a short time.

As soon as (Y/n) crossed the threshold into the estate, Shinobu loosened her kitty death grip and jumped out of (Y/n)’s arms to pad off to the kitchen. Though she was yelling at herself to go to the lab to try to fix herself first, hunger seemed to be driving her body in the direction of the aroma coming from the opposite side of the building.

“Look at you. You walk around as if you own the place.” (Y/n) spoke, a sound of amusement preceding her observation.

‘Because I do. Hopefully you’ll realize that soon enough.’

“What took so long, (Y/n)-sama?” Aoi asked, a small frown of concentration shaped her lips as she carefully prepared the food. Kanao turned to stare at (Y/n) and the sleek little shadow trailing behind her with a puzzled expression.

“Sorry. Um, Sumi, Naho and Kiyo had made a new friend in the garden who’ll be staying the night.”

“I see, shall I start preparing a room?” Aoi asked, not yet looking up from her cooking.

“I don’t think that will be necessary...”

“What do you mean, oh.” Aoi caught a dark movement at (Y/n)’s feet, the seeing the cat for the first time. Although she found it undoubtedly cute, her respect for Shinobu was not so easily swayed. “(Y/n)-sama, you can’t keep a cat in here!”

“I know,” (Y/n) pressed her hands together, “it’s only for a short while, I promise.”

“I can’t believe you let yourself get manipulated so easily. What would Shinobu-sama say?”

‘That (Y/n) trying to resist me would be like someone trying to stop an oncoming train with their bare hands. It’s just not plausible.’ Shinobu silently answered with a purr, sliding past (Y/n)’s ankles.

“I know, I tried, honestly! I really did.” (Y/n) swore.

“Fine. Remove it from the kitchen please at the very least. It’s unsanitary.” Aoi said, turning back to what she was doing.

“Right, sorry. The girls should be back from the garden soon. I’ll be back in a minute to help.”

(Y/n) scooped up Shinobu and took her out of the kitchen just as Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho were coming in with their basket from the garden.

“Great timing. Could you three take care of the cat while I help Kanao and Aoi finish up dinner?”

“Yeah!”

“You can count on us!”

“Here little kitty!”

Shinobu tried to latch onto (Y/n), but was quickly plucked from her arms by Kiyo. After Naho handed (Y/n) the basket, they ran off down the hall with (Y/n) calling after them.

“Be back in twenty minutes! Everything should be done by then.”

“Okay!”

***

Shinobu sat on the tatami floor, watching with amusement as the girls tried to get her to play with the crudely tied together cloth on a wooden pole. They even went as far as to demonstrate what they expected her to do with the device, pawing at it and rolling around on the floor.

“Come on, kitty. You can do it!” Sumi encouraged.

‘I love you children, but there is nothing you could say or do that would make me act so foolishly.’ Shinobu turned her nose away from the flopping cloth and made to leave the room, hoping (Y/n) and the others would have dinner ready by now.

Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho followed after her talking amongst themselves. Occasionally asking the black cat where she was going with such purpose.

When they made it to the dining area, (Y/n), Kanao and Aoi were already there. (Y/n) had only just knelt down at her spot at the table when Shinobu claimed the space in her lap, causing (Y/n) to jump in surprise at the sudden dark flash that rushed at her.

“Ah!”

“Wow, she must really, really like you, (Y/n)-sama.” Naho observed.

“Yeah, we just followed her here. It’s like she knew exactly where to go.” Sumi spoke with awe.

“I see...” (Y/n) smiled down at the black blob curled in her lap, it’s intelligent purple eyes looked back up at her. “I bet you’re hungry, hm?”

‘Yes, I haven’t eaten all day.’ Shinobu sighed to herself.

“(Y/n)-sama, we shouldn’t feed animals at the table.” Aoi pouted. “What would Shinobu-sama say?”

‘I’d say let’s make an exception just this once. Please, I’m starving.’

“Just this once, Aoi, please,” (Y/n) asked, setting up a little bowl of cat safe food before setting the bowl beside her on the floor. “More likely than not the cat will have to go when Shinobu comes back. Try not to let it bother you too much.”

Shinobu wiggled out of (Y/n)’s lap to the bowl of food next to her whilst Aoi released a resigned sigh, and waited for everyone to get situated.

“Ikatakimasu!”

“Meow.”

Everyone blinked and turned to the cat. Shinobu stared back, unblinking, waiting for someone to realize she was no ordinary cat.

Kanao tilted her head, flipped her coin, and shrugged slightly before turning back to her food. Aoi was mildly impressed but made no comment. She thought perhaps it had just been a coincidence that the feline happened to meow as they thanked each other for the work that had gone into making dinner tonight. The youngest girls made sure to voice their amazement, praising Shinobu for being such a smart kitty. (Y/n) let out a surprised giggle, calling the moment unbelievably cute before returning her attention to her food as well.

If Shinobu could adequately roll her eyes, she would. Instead she sucked it up and ate the food in the bowl (Y/n) had provided for her. She felt silly and unrefined eating in such a manner, face first in the ceramic, but the food was good and filling, making her feel much better.

After dinner was finished and everything was cleaned up, Shinobu ignored the younger girls’ pleads to come back to their rooms and trotted behind (Y/n) to their wing of the estate.

“You’re making me out to be some kind of villain, cat,” (Y/n) spoke to Shinobu as she waved sympathetically to the younger girls pouting at the opposite end of the hall, “Kiyo, Sumi, and Naho would really like to spend more time with you.”

‘As would I, but I need to be in the lab tonight if I’m ever going to figure out how to reverse this.’

As they approached Shinobu’s lab, she was pleased, but also annoyed to find that the door was already partially open. Making a mental note to find out who had been rustling around in her sanctuary, she made to enter the room only for the door to be slid shut in front of her.

“Sorry little kitty,” (Y/n) smiled down at Shinobu, “Shinobu would be less than pleased with me for not only letting a cat into the estate, but for also letting it have free reign of her lab. Can’t have you breaking any vials or toppling plants.”

“Mowww.” Shinobu moaned pitifully, pawing at the door. She looked up at (Y/n) with hope that she’d let her in. ‘You don’t understand, (Y/n). It’s me!’

“Aw, sorry buddy. That room is off limits.” (Y/n) then continued to walk around the corner.

Shinobu looked between her lab door and the corner (Y/n) disappeared behind a few times, her tail twitched in agitation.

‘Alright, no work is getting done tonight. I suppose it will feel nice to sleep in a familiar location with the warmth and comfort I’ve missed so dearly, even if she is actively blocking my progress with her good intentions.’ Shinobu quickly followed (Y/n) to their room and made to enter the space but was blocked by (Y/n)’s foot.

“No no, see? This is why you should have followed the other girls. I share this space with Shinobu, I can’t let you get fur all over the place and gods forbid anything happen to the goldfish. You’re a smart kitty, I’m sure you can figure out where to go.”

“Mowww, mew!”

“Goodnight, little kitty.” (Y/n) slid the door shut and Shinobu slumped against the floor, pathetically pawing at the edge of the door.

‘Why must you be so responsible and considerate?’ Shinobu meowed again, ‘I would kill to cuddle you right now. I would sit in a room full of writhing balls of sentient fuzz just for my welcome home kiss.’

Shinobu did not move from her spot, continuously clawing at the door, trying to hook a claw in the crack to nudge it open. Her persistence paid off and she managed to wiggle through the small opening she created and slip into the darkened room.

Shinobu was a bit embarrassed, had she tried to get into her lab as hard as she tried to get into her own bedroom, she might actually have gotten somewhere with an antidote. But now she was tired, and all she wanted to do was lay in that perfect space she saw between the curl of (Y/n)’s arm and her face.

‘It looks like I’m not the only one who misses someone.’ Shinobu simpered inwardly, noticing how (Y/n) was sleeping on the side of the futon that Shinobu usually slept in. Shinobu purred, walking across (Y/n)’s side and eliciting a sleepy laugh from the girl without waking her. She slid into the space she had staked claim of and curled up, rubbing her face against (Y/n)’s cheek. She couldn’t help but purr louder as (Y/n) unconsciously pulled Shinobu closer and buried her face in her furry side.

“Shinobu... be safe.” (Y/n) mumbled before stilling once more.

‘I’m safe, I’m right here with you. I hope you realize it soon.’

***

The next morning Shinobu woke earlier than (Y/n). She didn’t want to make (Y/n) worry about the cat somehow getting into the room so she gave her a few quick kitten licks before slipping out of the room. If she had to be a cat for an indeterminate amount of time, she didn’t want (Y/n) trying to find a better way to keep her out of their room.

She trotted around the corner to begin working her lab door open again but was quickly thwarted by Kanao who had happened to be walking by. The quiet girl had picked her up by the pits of Shinobu’s front legs and held her out in front of her with her head tilted to the side as if searching for something.

‘Yes, Kanao. You can tell can’t you? You can tell that I’m your sister and not some common stray.’

“Cute.”

‘Kanao!’

The young Tsuguko put Shinobu in a more comfortable hold and continued to walk away from the lab until she happened upon Nezuko and Tanjirou. The Kamado siblings coddled Shinobu. Nezuko was particularly entranced and hummed happily as she patted Shinobu’s soft head. The Hashira was rather tired of all the touching, but with the firm hold Kanao had on her small body, escape was not an option. At least Inosuke and Zenitsu were out on missions. She didn’t think she’d be able to handle them in this state.

Within the next hour, the rest of the butterfly girls joined in and they moved the little get together outside. Even Aoi gave a tentative scratch behind Shinobu’s ear as they all enjoyed the warmth of the day under the shade of the engawa. That is, until they heard (Y/n) speaking to someone near the estate entrance sounding very distressed. Kanao and Tanjirou went to investigate while the others stayed behind.

Shinobu had been passed off to Aoi, but she wriggled out of her arms to sprint in (Y/n)’s direction to give whoever was making her so upset a taste of her claws. She slowed to stand just behind (Y/n) when she realized that the person she was talking to was the boy from the inn with her belongings.

‘Took him long enough.’ Shinobu thought.

“What do you mean you don’t know where she went? You just saw all her belongings sitting there and thought it was perfectly normal for someone to disappear without warning?” (Y/n) spoke, yelling more out of worry than anger as she pressed the bag to her chest.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger okay?” Daisuke asked, a lazy smile on his face. His eyes wandered over (Y/n)’s figure in a way that made Shinobu furious. “People come and go all the time. Though I gotta say, it’s a real shame she left you hanging. I would never keep a pretty girl like you waiting.”

“Shinobu isn’t like that!” (Y/n) shot back, her eyebrows knit and jaw set. “Did you not even think about contacting the local authorities, anything?”

“Listen, sweetheart,” Daisuke took a couple steps forward, looming over (Y/n), “Unfortunately, it’s my dad who calls the shots and he sent me here to return these belongings and retrieve a lump sum of yen for the service. Now, on the subject of payment... I wouldn’t mind turning a blind eye for a night on the town. What do you say?” He reached out, presumably to tilt (Y/n)’s chin up, but his hand quickly dropped and he shouted in pain. He and (Y/n) looked down at their feet to witness Shinobu biting the ever loving shit out of Daisuke’s ankle.

Daisuke hopped around from one foot to the other, trying to dislodge the cat from his feet. It was like Shinobu was a liquid shadow of teeth and sharp little claws like knives. When Daisuke reached for her, she scrambled to the other leg to give it the same treatment.

(Y/n), now fully joined by Kanao and Tanjirou, watched in stunned silence as the small terror weaved through the young man’s legs.

“Sh... should we stop it?” Tanjirou asked hesitantly.

Kanao shrugged and (Y/n) let out an exasperated sigh.

“Little kitty, please stop!” (Y/n) asked half heartedly, it was a cat after all. It’s not like it would stop just because she— oh, it stopped.

Shinobu batted the man one last time with her claws before sitting before (Y/n). The little shimmy of her hind legs and tail were enough of a sign for (Y/n) too quickly pass the bag off to Kanao so she could catch nightmarish feline who now seemed as docile as a lamb, purring up a storm and lapping at (Y/n)’s jaw.

“What the hell?!” Daisuke hissed, applying pressure to a particularly nasty scratch on the back of his ankle.

“Sorry, I’ll have someone patch you up right away.” (Y/n) said, adjusting her hold on Shinobu so her sandpaper kisses wouldn’t rub the delicate skin of her face raw, “Tanjirou, could you find a kakushi for me? Tell them to bring water, bandages, and disinfectant. Kanao, take Shinobu’s belongings to our room, then come straight back. We need to figure out what happened and where she could be.”

“Meow.”

‘I’m here, (Y/n). Please don’t look so worried.’

“Wait a minute,” Daisuke had moved to sit fully on the ground to hold his cuts and shredded pants. He squinted up at the cat in (Y/n)’s arms, “I know that scrawny little— I thought you would have gotten eaten by a hawk by now you mangy pain in the ass!”

“You know this cat?” (Y/n) asked.

“Yeah, it’s yours, isn’t it?” Daisuke spat. “Your little lady friend left it at the inn with the rest of her shit.”

“That can’t possibly be true, Shinobu dislikes furry animals. She wouldn’t travel with a cat.” (Y/n) shook her head, not even allowing the notion Daisuke brought forward to fully process in her mind because of how ridiculous it sounded.

“My lady, you called for assistance?” The kakushi called as they made their approach, Tanjirou still following.

“Yes, please see to this man’s injuries,” (Y/n) balanced Shinobu over her shoulder so she could take out her money pouch. She counted out the yen, adding a bit extra for the physical damages and presented it to the innkeeper’s son, “After they have taken care of you, please leave the premises immediately.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Daisuke growled, roughly snatching the money out of (Y/n)’s hand. Shinobu glared at him, an unhappy noise gurgled at the back of her throat that made the young man flinch and cower.

Once (Y/n) was sure the kakushi had everything under control, she headed back to the engawa with Tanjirou just as Kanao re-emerged. The other girls who had been sitting and watching from a far questioned (Y/n) with worried expressions.

“Is it true? Is Shinobu-sama missing, (Y/n)-sama?” Kiyo asked.

“Yes,” (Y/n)’s voice wavered, yet she kept a brave face, “we need to prepare a search party immediately.”

“Nezuko and I will help in any way we can. I have a good grasp on Shinobu-san’s scent. I’ll find out if Inosuke and Zenitsu are close enough to help too.” Tanjirou offered, ever helpful. Nezuko hummed in agreement with her brother.

‘What, I don’t even smell the same like this?’ Shinobu signed.

“Just leave it to us.” Kanao spoke up, she patted (Y/n)’s arm, trying to comfort the older girl.

“Just be careful.” (Y/n) replied, cradling Shinobu in one arm so she could give Kanao a hug with the other. “If you need any extra assistance, supplies... we’re just a crow away.”

“We will find her.” Kanao spoke softly but no less seriously, giving (Y/n) a slight nod of determination.

Tanjirou loaded Nezuko into her box and Kanao prepared some supplies and they headed out, leaving the rest of the girls to finish chores and tend to the infirmary. Worry over what fate had befallen Shinobu hung heavily in the air. If only they knew that she was right there at their feet.

The rest of the day was eerily quiet. (Y/n) did her best to keep everyone’s spirits up. When night fell, all the girls held in a little tighter when they came to give (Y/n) a hug good night. Even Aoi, who often wouldn’t participate in the little bedtime ritual, came looking for a bit of comfort before heading to bed.

Shinobu had tried all afternoon to give some sign that she was the silky black cat, but to no avail. At bedtime she was much more desperate to get into her lab. She tried to work the door open, but found in was much more sturdy, heavy, than the door to her bedroom.

Just as Shinobu was starting to give up, she heard muffled sniffling coming from around the corner and her heart twinged. She quickly turned the corner and began working the corner of the bedroom door, her sharp ears caught every devastating sound (Y/n) made.

“Oh Shinobu, where are you?”

‘I’m here! Please don’t cry!’

Another pull of her claw edged the door open just enough for Shinobu to slip inside. The scene before her broke her heart.

(Y/n) was curled up on Shinobu’s side of the futon, now with Shinobu’s haori draped over her as she tried to keep her tears and shuddering, hitched breathing to herself.

Shinobu wasted no time hopping into the bed. She butted her head against (Y/n)’s hands, willing her to remove them from her face. (Y/n) startled, taking in a particularly loud breath of air before sliding her hands down her face to look at her intruder. Her eyes closed momentarily when Shinobu bumped heads with her again, bopping her forehead and the bridge of her nose.

“H-how did you get in here, huh?” (Y/n) sat up, rubbing the tears from her eyes. She tried to regain even breaths but it wasn’t coming easily.

“Mrroowww.” Shinobu whined, trying to form sounds that her vocal chords could not create. She circled around the arm (Y/n) was using to prop herself up, wishing she could just hold her and tell her everything was alright.

“I just love her so much. If only I was a demon slayer too, then I could—“ (Y/n)’s back racked as more tears squeezed passed her eyelids. “I’m so weak— ah!”

Shinobu bit (Y/n)’s wrist, not hard, but with enough pressure to stop her lover from continuing her spiral. She soothed the small indents she left in (Y/n)’s skin with a few rough licks, looking up at her with pained, purple irises.

(Y/n) didn’t kick Shinobu out of the room and the Hashira did her best to soothe her. Eventually (Y/n) laid back down and fell into a restless sleep, her tear stained face shone in the moonlight that cascaded through the window. As she slept, Shinobu’s mind raced for a solution to this puzzle. She absolutely refused to allow this to carry on through another night.

Shinobu sat protectively curled around (Y/n)’s head. Her ears twitched with every little sniffle and shaky sigh that came from the unconscious girl. Shinobu scanned the room as she pressed her mind. How could she get their attention?

Her eyes wandered over to the desk near the door. (Y/n) had insisted it be put there after Shinobu had spent consecutive nights in her office or her lab writing reports or doing research. She had told Shinobu if she wanted to read and write all night, she could do it in their bedroom so (Y/n) at least had the illusion that Shinobu would come to bed when she was finished.

Ah, Shinobu had teased her about that for days afterward. It turned out to be a great idea though in Shinobu’s book. Whenever she got frustrated with her materials she would simply turn to watch the object of her affections sleep for a moment and a peaceful smile would claim her lips. Then she’d get back to her correspondences or research notes until her hands hurt and her fingers were smudged with ink. She recalled one all nighter in particular when she had flopped into bed around dawn and was awoken three hours later to (Y/n) scolding her for getting ink all over her.

Ink...

Shinobu’s eyes flickered across the desk, settling on the ink bottle tucked neatly in the corner. Yes, why hadn’t she thought of this before? Careful not to jostle (Y/n), Shinobu padded passed her little goldfish aquarium and leapt onto her desk, rustling a few papers but largely without incident.

Shinobu sighed inwardly at what she would have to do next. She walked up to the ink bottle and batted it to the floor, it’s contents spilling and staining the matted floor below.

‘I’ll need to replace this floor when I’m done here, won’t I?’

***

When (Y/n) woke up early the next morning, it was to a wet, slimy pressure on her cheek. She had initially tried to bat it away, but the force came back down on her lips and she turned away and spluttered, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

She looked down, her mouth fell open with surprise as she processed the black, sticky smudge that stuck to her skin.

“Meow.”

(Y/n) turned back around and gasped. Initially, you wouldn’t have been able to tell anything was out of place, but on closer inspection (Y/n) saw how the black cat’s fur appeared matted and wet on its front legs and if that wasn’t enough, the little black paw prints that littered the white sheets was certainly a give away.

“Oh my... bad kitty! Very, very, very bad kitty!” (Y/n) huffed, trying to roll out of the bedding without getting too much ink on herself.

Shinobu smirked inwardly, if she could laugh she would have. Despite the situation that led up to this moment, it was amusing to hear (Y/n) try to scold her. It was not at all her forte it would seem.

“Such a bad kitty! I’m going to punish you for this... ah! How do you even punish a cat?” (Y/n) fumed, taking in the extent of the damage.

Satisfied that (Y/n) was up, Shinobu made her way back to the desk, little black paw prints followed in her wake.

“That’s quite enough! I’d like to not have to replace the whole floor if I can help it, you little...” (Y/n) followed after Shinobu and scooped her up, she happened to glance at the floor near the base of the desk and the words died on her tongue. At first, she thought it was just the scene of the crime where all went wrong, but after a second glance, she noticed swoops and slashes that looked suspiciously like hiragana characters. (Y/n)’s lips fell open as she finally took the whole scene in.

‘Demon blood cat poison. I’m Shinobu.’ Was painstakingly written on the floor.

“Shinobu...?” (Y/n) stared down at the cat in her arms with manic eyes scanning over every inch of the small cat.

Shinobu blinked slowly and nodded.

“Shinobu!” (Y/n) cried, holding the cat closer to herself, uncaring of the inky paws that pressed into her yukata. “I was so worried! I’m glad you’re alright!”

“Mow.”

“You need to get in the lab, don’t you? I’ll get you whatever you need, dear.” (Y/n) carried Shinobu to the lab and slid the door open. Closing the door behind her, she set Shinobu down on a clear table and nervously wrung her hands. “Okay, what do you need?”

Shinobu took a moment to ponder. Really it couldn’t be much different than the antidote she created for the slayers who had been turned to spiders on Natagumo Mountain. She walked to the edge of the table and pointed a paw in the direction of one of her medicine cabinets and (Y/n) opened it, pointing at every vial until Shinobu nodded at the one she wanted. After an hour more of awkward directing, they had a few new solutions to try. (Y/n) prepared the first syringe and looked at Shinobu with concern.

“Are you sure about this?” (Y/n) asked.

Shinobu held out her front paw in reply.

There was no immediate change, but after a few minutes, the small cat began to grow and bubble. The fur melted away and before long what remained on the table now was a naked young woman with severe bed head covered in sticky, partially dried ink.

Shinobu fell forward, exhausted by the change, but (Y/n) caught her and straightened her back into an upright position and hugged her tightly.

“Shinobu!” (Y/n) cheered, she couldn’t help the tears that came to her eyes and she sobbed into Shinobu’s neck.

Shinobu smiled tiredly, her voice sounded like it would when she woke up first thing in the morning as she chuckled and pulled (Y/n) closer to herself, “I’m sorry I worried you. I’m okay. Please don’t cry, you know I hate it when you do.”

“I’m trying,” (Y/n) hiccuped, “I just missed you so much!”

“I missed you too.” Shinobu said, kissing the top of (Y/n)’s head.

They stayed there in each other’s arms for a few minutes quietly swaying before (Y/n) pulled back a bit, remembering how everyone was worried sick and needed to know that Shinobu was alright.

“I’ve got to send word to Kanao and the others that you’re okay! We have to tell everyone! Oh, but you should put on some clothes first.” (Y/n) added sheepishly, seemingly only just noticing Shinobu’s current state of undress. Shinobu giggled.

“I’d prefer to wash off this ink before putting anything on. Wouldn’t want to ruin anything.”

“You certainly did enough of that.” (Y/n) laughed, recalling the mess Shinobu made of the floor and their sheets. “But the bath is much too far to try to get by undetected. We’d have much better luck running around the corner to our room.”

“Mm, I suppose you have a point.” Shinobu slid off the table and stood on slightly wobbly legs, cupping (Y/n)’s face with her stained hands. “But before we go, can I have my welcome home kiss? I’ve been dying to receive it.”

(Y/n) smiled, interlacing her hands behind Shinobu’s neck and pulled her in. The first couple seconds were great, but when the kiss got more involved, both girls broke apart with small grimaces. The taste of ink on their tongues was not at all pleasant.

(Y/n) peeked around the corner and down the hall and after a moment she nodded at Shinobu, signaling her forward. They slipped out of the lab and quickly shot into their bedroom. As Shinobu got dressed, (Y/n) prepared a crow to deliver the good news to Kanao that she and the others could return home. Then the couple left their room to visit the younger girls.

“You don’t think the girls will be too disappointed to realize they don’t have a cat anymore, do you?” Shinobu asked.

“To have you back? They’ll be ecstatic.” (Y/n) grinned, bumping sides with Shinobu.

And true to (Y/n)’s word, upon seeing Shinobu, Aoi, Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho jumped at her and smothered her with hugs and relieved tears. After they had calmed down and learned the story, the youngest three started to giggle.

“(Y/n)-sama, you have a paw print on your cheek.” Sumi pointed out, gleefully.

“And your mouth has ink smeared over it too, like Shinobu-sama.” Naho added.

“How did that happen?” Kiyo wondered.

“I’ll give you three guesses.” Aoi rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as (Y/n) and Shinobu laughed.

After they caught up with the girls, (Y/n) and Shinobu veered off to the bath, washing off the ink as best they could from their bodies.

Just before nightfall, the search party returned with the added bonus of Inosuke and Zenitsu being as rambunctious as ever.

“I can’t believe you got turned into a cat! Dumb Shinobu! The Great Inosuke would never!” Inosuke cackled, abruptly stopping only when a dark aura swirled around Shinobu, a plastic smile on her lips daring Inosuke to continue.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Kanao spoke quietly, allowing herself to relax as Shinobu pulled her in for a tender hug.

After such an emotionally exhausting day, everyone returned to their rooms prepared for a much better night’s sleep than the last.

“No paperwork tonight?” (Y/n) teased as Shinobu practically dove I to the fresh bedding with a tired moan.

“Come here so I can cuddle you properly tonight.” Shinobu said, motioning (Y/n) over.

“Gladly.”

When (Y/n) was settled in Shinobu’s arms both girls blinked at each other as the sound of purrs permeated the air. Shinobu touched her throat, feeling the flesh rumble below her fingers.

“Lingering side effect?” (Y/n) tilted her head.

“I suppose... hopefully this doesn’t persist for long.”

“I think it’s cute.” (Y/n) smiled, kissing Shinobu’s cheek.

Before long the couple fell asleep to the quiet rumblings that resonated from Shinobu’s throat, happily tangled in each other’s limbs at last.

#kny oneshots #kny x reader #demon slayer oneshots #demon slayer x reader #shinobu kochou #shinobu kocho #shinobu x reader #shinobu kochou x reader #shinobu kocho x reader

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Flatmates - Harry Styles

i listened to kiwi while writing it so i strongly advise to listen to is while reading as well. without any further ado, i present you this flatmate!harry fic with some steamy smut!

word count: ~9k

warning: smut

masterlist

You were desperate to find a place to live, to say the least. You’ve always had trouble remembering deadlines and important dates, and thanks to this charming trait of yours, you successfully missed the deadline of the college dormitory applications. After a day of solid panic you started looking for cheap apartments, but living off campus seemed to be something only rich people could afford. Rents were ridiculously high and you were certain you couldn’t afford to spend thousands of dollars for a room smaller than your pantry back at home. You watched ad after ad, making calls all day for a week straight, but at the end, you always went to bed with the thought that you’ll have to live under a bridge through the first semester of your freshman year.

It was until a friend of yours, Rita, who was mature enough to apply to the dormitory in time called you with the best news you could receive.

“This friend of my future roomie is looking for a flat mate. You gave me his number, maybe you could give him a call and see if the room is still available. Just tell him Kimberly gave you his number, I’m sure he’ll offer you the room on a nicer price.”

“Oh my God, you just saved my life!” you gasped, almost feeling like crying. “I owe you big time, Rita!”

You called right away, not wanting to waste any time and maybe have the room already rented by then. A deep, male voice answered the call in a soothing British accent.

“Harry Styles,” he said in a calm tone.

“Hey! My name is Y/N and I got your number from Kimberly. I’m looking for a place to live from September and I was told you have a room to rent?”

Harry sounded a little hesitant at first, asked a few questions about you to have a better picture of you, but eventually offered the room. You quickly agreed that you’d be able to move in at the end of August. You were thankful you had one less worry about school finally.

August rolled around the corner faster than you expected and in no time, half your life was packed up into boxes and suitcases as you and your dad drove two hours on a Saturday to get you all settled in your new home. Up until this point, you hadn’t seen Harry just yet. Though you did search up his name, but he was the kind to never post about himself, but mostly about guitars, landscapes and animals. His Instagram was dry, no trait of what he looked like or even the slightest hint about himself. There was only one photo that featured the outline of a guy, which makes it clear that the person was fully naked, no trace of any clothes hanging on his body, but it was completely dark, so nothing could be really seen. However the tag on the figure made you think it wasn’t him, so it didn’t matter. His Facebook seemed even sadder, barely any posts, not even a decent profile picture. You were surprised to see there are people who don’t really use social media, but you didn’t take it as a bad sign. Harry must be a private person and you had nothing against that.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to move in with a guy you’ve never met before?” your dad asks as the two of you are unloading the car in front of the apartment complex. Glancing up you shrug your shoulders with a little excitement, knowing that you are only minutes away from finally seeing the person you are gonna spend your next months living with.

“He sounded like a decent person, and I really don’t have any other choice, dad. Or do you want me to sleep in a park or something?”

“God, no. You really should be more careful about those deadlines next time,” he sighs kissing the top of your head before shutting the back of the car once everything is set on the ground.

“Don’t worry, I already bought a calendar so I can keep better track of everything.”

When you first told your parents that you’d be living with Harry, they didn’t seem to be a fan of the idea, but they realized you weren’t really swimming in options at the moment so they eventually come to peace that their daughter is going to be living with a guy. They didn’t make a big deal out of it, knowing well you were an adult now practically who can make choices for herself.

The two of you manage to bring everything up to the third floor and you ring the doorbell since you don’t have your keys yet. You immediately recognize Harry’s British accent as he calls out a “coming!” from the other side of the door and a few seconds later it opens, revealing him.

Your first thought is that he is tall. Very tall and oh my! How handsome! His green eyes find your gaze and his dimples come out as he smiles at you happily. This man is surely a nice sight, you think to yourself, but you quickly bring yourself back to reality as he takes a look at all the stuff surrounding you.

“Y/N, why didn’t you call me that you were here? I could have helped you!” Taking a step outside he stretches his hand out for your dad. “Nice to meet ya, you must be Mr. Y/L/N. I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you,” your dad nods at him shaking his head before Harry grabs a box from the floor himself, holding the door open for you.

“Come on in!”

The three of you quickly bring everything inside from the hallway and you finally have a moment to look around. It’s not a big apartment, but seemingly perfect for two people. Walking in you have a small kitchen on the left and a little dining area on the right with a simple table and four chairs around it. Further inside is the living room, it’s nicely furnished very bright thanks to the large windows across the front door. On the left there’s a door that leads to the bathroom and on the right there’s a small hallway, two doors on each side. The two rooms are exactly the same size, so there was no need to have a discussion about who is getting which room. Not that you were gonna go against Harry when he literally saved your life with letting you stay with him.

The place seems tidy and neat, it’s clear that Harry takes good care of his home and that is for sure a relief.

Your room has a double bed, a desk with a chair, a dresser and a built in little closet. Everything is white or a light beige color, nothing extreme and you already have plans about how you want to decorate it to make it cozier.

“I left two shelves free for you out of the three. I have a few hair products, but I figured you’d need more space,” Harry tells you when you put a smaller box into the bathroom that has all your toiletries.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

Your dad sticks around a little longer helping you unpack some of the bigger boxes, then you walk him down to his car before he leaves.

“Please call your mother often. You know how much she worries about you,” he asks as he pulls you into a quick hug.

“Will do.”

“And call us anytime you need help. Two hours is not that far away, I can always come and get you.”

“I’ll be alright, dad, but thank you.”

You watch him climb into the car and he rolls down the windows waving in your way as he leaves from the parking lot. You stand there until he disappears on the corner and then go back up to your apartment.

Harry is sitting in the living room when you get back, some quiet music playing from the Bluetooth speaker as he reads a book. He glances up at you and you flash him a smile closing the door behind you.

“Your dad seemed quite okay with you living with a guy.”

“He had time to get used to it. They’re not that strict though.”

“That’s cool. I was thinking, maybe we could order some food when you’re done unpacking and just get to know each other a little more.”

“That sounds great!” you smile, but can’t ignore how fast your heart is beating in your chest. Harry surely has an effect on you that you’ll need to gain control over if you don’t want to make living together hard for yourself.

It takes quite some time to unpack everything and find the right place for your stuff, you don’t even finish by the time the food arrives so you decide to leave the rest for tomorrow.

The Chinese food is all set on the table when you walk out and Harry is getting two plates for the two of you.

“Settled in?” he asks as you take one of the chairs and he sits across you.

“Not fully, but I’m getting there,” you chuckle as he hands you your order. “Thank you.”

You talk over the food, just getting to know each other and you finally get a better picture of Harry. It’s his third year of college, he is studying music and pedagogy, intending to one day use music as a helping tool for kids who have learning difficulties. He is a big fan of collecting vinyls and quite passionate about trashy rom coms.

“Really?” you chuckle when he mentions how his Netflix queue is filled with romantic movies.

“Guilty pleasure,” he nods smirking.

You tell a little about yourself too and he seems genuinely interested, which feels nice. You would have hated if he found your interests boring and negligible, but that’s not the case.

“How come you couldn’t find a roommate for so long?” you ask the question that’s been in the back of your mind for quite a while now. Both of you are done eating and you’re cleaning up the table.

Nothing really stood out about Harry just yet, it’s quite a mystery for you why he couldn’t find someone to live with him.

“Well, you could say I’m a little picky in this field. Lived with my best mate first year, and though I absolutely love him, he was horrible to live with. Felt like his personal maid the whole time. When Niall moved in with his girlfriend and I had to move on my own I promised myself I would choose carefully. Lived with a PhD student last year, he was pretty great, but he moved out when he graduated, and I couldn’t really find someone I liked since then.”

“Glad I passed then,” you chuckle as you take the dishes and start washing them while Harry stands next to you, leaning against the edge of the counter.

“You seemed like a decent person to live with, I hope I won’t be wrong about that,” he chuckles, but you can tell he is still a little scared you might turn out to be a total asshole.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be too much trouble. I’m quiet like a mouse and clean up after myself.”

“That’s all that matters,” he smiles. “Alright, I have some things to finish, I’ll be in my room if you need help with anything.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

He waves in your way before disappearing in his bedroom.

You spend most of your Sunday unpacking what was left and running errands, buying groceries so you don’t have to go to the store every other day during the week. You occasionally meet Harry in the kitchen or the living room, but you both just do your own thing and it’s totally fine by you.

School starts quiet smoothly, Harry was kind enough to give you a rundown of where you’ll find your lecture halls so you don’t really get lost around campus, easily finding your way.

Friday afternoon you and Rita are sitting at a café near campus to discuss the first week of school. You don’t have any classes together, so only grabbed lunch two times all week, but didn’t have more than twenty minutes together before one of you had to run to a class. Now you are both comfortably sat in a booth with two cappuccinos and plenty of time to talk.

“So, how is living with Harry?” she curiously asks.

“He is great! Though we don’t meet that much. He has a band so he has practice three times a week, spends the rest of his time at home reading or watching TV.”

You ate dinner together twice this week, but you haven’t really had the courage to join him in the living room when he was watching TV. It sounds stupid but you figured maybe it would bother him if you were out there with him. And since he didn’t invite you either, you just stayed in your room mostly.

“Kimberly told me he is hot, is that true?” she asks with a smirk as she takes a sip from her hot drink. You immediately feel your cheeks heating up.

“Well, he surely is a good looking guy,” you breathe out.

“Lucky you! There’s not much of those in an all girls dorm,” she pouts and you chuckle. “So are you gonna make a move on him?”

“That’s not gonna happen,” you shake your head laughing.

“Why not?”

“Because we live together and if he rejects me that would be so awkward for the rest of our time living together.”

“But you can’t know for sure if he would reject,” she points out, but she can’t bring up one thing that would change your mind.

“It’s better not to take the odds. I don’t want to end up on the street.”

As the days go by, things start to get busier in your everydays. Assignments and papers start to pile up so you have to start working on them if you don’t want to leave everything to the last moment. You become a regular in the library, the atmosphere is great for you to get into the flow and get a lot of work done.

It seems like Harry is in the same shoe, he is often in and out of the apartment, sometimes only spends home just a couple of minutes before he leaves again. However they slowly get accustomed to each other, learn the ways the other likes things and work up a schedule for things. Harry learns that Y/N likes to take a shower twice a day and washes her hair usually on Wednesdays and Sundays, so he doesn’t try to take too much time in the bathroom on those days. He also notices how she doesn’t have time to wash the dishes after herself on Thursdays when she just runs home to have a quick bite before she has to leave for another lecture, so they came to a silent agreement where Harry cleans up after her on Thursdays while she takes up on the dishes on Saturday when Harry leaves to band practice at eight.

They work well together and soon enough all of Harry’s doubts about Y/N fade into nothing and he realizes he has made the right choice with her.

Usually she stays at the library until seven on Mondays, but this week they are closing early because they are rearranging a whole department, so Y/N leaves a little after five. She pays a quick trip to the grocery store before she heads home. Opening up the door she immediately hears the music playing, one of Harry’s vinyls is twirling around in the record player and she hears the water running in the bathroom. Setting her bags on the counter she starts unpacking the groceries.

The music and the running water pushed the sound of her arriving down, Harry didn't realize that you were home early when he opens the bathroom door, singing to himself wearing absolutely nothing as he wants to go and grab a pair of clean underwear, but he is shocked to see you standing in the kitchen.

“Shit!” he snaps, hands immediately flying to cover himself as he sprints back to the bathroom quickly grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.

Your cheeks are heating up immediately even though you didn’t see anything you weren’t supposed to, the counter top covered him just right above the critical line, but it’s the first time you’ve seen his upper body completely naked.

Even though it was just a spit second, the sight of his many tattoos and the defined V-line leading down to his crotch burned straight into your mind, leaving you flustered and shy all of a sudden.

“Sorry! I should have let you know I was coming home early!” you call out turning around, as if he was about to walk out naked again. Harry chuckles lightly as he returns, this time a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t have to check in when you come home. It was my fault, I shouldn’t just walk around naked assuming you wouldn’t be home.”

You should, you think to yourself gulping as you turn around and dare to look at him again. You don’t see less than just a few seconds ago, his chest is glistening from the dampness, his curls are still wet and you are having a hard time not to stare at the tattoos on his lower stomach, so you busy yourself with the rest of your groceries as he walks into his room and returns in a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt.

“Any plans for the weekend?” he asks disappearing in the bathroom, but he leaves the door open and you hear him shuffle around, probably fixing up his hair. He uses some kind of mousse that keeps his curls perfectly and also happens to smell like mango and some kind of citrus.

“Um, not really.”

“We’re playing at this bar with the band, wanna come and watch us?” Walking out of the bathroom he switches the light off before walking to the couch and opening up his Netflix account on the TV. His invitation surprises you, but it also feels nice he wants you there.

“Oh, sounds fun! Can I bring someone?”

“Of course! I can have a table reserved for you, if you’d like,” he smiles at you before turning his attention to the screen.

“That would be great, thanks.”

You feel like after your little encounter it’s probably not the best day to join him at the TV, especially because you can’t stop yourself from blushing every time you look at him. The sight of his naked torso pops up in your mind every time and there’s no way you can just casually sit on the couch with him without your body lighting up on fire.

Rita is excited when you tell her about the invitation, you don’t even have to convince her to go with you since she is dying to finally meet Harry. When he leaves in the early afternoon on Saturday he assures you that there’s gonna be a table reserved under your name, and off he goes to practice, leaving you alone for the rest of the day since he tells you he won’t be back before the concert tonight. Rita comes over around six and the two of you get ready together.

“You have to wear something spicy,” she wiggles her eyebrows at you while you sit at your desk applying mascara to your lashes.

“I don’t want to overdress, it’s just a bar.”

“Yeah, but Harry invited you. I bet he wants you to see him play.”

“Of course he wants, why else would he invite me?” you ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“You don’t get it,” she chuckles turning to you, hands on her hips. “He wants you to see him play because it feeds his ego. Maybe even turns him on.”

“Stop acting like there is anything between us. We are flatmates and that’s all.”

“I think he wants to be more, you’re just too pussy to make a move yourself,” she shrugs turning back to your closet.

“Stop calling me a pussy for not wanting to make it awkward for the two of us to live together. I’m pretty sure Harry doesn’t see me as anything more than just the person he lives with.”

��Then we have to change that. And I think this is the perfect dress for that.”

Rita pulls out a little black dress you bought about a year ago, but never really got around to wear it. It’s so tight, pushes your tits up way too much for your liking, you’re not even sure why you bought it in the first place.

“I’m not wearing that,” you shake your head.

“Are you afraid he might get a boner from you in it?”

“Rita!” you snap at her, but she just chuckles.

“Look, if you’re so sure he doesn’t want you like that, why does it matter what you wear?”

She has a point. It’s not like this dress will change anything and it would be nice to wear at least once in your life this stupid dress if you bought it.

Grabbing it from her hands you throw it to the bed and start undressing as she claps in victory.

You remembered right, the dress leaves close to nothing to the imagination when it comes to your figure. The fabric hugs your figure tightly, and you put on a lacy bralette that peeks out at the top of the dress, kind of covering some more from your skin, since the dress doesn’t do much in that field itself. Rita tries to convince you not to take a jacket, but you throw your denim jacket on, feeling the need to have something give you the slightest sense of being covered.

You arrive at the bar twenty minutes before the concert starts and it’s a good thing Harry reserved a table for you, because the place is packed. You’re not sure if it’s because of them or it’s just a regular Saturday evening.

The little stage is all set up, but you see no sign of Harry anywhere as the two of you settle at your table with a drink. Luckily, the bartender did not ask for an ID, he was too busy looking at your chest. At least there’s one good thing in this dress.

The drum set at the back has the name of the band on it and you smile reading it. The word ‘Stylish’ is printed on it with bold blue letters, referring to Harry’s last name, who is most likely the front man of the band.

The place is buzzing and the two of you enjoy being out at a bar concert. When the lights go down you finally spot him walking out of the back followed by a guy and two girls.

“Welcome, folks,” he greets the audience, his accent filling up the place over the chatters. A round of cheering answers him, making him smile. “Thank you for coming out tonight, we hope to entertain you in the next hour. Our name is Stylish and now let’s get down to business,” he smirks and just as he takes a step back from the mic, the band starts playing. Harry grabs a guitar himself before stepping back to the mic and then he starts singing.

They play a mixture of covers and original songs, the transition between them is so smooth you sometimes forget it’s a whole different song that’s playing. Harry is clearly enjoying the spotlight, his presence on the stage is so natural and capturing, you often catch yourself forgetting about the rest of the band.

One song follows the other and you don’t even realize how fast this hour passes by. Harry sometimes stops in-between songs, entertaining the audience with small jokes and just casually interacting with them.

“Our last song is up next, so let me take a moment to introduce the band,” Harry speaks into the mic while softly playing the guitar so it’s not completely quiet as he talks. “At the drums, the amazing and talented Sarah Jones!”

A round of applause fills the bar as Sara waves around smiling widely, before Harry moves on to the next member.

“Playing the piano, the wonderful Charlotte Clark!”

Charlotte plays a short melody on the keys matching up with what Harry has been playing, before she also waves at the audience.

“The guy who is a way better guitarist than me, Mitch Rowland.”

Harry’s comment makes the audience laugh and Mitch just nods shyly, a smile pulling on his lips under his mustache.

“And this handsome Brit who sometimes acts like a comedian,” Sarah starts leaning closer to her mic. “Harry Styles.”

It’s no surprise that Harry gets the biggest cheering and he smirks sweetly, his fingers still strumming on the guitar. The clapping and screaming slowly dies down and as Harry steps back to his mic they start the last song.

It’s quite an upbeat, funky song, you just can’t resist dancing around on your chair and seemingly Rita is enjoying herself as well, cheering with her beer in her hand. The song comes to an end and they all line up at the front of the stage bowing down together as the whole bar cheers on them as one person.

“Woah, this was… something else,” Rita breathes out once they disappear at the back and chatter fills up the place once again and the lights come back.

“They smashed it!” you nod in agreement. You figured they are good if they get asked to perform, but this was way beyond what you were expecting.

Looking around you are hoping to see Harry somewhere, but they must be celebrating somewhere at the back. Maybe he won’t even come out, you think to yourself as you finish up your beer.

“I’ll get us another round,” you tell Rita as you make your way to the bar.

There are quite a few people waiting to be served, so you squeeze yourself into the crowd and hope to get to the front soon.

“So how did you like it?”

You jump in surprise when you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind you, and turning around you see how close he is standing to you.

“Hi! I didn’t even see you sneak up on me,” you chuckle making him smile as he squeezes himself next to you. The two of you finally reach the front, but the bartender is serving someone a little on the left so you have to wait. “I loved it, you were like a proper rockstar up there!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles and his dimples show up on his cheeks. The bartender finally gets to you and Harry is quick to order for the both of you. “’S probably better if I place the order since you’re not twenty one just yet.”

“Didn’t have any problem ordering the first time,” you smirk smugly and Harry raises his eyebrows at you before his eyes wander down your body for a second.

“I bet you didn’t in this dress.”

Suddenly, you’re very aware of how daring your outfit looks, so out of reflex, you pull your jacket tighter on yourself, Harry’s smile quickly fades as he realizes that he made you uncomfortable with his comment.

“I meant that you look really pretty. Definitely makes you appear a little older though.”

“My friend wanted me to wear it, I would have been fine with something else,” you admit as the bartender places your order in front of you and Harry pays for the whole thing.

“Glad she convinced you,” he grins down at you and you can feel your cheeks heating up once again.

He helps you carry the drinks to the table and Rita quickly puts her phone away when she sees who you are returning with.

“Harry, this is my friend, Rita. Rita, this is Harry,” you introduce them and Harry shakes her head smiling.

“Nice to meet you,” he nods kindly.

“Oh, same goes for you,” Rita smirks and you roll your eyes at her.

“I’ll go get the rest of the band, do you mind if we join you guys here? There are no empty tables.”

“Sure,” you nod smiling before the crowd swallows Harry.

“For fuck’s sake, you have to make a move on him, Y/N!” Rita turns to you as soon as he is gone.

“Would you stop?” you chuckle.

“No! This dude is so hot I forget my name when I look at him! And you live with him! You can’t miss this chance, Y/N.”

“I’m not missing anything. We live together, it’s not worth it.”

“Not missing anything?” Rita looks at you as if you were mental. “You are literally missing everything!”

“I’m done with this conversation,” you tell him just when Harry appears again, this time with two of his bandmates, Sarah and Mitch are following him smiling, hand in hand.

“Charlotte had to leave early, but this is Sarah and Mitch,” Harry introduces them as they join the two of you at the table. “And this is my flatmate, Y/N and her friend Rita.”

You all shake hands as Harry sorts out the extra beers he has ordered so everyone has a drink on their hand.

It’s no surprise, but Sarah and Mitch prove themselves to be just as cool as they seemed up on the stage. And the best thing is that they don’t shy away from sharing funny stories that include Harry.

“So have you been looking for a new place to stay, Y/N?” Mitch jokes. “I’m sure you’ve had enough of Harry by now.”

“Very funny,” Harry laughs at his bandmate’s comment.

“To be honest it’s pretty fine so far. He is a pleasant person to share your home with,” you say with a soft chuckle.

“What’s one thing you hate about living with him?” Sarah asks and Harry pretends to be hurt over the question.

“Who said there’s anything she hates?”

“Shush, I was asking her!” she hushes at him making you laugh.

“I really can’t point out anything in particular. Maybe he has been very careful, luring me into believing that he is the perfect flatmate so I get stuck with him.”

You stay for a while, just chatting and having a good time until the bar starts to empty out and you decide it’s better if you head home as well.

“We have to take care of the equipment, are you leaving or do you want to wait for me?” Harry asks you.

“We’ll just call an Uber, don’t worry about it,” you smile at him.

“Alright, see you at home.”

You say goodbye to Sarah and Mitch and part your ways with them as you and Rite head outside.

“I hope you noticed how Harry was looking at you,” Rita smirks at you when the two of you are sitting at the back of the Uber.

“What are you talking about?” you sigh leaning your head against the seat.

“I caught him staring at you quite a few times.”

“He was just probably looking at me when I was talking. Don’t try to talk something into it that’s not true.”

“Alright, I’ll stop,” she replies holding up her hands. “But I still think you are missing out on some amazing dick.”

You awkwardly glance at the driver who is hearing everything you say, but Rita seemingly doesn’t mind that you’re not alone.

“You know what? We should give Tinder a try.”

“What? Why?”

“If you don’t want to make a move on your hot flatmate, we need to get some satisfaction from others.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Oh, you are not,” she chuckles. “But you will be when you match with the hottest guys on campus.”

You let Rita believe that she convinced you to sign up for Tinder, but you get out of the car with the intention of never downloading the app, like ever.

Walking into the apartment you grab a clean, oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties since your sleeping shorts are all dirty, but you were planning to do the laundry tomorrow. You decide it’s not a big deal and the shirt will probably cover enough of your body.

You take a quick shower to get off the thick smell of the bar that’s stuck on your skin, taking your time moisturizing yourself once you’re done. When you get dressed you see that the shirt does cover your bum, but if you lifted your arms up it surely shows a big portion of your ass, so you’ll have to be careful if Harry arrives.

You’re lounging on the couch watching a rerun of House M.D. and scrolling through your phone when Harry arrives.

“Hey there, rockstar!” you greet him teasingly and he just chuckles shyly.

“Is it gonna be my new nickname?”

“Well, you really were one tonight, so I think yes,” you nod making him laugh. Walking further inside his eyes stop on your bare legs and he is quick to notice that you’re not wearing any pants, like you usually do. You immediately tug on the end of the shirt to cover more of your skin, but it’s not really working.

“Ehm, I’ll go and take a quick shower,” he informs you before disappearing in his room first and then rushing into the bathroom.

Looking down at your attire you decide it’ll be better if you threw on some sweats. Harry clearly got a little uncomfortable seeing you so bare, so it’s better to cover up. You’ll just take them off when you go to bed.

Harry doesn’t take too long in there, and when he joins you on the couch you are pretty sure he took a cold shower since no steam followed him when he left the bathroom. His eyes flicker to your now covered legs, but he doesn’t say anything, just makes himself comfortable next to you.

“You like it?” he asks nodding at the TV.

“Yeah, he is such an asshole, but it’s funny,” you huff. “Hey, I took a few pictures tonight. Wanna see if you like any of them?”

“Sure,” he nods pushing himself up a little as you unlock your phone and show him the photos you took of him and the band while performing.

Some of them ended up really cool, you were able to catch the lights and their movements just the right way, especially one stands out where he was holding out a note, basically screaming into the mic, he really looks like a rockstar on that one.

“Can you send me this one?”

“Done,” you smile at him and glancing over you see that he opens the Instagram app on his phone. You watch him crop and adjust it a little bit, then tag his bandmates and finally, he posts it.

“Wow, this is the first picture on your page with you actually on it,” you tease him.

“So you’ve been stalking my profile?” he smirks at you.

“I wanted to check you out before I moved in, but your social media was no help in that.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of posting that much, but this was a cool picture.”

“It’s an honor to know that I took the first one featuring you.”

“Actually, this is the second one, but it is the first one where my face is visible,” Harry tells you before turning his attention back to the TV, but the gears start to turn wildly in your mind, trying to remember which picture could be the other one.

Later, when you’re lying in your bed with your door closed, you pull up his profile and stat scrolling down. Most of the pictures fall out, because they have absolutely no trace of any human being on them. But then you stop at the one that features a black silhouette of a man, the one you thought wasn’t him.

Opening up you tap on the tag and see that it leads to Mitch’s profile, but now that you’ve met him, you’re pretty sure it’s not him in the picture. So you take a closer look and as you go over the small details, like the line of his neck, how wide his shoulders are and the untamed curls, you soon realize that it is indeed Harry in the photo.

You push down a moan when realization sets in, because that means that you’re staring at the naked silhouette of Harry and it immediately starts a fire between your legs.

“Jesus,” you whisper as you let yourself stare at the photo a little longer. You weren’t expecting it, but it’s surely making you feel some kind of way.

Locking your phone you throw it to your nightstand before you bury your head into your pillow. You have to press your thighs together quite tightly to make the throbbing sensation stop so you can finally fall asleep. Well, it takes some time before that happens and it’s quite torturous.

Unlike how you planned, Rita finally gets you to download Tinder and give it a try. She helps you set up your profile, and though at first it feels incredibly awkward, you slowly adjust to being out there on the virtual market.

You start swiping left and right whenever you are bored during classes or you’re having a break from studying. Your matches start to pile up and soon enough you start getting messages as well. You reply to the ones you like or find funny and creative, giving them a chance, but not many end up going too far. Somehow the conversations always die down and you lose interest in the person.

Only one guy gets as far as asking you out and getting a yes as an answer. Jordan is a physics major and seemed like a nice and funny guy through the messages, good-looking too, so you decided to give it a go.

So Friday evening you dolled yourself up, put on a nice blouse with your favorite skinny jeans and black heels, ready to head out to your first ever Tinder date.

As you walk out of your room you find Harry in the kitchen in his basketball shorts and a simple black t-shirt making himself a cup of tea. The shorts are hanging low on his waist and as he reaches up to get the hones from the cupboard you get a glimpse of the soft skin on his lower waist. You quickly look away before you could have any further thoughts about what else is under the waistband of his shorts.

“Oh, where are you heading all dressed up?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“I actually have a date,” you admit nervously as you grab your keys and put it away in your purse.

“Lucky guy,” he smiles and you can feel your cheeks heating up again. There’s just something in the way he compliments you, it makes your knees go jelly.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later? I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” you tell him grabbing your jacket from the hanger next to the front door.

“Have fun,” he nods before you walk out.

Jordan proves himself to be quite frankly the same guy you got to know through messages. He takes you to this Mexican themed bar and you are just chatting over some exciting looking cocktails, but you find yourself zoning out sometimes.

What is Harry doing right now? Is he staying at home? I should have asked if he had any plans. Maybe he is hooking up with someone right now.

You find yourself thinking about way more than you probably should and it’s making you lose your shit. So maybe this is why, or because Rita told you to just go with the flow, but when Jordan asks if you want to go up to his place you say yes.

It’s as awkward and bad as you were expecting, unfortunately. There’s a reason why you don’t hook up with every random guy you go out with once. You are totally on different pages, but when you are lying under him on his bed, you just know there’s no way out.

It’s not that he forces you, because you’re sure he would have stopped if you asked, but it would be so awkward to just walk out because you weren’t feeling the vibe. So at least one of you should enjoy it.

You should deserve an Oscar for that orgasm you fake, it’s so believable. Jordan doesn’t seem to notice that you felt absolutely nothing, just frustration and impatience, he tries to make you stay the night, but you save yourself with a lie that you have to wake up early in the morning so it’s best if you head home.

Your frustration just grows on your way home. You were really hoping to get laid tonight, so maybe that could stop you from fantasizing about Harry, because your thoughts have been wild since you found out that he is the one on that Instagram picture. It doesn’t help that he has been walking around shirtless quite a lot.

Shameful or not, you even touched yourself once thinking about him. You were home alone after a particularly boring day so you thought you’d just get yourself off. Before you could realize where your thoughts have wandered, you were moaning his name as you came hard. You couldn’t look into his eyes that day when he came home, he probably thought you were nuts, basically running away from him.

It’s almost midnight when you get back home, you were expecting Harry to be asleep by now since he has band practice in the morning, but you are surprised to see light coming from his room. As you close the front door, kicking your heels off he walks out, of course, without a shirt, his glorious body on full display.

“Hey, how was your date?” he asks as you step to the fridge to get yourself something to drink. You’ve been so damn thirsty since Jordan was… done with you, you could have asked for some water at least, but you just wanted to leave as fast as possible.

“Ugh, don’t even ask,” you whine, leaning against the counter.

“That bad?”

“Worse,” you roll your eyes and Harry chuckles softly.

“Come on, it couldn’t be that bad if you came home so late.”

“Well, it did start off nice, but I shouldn’t have said yes when he asked if I wanted to go to his place.”

“Oh.”

“Worst sex of my life, I wanted out the moment we arrived, to be honest,” you honestly say, feeling a little weird that you’re talking to Harry about it, but you just want to get it off your chest.

“Then why didn’t you just leave?”

“Dunno, I just… I was hoping for just a little satisfaction, but I guess I asked for too much,” you sigh finishing up your water and you walk past him with the intention to grab your pajamas and have a shower that would wash away the happenings of the night, but Harry’s voice stops you.

“Not everything is lost just yet.” Turning around you give him a puzzled look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He bites into his bottom lip and lets his eyes travel down your body, his intent gaze sends a shiver down your spine. When his eyes return to your gaze your heart is wildly beating against your chest.

“I mean that… I can make you feel good, if you want.”

Your mouth hangs open and your eyebrows shoot up at the blunt offer he just made. At first you’re not even sure you heard him right, but as you replay his words you realize that you indeed heard him crystal clear.

“Are you messing with me right now?” you ask, feeling like it’s all just a joke. He did not just offer to satisfy you because you complained to him about how bad your date was.

Harry takes a few steps closer to you, a small smirk tugging on his lips.

“Not really. You want to get off and I would love to be the one to help you with it.”

“But… we live together,” you say and realize how stupid this just sounded, but you hope he gets what you were trying to say.

“So? Does that mean we can’t fuck?”

The way he said that makes your legs go weak for sure. You’ve been fantasizing about things similar to this, but those were nowhere near to actually hear him propose the idea of fucking.

“But… it’ll be weird, won’t it?”

“Only if we make it.”

He walks closer, closing the distance between the two of you and he cups your cheek in his hand as his eyes flicker down to your lips.

“Harry…” you breathe out, but you already know you gave in. There’s no way you can say him no, not after weeks of dreaming about the exact same thing.

“Just stop thinking,” he tells you before pressing his lips against yours.

He kisses you hard and you gladly let his tongue push into your mouth within a second, kissing him back with the same passion. You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands travel down on your sides until they reach your ass and they give it a bold squeeze, making you moan into his lips. You feel him grin as his hands move over to your thighs and he urges you to jump and so you do, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Though you keep your eyes closed, kissing him hard, you can tell he brings you to the couch, laying you down to your back, holding himself up above you. He starts kissing down your jawline and neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin. His hands grab the hem of your shirt and you lift yourself up a bit so he can pull it off, throwing it away to somewhere behind the couch. While his lips are sucking on your breasts wherever they are bulging out from the lacy bra, his hands work fast on your jeans, undoing the button and the zipper, tugging them down until you can just kick them right off.

“Matching set? You were really counting on having a good time tonight,” he mumbles against your tummy as he kisses his way down on your body.

His right hand reaches up and cups your breast before it slides under you and easily unclasps your bra. You quickly slide the straps off and throw it to the side, so now you are lying under him only in your panties, whimpering and panting at every kiss he leaves on your body.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he hums glancing up at you, sitting between your legs as he slides just one finger over your soaking wet panties, running it along your throbbing center.

“Fuck, I want you,” you breathe out.

“How exactly do you want me?”

“Jesus, just eat me out, Harry!” you shamelessly moan and he smugly smirks before he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down, throwing it to the ground.

Now you’re lying completely naked in front of him, and he pushes your knees farther apart, looking down at you with lustful eyes.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” he growls as he gets closer and without a warning, he licks into you.

You moan in sensation as he starts sucking on your clit, his tongue working perfectly against your bud. Your hands find their way into his hair and you grab a handful of it in each. Oh, how many times you’ve thought about doing this!

“Harry!” you cry out when you feel him push a finger into you, slowly pumping it in and out a few times before he adds another to it. He quickly picks up his pace as he keeps sucking on your clit, getting you closer to your orgasm with every lick.

“Fuck, I’m so close!” you moan, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to even breathe.

“Cum for me, baby,” he mumbles against your wet clit and just a few more pumps later you came, screaming his name.

“Fucking hell, Harry!” you breathe out when he climbs up on you smirking.

“You think you can handle another one?” he asks, pecking your lips softly. Looking down you see how hard he is and even if you were on the verge of dying you would have said yes. There’s no way you let him get up from this couch unsatisfied after the orgasm he just gave you.

Instead of saying anything, you push on him until he is sitting on the couch and you have your knees on his sides.

“I think you are a little overdressed, aren’t you?” you ask teasingly as you bring a hand down to his erection, cupping it through his shorts and underwear.

Harry cranes his neck so his lips could meet yours again as he lifts his hips up, pushing his shorts down along with his boxers. You sit back down to his lap and his erection presses against your wet folds making you moan into his mouth.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you ask breathlessly, but Harry shakes his head.

“I would last, I just want to fuck you,” he growls and you swear to God that was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Condom, we need a condom,” you tell him, still kissing his lips.

You get off him and he quickly runs into his room, shortly returning with a condom between his teeth. He rips the package on his way and falls back to the couch, rolling it on carefully. When he is done you swing your leg over him and get on top again, holding onto his broad shoulders. He grabs the base of his cock and lines himself up to your center and you give yourself a moment to admire his naked beauty right in front of you.

You look into his sparkling eyes and leaning down you kiss him hard as you slowly ease down to his length, his cock slowly filling you up fully.

“Oh fuck!” he moans at the feeling of you around him. His fingers dig deep into your waist as you stay still for a few moments, adjusting to his length. “You alright?” he asks breathlessly. Your eyes meet his and you nod a little before you start moving.

It takes a few moments to find the right pace and get yourself comfortable, but when you finally do, you just can’t stop. His hands are on your ass as he guides your hips a little and you feel the rings on his fingers against your heated skin. He buries his face into your neck nibbling and kissing on the soft skin wherever he reaches.

“Fuck, you look so fucking hot, Y/N,” he grunts when you let your head fall back, feeling your orgasm slowly building up again.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum again,” you pant, picking up a faster pace, desperate for release.

“Cum for me, baby. Let me make you feel good!” he moans wrapping his arms around you as he holds you still, stopping you from moving, but instead he starts thrusting into you, his cock buries so deep into your pussy, your eyes roll back into your head from the feeling.

“Yes! Don’t fucking stop!” you scream as he keeps fucking you hard.

It doesn’t take too long until you fall completely apart and cum again, your legs basically turning into jelly. Just a few thrusts later Harry cums as well, thrusting deep into you a few more times as he moans into your neck.

You lie completely numb on him, his fingers gently stroking your naked back as you try to come back to reality. When you lean back and your eyes meet again you are still speechless.

“I’ve literally wanted it since the day you walked into this place,” he admits with a soft chuckle.

“Really?” you giggle shyly.

“Oh, really. Seeing you around, sometimes without a bra under your shirt completely killed me most of the time.”

Your cheeks are heating up, you didn’t think he noticed when you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Don’t be so shy, you have amazing tits, you are not allowed to wear a bra anymore around here,” he teases you grinning as you laugh and leaning down you kiss him shortly.

“I had quite a few fantasies about you too,” you admit making him raise his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Mhm, especially after you walked out of the bathroom naked, even though I didn’t even see your dick then.”

Harry chuckles lightly as he pushes his hair back from his forehead, resting his head against the back of the couch.

“So…” you shyly start, ”what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that… we live together and we just fucked. What does this mean for the future?”

“Well, I thought that next time we could do it the right way. I could take you out on a proper date, and then fuck you on the kitchen counter.”

You laugh at how blunt he is, but you love the idea he just proposed.

“Okay. Sounds fine by me.”

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles flatmates au #harry styles friends to lovers

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darling-i-read-it · 3 years ago

Text

Dinner

Part 1

RE7 Rewrite Masterlist

Ethan Winters x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: spoilers for re7, violence, injuries, blood, gross rotted stuff

Author’s Note: Is this going to be a shit ton of work? Yes. Am I going to have copious amounts of fun with it? Also yes. I really hope you all like the first part!

Summary: The beginning of the game through the dinner that the Bakers hold for Ethan.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator. Some of these lines are directly from the game so they may sound familiar.

(not my gif) (this is a mia winters hate blog)

The car underneath you was bumpy. You looked out the window, your thumb up to your mouth as you watched the ragged scenery pass by you. You tried to take even breaths, not thinking about what was to come. You would much rather not think about what was coming. All it did was stress you out.

Ethan drove the car beside you. His face was forward and focused. He could find Mia. Probably. The windows were down, trying helplessly to get air flow inside the car. You swatted a bug off your arm.

“I hate Louisiana,” you muttered. “Where even is Dulvy?” Ethan scoffed and shrugged.

“The place where Mia emailed us she was,” he said.

“No shit Winters.”

You had been Mia’s closest friend before she went missing. Just before she went missing she spilled her guts to you about everything that she had done, all of the bad and the lying. After she disappeared you told Ethan about it. You and Ethan didn’t know each other well but after Mia went missing you were all each other had. You shared her secrets, you pooled together your knowledge, you grew close.

Now, even three years later you were each other's closest companion.

Mia had emailed both of you, telling you to come and get her. Naturally you went together, in hopes that by not going alone you would be safer. It didn’t help the rising worry in your chest though.

“You really think she’s out here?” you asked quietly.

“I don’t know. It seems we didn’t know her at all,” he muttered. He was still hung up on the fact that she lied to him. You didn’t blame him.

“Why did you come? I mean, I get she’s your wife but I almost didn’t. I figured you know, she lied to me our whole friendship. She worked for some sort of evil organization. Good riddance to her,” you said. Ethan had been thinking the same thing. But when he got that email he couldn’t help it.

“I want to know what happened to her. And I want to know why she lied,” he said bitterly. You nodded and looked back out the window.

“Well I guess we’re going to figure that out.”

====

You came up to a large looming house. It was in the middle of nowhere. God only knows how they got groceries. You and Ethan started to walk up to the gate.

“Pff, a house in the middle of nowhere and they have a gate?” you muttered quietly. There were chains keeping it shut. “You think you could climb it?” He scoffed.

“No. You?” You shook your head. You gestured to a well worn path.

“This way it is then.”

The two of you walked your way through the path. There were crows hung from the trees and cow legs tied up to make some sort of circle. Ethan grabbed your arm before you could go through the cow leg entrance.

“Let me go first,” he muttered. You turned around to him and shrugged.

“Alright Winters. I’m right behind you.”

The path led the two of you to what looked to be the back of the main house. There was a swinging chair that you passed up to the decrepit house.

“What the fuck did Mia do?” you asked quietly. Ethan looked over at you as he kicked open the door.

“Wish I knew.”

You took a step inside. It stunk. After going through another door you came down a hallway and then a kitchen area. The place looked like it hadn’t been used in years. Ethan opened up the fridge. Rotted food was inside. He gagged.

“Gross,” he muttered. You looked in one of the pots.

“I think there’s something moving in here.”

You ventured further into the house. You went upstairs and looked around, noting a tape on the desk up there. You picked it up, turning it in your hand.

“You see a fuse up there?!” Ethan yelled. You came back down the stairs, shaking your head.

“Just this tape.” You handed it to him.

“There’s a VHS player in there. Let’s watch it, maybe it has something to do with Mia,” he suggested. You nodded a bit and followed him into one of the rooms. It was dark. You were just happy that Ethan remembered to bring some flashlights.

He stuck the tape into the player and the two of you sat down. Before long there it started up. A story started to play out about some men filming for a TV show. They seemed disinterested in the house and then it came into focus that one of them had disappeared in the house. They pulled a level under the fireplace and climbed down a ladder to the level below you.

At the end the man who had gone missing seemed to be distorted, his face stuck in a pipe downstairs. You grabbed Ethan’s arm worridley and he took the tape out, turning off the TV.

“I guess the only way to go is down,” he muttered. You nodded a bit and looked over at the fireplace.

“After you Winters.”

Ethan pulled the lever and the small door opened. You both climbed through it, to the latter. He glanced at you before climbing down. You watched as he descended into the darkness. The latter broke and he fell.

“Damn,” he muttered. He stood up and looked up at you. “You’ll have to jump.”

“No fucking way.”

“Yes way. Come on.” You looked back and took a deep breath. Then you looked down at him.

“We won’t be able to come back up,” you said.

“I already can’t. You gonna leave me?” You nodded a bit and sat on the edge. He put his arms up in the air and you hopped down. He grabbed you to help you landing. You wiped yourself off and looked around.

“No going back now,” you muttered.

You walked forward and through some water before coming to a prison door.

“Mia?” he muttered as he leaned forward. You nodded, turning around and grabbing some bolt cutters that were lying around. You cut open the chains that were holding it closed. You tossed it to the side. Ethan rushed forward and to her. He shook her awake. She turned around, waking up.

“Ethan?” she muttered.

“Well I’ll be damned,” you whispered.

“Y/N?” she asked. You nodded. She stood up. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“What do you mean? You contacted us,” you explained, arms crossed. You looked around worriedly.

“No,” she said hardly. “No I wouldn’t! Did I?” She sat down and then quickly sat back up. “Did anyone see you? Did he see you?”

“He? Who else is here?” Ethan asked.

“What the fuck is going on?” you questioned.

“Daddy’s coming. We need to go,” she said, quickly grabbing his arm. He started to drag him away before grabbing your arm and pulling you away. You went through the door again.

“Where are you taking us?” you accused.

“Someplace safe,” she promised.

“You don’t seem to know where you’re going,” you said. She gave you a look.

“I will find a place,” she promised. You and Ethan shared a worried glance and kept close to each other. “Are you going to tell us what’s going on?” Ethan asked harshly.

“I am telling you everything I know.” You scoffed.

“Doesn’t look like it Mia.” She ignored you and kept walking. She pushed through a couple of rooms, looking disoriented.

“I remember the family used to bring me food through here.”

“The family?” Ethan asked. But again she ignored your questions and pushed on. Finally you came to a well lit room.

“There was a door here. Where’s the door?!” She asked, looking at a boarded up wall. She stumbled back and her demeanor changed. “We’re going to be a family now that you’re here.”

“What?” you asked.

“There’s another door here. I’m sure of it.” She walked over to a coach and leaned down over it, putting her head on the side. You walked into the other room, searching for another way out. Ethan followed close behind.

“She seems weird no?” you asked. He scoffed.

“I suppose you can say that again.”

There was some loud commotion in the other room. You both quickly turned around and found Mia gone, the boarded up door now crashed open.

“Mia?!” you called. You ran through the door and went upstairs to a different place. You and Ethan stayed close together as you came to what seemed to be the upper floor.

“Mia?!” he yelled. You barged through the rooms, opening up a bathroom door. On the counter there was a handgun. You scoffed to yourself and picked it up quickly, struggling with putting the loose bullets into it. Ethan came through the door. “I found a gun.”

“Me too,” you said. “Convenient. And worrying.” You couldn't find another way out so Ethan opened the door back to the basement.

“Maybe we can go back to the other house,” he suggested, walking down the stairs. You nodded and started to follow him when you saw Mia climbing up the stairs. Her face was odd, evil. Veins popped out of her skin, her eyes a dark color. She was crawling up the stairs.

“Ethan,” you muttered but then she was up in front of you, stabbing at Ethan. He just narrowly managed to hold her back as you backed up, trying to figure out how to use your gun. Finally you were able to shoot her a couple of times.

“I can hear her,” she whispered. “I can feel her crawling her way back inside of me.” She hit herself against the wall and then fell flat.

“What the fuck!” he yelled, her limp body as his feet. You shook a bit. You may not have liked her but you hadn’t wanted her dead. You had killed her. Ethan had his hands in his hair.

“We need to get the fuck out of here.” Just as you finished saying it, Mia stood up quickly stabbing at you. You screamed as Ethan shot her in the back and she quickly turned around, pinning him and putting her knife clean through his palm. You screamed for him and hit her over the head with your gun when you ran out of bullets.

She collapsed again. You ran back to Ethan.

“Fuck,” you whispered. You kneeled down beside him.

“Just pull it out,” he said, breathing between clenched teeth. You nodded and grabbed the hilt of the knife. You took a deep breath and then pulled the knife out of his palm. He groaned helplessly and held it to his chest.

“Oh God. Oh fuck Ethan,” you said grabbing his shoulder. The phone behind you rang. Ethan stood up before you even processed it, picking it up and putting it to his ear. He was quiet for a second, only saying curt responses. He hung up the phone after not long.

“It was some girl named Zoe. She said there was a way out in the attic.” You nodded curtly.

“It’s the best we got I guess.” When you walked back to where Mia was, she was gone. You grabbed the axe she had left and Ethan grabbed the knife.

The two of you went up to the attic and had a run in with Mia again. Before long she was down for the count but you had to move quickly. You were both injured and weak but you had a feeling this was just the beginning.

But yet again she got up, just as you had gotten the fuse to get to the attic.

“Mia I’m getting fucking sick of this!” you yelled, throwing the axe at her. She turned to you, a chainsaw in her hands. You looked at Ethan who was on the floor, his hand cut off. You gasped and tried to keep yourself together.

“He’s my husband! Not yours!” she screamed. She ran at you so hard all you had to do was move to the side before she could trip over her own momentum. You dug the axe into her head and she fell to the ground, the chainsaw stopping with her. You turned back to Ethan who had his severed hand in his other hand.

“Fuck Ethan.” Was all you were able to say before the world went black.

====

When you woke up again you were tied to a chair. You let out a harsh sigh and looked around wildly. You were at some sort of dinner table. As you came too you noticed that Ethan was sitting beside you, awake. His hand was stapled on.

There was a man, a woman, a boy and an older lady around the table as well.

“He’s not eating it Jack!” the woman yelled.

“Shut up woman!” There was a knock on the door outside.

“Goddammit,” the boy said. “I bet it’s those damn cops again.”

“Pigs,” Jack muttered. He pointed a knife at both you and Ethan. He stared at you a beat longer. “Don’t go nowhere.”

The woman, the boy and Jack left the room in opposite directions, grumbling. You and Ethan stared at each other.

“What the fuck,” you whispered, fear in your voice. He moved back and forth on his chair before it fell over and broke. He quickly stood up and helped untie you. “Is your hand okay?”

“It’s stapled on if you think that that’s okay,” he muttered. You both stared at the old lady but she seemed like she wasn’t going to move. You stood up and backed away into the living room behind you.

You grabbed Ethan’s arm and he had a tight grip on your side. You were shaking and he wasn’t going to let you go for jack shit.

“What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?” you asked. Ethan shook his head, swallowing hard.

“I don’t know and I wish we didn’t have to find out.”

Part 2

#ethan winters x reader #ethan winters imagines #resident evil imagines #resident evil 7 rewrite

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infinitefandomimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Things the hq boys secretly love pt. 2

WARNINGS: language

—

CHARACTERS: Oikawa Tooru, Kita Shinsuke, Tendou Satori, and Terushima Yuuji

—

part 1 , part 2

OIKAWA TOORU

• when you put makeup on him / use him as a canvas to practice looks.

• you would do it on yourself, but it's easier to follow along with the tutorials when doing it on someone else. plus it gives you an excuse to spend time with and be close to your boyfriend.

• oikawa will literally complain non-stop about how he doesn't want you prodding at his face with brushes and how all the products will make him break out. but the second you do a new look without practicing on him first he's offended.

• because no matter how much he claims to hate it, he secretly loves it. the brushes feel so soft and ticklish against his skin, and your touch is always so gentle and warm. plus, he's more than happy with the proximity between the two of you.

• as a comprise for letting you do this, you let him lay on his back on your shared bed (the lighting isn't great but at least he's comfy). you'll splay out your products around the empty bed space and then perch yourself on top of him, straddling his hips. you'll get super close to his face, bending down to hover over him, the palm of your non dominant hand pressed against his chest to steady yourself

• he's lowkey scared you'll feel how fast his heart is beating, but you never mention it.

• your face is mere inches away from his and he takes full advantage of this, stealing little kisses from you when you're least expecting it.

• also loves to rest his hands on your hips, playing with the hem of your shirt, finger tips lightly grazing the skin beneath.

• mf thinks its funny to poke your sides randomly to make you jump

• "tooru– keep doing that and i'll actually stab you in the eye."

• spoiler alert: he keeps doing it and you do end up stabbing him in the eye (accidently ofc)

• after you're done, he'll let you take as many photos of the look as you want. he even takes a few for himself because he's proud of your work and wants to show it off to iwa later.

• lowkey feeling himself

• if you thought this man's ego was big before hand...

• "i look pretty hot, don't i y/n–chan? i think blue is really my color."

—

KITA SHINSUKE

• when you take care of and baby him, especially if he's sick.

• he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and both of you know that. mf is literally one of the most responsible people ever.

• but something inside of him just … melts when you dote over him.

• this usually happens when you can tell he's had a long and tiring day, or on he rare occasion he gets sick.

• you'll cook for him, give him a little massage, cuddle him, help him bathe, do his chores, anything to alleviate some of the stress weighing on him.

• his favorite thing ever is when you let him lay his head in your lap. will fall asleep in five minutes flat when you start playing with his hair.

• literally the second he tries to do anything you're glaring at him with your arms crossed over your chest, telling him to get back to bed before he makes his fever any worse.

• he'll insist that he's fine and can make his own soup / do his own chore work but will cave so quickly when you don't give up.

• man barely puts up a fight anymore, just let's you do your thing and accepts his fate.

• almost like he wants to be taken care of … suspicious.

• kita is a pretty self sufficient person, but he has to admit, it just feels nice to have someone care for him so tenderly. it shows how much you care for him.

• he likes to act all put together and stoic but his insides are complete mush when it comes to you.

• won't admit how much he secretly loves it, but he's sure to let you know how appreciative he is of you taking care of him. will never let your efforts go unnoticed or without praise.

• (but maybe don't baby him in public, poor boy gets so flustered and embarrassed)

• and don't think for one second that when the roles are reversed, and you're the one who's sick or tired, that he's gonna let you lift a single finger.

—

TENDOU SATORI

• when you show him off in public or to your friends.

• the first time tendou met your friends was when you unexpectedly ran into them at a coffee shop while the two of you were on a date. you ran up and greeted them while tendou kept his distance, not sure if you'd want to introduce him.

• poor baby still has some insecurities left over from his childhood and thinks you wouldn't want to be seen with a "freak" or that somehow you'd be ashamed of dating him.

• baby boy could not be more wrong, you are so proud to be dating him.

• one second you're talking to your friends and the next you're dragging him over by his wrist to meet them.

• literally stands there like he's suddenly ushijima, just: 🧍‍♂️

• but then you lace your fingers with his and press and soft kiss to his cheek before you say, "guys this is who i was telling you about, my boyfriend, tendou!"

• now tendou has never been one to get flustered easily, but right now he's blushing like a madman. his heart swelling when you so eagerly introduced him as your boyfriend.

• and then your friends start saying things like "we've heard so many things about you" and "y/n talks about you a lot"

• he can feel his confidence growing by the second. even after your friends walk away, he's still riding the high of being bragged about.

• "you talk about me?"

• "duh, why wouldn't i? you're the best boyfriend anyone could ever ask for, 'tori."

• he swears he falls in love all over again right then and there.

• please continue to show him off, it makes him so unbelievably happy, even more so when you're not afraid to use pda with him.

• i just know this man loves pda

• used to be really hesitate when it came to pda in the beginning of your relationship. but, once he saw how unbothered you were when it came to being affectionate in public he started to get bolder.

• he loves having his arm wrapped around your waist or his hand in your back pocket at all times.

• he's never told you, but you've helped him gain a lot of confidence and see himself as more than a "monster" or "freak."

—

TERUSHIMA YUUJI

• when you call or text him at 2am to go get food with you.

• it's become a common occurrence and at this point he expects to hear from you at least three nights out of the week. he's even started leaving his phone on full volume to make sure hears your call or text.

• will always respond.

• literally the second he gets that "you up? i'm hungry." text he's already grabbed his keys and is out the door.

• sometimes you feel guilty for waking him up, but he always says something like "i was awake anyways" or "i'm kinda hungry too, perfect timing."

• terushima yuuji was in fact neither awake nor hungry.

• but he'll be damned if you ask someone else

• one time you went a week without asking him to go and mf got so butthurt. was all like: "babe are you cheating on me? are you asking other people to take you to get food? i thought you loved me." (doesn't actually think you're cheating, he just likes being dramatic).

• he loves blasting music while you both sing at the top of your lungs with the windows down on your little convince store trips.

• it's just a miniscule little moment but it's makes his heart happy every time.

• 2am chats with terushima yuuji are next level, you can't convince me otherwise.

• sometimes when the two of you are too riled up from your trip to go back to bed, you'll find a park to eat and mess around at.

• the cops may or may not have been called once for a noise complaint.

• after your little night trips he'll usually bring you back to his place and you'll end up staying the night, giving him cuddles as a sort of thank you.

• even though he teasingly complains about you dragging him out, claiming "you owe me." he loves going out with you and would never even dream of making you pay him back.

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titan-fodder · 4 years ago

Text

Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao.

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings.

The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow.

The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway.

"Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!"

A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough.

"Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy."

"My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

"'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice.

Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you."

You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it.

"Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

"Didn't even notice," he reassures you.

Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen.

Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

"Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later.

"You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

"Uh, yeah. I could eat."

Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything.

"Sandwiches okay?"

Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth.

"Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich.

You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask.

He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days.

Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow.

After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer.

"It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free."

Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better.

You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie.

He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow.

"I can pick something else," he tells you quietly.

You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften.

"'S'fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be.

He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies.

"You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

"You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress.

Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep.

That's good. You could use a nap.

He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours.

But first.

As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf.

It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before.

The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses.

Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward.

They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother.

Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book.

Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole?

Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible.

It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on.

Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left.

The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album.

He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

"Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album."

Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"What's there to tell?"

Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth.

"It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books.

"Is it, though? Is it really?"

"I..."

Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language.

Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you.

It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

At least it makes sense now.

"I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it.

You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch.

Then, you flop back down on your pillows.

"So. Any questions, Zacharias?"

He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

"Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease.

"Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up.

"Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous.

"He left."

"Yeah."

And then he gets the full story.

Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

"Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom.

"He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick."

He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since.

"I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

"Were you ever close with him?"

You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him.

He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk.

"Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice.

Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him.

"I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies.

"Have you seen him since?"

You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction.

You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

"Anyway," he mimics.

"I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

"Is this why?"

"Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

"Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know.

Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months.

"So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

"For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

"Mm. I guess."

The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better.

Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster.

Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark.

When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest.

It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate.

You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth.

He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut.

Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer.

He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth.

Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you.

After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other.

He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now.

If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back.

He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself:

I love you. I love you, I love you.

You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day.

You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear.

Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it.

And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening.

The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail.

Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence.

Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can.

Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

“Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

“Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip.

“Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you.

“I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way.

You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done.

Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it.

Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock.

He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying.

Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger.

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books.

It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice.

Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town.

It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway.

Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder.

The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!"

Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles.

"It's fine. You can calm down."

You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused.

The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him.

"You're Zeke Jaeger."

He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players.

You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face.

"Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself.

"Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

Your stomach flips at the mention of him.

"We're not dating."

Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

"No. Just friends."

He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain.

"Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try.

He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

"I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

"Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

"I'll walk with you," he states more than offers.

Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.

But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does.

Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip.

Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

“You listening, sweetheart?”

Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

“No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

“That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

“It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor.

Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

“Yeah, okay.”

He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said.

What a fucking joke.

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside.

“You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

“Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

“Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

“Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.”

He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day.

And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece.

If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

What is happening to you?

“So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car.

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys.

“I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

“Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

“I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes.

“Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

“Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

“You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

“I—”

“It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him.

But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that.

“What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

“Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

“Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.”

God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

“Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.”

Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

“Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem.

“I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

“For some reason I don’t believe that.”

You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his.

He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth.

You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

“Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more.

And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #mels prima vista

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raindownforme · 4 years ago

Text

Theater Kid

Ted Nivison x reader [she/her used]

It wasn’t odd for me to be left alone in the big open space. Most nights I was there into the late hours when my teachers were too tired to remember I was there. But tonight they’d actually forgotten, so I busied myself by sweeping the giant black stage. The push broom had been left near the side lighting panel, so I chose a few flood lights to turn on to better see the flooring. The lightbulbs hummed to life above me and I went back to take center stage as a starting point. I turned to look towards the house but, as I stared out into the seats, I saw someone standing who hadn’t been there before.

“You turned the fucking floods on.” His voice echoed across the near empty space and I shushed him as quickly as possible. Fucking actors always having to be the loudest.

“Jesus Christ Theodore shut up. Haven’t you ever done this before?”

“No. I don’t stay after school cleaning like a weirdo.”

“Well you’re here. And I’m not a weirdo! It’s a shared space. If anything you should appreciate me.”

I watched as he awkwardly picked up his backpack and walked down the aisles towards me. He stood at the foot of the stage, staring up at me, which wasn’t that much of an angle for him. He was an abnormally tall person, especially for a highschool student. Of course it only added to the strange charismatic spell he held over almost everyone else in our shared department, and I hated it. I hated the way he never talked to me but talked to everyone else. I hated the way he would sit on the desks and the tables in the classroom and the makeup room and on the edge of the stage and when he caught me looking he would give me this wide, crooked smile. I hated how loud his stupid improv club was that he got to lead was because he was the only student good at it. I hated how I spent every day inside the workshop and the prop hallway and the sound booth and the set alley and the lighting booth and he never payed a bit of attention to it. It was everyone else but me. And even knowing how close I’d gotten to being the stage manager, I knew I’d always be one peg under him.

“Did you hear me?”

I blinked myself out of my angry thoughts, trying to catch up with the real world. “I’m sorry?”

“I said you don’t have to call me Theodore. Ted is fine.”

“Oh.” I rolled my shoulders back unsure of what was the appropriate next step. “Well my name is-“

“y/n I know.” He cut me off. I stared at him in confusion, simply having assumed he didn’t know who I was. “We have like five classes together. We’ve done every production together since freshman year. You’re the one in charge when I come to set days. I sit across from you in the makeup room during lunch. And I know you do all your homework at the director’s desk.”

I stared at my feet as I felt my face flush. It felt like I couldn’t make words. It didn’t make sense that this guy I thought was a prick for the last three years knew me? But I knew that I liked him knowing me. And that was the worst part; I’d been fine with thinking he didn’t know me and didn’t want to because it gave me a name to whatever this feeling was. And now I don’t know. I looked back towards him, trying to think of anything to say. “You don’t care about tech.”

“I- what?” I couldn’t tell if he was angry or confused, and I wasn’t sure which was worse. Staring at him again I noticed the strange tint to his face, which seemed to be turning pinker by the second. I could see my reflection in his glasses and I realized how awkward of an angle we were at.

I bent down on my knees to meet his eye level. “You don’t care about tech. You’re the guy who’s a lead character and comes to rehearsal just to fuck around when you’re not needed act all high and mighty when really you never do anything.”

He narrowed his eyes, as if thinking, and then slapped his bag down on the stage near my feet. “Give me a fucking broom.”

We spent the next while peacefully sweeping up the stage. At some point I switched to the nail detector (which was really a long stick with a magnet on the end) and began going around the edges and crevices to try and find anything. We crossed paths a couple times, shoulders brushing together or brooms clinking.

Eventually I had passed him just enough that he stopped me in my tracks. He grasped my forearm gently, but I stared at his hand. I didn’t seem to want him to let go. “Here.” He took an AirPod out of his ear and handed it to me.

“Ooooh fancy actor boy has AirPods.”

“Literally shut up and appreciate me.” I smiled as I walked towards the trash can. I didn’t know what was playing, but it seemed like some indie bullshit I probably would have admitted to liking if it wasn’t coming from Th- Ted.

I sighed as I leaned the broom against the wall. “I think we’re done here. I can put away the broom in the morning if you don’t know where it goes.”

“I got it.” I watched as he took the trash can under one arm and the broom to the designated little outcropping in the workshop.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you in here.”

“Eh.” He shrugged and stood up straight to look down at me better. “Freshman year someone smacked me straight across the face with a roller. Worst acne I’ve ever had.”

“Oh. Ouch. Still on the handle?”

“Nope.”

“Wet or dry?”

“Wet. With paint. Fresh paint.”

“Ooh. What color?”

“Forest green.”

“Euch. Nasty.” I chuckled as I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. It wasn’t uncommon for this part of the school to be the coldest, especially surrounded by walls of exclusively concrete and a single garage door, and the seasons still changing as we neared the end of winter. I felt a shiver run through my spine, and Ted looked at me funny.

“Is it cold in here?”

“For some of us.”

“Here.” Ted shrugged off the heavy bomber jacket he had been wearing and draped it over my shoulders. It was warm on the inside, much warmer than I’d been expecting. It almost fit, but I guess his torso and arms were just slightly larger than mine. I looked back to him to say thank you but instead he was staring at me with this dumb look. He was smiling and his head was tilted slightly, and his face was pink again, but darker this time. I felt my face heat up as we stared at each other.

“We should leave.”

He seemed to snap back to reality. “Right. Yeah no right god it’s- what time?” He flicked his wrist out to move his sleeve in order to see his watch. Of course the pretentious bitch wore a stupid watch. “It’s like 6. I guess it’s eating time.”

I nodded and walked back out towards stage left, Turing off all the lights except for our single ghost light that had to sit center stage. It cast a hazy shadow over everything. I watched Ted walk towards center where the lightbulb stood. He started to reach for his bag but I heard the song change in the AirPod. He made eye contact with me as a slow waltzy song moved through my ear. He extended a hand to me and I tentatively reached for it. His hands felt good in mine. They were soft but worn, I and I could clearly feel the lines that ran through his palms and his fingers.

He took one of my hands in his and his other hand placed itself gently on my waist. “Have you ever waltzed before?” His voice was low and raspy, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I whispered back, “no.” He began to shuffle us around, pulling me left and right and pushing away and pulling me. I felt surrounded by the way he smelled and the way he held me gingerly, like a glass figurine. I stared down at my feet as to not step on him, but he took the hand that was holding mine to gently lift my chin up.

“It’ll be easier if you look up at me. I know you can hear the rhythm.” He began to hum the song as we continued to move. The song began a flourish ending as he threw me out in a twirl, then pulling me back in to his arms. I felt him dip me to the ground as the ending came. I let my self dangle, my head up side down, staring at the ground, then gently lifted my face back upwards. Ted was mere centimeters away from me. I could feel his breathing on my neck.

“Ted. I should-“

“Yeah. No no I know. Yeah.” He lifted me up slowly until I was sure I was flat on the floor. I grabbed my backpack, holding the straps.

“Do you want your jacket-?”

“Keep it. I can get it back tomorrow.”

“Today’s Friday.”

“Right. Monday then.”

I nodded and walked towards the door. I could hear his heavier footsteps behind me, gaining quick due to his longer legs. The door clicked shut behind us, and the cool February air rushed through my skin and hair. I watched Ted take a keychain out from the pocket of his back pack. He looked at me and frowned.

“Did you drive or do you have a ride?”

“Oh yeah. No they’ll uh. They’ll be here in a bit.” I dropped my bag and sat on the curb with it on my lap to try and stay warm. Ted’s jacket was lovely but not lovely enough.

I heard Ted drop his bag and watched as he took a seat next to me. He looked over at me. “What? I’m not gonna leave a pretty girl out alone at 7 at night in the winter. Besides my parents probably think I’m at the game anyways.”

Now that he mentioned it, I could hear the sound of cheering and drum line off in the distance.

Did he call me pretty?

We both waited on the curb for probably another 10 minutes before he started talking again. “There’s no one coming is there?”

“Ted-“

“I never see you leave because you always leave last. After anyone who could possible give you a ride has left. You’re one of those kids.”

“I’m sorry one of those kids?”

“No I didn’t-“ he exhaled and closed his eyes. “You don’t have anyone waiting for you. So you just walk.” We were both quiet for a moment, taking in the cold as it burned your skin. Ted stood up and extended a hand to me. “Get in the car.”

“Im sorry what?”

“Get in my fucking car. I’m not going to leave you to get kidnapped on the way home so you’re coming with me to get food.”

“See now this feels like kidnapping.”

“Oh my GOD get in the car.”

I reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat of his car, looking at the very minimal personalization that had been done: a couple stickers on the back window and a glasses case in the center cup holder. I watched as he reversed out of the parking spot, extending his arm against my seat to better turn around. I did my best not to stare, but I wasn’t sure what else to look at. He stopped before going into drive, asking if I didn’t mind McDonald’s even if there was a long line.

“Sure. It’s not like there’s someone waiting on me.”

He frowned at my response, but nonetheless kept on driving. “Well, there’s also a Dairy Queen, Sherri’s, maybe a Taco Bell-“

“Sherri’s.”

He glanced over at me with a confused look. “Really??”

“Come on, you know sitting in a dirty trashy restaurant at night is the total teenage coming of age moment.”

“Yeah but a Sherri’s? The food isn’t even good enough to justify.”

“You only say that because you haven’t tried those loaded hash browns.” I jokingly placed a hand on his shoulder, but I felt him tense at the contact. I retracted my hand and he sighed, moving to turn on his right blinker.

Ted swiveled his head to check for passing cars, but he grinned at me as we made less than a second of eye contact. I turned my head away towards the window next to me, trying to swallow whatever heat was rising towards my cheeks. I watched us pass cars and headlights as we approached the poorly lit parking lot. I jolted as ted’s plastic bumper lightly scraped the ground. He mumbled something under his breath as he pulled into a spot.

“I hate this stupid lot. Always scratch something coming in.” He unbuckled his seat belt and got out quicker than I expected. I went to unbuckle and get out but as I reached for the door handle, Ted opened it for me from the outside.

“Oh.” I stared at him for a second and he grinned at me.

“I know. Such a gentleman. Now get out of the car before I break your heart.” He winked at me, obviously joking, but I still felt my heart drop out of my chest.

“HA.” I pushed him away from me gently, but my fingers burnt at the touch.

I heard Ted shut the door behind me as I walked into the restaurant. There was really no one inside other than a group of kids tucked away in a booth in a far corner. I watched as the hostess approached me, saying I could sit in any table I wanted. I heard Ted walk in behind me and I turned to look at him, but he was staring at the group of kids in the corner.

He sighed and closed his eyes. “Oh shit-“

“HEY. TED!” One of the kids started yelling at him from the booth. The other boys laughed at him as the maybe two or three other girls giggled. I looked between Ted and the boy, who seemed incredibly belligerent or under some sort of influence. He waved his arms in a wide span over his head, as if telling Ted where he was. “NIVISON! COME SIT OVER HERE! COME ON FUCK THE LOSER! GET OVER HERE.”

Ted looked at me, making a prolonged eye contact, then back to the kid. “No thanks! I’ll see you later.”

He linked arms with me and rushed over to the other side of the restaurant, tucking us into a small booth by the window. He said almost nothing, staring just out at the bushes. A waiter came by, dropping off two thick plastic menus.

“Anything to drink?”

Ted mumbled, but I was sure the waiter wasn’t able to hear. “Water for him please. And how much is a vanilla milkshake?”

“$2.50 for a small.”

“A small vanilla milkshake then. Please.” I smiled gently at him, and the waiter seemed to straighten himself a bit, more self assured than he had been two minutes ago.

“Of course. Right away.”

The waiter walked away and Ted stayed quiet. I slid my hand across the table towards him. “Theodore-“

“I’m not friends with Jake. I mean I was when we were younger.” He was looking me now. Well not exactly me, but my extended hand at least. “He joined the football team and some other sorts and we just stopped hanging out because of time. And he does still wear the lettermen’s jacket but....” he dropped his voice and leaned in, I copied and leaned closer to him. “He got cut from the team because he would show up drunk so now he goes to games just to drink under the bleachers and pick up cheerleaders from the other schools. He tells anyone who asks that he got a brain injury and can’t legally practice but still goes for support.”

“Oh my god.” I blinked, my voice still at a whisper. “That’s terrible.”

Ted nodded eyes wide. He looked over my shoulder, tapped my hand, and then sat up. I sat up too, assuming it was the waiter, but stared at how close his hand was to mine.

“Okayyyyy one ice water and one vanilla milkshake.” I moved my line of vision towards the drink set in front of me. It had the standard glass cup and whipped cream topping, but on top were red and pink heart-shaped sprinkles. I stared at it, and Ted must of noticed it as he took my hand firmly in his, lacing our fingers together on top of the table. The waiter stared at it.

“Hey I think we’re ready to order if you don’t mind.” Ted’s voice was louder than I expected as it took command of our whole corner of the restaurant.

“Uh yeah. What can I get you two?”

“You said you wanted the loaded hash browns, right babe?” He turned to me smiling, but I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Y-Yeah. Those are the ones.”

He gave me a giant goofy smile, and turned back to the waiter. “We’ll have two orders of that please. And an extra straw for this milkshake if you don’t mind?”

“Uh yeah. Coming right up.”

The waiter walked away and Ted sighed, relaxing his grip on my hand but not quite releasing it. “Fucking creep.”

“What?”

He looked back at me, confused. “You didn’t notice he was flirting with you? He put heart shaped sprinkles on your milkshakes.”

“I guess he’s not that good at it then.”

We sat in silence as I drank the thick vanilla shake. Ted cleared his throat and looked towards me. Our hands were still together.

“Well what can we talk about together?”

“I don’t know, theater kid shit?”

“Alright.” He though for a second. “Fine. Movie musicals.”

“Oh. Oh my god I hate the greatest showman.”

“No you don’t!”

“Yes I do! PT Barnum had no excuse to be an asshole and the whole thing is just him being an asshole to his family who somehow accepts him again.”

“I think if you have a shitty life you could have the right to be an asshole, and he wasn’t that bad! He loved his wife, and the music is good!”

“Okay some, some of the songs are good, and the whole kiss with the red head was totally not his fault. But just cause you have a shit home life doesn’t mean you can be an ass. I would think it would make you want to be nicer so other people don’t experience the same treatment, you know?”

Ted pauses, seeming to consider, then nods and moves to take a drink from his water.

We spent the next while talking about random topics: stories, tv shows, movies, books, anything. At some point the waiter came back and set the food down without a word. Ted released his hand from mine to grab his fork, and I stared at the place his fingers had been. My hand felt cold and unfamiliar as I set it closer to my plate. I ate slowly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, but Ted ate quicker than I thought he could.

“You were right these are delicious.”

“I told you, only good thing they have.”

I was probably close to finishing when the waiter came and slapped the receipt on the table. “We close in ten.”

As he walked away Ted chuckled. “It’s Sherri’s. They’re open 24 hours?”

I shook my head, smiling, as I dug around for some cash. I grimaced at the amount I had, realizing I would have barely two dollars left. I looked up, prepared to go broke, but Ted had already gotten up with cash in hand.

I reached out and grabbed on to his t-shirt as he walked towards the register. “Theodore, wait-“

“If I get to be your fake boyfriend I can pay for our fake date.” He smiled and continued walking. I rustled through all the small bills and coins I had. I was still holding them in my hands when he came back and sat down across from me.

“Y/N, i told you-“

“But, tip-“

“I got it. Finish your food.”

We sat in silence for a little longer, and as soon as I was done he stood up, shouldering the backpack I’d brought in with me. He stood next to me, holding out his arm towards me. I giggled as we linked arms and walked to the door. I made eye contact with the creepy waiter and watched as Ted flipped the guy off.

The air was cold as we exited the building. I probably would have shivered again if not for Ted’s jacket still around me. I used my free hand to pull it closed in front of me. We were silent getting into his car, but as he turned his key over to start the engine he looked to me and smiled.

“Thank you for an amazing fake first date.”

I laughed and felt a small heat rise to my cheeks. “You make an excellent fake boyfriend.”

He turned up the music as we pulled out of the parking lot. I could hear him scrape his bumper again, but he didn’t say anything about it this time. “So, how do I take you home?”

“Oh. You don’t have to! I can just take the bus-“

“y/n. It’s late and it’s dark and it’s cold. Please let me take you home.” We were stopped at a red light, and we paused, staring just at each other. Ted’s face was bright red, and I’m sure mine was too. But even when the light turned green, his face was still red, and I’m sure mine still was.

A car behind us held a sustained honk, and Ted jolted out of his stupor and peeled out across the intersection. Of course Ted wasn’t a bad driver. He was a highschool driver, so he drove to look cool half the time. Meaning right now he was driving with one hand at the top of the wheel and the other arm rested against on top of the center console. I made the judgement call to reach over and take his free hand in mine. I did so loosely, allowing him to let go if he wanted to, but if anything he laced his fingers with mine tighter. I looked down at our hands, smiling, then back towards Ted’s face. He was smiling widely, but when he saw me looking he made a stupid attempt of trying to play it off and act like he wasn’t smiling, but I started laughing so he eventually fell into laughter with me. We didn’t talk much on the way to my house other than me giving directions every now and then. He didn’t let go of my hand the whole time, except when he had to put the car in park.

I stared out his window towards the front of my dark building. I knew no one was home, and it was probably pretty cold inside since I usually forget to turn on the heater before leaving for school.

“I guess this is me.” He watched me throw my bag over my shoulder as I stepped out of the car. “Thank you Theodore. For everything.”

“Ted.”

“What?”

“You can call me Ted.”

I smiled at him. “Right. Thank you. Ted.”

I shut his car door and walked up my sidewalk, but I turned when I heard another car door shutting behind me.

“y/n, wait.” Ted was walking towards me, hands shoved in his pockets as the giant man toward over me. “I, uh, I really enjoyed being your fake boyfriend tonight.”

“I enjoyed it too-“

“And I enjoyed sweeping the stage with you. And holding your hand. And dancing with you. And driving you home. And arguing over food. And laughing. And sharing music. And pretty much everything. And I don’t want it to be because I’m your fake boyfriend you happened to be on a fake date with because we happened to be in the same place at the same time.” He sucked in a breath as he took my hand gently. He stared at our fingers and palms pressed together. “I want to do all that stuff because I’m your real boyfriend. I want to dance with you and take you on dates to shitty diners and act all jealous because it’s real.”

I could feel my face burning. “You were jealous?”

He laughed a little bit. “Oh my God, yes, I was jealous, he was flirting!!” I laughed, gripping his hand a little harder, then pulling it downwards. “Ouch! What the-“

I placed a kiss on his cheek, and I watched him short circuit as his whole face turned red. “Theodore, I would like to let you know, I am free tomorrow night for a date if that’s what your asking.”

“OH. Okay! Yeah is 7 okay?”

“7 is perfect.”

“Yes! Yes yes!” He pulled me in for a hug and kissed the top of my head. “Oh my god! Okay. Tomorrow, 7!”

I laughed, still trapped in his arms. “I expect dancing.”

“Oh absolutely.” He pushed me back a bit, smiling as he stared at me. “I have to go home. I have to get ready!”

“For a date in 24 hours?”

“Yes! I have plans to make!” He kissed me on the forehead again and ran back to the car. Hand on the handle, he looked back at me, smiling. “I can’t wait.”

#ted nivision #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison

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demonsigh · 4 years ago

Text

the hunt

rating: lime/mature pairing: male vampire x gender-neutral reader features: touch starvation, safewords, biting, aftercare, cuddling warnings: blood, fear, being chased, dizziness length: 4240 words

Feeling isolated and craving physical intimacy, a college student agrees to be hunted and bitten by a vampire in exchange for a post-meal snuggling session. Based on this prompt submitted to @monsterkinkmeme by @the-color-of-sound-is-space

You were supposed to meet him at 11 PM, in the middle of Bartleby Park. Vampires were nocturnal and uncomfortable in the sun, so the hunt had to take place at night. But did it have to be this late?

It wasn’t as if you were getting tired. You were something of a nocturnal animal yourself nowadays; college tended to do that to people. But the park was pretty creepy this late at night, eerily empty and unnaturally quiet.

You checked your phone again. 11:10 already. He was late. Had he been held up? Or could he have overslept? That thought wrung a quiet chuckle from you — a sound not at all reassuring to hear in the dark silence of the park.

The “he” in question was a vampire named Roland that you’d met on the internet. You were meeting up so he could suck your blood.

For whatever reason, college towns tended to attract vampires. It probably had something to do with the vibrant nightlife, and the bars that never closed, and parties that only ended when the sun rose. Or perhaps it was the rich history of such places, in the old stone buildings and the musty library books. Or maybe it was just the students themselves: curious and open-minded, over-educated and sheltered and a little bit reckless.

In the modern age, most vampires obtained their food in the modern way: in bags, from blood banks or speciality clinics. But there were those who still swore by more natural methods. Many believed that feeding from the source provided physical and mental health benefits. For others, the desire to stalk, and chase, and bite, was simply too strong to resist indulging. Luckily for all, it was not as difficult to find a willing human victim as one might expect.

You discovered a message board that was dedicated to this macabre economy. Vampires would make posts looking for “prey” — humans willing or eager to be bitten. An arrangement would be made for a night of thrilling and dangerous roleplay, where the vampire played the part of the seductive predator, and the human, the helpless victim.

For most of the humans who posted on this forum, being prey was a kink. They enjoyed the thrill of the chase, and the pain of the bite. It was foreplay to them, and the evening inevitably led to sex after their partner’s more pressing appetites were sated.

You became a little obsessed with this message board. You didn’t think you’d mind being bitten; there was something kind of sexy about it. But you weren’t really trying to get laid. What you really wanted was some quality aftercare, a perk that was frequently offered, requested, and discussed on this forum.

College had become something of a lonely experience for you. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, and you weren’t sure where you’d gone wrong. In your freshman year you’d made an effort to be social, starting a number of casual friendships, but none of them really stuck. You were still close to your high school friends, and you talked to them online all the time, but somehow the number of people with whom you had any physical interaction had dwindled down to zero.

It made you lonely in a deep, nagging way. You wanted a hug. You wanted to hold someone’s hand. You daydreamed constantly about these things, setting up elaborate scenarios in your mind that led to someone safe and warm holding you for hours at a time. You felt like these fantasies were reaching a boiling point in your mind. And one night, after drinking several beers by yourself, you made your own post on that message board. You would let someone bite you (hunt optional), in exchange for an evening of snuggling (sex optional).

And that was how you met Roland. He wasn’t the only vampire who replied to your post, but he was the only one who lived within easy walking distance. You agreed to meet at one of the campus cafes and discuss possibilities over coffee.

You recognized him immediately, although you were pretty sure he didn’t recognize you. He was in one of your classes. You frequently spied him from across the lecture hall, tall and good-looking and unapproachable. You’d always thought there was something a little otherworldly about him, but he mostly just looked like another student. You’d had no idea that he wasn’t even human.

And it turned out he wasn’t as intimidating as he looked. He actually seemed pretty nice, even a little bit shy. He’d never fed straight from the skin before — drinking nothing but bagged blood since he was turned — and he wanted to try it at least once. He wasn’t trying to get laid either. Like you, he was much more interested in the aftercare, hoping for something like a cooldown hug once the deed was done. That suited you just fine.

The plan was this: You would meet in Bartleby Park at 11 PM. The exact location didn’t matter, he said; he would come find you. This statement gave you an unexpected thrill. Perhaps the hunting part would be more fun than you’d thought. You would run, and he would chase you. If you screamed, all the better — although this did make a safeword necessary. You chose “cardboard,” the first word that came to your mind, which made him laugh. When he finally caught you, he would bite you on the neck and drink your blood. Then he would take you up to his apartment for first aid and spooning. Simple as that.

Only he wasn’t here yet. It was 11:20 now, and you were still alone. Maybe he was having trouble finding you. Or… was he backing out? That thought stung. You suddenly realized just how much you’d been looking forward to this, and the idea of going home tired and alone made you feel more depressed than ever.

A branch snapped in the trees nearby, and your head whipped toward the sound. Your eyes scanned back and forth across the screen of dark leaves, trying and failing to uncover the culprit.

“Roland?” you whispered. You hadn’t meant to whisper, but suddenly you were having trouble finding your voice. Your phone buzzed in your hand, making you jump. It was a text message from your friend:

“How did it go?”

“He’s late, I’m still waiting,” you typed in response.

“Ok… Text me again in an hour or I’m calling the cops.”

Your friends had basically all agreed that this seemed like a bad idea. You were starting to wonder if they were right. You didn’t know Roland at all… even if you knew where he lived and where he went to school. Even if he was cute and he seemed nice.

And even if Roland was fine, Roland wasn’t here. It was late, and the park was deserted. Who knew what other weirdos were prowling around out here.

You were starting to feel genuinely anxious. Beneath the trees, the park was dark, the shadows unaffected by the dim light of the street lamps. What was the safeword again? Cardboard? That was it, right?

There was a rapid noise in the grass behind you — tff tff tff — like something rushing towards you in long leaps. That was the last straw. You launched into a flat-out run, heart hammering, breath coming in gasps.

A pair of cold, hard arms wrapped around you from behind, jerking you to a stop. You screamed at the top of your lungs, and then, almost in the same breath, shouted, “Cardboard cardboard cardboard,” all in a rush; sure that the word would mean nothing to this person; that you were about to be hurt or worse.

But cardboard was the magic word. The arms disappeared from around your chest, and in a flash he was standing in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice rough, “are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

And of course it was only Roland, the very person you had agreed to do this with. He was staring into your face, expression distressed, hands gripping your shoulders.

“I’m okay,” you wheezed. “It was just… scarier than I expected.”

He was slowly shaking his head back and forth. He looked appalled. “Fuck, I am so sorry.”

You didn’t understand why he was apologizing like that, until you suddenly became aware of the wetness on your cheeks, and the ragged sound of your breathing. Were you crying? God, how fucking embarrassing.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing tears from your eyes with the backs of your hands. “Jesus.”

“No no,” said Roland, “don’t apologize. I think I overdid it. ...And I was pretty late, that definitely didn’t help.”

He was looking around now, frowning into the dark woods, and rubbing your shoulders absently. You were hyper-aware of his hands. They were like ice but every pass of them over your shoulders sent a rush of warmth through you. You felt extremely relieved that he was here, even though he was the reason you’d been so scared in the first place. You wished he would hug you — the desire for this was almost overwhelming — but you felt too dazed and embarrassed to ask.

His eyes met yours once again, and his hands slipped from your shoulders, finding their way into his pockets instead — the exact opposite of what you wanted.

“Uh…” he said. “Do you wanna just skip this part and go straight back to my place?”

A wobbly laugh escaped you, and you nodded weakly. “Are you still gonna suck my blood?” you asked.

“Do you still want me to?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled at that. It was a small, almost shy smile, but enough to give you a good look at his fangs. They looked shockingly white and sharp in the dark.

He started to walk in the direction of his apartment, then paused; and looking back, expression uncertain, he held his hand out towards you. You hesitated for just one second. Then you placed your hand in his, and his cold fingers closed tightly around yours.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Your heart was racing again. When was the last time you’d held someone’s hand? You never wanted him to let go.

Neither of you spoke. You wondered if he was feeling as nervous as you were. You’d thought that the scary part was over, but what about what came next? How badly would it hurt when he bit you? He’d never bitten anyone before, he said. How would he react to his first taste?

When you tried to picture it, all you could imagine were his lips pressed against your skin; and his hand cupping the back of your neck, holding you still. They were not unpleasant images. You felt your face heat up, and you were suddenly grateful for the darkness and the cold night air.

It was a fairly short walk. His apartment was a big single-room studio: TV and sofa in one corner, bed and bookcase in another. Rounded doorways branched off into a kitchen and a bathroom. There was a large white-curtained window in the west wall, and moonlight poured in through the glass, illuminating the plush carpet. It was cozy and uncluttered. Roland watched you look around, then looked around himself.

“Maybe in the kitchen?” he asked. He caught your eye, then glanced quickly away. “So we don’t get blood on the carpet.”

How practical. You followed him into the kitchen, forcing yourself to take even breaths as you went. Vampires were supposed to have excellent hearing. Could he hear how fast your heart was beating?

“Want some water?” he asked, opening a cupboard as he spoke. You peered over his shoulder, tickled to see that the only dishes he seemed to own were drinking glasses; no bowls or plates in sight. What would he need a plate for, after all?

He moved around you to fill the glass with water from the sink. He seemed to be avoiding eye-contact, and you wondered again if he was nervous. Somehow the thought made you feel more at ease. Boldly, you opened his refrigerator to examine the contents. Blood bags, and nothing else. Lots of them. Stacks upon stacks, in neat little rows. You couldn’t quite believe it, even though it was exactly what you’d expected to find.

You didn’t know what kind of face you were making, but you were afraid it wasn’t good. You turned toward Roland and found him watching you, expression careful; glass of water forgotten in one hand.

“Yeah…” he said.

“Nothing for me?” you asked, grinning, attempting to break the sudden tension.

He grinned back sheepishly. Then he pulled a little juice box out of the pocket of his jacket. It was the kind of thing they gave you after donating blood. You both began to laugh, and a warm, giddy feeling spread through you.

Roland moved closer and patted one of the countertops. “Hop up here?” he asked. You obliged, although it was more of a scramble than a hop. Roland began pulling more small items from the pockets of his jacket, and setting them on the counter next to you: single-use alcohol wipes; a few band-aids; a little roll of gauze, and a roll of medical tape. It became clear to you that he really had intended to bite you in the park, and he had come prepared.

He was standing very close now, almost pressed against your bent knees. You longed to close the distance. You didn’t move. Roland’s movements also grew slower, more hesitant. Stalling.

“Are you nervous?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“Why?”

He looked you right in the eye, finally. His expression was serious.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad,” you replied, although you weren’t sure whether you actually believed that.

He frowned, and his eyes travelled down to your neck. He was biting his lip, and his fangs stood out starkly against his skin.

He handed you the glass of water. You drank it. Then you took his hand and gently pulled him closer, spreading your knees wider so he could stand between them. He swallowed visibly.

“I’m nervous too,” you told him.

“I know,” he said, in a hoarse almost-whisper. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Safeword?”

“You can just tell me.”

You were both almost-whispering now, leaning in closer and closer. It felt an awful lot like you were about to share your first kiss.

With one hand, he pulled the collar of your shirt away from your neck, while his other hand slid up to cup the back of your neck. Your heart was hammering with excitement and fear, and his cold fingers felt good against your flushed skin. He lowered his face against your neck, and almost before you knew it his fangs were piercing the skin, creating thin twin wounds that ached immediately. You gasped and grasped handfuls of the fabric of his jacket. Honestly his teeth didn’t hurt much more than a needle, but somehow the reality of it stunned you. He was really going to drink your blood. In that moment, for the first time, you really believed that Roland was something other than human.

His lips closed over the wound. His mouth was wet and unexpectedly hot, and his tongue moved rhythmically against your aching skin as he sucked and swallowed your blood. He made a low sound deep in his throat — the type of contented groan that a good bite of food might inspire. You had to hold your breath to keep from responding in kind.

This was erotic. You couldn’t help thinking of it that way. Your grip on his jacket tightened, and you forced yourself not to squeeze your knees more tightly around his waist. You wondered if he felt it too. Was this exciting him at all? Or was this just a meal to him?

You couldn’t have said how long this went on — it was probably minutes, though it felt longer — but eventually he stopped drinking and pulled away. Somehow a piece of gauze was already in his hand; he pressed it to your neck, holding it firmly against the bite. You stared at each other, both breathing unevenly. His cheeks, so colorless before, were now flushed.

He cleared his throat and licked blood off his lips.

“Are you okay,” he asked, voice rough.

“I’m ok,” you said, although you actually felt a little dizzy. You felt around for the juice box. “Was that enough?”

He nodded his head and grabbed the juice box, pressing it into your reaching hand. He seemed a little dazed. He tore open one of the alcohol wipes, and while you drank your juice he disinfected the bite marks. You hissed at the stinging pain, and he grimaced in sympathy. Then he taped a fresh strip of gauze over the bite.

“It didn’t hurt that bad,” you reported between sips.

“Good,” he said. But he was starting to look unhappy again, frowning as he watched you sip your juice. Your heart sank a little in your chest. Maybe he hadn’t enjoyed this as much as you had.

“Are you ok?” you asked him.

He didn’t respond at first. And then he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against him. You bit back a huff of surprise. He was no longer cold — drinking your blood had warmed his whole body.

“What is it?” you whispered.

He heaved an enormous sigh next to your ear. “You just looked so scared in the park,” he said. You could feel the vibration of his voice against your chest. “I feel really bad.”

You didn’t feel bad. One of his large hands was pressed against your back, warm and reassuring, and the other was cupped around the back of your head. Your chest was pressed flush against his, and he was warm and solid and worried about you. You gave up trying to resist the urge to touch him. You put your arms around him, and squeezed your knees tighter against his waist, pulling him even closer to you. You let your head fall forward to rest against his neck, but as soon as you closed your eyes, the room began to whirl around you.

“Um,” you gasped. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Oh,” he said, a little catch of surprise in his voice. He pulled away. “Um. Let me, uh...”

Carefully, he slipped his hand under your knees, and gathered you up into his arms. You threw your own arms around his neck, shamelessly clinging to him as he carried you out of the kitchen with no apparent effort. He paused in the doorway and looked down at you.

“The bed or the couch?” he asked.

“The bed,” you said against his chest, hoping that this was not too bold. He didn’t seem to think so. He carried you across the room, careful not to jostle you, and gently laid you down on top of the comforter.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

You nodded your head. You were quite cold, actually; another effect of the blood loss.

Roland stood and went over to a small closet, where he retrieved a stack of thick, warm-colored blankets. He shook them out and draped them over you in layers, and their warm weight made you feel better almost immediately.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No problem,” he replied. He stood by the side of the bed, unmoving. He seemed to be struggling for words. “Um… Do you still want to…”

“Yes,” you said emphatically, and you peeled back the blankets to make space for him.

He looked self-conscious, but he didn’t hesitate. He crawled under the blankets, and carefully pulled you into his arms, settling your head against his shoulder. His body was still warm with your blood, and you pressed into him eagerly.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

“It’s perfect,” you said. You placed your hand flat on his chest, then sighed happily, which made him laugh. He laid his hand over yours, curling his fingers around it.

That was almost too much. Your chest felt fit to burst with it. You kept waiting to wake up, sure that you must have dreamt this whole thing. You still couldn’t believe he’d drunk your blood. His teeth had been inside of you. And as much as that weirded you out, it kind of turned you on too.

You suddenly remembered that you were supposed to text your friends back. You shifted around, and Roland loosed his hold on you to let you pull your phone out of your pocket.

“I’m letting my friends know you didn’t murder me,” you explained as you typed. You’d meant it as a joke, but you regretted the words as soon as they were out of your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you hurried to say, turning in his arms to face him, and wincing at the pain in your neck. “I didn’t really think you would…”

He shook his head before you could say anything else. “It’s ok. Biting someone…” He ran a hand through his hair as he thought. “Well, it’s an inherently violent act. Some people get carried away. Your friends weren’t wrong to be worried.”

“I feel safe with you though,” you said.

“Oh. Good.” He ducked his head, and his cheeks turned the pinkest they’d been all night. Your heartbeat stuttered in your chest. He was really adorable… You hadn’t expect that, watching him from afar. You pulled closer to him, putting your arms around him and laying your head against his chest. He tucked the blankets more snugly around your shoulders.

“This is really nice,” you said.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“How did you like biting me?” You forced the words out before you could lose your nerve. You hoped you weren’t making it awkward, but you had to know.

Roland didn’t answer at first. Then he let out a breath, and slid one of his hands over his face. “Not gonna lie,” he said. “It was way better than drinking bagged blood.”

“Oh, good!” you said, laughing. “I’m glad. I was worried you didn’t like it.”

“I definitely liked it…” he said, still covering his face. “You taste amazing.”

You felt your face turn bright red. There was a double-entendre in there somewhere, although you guessed it was unintentional. I’d like to taste you next, you thought wildly, and once again, you found yourself wondering if you were the only one whose mind had wandered into the gutter tonight.

He seemed to sense your sudden discomfort, if not its source, because he uncovered his face and said, “I’m sorry, that was a super weird thing to say.”

You shook your head against his chest. “I liked it too,” you admitted. “When you bit me.” Then, still more softly: “I wouldn’t mind if you did it again sometime.”

You heard him swallow. “I’d like that.”

You lapsed into a warm silence, untroubled and comfortable, and you basked in his presence like a cat in sunlight. You were aware of every part of him that was pressed against you: his chest rising and falling beneath you, and his hands pressed against your back, and his legs tangled with yours beneath the blankets, chaste but intimate, and ripe with potential.

You definitely wanted to kiss him. You opened your mouth to float the idea, but you were overcome by an enormous yawn. You suddenly realized you had no idea what time it was. It felt really late, but maybe you were just tired out from all the excitement.

“Was I falling asleep?” you asked.

“A little,” he admitted.

“I should probably get home,” you said, but then made no move to get up. You heaved a huge sigh. “I don’t wanna go yet though,” you complained, “I’m so cozy.”

“Do you wanna stay here?”

You lifted your head to look him in the eye. “Stay the night?”

“We don’t have to do anything weird,” he said, turning pink again. You stared at each other for a moment. Then he gently pushed your head back down to his chest, so that you weren’t looking at him when he said, “I don’t wanna let you go yet.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. As if you weren’t already convinced. “I won’t throw off your day? I mean your night?”

You felt him shrug. “I was just gonna do homework.”

That drew a surprised laugh out of you. You’d almost forgotten that Roland wasn’t just your weird vampire hookup. He was your classmate too.

“Do you know that we’re in the same class?” you asked, playfully accusing.

“Yeah,” he admitted, with a bit of a laugh in his voice. “I recognized you when we got coffee.”

That surprised you. “I thought I was the only one,” you said.

“I noticed you sitting in back sometimes.” His hand was still resting against the side of your head, and his fingers moved absently through strands of your hair. “I thought you looked cool.”

“Good,” you said, which made him laugh. You grinned against his chest. “I want to stay. Can I?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice soft, and he wrapped his arms more tightly around you.

#exophilia #monster romance #monster boyfriend #vampire boyfriend #monsterkinkmeme #sighs writing

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avengerscompound · 4 years ago

Text

Small Gods: Spring Thaw - 2

Spring Thaw: A Bucky Barnes Fanfic

Spring Thaw Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 2046

Warnings: nothing this chapter.

Synopsis: Bucky Barnes hates winter. He always looks for the first signs of the ice thawing and new life growing. When that desire for the end of winter brings to him the god of the spring thaw, he discovers a brand new reason to get through winter.

Chapter 2

Bucky arrived at the movies twenty minutes before he had arranged to meet you and then proceeded to mentally curse himself out the entire time because of how eager it made him look. He was just considering leaving and coming back again so he could maybe come off as fashionably late when you appeared behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

He jumped and spun around, instantly going into fight mode, and when he saw your slightly bemused expression, he instantly relaxed. You were wearing another warm winter coat that looked impossibly spring-like. This one was sky blue with daisies printed on it as if they were polka dots. Your hat, scarf, and gloves were in a darker shade of blue, and on the side of your beanie was a crochet daisy that matched the ones on your coat. “Hey, you’re early,” he said.

“So are you,” you said.

Bucky smiled sheepishly and ran his hand through the back of his hair. “Yeah. It’s been a while and I didn’t want to be late.” He held out a bouquet of different colored tulips for you. “I got you these.”

“Oh my,” you said, taking them and inhaling deeply. “These are so out of season. They must have cost a fortune.”

Bucky shrugged. The bouquet did cost significantly more money than when he’d last bought a girl flowers, but as that was in 1943, he didn’t think it was fair to compare. “It wasn’t so bad. And I knew you’d like them.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek. Another first for this new life he had. It felt like a static shock and he flinched a little, and then hoped to god you didn’t notice because he wanted there to be more of that. He wanted that kind of physical affection that had been withheld for so long. “I love them,” you said. “Thank you.”

Bucky turned back toward the cinema and then debated what his next move should be. He had the tickets. Did he offer you his arm or just start walking? There were so many new rules about dating and he realized he didn’t know any of them. Did you hold doors and pull out chairs anymore? Who paid for things?

While he was thinking, you slipped your hand into his and pulled him toward the cinema. “Come on, slowpoke,” you said.

The warmth from your skin seemed to radiate out from you so that he could feel it through both his and your gloves.

“Do we need to buy tickets?” You asked when you entered the building.

“I’ve got them,” he said.

You took off your gloves and shoved them in your coat and looked up at him. “Then let me buy the candy.”

“Now that hardly seems fair,” Bucky said. “The tickets were cheap. You’ll have to mortgage your house for candy.”

You snorted. It was an adorable sound but you quickly covered your face in embarrassment. “Oh my god,” you mumbled.

Bucky laughed and rubbed your arm. “That was cute, don’t worry.”

You shook your head. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that,” you said. “So now I’m gonna buy candy so I can pretend it never happened.”

He chuckled and followed you to the counter as you bought popcorn, jolly ranchers, and a couple of sodas before the two of you headed into the theater. It was strange how familiar it felt to be on a movie date. Like muscle memory. He sat down in the assigned seat and you put your coat on your lap with the popcorn sitting in his. There was the awkward start where you aren’t sure if you should be touching or not - not that there was much choice in such a confined space. There was an accidental hand touch when both of you went for popcorn at the same time. Then you snuggled into him during the sappy parts and even though having you pressed against him felt alien to him. It felt familiar and comfortable and he put his arm around your shoulders and held you in a casual way he hadn’t done to anyone since before he was sent off to war.

It was dark when you both came out of the theater with your arm tucked in the crook of his. “Do you want to get a bite to eat?” He asked.

“I would love it. Just something simple though,” you said.

He nodded and the two of you began walking down the street together. “Thank you for this, Bucky,” you said as the two of you walked along. “I never do this.”

“I’m pretty out of practice too,” Bucky admitted.

“Why is that?” You asked. “You seem like a natural. Not to mention - you’re very handsome.”

Bucky looked at you, once again not sure if you were being completely honest with him or not. Not just about not recognizing him, but about any of it really. Questioning his reality had become second nature. He was used to being lied to and used. He was used to things being taken from him. “You really don’t know who I am?” He asked.

You stopped walking, a little startled, and looked him up and down. “I don’t meet too many people, I know we haven’t met.”

“No,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “I’m the winter soldier?”

“Winter…?” You said, furrowing your brow. “You control winter?”

Bucky laughed. “No. What?”

“Oh,” you said, relaxing a little. “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Captain America’s friend?” He asked, only to be met with the same look of confusion. “The Avengers?”

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I don’t keep up with current popular culture.”

“You don’t know about the people disappearing and then the fight and them showing up five years later?” Bucky asked.

“I mean… I know they all went away and came back, but I wasn’t…” you trailed off.

“Captain America? Iron Man? Thor?”

Finally, a glimmer of recognition reached your eyes and you smiled. “You know Thor?”

“I mean, a little. He’s a nice guy,” Bucky said.

“I know,” you said. “He’s really funny. Likes to fight a lot though.”

“Wait…” Bucky said. “Do you know Thor? Like you’ve met him?”

“Yes! I’ve met him. It was a long, long time ago,” you said, nodding enthusiastically. “Are the gods… are we showing ourselves again?”

Bucky blinked at you. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

You looked around and took his hand tugging him along. “We should go somewhere to talk.”

He walked with you until you found a diner and the two of you ducked inside and slipped into a booth by the window. You put your coat with your flowers beside you on the seat and neither of you said anything until the orders had been placed.

“It was easier back before,” you said as you began to play with the little tubs of half-and-half on the table.

“What was?” Bucky asked. “I don’t know what’s going on right now?”

“I’m a god, Bucky,” you said.

Bucky laughed. He wasn’t even sure why because he knew a god. He knew and had experienced far stranger things than gods. But here, sitting in a diner with you, the thought just struck him as absurd. “What?”

“Back before, when people were primitive and didn’t understand how things worked, we just walked with the mortals,” you said, answering a question he never asked as you looked out the window. You turned your attention back to him and lay your palms flat on the table. “I don’t know how to start the story.”

Bucky shook his head. “The beginning?”

“That goes back to before I even was,” you said. “And I don’t have all the story. From what I understand, when the universe was born, the worlds were formed from a central point where all matter was one. And then it exploded out in a mess of matter and energy. Some of that energy you and I would call magic. Some words, like Asgard and Olympus, were drenched in it…”

“Woah, hold up,” Bucky said. “Olympus is real?”

“You’ve met Thor but you doubt the existence of the Greek Gods?” You asked with your eyebrow raised.

“Right, okay,” Bucky said. “Go on.”

“The magic on Earth is weaker and so the gods here are also weaker. We came to be when people pray for us, even if that’s just a muttered hope, like “oh god let me pass this test,” you explained.

“So you’re telling me that there might be a god for the red light changing?” Bucky asked.

You nodded. “Oh yeah, they’re doing quite well for themselves.”

“That's…” Bucky said and shook his head as he tried to absorb it. “Not the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard,” he settled on. “So what are you?”

“The spring thaw,” you said.

“What? Like Persephone?” Bucky asked.

“Well, no,” you said. “For starters, she lives on Olympus and she’s way more powerful than I am. And she covers all over Spring. I’m just the part where the ice melts. I was way stronger back before industrial farming. People prayed to see the ice receding. Now, it still happens but not with as much need. Oh and also, when Persephone isn’t doing her thing, she has somewhere she goes.”

“What? What does that mean?” Bucky asked. “Where do you go?”

You shrug. “I’m just not.”

“Not what?”

“Not anything,” you said. “I’m here when people start wishing for the end of winter, and I’m gone when they stop.”

Bucky furrowed his brow and nodded. “Would you believe me if I said I know how that feels?”

“Really?” You asked. “How?��

The waiter came over and placed their orders in front of them. Bucky took a drink of his black coffee and wished it was something a little harder. Not that alcohol would actually do anything. “I guess I better start from the beginning too.”

As the two of you ate your meals, Bucky unloaded everything. From when he was born, to going to war, to being captured by HYDRA and experimented on, not just once but twice. About how they brainwashed him and had him commit unspeakable acts, and when they weren’t getting him to do these heinous things, they would freeze him, so that every time he woke he had no idea who he was or where he was or even what year it was. How he’d broken out of it and had to adjust to life on the run 60 years after the last time he had control of his body. How that had ended up going to shit and he’d opted to go on ice again because even that was better than living with what he had in his head. How they managed to get HYDRA out and he was just settling into life again when Thanos happened and he’d just stopped existing.

The food was gone by the time he was done with the story and he was on his third cup of coffee. He’d worry about staying up, but the caffeine would pass out of his system soon enough and besides, he didn’t sleep that great anyway.

You had listened intently, never interrupting, but the expression on your face told him how horrified and sad the story made you. “... and then the Avengers stopped being a thing and I tried to cancel out some of my bad with a friend and then I moved here.”

You reached over and took his hand. “I’m so sorry all that happened to you,” you said earnestly. “And I can see why we were drawn to each other.”

“Why is that?” Bucky asked.

“I bet you aren’t a big fan of the cold, huh?” You asked.

He smiled and shook his head. “No, you could say that.”

“Were you hoping for some sign of the thaw?” You asked. He smiled and nodded. “And there I was. I probably felt it too.”

“I’m glad you did,” he said.

“I’d like to see you again,” you said. “Would that be alright?”

“How will that work if you’re only going to be here for such a short time?” Bucky asked.

“Well,” you said thoughtfully. “I guess we’ll have to enjoy the brief time we have?”

// NEXT

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #small gods #spring thaw

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